Author: Momo Chan

After I got into the same college as my online boyfriend, he sent me a photo of myself and broke up with me. “I fell in love with her. I’ll make it up to you.” I laughed. “So she’s the main chick and I’m the side piece? I can’t live without you.” He got annoyed. “Silly girl, I’m a cheater and I have ED. You deserve better.” Just as I was about to tell him the girl in the photo was actually me… He sent a picture of a god-tier handsome guy. “This is my roommate, the campus crush. Rich family, never dated, 8.5 inches. I’ll set you up with him, okay?” I swallowed hard. “Fine. But don’t come begging for me back.” He swore, “Don’t worry. If I beg for you back, I’m a dog.” But later, the usually cool and rebellious bad boy was wearing a collar, kneeling at my feet like a puppy, crying and begging: “Please, take me back. Or let him be the main guy and I’ll be the side piece. I don’t have ED, I’m a machine.” “Please?” 1 [Babe, let’s break up.] Even though this online relationship was whatever to me, receiving Chase’s breakup text out of the blue was still a shock. I called him to ask why. Chase was brutally honest. “I saw a freshman today. She fits my type perfectly, like she was made for me.” “I feel like if I can’t be with her in this life, living is meaningless.” “So, Babe, let me go. I’ll make it up to you.” I laughed. “You used to say if you couldn’t be with me, living was meaningless.” Chase coughed guiltily. “Men say all kinds of crap when chasing a girl. But she’s different. I’m serious about her.” Serious after one look? I don’t buy it. Also, Chase and I dated online for a year. He’s a genius jock, handsome with sharp features, eyes that hook you in. My favorite “bad boy” type. I wanted to taste him before breaking up. I tried to salvage it. “Lots of people say I’m super pretty too. Why don’t you see me first?” I opened my photo gallery. “No need. I’ve seen your pics. I know you’re beautiful, but you’re the ‘cool older sister’ type. I prefer her, the ‘cute lolita’ type.” My photos are “cool older sister” vibes? “Chase, are you mistaken? I’m nowhere near that style.” Chase sent a photo. “I lied before when I said I didn’t care about looks and didn’t want to video chat. I actually saw your old profile pic ages ago.” I looked at the photo of a girl in a leather jacket on a motorcycle, looking fierce. Just as I was about to say that’s my sister, Lindsay… Chase sent another photo. Of me. “Look at my dream girl.” “Actually, you two look a bit alike, but the vibes are totally different.” “You’re cool and sassy. If your voice wasn’t my type, I wouldn’t have chased you.” “But she’s different. Big eyes, small face, voice sweet like honey. My soul left my body.” “By the way, showing you this is to prove I’m serious. Don’t do anything crazy with her photo.” I didn’t expect Chase to like me this much. I burst out laughing. Decided to mess with him. “Then let her be the main chick and I’ll be the side piece. I can’t live without you.” Chase sighed heavily. “Silly girl, I’m a cheater and I have ED. You deserve better.” Liar. He’s the captain of the basketball team, stamina for days, legs for miles. When we did stuff over the phone, he lasted at least thirty minutes. Just as I was about to say the second photo was me… He suddenly sent a picture of a guy who looked like a celestial being. “This is my roommate, Liam. Campus crush. Rich family, never dated, 8.5 inches. I’ll set you up with him, okay?” In the photo, Liam had fair skin, red lips, and a high nose bridge. Wearing a crisp white shirt. His fingers holding a pen were long and elegant, nails neatly trimmed. Sitting at a desk bathed in sunlight, he looked like a piece of flawless jade. My heart skipped a beat. And that skipped beat made me realize something. I don’t have a “type.” I’m just horny. Plus, I haven’t met anyone hotter. Might as well date Liam for now. But… “Will he actually date me?” “He will. We’re best bros. If he dares to say no, I’ll put a knife to his throat.” I laughed. “Okay then. But don’t come begging for me back.” Chase swore, “Don’t worry. If I beg for you back, I’m a dog.” Heh. Does he think I’d want him back? My parents were strict about dating in high school, so I had to sneak around online. Now that I’m at UVA, my family supports me dating. I can’t wait to date all the hot guys. No way I’m going back to an ex. “Which college are you at again? I sent your WeChat to Liam. I told him to ask you out tomorrow.” Before, to surprise Chase, I only said I was coming to Charlottesville for college, didn’t specify UVA. But no point hiding it now. Just as I was about to speak… “Forget it, talk amongst yourselves. I gotta go prep my confession for my dream girl tomorrow. Bye.” Chase hung up. Immediately, a friend request from Liam popped up. 2 But I played hard to get and didn’t click [Accept]. Today was move-in day. Someone snapped a pic of me and posted it on the campus confession wall. I went viral. The next day during freshman orientation, lots of people came to see me. Including Chase. He stood in front of me holding a massive bouquet of red roses and three hard-to-find Labubu dolls. He went straight for it: “Hi, Maya Lin. I’m Chase from CS, junior year. It was love at first sight. Will you be my girlfriend?” I looked up at Chase carefully. Honestly, he was even hotter than his photos. Under his black tee, the outline of his abs was visible. Muscles on his arms bulged, veins popping. Sexual tension off the charts. The crowd started chanting: “Say yes! Say yes! This is Chase, the CS god, the face of our school! Usually girls chase him!” “Never thought I’d see Chase simp in my lifetime. He’s usually so cold and abstinent, I thought he was wasting his genes.” Chase was a flirt online. Nothing abstinent about him. I laughed at the crowd’s stupidity. Chase mistook it for approval. He smiled, confident of victory. “Sorry, I don’t want to date you.” Chase’s smile froze. The crowd went silent. Awkward. “Why?” Because you dumped me last night and introduced me to a high-quality prospect. But I won’t say it. I’ll wait for him to figure it out. We met in a game. He liked my voice, I liked his face. To spend time with him, I pretended to be dumb so I could pester him for tutoring. He was patient, taught me math, and Venmo’d me money often. Total boyfriend material. Who knew he’d cheat right before we met? Since I wasn’t that invested, I won’t call him a scumbag. “I have someone I’m interested in.” “So you’re not dating yet? Give me a chance to pursue you? I’ll treat you better than that guy.” “No, not interested.” Chase looked embarrassed. Someone in the crowd gasped in disbelief. “But I only want you. I won’t give up. Take these gifts.” Those Labubus were cute. But I didn’t want to be entangled with Chase. I shook my head. Chase tried to force them on me. “If you don’t take them, I’m throwing them in the trash.” “Throw them then.” Don’t know if he did. I linked arms with my roommate, Tina, and walked away without looking back. Tina: “You’re savage. Rejecting Chase in public.” “It’s fine. Use him to scare off the other guys, so not every Tom, Dick, and Harry comes at me.” “True. The confession wall says half the guys on campus want to confess to you.” Speaking of which, I remembered Liam. I accepted his request and agreed to dinner. 3 At the restaurant. Liam sat by the window. When I sat opposite him, his eyes lit up, then he froze. I smiled at him. “I’m the girlfriend Chase set you up with, Babe.” “Curious why I don’t look like the photo?” Liam hummed a “Yes,” his voice deep and pleasant. Seeing me stare at him, his ears turned bright red. He drank water to hide his shyness and nerves. I was shocked. And conflicted. Didn’t expect such an innocent boy in this day and age. I kinda didn’t want to date him anymore. Since I’m here for a good time, not a long time. But he’s hot. And his lips look so red and soft, very kissable. Sigh. I’ll let him choose. “So, do you want to date me, or the girl in the photo?” “If it’s the girl in the photo, I can introduce you.” “You.” Liam didn’t hesitate. Can’t blame me then. He might not be serious about me either. Or like Chase, serious for a bit then change his mind. So whatever, carpe diem. “Chase said you’re 8.5 inches. Is that true?” “I’m not talking about shoe size.” I was blunt. Liam stiffened. Turned beet red. Couldn’t speak for a long time. I frowned. “No? If not, I’m out.” Liam looked around, then whispered, “Yes.” “Can I see?” “N-now?” “No, after we eat.” Liam nodded, blushing harder. He handed me the menu. Seeing it was my first time here, he carefully recommended the specialties. Mid-meal, Chase called Liam. It was loud; I heard everything. Chase: “Met Babe?” Liam: “Yeah.” “Didn’t lie, did I? Pretty, right?” “Yeah.” “Treat her well. Spend all your free time with her so she doesn’t think about me. Maya is harder to chase than I thought. I need to focus on strategizing, can’t deal with Babe.” “Okay.” “Thanks man. Lucky to have you. Dinner on me tomorrow.” “No need. Eating now. Bye.” “Okay.” Liam put down the phone. I suddenly realized something. “Do you know my name?” Liam paused for a few seconds. “No.” “I’m…” “Sorry.” Liam interrupted me suddenly. “I need to use the restroom.” He walked fast. Like he really had to go. I kept eating. When Liam came back, I forgot to tell him my name. Leaving the restaurant, Liam suggested getting a hotel room. Me!! 4 Did I misjudge him? He’s this open? Liam seemed to read my mind and explained frantically: “Don’t misunderstand. Not for sex.” “You can inspect the goods first. I didn’t lie. I want you to feel secure being my girlfriend.” Oh. But I haven’t seen that before. Suddenly seeing it would be awkward. “Maybe later? Getting a room just for that is a waste of money.” “If it makes you feel secure, it’s not a waste. And I’m rich.” Liam insisted. I felt like he was just too innocent. And considerate. I agreed. Afterward. Liam, face flushed, looked at me, face flushed. “I’m very traditional.” “I showed you my most important thing. No matter what happens, you can’t break up with me.” My brain was just… how is it so… Will using it actually feel good…? I didn’t hear a word Liam said, just mumbled “Okay.” Liam was happy. Took me back to campus. Near the dorms, seeing couples making out, I stopped and asked Liam, “Can I kiss you?” “Yes.” Liam, ears red, cupped my face and kissed me gently. Then pulled away fast. He seemed nervous. Fingers trembling slightly. So cute. And his lips were sweet and soft. A light touch wasn’t enough to satisfy my craving. “Can we kiss longer? Harder?” “I’ll try. But it’s my first time. Tell me if it hurts.” “Mhm.” Liam kissed me again. Better this time. But no tongue. Just as I tried to pry his teeth open… Chase’s shocked voice came from behind. “Liam! Babe?” We both froze. Liam pulled me into his arms, burying my face in his chest. Hand caressing my face, seemingly hiding me on purpose. But I didn’t have time to overthink. My mind was hijacked by his heart pounding like a drum. Just a kiss and his heart is going crazy. If we… I was lost in dirty thoughts. Chase walked over, sounding happy: “You brought Babe to campus to hang out?” Uhh. Guess Chase didn’t think a “bad student” like me could get into this school. Liam’s voice was cold: “Why are you here?” “Dropping stuff off for Maya.” “Congrats, you guys got together fast.” Liam gave a very faint “Mhm.” Chase looked at my back and laughed: “Babe, burying your face in Liam’s chest? Shy because I saw you kissing? Not gonna say hi?” I wasn’t shy. And I should say hi. So I mischievously turned around and smiled at Chase.

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My arranged fiancé is the most notorious playboy in the city’s elite circle. He’s told me multiple times, “I’m not done having fun. There’s no way I’m going through with this engagement.” “Give up.” He refused to meet me, didn’t even know what I looked like. That is, until I went to find him to call it off. But the moment he saw me, he froze, turning to his friend and saying: “Bro, I think I’m about to have a wife.” I handed the engagement ring back to him. “No, you’re about to lose one.” 1 After messaging Julian countless times with zero response, I decided to track him down. His schedule was easy to find—if he wasn’t at a club, he was at a karaoke bar or some other party spot. Sure enough, I heard he’d be at The Velvet Room tonight. I hate clubs, but I gritted my teeth and went. I’ve been a “good girl” my whole life—quiet, introverted. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been to a place like this. Before walking in, I hyped myself up. I found a seat at the bar, ordered a virgin mojito, and casually scanned the room for Julian. He wasn’t there yet. He’s always the center of attention; if he were here, it would feel like a spotlight was shining on him. Since I couldn’t find him, I opened our chat history. My last message was from yesterday: [It’s really hot lately, remember sunscreen.] No reply. Scrolling up, it was just me talking to myself: [The sunset is beautiful today.] [I heard the zoo has capybaras now, they’re so cute. Want to go?] [A new restaurant opened, the food looks amazing.] [Okay, guess you’re busy. Goodnight.] [My mom took me ring shopping today. I picked one for ages. Do you like it?] Julian only replied when I mentioned the engagement, and it was never nice: [Wendy, stop embarrassing yourself.] [I told you, I don’t want this engagement.] [I’m not done playing. I’m not settling down.] I pretended not to see those messages. It’s not that I wasn’t hurt. I just felt like we deserved better than this. He hadn’t even met me, hadn’t spent a second with me. Every time I asked to meet and talk properly, he refused, saying, “No need.” He didn’t care what I looked like. He just didn’t want to marry me. 2 Julian said he wasn’t done playing the field and didn’t want to be tied down. I understood that. That’s why I wanted a chance—just one chance to hang out. I hadn’t dared to find him before because, one, I’m shy, and two, I was scared he’d hate me for it. So coming here tonight took everything I had. The club was loud and dark. I endured the discomfort, waiting for Julian. Suddenly, a commotion near the entrance. I looked over and there he was. Simple dress shirt, top buttons undone, leaning lazily back into a booth. Surrounded by gorgeous girls smiling at him. Seeing him, I hesitated. Someone like Julian really doesn’t seem like the marrying type. Rich kid, spoiled from birth, a master of the nightlife. He walked through a garden of flowers but never picked a single leaf. I started doubting myself. Was my persistence meaningless? Even though I came here to find him, seeing him in his element made me want to shrink away. I decided to watch for a bit before making a move. I wasn’t far from his table, but the corner was dark and my hat was pulled low, so I felt hidden. Halfway through my drink, amidst the thumping bass, I heard my name. Someone mentioned me: “Hey, Julian, what’s up with the engagement? Still happening?” Julian frowned. “Don’t ask. I don’t know what potion she fed my parents, but they won’t let me call it off.” “I think your parents have good taste!” someone piped up. “I think Wendy is really pretty! Why don’t you just meet her?” Before Julian could speak, someone else cut in: “Oh please, pretty is useless! Look at all the girls chasing Julian over the years—gorgeous, perfect, and he rejected every single one. He’s picky.” “Yeah, who knows who can finally tame him.” Julian scoffed. “Nobody can. Forget it. I’m used to freedom; I can’t stand being tied down.” “Alright then. Let me know when you break it off, I’ll ask my mom to propose for me. I actually like Wendy.” “Sure,” Julian said, taking a sip of his drink, completely indifferent. “I’ll let you know.” His tone was casual, as if I were a toy he could just pass along. My heart felt like it was being squeezed. I couldn’t stay any longer. Using the crowd as cover, I ran out of the club. I found a bench in a nearby park, tears streaming down my face as I opened our chat. I had once texted him: [Can we meet and talk, please?] He replied: [Unless it’s to call off the engagement, no.] I wiped my blurry screen and typed again: [Are you free next week? Can we talk?] After a while, he replied: [Didn’t I tell you? Unless it’s to call off the engagement, no.] I sniffled, finally making up my mind. [Yeah. It’s to call off the engagement.] 3 I never expected that the first time I successfully asked Julian out would be to break up. When my mom told me the Thorne family asked about the engagement, I was so happy I couldn’t sleep. I thought he agreed to it. Later, I found out his parents set it up without asking him. So I accepted his resistance. It wasn’t his fault. I wanted him to give me a chance, but I forgot—with so many better options around him, why would he choose me? He didn’t want the engagement, didn’t want to see me. That’s fair. It’s just that this one-sided emotional drain was exhausting. He did nothing wrong. Maybe we just weren’t meant to be. I didn’t want to keep pushing. I’ve liked him for so long, it’s time to move on. We agreed to meet next week at a new coffee shop. The weather had been perfect all week, but on the day of, it started pouring. Although the rain stopped, puddles were everywhere. I set the GPS wrong and ended up near the shop but not at it. The driver didn’t know where to go, so I got out to walk the rest of the way. Just as I was getting close, a supercar zoomed past me, splashing through a massive puddle. I was soaked in muddy water. I looked down at the stains on my white dress and sighed. I wore my favorite dress for this. Even if it was the end, I wanted to end it looking good. Who knew… I took out a tissue, bent down, and started wiping the mud, thinking: Guess we really aren’t meant to be. Suddenly, someone stopped in front of me. “Sorry, my friend wasn’t looking. He splashed you.” Hearing that lazy voice, I froze. I didn’t dare stand up. He continued, “He’s parking. I’ll make him pay for your dress.” My hand clutching the tissue was sweating. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Seeing me frozen and weird, he asked, “You okay?” I took three deep breaths before slowly straightening up. Seeing his face, I thought: Of course it’s him. So, looking like a drowned rat, I met Julian Thorne. Still that dangerously handsome face, tall build blocking my view, forcing me to only see him. But Julian seemed to freeze too. He stopped talking, his gaze burning as it met mine. I held his gaze for less than ten seconds before losing my nerve and looking away. But I could still feel his eyes on me. The atmosphere got weirdly awkward. I wondered: Did he recognize me? Then he asked, word by word: “Can I get your number?” I was silent. He definitely didn’t recognize me. He explained, “To pay you for the dress.” I shook my head. “No need.” I didn’t want to keep standing there, so I turned to enter the coffee shop. But Julian grabbed my arm. I looked back at him in surprise. He seemed shocked by his own action too, quickly letting go and pulling out his phone. “Just add me.” I didn’t know how to tell him he was already in my contacts. “Holy sh*t, Julian, what are you doing!” I looked over to see another tall, handsome guy walking over, looking shocked. I knew him. Julian’s best friend, Ben. They were too conspicuous. I was anxious to go inside and afraid Julian would grab me again, so I pointed at the shop. “Inside.” He clearly didn’t get what I meant, but nodded. I walked in. Behind me, Ben’s voice drifted over: “Dude, Julian, are you possessed? You never ask girls for their number!” “Look at your eyes, you look like you want to eat her.” “Something is wrong. Very wrong.” Julian’s voice was faint: “You know nothing.” “I think I’m about to have a wife.” 4 “You already have one,” Ben teased. “That fiancée of yours.” Julian told him to get lost. “Not her.” The coffee shop was new and trendy, lots of girls taking photos. Julian and Ben looked around. Ben asked, “Which one is your fiancée?” “Who knows?” Julian frowned, then tapped something on his phone. My screen lit up. Message from Julian: [I’m here.] I looked up and saw them walking toward me. Before I could confess, Julian made Ben apologize. “Apologize. Your driving sucks.” “You have the nerve to blame me?” Ben retorted. “You’re the one who said we should celebrate getting out of the engagement and made me drive you.” But after bickering, he apologized sincerely: “So sorry! Drove too fast, didn’t see you. How much was the dress? I’ll pay.” “It’s fine,” I said. “Really.” After apologizing, Ben kept staring at me, thinking. Julian noticed. “What are you looking at?” Ben ignored him and asked me, “Sister, have we met somewhere?” We had. “What do you mean?” Julian’s face darkened. “Hitting on girls in front of me?” “Screw you, I’m not that guy!” Ben lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t steal your girl.” “Then what did you mean?” “I’m not a creep using pick-up lines! She really looks familiar! No other meaning!” They went back and forth like a comedy duo. I interrupted. “Um…” They stopped and looked at me. “Let’s talk business.” Ben was confused. “What business?” I sighed, picked up my phone, and called Julian. Julian’s phone buzzed. He picked it up. Ben peeked at the screen. “Who is it? No name saved.” I stiffened. Even after deciding to end it, that stung. He hadn’t even saved my number. Ben realized. “Ah! Is it Wendy?” Hearing my name, Julian’s face soured again. He scanned the shop again, looking for me, and answered, “Hello.” My voice on the phone overlapped with my voice in front of him. “Julian.” I looked at him. “It’s me. Wendy.” I don’t know if Julian heard the echo. He froze. Ben’s jaw dropped. Julian turned stiffly to look at me, holding the phone. “Wendy?” No point staying on the line. I hung up. “Sigh.” The air seemed to solidify between us. Ben reacted first. “Holy sh*t, Julian, that really is your wife.” “No.” I took the ring box out of my bag. “Not for much longer.” When his mom took me shopping, I spent so long picking it out, full of joy. I never wore it, but I kept it on my nightstand, hoping one day he’d accept me and I could put it on. Guess that day isn’t coming. I handed him the box. “Julian, here’s the ring back.” “I agree to call off the engagement.” “Sorry for bothering you before.” Julian stared at me, not taking the box. After a long while, he stammered, “Wendy, I didn’t know…” I smiled bitterly. “It’s okay.” “Don’t give it back yet.” He refused to take it. “My brain is a mess. Wait a minute.” “I don’t want to wait.” I put the box on the table and pushed it toward him. “I’m leaving.” “Wendy.” Julian grabbed my wrist for the second time today. “I’ll drive you.” I peeled his fingers off, one by one. “No thanks. I’ll walk.”

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I’ve been Julian’s shadow since we were kids. The moment I graduated, I married him. Julian, the beautiful boy with autism. Even after marriage, we were practically strangers. He barely spoke to me. A stream of floating text—livestream comments from another dimension—scrolled across my vision: [Don’t worry, he just doesn’t want to talk to the Side Character. Wait until the Female Lead shows up, he’ll be chatting up a storm.] At first, I didn’t believe it. Until the night of the Truth or Dare game. A girl drew a card: “Spend the night with a man here.” She closed her eyes and spread a rumor: “I pick Julian. He’s good for eight rounds a night. Looks innocent, but he’s into everything. I’ve tried him.” Julian’s face went red, then white. For the first time in his life, he spoke up voluntarily: “Liar… You haven’t tried.” 1 “Liar… You haven’t tried.” I froze. I never expected Julian, the boy who lived in silence, to speak up on his own. The floating comments went wild: [LMAO Chatterbox Baby has skills! She provoked the autistic Male Lead into speaking!] [Look at Maya, her eyes are popping out.] [So sad. The Male Lead never spoke to her first. Can’t help it, her personality is just unlikeable.] [Yeah, she’s nothing like our Sunshine Girl Female Lead.] Chloe, the “Sunshine Girl,” looked at me smugly. “Everyone says Julian is autistic and hates talking. “But look, it’s not that hard to make him speak. Maya, why can’t you do it? “Oh, I know. It must be because you’re too boring. Hahaha. “Julian, don’t you think being with me is way better than being with a wooden block like Maya?” I stood there, feeling like I’d been slapped. Shame burned from my cheeks to my ears. This party was Julian’s mother’s idea. Mrs. Thorne told me to organize it so Julian could socialize. It was supposed to be good for his condition. Everyone here knew about my situation with Julian. The crowd started jeering: “Chloe, if you can make him say one more sentence, we’ll each give you a hundred bucks.” “Deal.” Chloe grinned at Julian. “Julian, you’re 6’2″, right?” A boring question. Julian remained silent, as usual. But then, Chloe laughed. “Do you know the root formula? It’s (Height – 105) x 0.618 / 3.14. So, you’re packing 6.3 inches down there?” Julian understood. His face turned beet red, forced to speak again: “No…” Chloe knew what he wanted to say. But she teased him on purpose: “No what? Not enough? More?” Julian’s ears were burning. “Don’t do that.” Chloe laughed so hard she shook. “What a good boy. Holding it in all this time just to say ‘Don’t do that.’ “I can’t take it, you’re too cute. “Hey, pay up! I won!” The others paid up, laughing. The comments flooded my vision: [Baby is a genius! What kind of math is that?!] [I’m dying, how does her brain work?] [LOL look at Maya. After all these years, Julian hasn’t said a full sentence to her.] [Honestly, Julian probably said more to Chloe in five minutes than he’s said to Maya in a decade.] [Maya is sitting there like a background NPC. Julian won’t even look at her. If I were her, I’d dig a hole and die of embarrassment.] [Comparison is the thief of joy. Look how lively Julian is with Chloe!] I bit my lip, emotions churning inside me. Chloe leaned on the table, eyes curving as she smiled at Julian. “Hey, you’re really handsome. God-tier visuals. Even the top idols aren’t as good-looking as you. “And your voice is amazing. You really should talk more. “Say something else. Come on.” But Julian had retreated into his shell again. Chloe leaned in closer, whispering loudly. “With a voice like that, you must sound so hot when you moan in bed. “Tell me, have you slept with Maya?” Julian, who never spoke, surprisingly answered her. “No.” “Don’t like.” I was stunned. Chloe burst out laughing. “You guys have been together forever and you haven’t slept with her? “He says he doesn’t like you! Hahaha! Maya, how annoying are you really?” She found Julian more and more interesting, finding new topics. “By the way Julian, has Maya ever tried to seduce you? Does she wear lingerie for you? Does she go commando…” I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up abruptly, drawing everyone’s gaze. “This is our private life. I don’t think you have the right to ask, Miss Chloe.” The happy atmosphere instantly froze. Chloe blinked, surprised by my outburst. Then she stuck out her tongue, unbothered. “It’s just a joke, why are you so fierce? “Are you jealous because Julian talked to me? “Oh well, it’s a skill issue. Just because you can’t do it doesn’t mean others can’t. “Making a mountain out of a molehill. No wonder Julian won’t talk to you.” The comments started again: [What the hell? Ruining the vibe with one sentence.] [Yeah, Julian finally spoke, she’s just jealous.] [Understandable, boring people tend to be buzzkills.] [It was just a joke, petty woman.] [It’s okay! Chloe is the FL, the Male Lead will protect her unconditionally.] I didn’t let Chloe gaslight me. I enunciated clearly: “A joke is only a joke if the person involved finds it funny. I don’t find it funny at all. “And I don’t think sexual harassment counts as a joke.” With every word, Chloe’s face fell further. Finally, she lowered her head, eyes misting up. “Julian, your wife doesn’t seem to like me talking to you. “Maybe I shouldn’t talk to you anymore.” I wanted to say more. But the next second, Julian grabbed my hand. His grip was unintentionally hard. “Don’t. Be mean to her.” His voice grew colder. “You. Apologize.” My heart gave a sudden, sharp throb. I came to the Thorne house when I was thirteen. I took care of him cautiously for twelve years. This was the first time he voluntarily spoke a complete sentence to me. And it was to defend a stranger he just met. 2 After all these years, Julian was still like a child—no control over his strength. My wrist turned red fast. I said softly, “Julian, you’re hurting me.” He froze, then let go slowly, realizing what he did. I tried to reason with him like he was a kid. “She said disrespectful things to me. That’s why I argued.” But Julian didn’t listen. “But you made her unhappy. “Why do you always make people unhappy?” I stood there, frozen. My mother was the Thorne family’s nanny. After my father died, I was brought to the Thorne estate. Mrs. Thorne was surprisingly welcoming. She held my hand and said, “The doctor says Julian needs to interact with kids his age. Take good care of him.” My mom told me to seize the opportunity. To get along with Julian. I became responsible for his daily life. Mrs. Thorne often praised me for being gentle and attentive. But Julian hated me. The first time I saw him, he stood at the top of the stairs in a white shirt, staring at me with empty black eyes. He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen. Lips pressed into a thin line, clean and quiet. I was mesmerized. I didn’t know then that I would hear “No” from those beautiful lips so many times. No entering his room. No touching his things. He liked silence. So no noise. No laughing. I used to be a lively girl. My teachers said I had ADHD because I couldn’t sit still. I’d chat with stray dogs on the street. When we first met, I fearlessly offered him my favorite doll. “You’re so pretty. You’d be even prettier if you smiled. Here, this is my favorite thing. For you.” He slapped the doll to the floor. He said, one word at a time: “Don’t smile. Looks. Disgusting.” People with autism don’t consider other people’s feelings. When they dislike someone, the malice is direct and unfiltered. I stood there, too scared to pick up my doll, unable to speak. I didn’t understand why he hated me so much. Every time Julian was mean to me, my mom would come into my room at night and slap me across the face. “Why can’t you be more obedient? More sensible? “Why did you upset Young Master Julian again? “Why can’t you talk less and do more?” It hurt. I was afraid of pain. So I listened to her. I learned to be steady, to be silent. I shrank myself until I was invisible. To take better care of Julian, I followed him from elementary school to college. I carried his backpack. I highlighted the hard questions in his homework. I poured the warm water for his morning meds. They all said I was Julian’s little maid. Julian didn’t like to talk. Once after school, he left without me. When I caught up, a group of boys had him cornered. “Mute. Can you speak? “Do you think you’re better than us?” Someone was about to dump a bottle of water on his head. Julian closed his eyes, bracing for impact. But the water didn’t hit him. He opened his eyes and saw me standing in front of him. The heavy bottle hit my head with a dull thud. My forehead swelled up instantly. Later, when the maid was cleaning my wound, Julian asked, “Does it hurt?” I shook my head. “No.” He nodded, believing me, and went upstairs. It would be a lie to say I wasn’t heartbroken. I thought his heart was frozen solid. But one day. I was taking notes for Julian in class. A classmate snickered at me. “Come here, little maid. “We’re Julian’s friends, so you should serve us too. “Do our homework.” I didn’t want trouble. I didn’t want to cause issues for Julian. I was about to get up. But Julian grabbed my hand. “She is not a maid. “Don’t bully her.” I was stunned. That day, I was so happy. I thought maybe I was becoming special to him. Maybe if I tried harder, he would accept me. But now he asked me. Why do I always make people unhappy? Suddenly, I felt tired. So tired. A deep sense of powerlessness washed over me. 3 The party ended badly. I thought it was over. But the next day, Julian brought Chloe home. He took her into his art studio. His sanctuary. They say autistic people have genius talents. Julian was a prodigy artist. His paintings sold for fortunes. To stay in school with him, I gave up music, which I loved, and chose art, trapping myself in a world of shapes and colors I didn’t understand. Julian hated my lack of talent. He’d poke my forehead and call me stupid. But Chloe didn’t like painting either. She constantly interrupted him. “Your room is huge. Speaking of huge, your…” “You’ve been painting a long time. Speaking of long…” “Why won’t you look at me? Your world is only yourself. Speaking of self…” The comments were laughing: [Hahaha, this meme never gets old.] [Am I the only one who thinks this is vulgar? Respect yourself.] [Upstairs, stop pretending to be pure.] [Chatterbox Baby is so talkative, so lovable.] Julian hated interruptions when he painted. Before, if I walked in softly to remind him to take his meds, he’d knock the pills over, eyes red, pushing me out. “Get out! Out!” But. But now. He said he hated noise, yet he tolerated the noisy Chloe. He didn’t get mad. He just sat there, painting quietly. Chloe yawned. “Boring. I want to go home.” Julian finally stepped out of his world. “Painting. Is fun. “I’ll hold your hand to paint. Don’t go, okay?” Chloe said, “No. Boring.” Julian thought for a moment. “Then I won’t paint. You stay.” This was the first time I saw Julian compromise. Clumsily learning to please someone else. Even Mrs. Thorne said, “I’ve never seen Julian so gentle with a girl.” It was time for his meds. She reminded me to take them to him. I obediently brought the tray in. “Time for medicine.” Julian hated taking medicine. So he hated me, the messenger. But he didn’t know I hated it too. Every time was a battle. Coaxing, pleading. When he was unhappy, he’d swat the bowl away. Hot water splashed on my hands, burning me. Sometimes he’d grab my wrist and twist until bruises formed. He fought like a bull, knocking my elbows into table corners. It was just a pill. But he acted like it was poison. And I always suffered for it. Predictably, it didn’t go well. He glared at me. “If you don’t apologize, I won’t take it.” He still remembered yesterday. I used my trump card. “If you don’t, I’ll tell Mrs. Thorne.” He was afraid of his mother. He hesitated. But before I could relax, he exploded. He shoved my hand away so hard I stumbled. “Go away! You’re a parasite! I hate you! “If you force me again, I’ll divorce you!” I froze. “Who taught you that?” He said, “Chloe said you eat my family’s food, wear my family’s clothes, live in my family’s house. You’re a parasite. I can divorce you if I want. “You have no right to order me around.” The comments: [Hahaha, this kid is so honest.] [True though, she is a parasite.] [Our Baby is smart. Julian said he didn’t want meds, Chloe told him to threaten the bad woman with divorce.] I stared at the scrolling text, throat tight. He really was obedient. He listened to whatever Chloe said. I just wanted him to take his meds. To get better. Why did I become the villain? My nose stung. Eyes burned. The grievances I hid for so long surged up, blocking my chest. Twelve years. No matter what I did, it was never enough. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be the bad guy anymore. I didn’t want to force him. Didn’t want to watch him hate me. Didn’t want to guard this empty life anymore. Leave. The thought popped up, and the heavy weight in my heart lightened. Seeing me silent, Julian thought the threat worked. His tone softened. “Apologize obediently, and I’ll take the meds. No divorce.” I refused. He frowned. “Is apologizing that hard?” I said, “Yes. It is.” Maybe if I acted like before, coaxing him like a child, indulging his whims. Maybe if I lowered my head and soothed him, Julian would forget today. He would take his meds. But my heart felt like it was sinking into ice water. Tired. Really tired. Twelve years is long enough. Who can stand on tiptoes for a lifetime to accommodate someone else? I took a deep breath and used all my strength to say: “Fine. “Since you want a divorce, let’s divorce.” He didn’t expect that reaction. He froze. “W-what did you say?” 4 I repeated it. “You want a divorce, right? I agree.” Julian didn’t speak for a long time. He stared at me blankly, like his brain short-circuited. According to Chloe, I should be terrified. Divorce meant losing my luxurious life. It meant twelve years of effort wasted. So I should be begging, pampering, yielding. Apologizing to Chloe. But sunk costs shouldn’t dictate future decisions. His temper flared again. Julian pushed me out the door, avoiding the issue. “Go away. I don’t want to talk to you. “I’m going to paint.” He was always this willful. Tragically, I was used to it. I knew not to fight him when he was emotional. I stepped back, voice soft. “Okay. “Paint. I’ll come back later.” 5 After being shoved out, I wandered aimlessly around the villa. I looked at the place I lived for twelve years. Every blade of grass. Thinking of the bits and pieces of accompanying Julian. I realized I didn’t have much attachment. I wandered for a long time. Cutting through the garden to leave, I heard whispers from the gazebo. Chloe and Julian. Julian asked, “Why does Maya always control me?” Chloe said nonchalantly, “Simple. Divorce her for real, and she won’t dare to act up.” Julian was silent, then asked, “What does divorce mean?” Chloe was stunned. “You don’t know? “You have a certificate, so you’re legally husband and wife. “It means you can live together openly. Legal cohabitation. “Sleeping in the same bed, doing couple things, it’s all allowed. “As your wife, she manages your life, even restricts who you see. That’s common in marriages. “Divorce means she has nothing to do with you. She can’t live here, can’t manage you, won’t appear in front of you. You’ll be totally free.” Julian had no reaction until the last sentence. His eyes widened slowly. “She won’t live in my house?” Chloe said, “Of course not.” Julian paused. “I don’t want a divorce.” Chloe didn’t understand. “Why? You hate her.” Julian pursed his lips. “Because I… don’t want not to see her.” My fingers trembled. My heart moved slightly. But then he said: “She has to take care of me forever. No one else can. I only want her.” Chloe laughed. “What? I can take care of you too.” Julian shook his head. “No.” Chloe asked, “Why not?” Julian said, “You’re different. You’re fun. “You play with me. She can’t do that. “She’s used to taking care of people. I’m only used to her doing it.” I froze. Then I smiled bitterly. Even in his mind, my value was graded. Chloe was the fun playmate. I was just the servant. The tiny spark of hope that maybe he cared about me was extinguished instantly. Chloe continued persuading him. “But if you don’t, she’ll control you forever. “Don’t you hate that?” Julian looked at her blankly. “What should I do?” Chloe smiled. “I’ve seen women like her. “Vanity. Mooching off your family since childhood. Wanting your money. She won’t leave. “I have a way to deal with gold diggers. “Just pretend to divorce her. Once is enough. She’ll learn her lesson. She’ll beg you like a dog to take her back and never dare control you again.” The comments were cheering: [Wow, Baby is so smart!] [Exactly. Someone like Maya needs to be taught a lesson, or she’ll think she owns the place.] I ignored the malicious text. I held my breath, waiting for Julian’s answer. He thought seriously for a moment. Then he nodded earnestly. “Okay, I’ll try.” In that moment, my heart skipped a beat. Yeah. It’s okay, Maya. Isn’t this expected? I didn’t want to listen anymore. I didn’t want to care. I quietly walked away.

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During a reality show, I was asked why I broke up with my first love. The A-list actor next to me, Liam Ford, scoffed coldly. “She said her husband didn’t approve, so she couldn’t take me as her fifth lover.” Me: “…” Did I really say something that ridiculous back then?! 1 During a break from filming, my manager shoved me into a slow-living reality show. Coincidentally, my ex-boyfriend, whom I dated secretly and broke up with three years ago, was also there. During the icebreaker segment, the juicy question came up: “Why did you break up with your first love?” I kept a straight face. “It was so long ago, I can’t remember.” Beside me, Liam Ford, the movie star, glanced at me expressionlessly and let out a cold laugh. “I remember it quite clearly.” “She told me she was a ‘System User’ who had targeted the wrong capture target, and if she kept dating me, the System would punish her.” The host: “?!” The other guests: “??!!” Me: “…” The room went dead silent. The host’s eyes widened, bold enough to ask, “And then?” Liam spoke slowly, deliberately. “And then…” I shivered, feeling a chill down my spine. He smirked lazily. “And then, I roleplayed eighteen different personas to date her online, and got dumped every single time.” “The reasons included, but were not limited to:” “Allergic to my body hair.” “She’s a Monkey, I’m a Dragon, so being together would give her a sore throat.” “Complained that I was over 25 and ‘expired before opening.’” “Suddenly realized she liked girls.” “And that her husband at home didn’t approve, so she couldn’t take me as her fifth lover…” ???!!! So that’s why I had all those thirst traps sliding into my DMs every day! The clingy puppy dog calling me “Noona,” the pale jock flashing his abs, the sugar daddy throwing cash, the gloomy emo boy dancing in sheer shirts! They had me blushing every day. Turns out it was all YOU?!!! 2 The other guests were trying not to laugh, their faces turning red. I coughed guiltily. “Is it really that exaggerated? No way…” Instantly, the chill on my back intensified. I shut up. The air was dead silent, except for the scrolling comments on the live stream. [Chloe is such a clout chaser because she’s not famous.] [Right? Why is she chiming in with that exaggerated, fake expression? She’s just trying to imply she has a connection with Liam Ford.] [She should look in the mirror. Does the movie star even know her?] [No wonder her only famous roles are villains. She’s just playing herself~] [Just trying to get attention, clown behavior.] [Hahaha, Liam was probably just making stuff up, and only Chloe took it seriously.] I looked everywhere but at him, trying to act like it had nothing to do with me. In reality, I was grinding my teeth. Damn you, Liam Ford! Did you leave the house with your head up your ass today?! Amidst the chaos, the popular starlet Sarah chimed in. She pursed her lips, looking shy. “As for me, things were going well with my first love.” “I was just young and immature. We had a small fight, and I made up an excuse to break up. I hope he can forgive me.” She lowered her head bashfully after speaking. Avoiding Liam’s gaze, her cheeks flushed pink. My eyes darted between them in horror. Are you two a thing now too?! 3 Sarah and Liam had just finished filming a tragic romance drama together. Right now, the big screen was completely taken over by their CP (couple) fans. [Ahhhh! Something’s going on between them!] [Get used to it, just a little couple secretly sprinkling sugar~] [I remember Liam was the last guest announced for this show? Damn, he must have heard his wife was here and came running.] [Definitely. That Chloe girl has no tact.] [Stupid and eager, trying to butt in and ruining our shipping moment!] Me: “…” Bullying me because I can’t afford bots, huh? Besides, who wants to be associated with them?! The host smiled and asked about the current status of our first loves. I steeled myself and blurted out. “Sadly, he… died.” “Yeah, cancer.” Liam looked over in disbelief. His jawline tightened. Tsk, I said you’re dead, so stay dead. Don’t talk! I ignored his dark gaze. Amidst everyone’s sympathetic looks, I added fuel to the fire. “I went to see him before he passed. He was skin and bones. Truly died too young…” I feigned grief, wiping away non-existent tears. Actually, I let out a huge sigh of relief. Now no one can accuse me of clout chasing or claiming to be Liam’s first love, right?! Using my ex-boyfriend’s death to clear my name. Worth it!!! 4 The guests stayed overnight at the villa prepared by the production team. I was assigned a double room. With Sarah. At midnight, she was tossing and turning in bed with a full face of makeup. “Chloe unnie, what should I do?” “Do you think that person will forgive me?” “Should I buy an apology gift~” “I really didn’t mean to hurt him.” “I didn’t expect him to love me so much, to go to such lengths for me…” I responded half-heartedly. My eyes were barely staying open. My head was pounding from the noise. Seeing my voice trailing off, she flashed her phone screen in my eyes. “Chloe unnie, are you asleep?” “Chloe unnie~” AHHHH! I rubbed my hair in frustration. Girl, it’s just the two of us now, you don’t need to act!!! [Sarah is about to cry, and Chloe has zero reaction. So cold.] [Lol, people who can’t empathize with others shouldn’t be actors.] [To the people above, I hope you meet a roommate who won’t sleep at midnight and insists on talking about her ex.] [Isn’t late-night chatting normal?] [Plus, Sarah really has a problem to solve. Who is Chloe showing that face to?] [People like her deserve their first love dying. She’s bad luck.] Oh, I forgot. To attract traffic, the show livestreams for 24 hours as a pilot before the main episodes. My haters are working hard, still at it at this hour! If only I could actually hex Liam to death! Save me from this torture!!! While Sarah went to the bathroom to touch up her makeup. I made a break for it. The living room was dim, only the small light in the hallway was on. Just as I was about to grab a bottle of cold water, a voice suddenly appeared right next to me. Exploding in the darkness. “Not sleeping?” “Thinking about where to bury your first love?” I whipped around. Liam was standing behind me like a ghost. He was wearing black pajamas, collar wide open regardless of the cameras, looking lazy. Must have just showered, smelling of warm woody fragrance. Wolves in front, tigers behind! No peace anywhere!!! I snapped. “Can’t I just have insomnia?” He nodded seriously. Leaned in close, his voice bewitching. “I turned off the camera in my room.” “If you can’t sleep, you can come find me.” “You’ll fall asleep when you’re tired…” ???!!! Microphone! The live microphone isn’t off!!!! 5 Heart skipped a beat, breath hitched. Blood rushed to my head, scrambling my senses. I frantically covered his mouth. Reached for the mic at my waist. The next second, my palm felt hot. Me: ???!!! Liam Ford, you pervert! Licking me at a time like this?!!! Ewwwwww! I wanted to cry but had no tears. I silently wiped my hand on his clothes… He was suddenly in a good mood. Retracting the arm hovering near my waist, he smirked. “Don’t worry, I already turned off your mic.” Damn, playing with me? Just because I dumped you 18 times, is this necessary?! “Psycho!!!” I swore and ran. Only to be hooked by the collar and spun around. “What do you want?!” “Weren’t you kept awake by the noise?” “I have a single room. Sleep in mine.” Huh? So kind? I looked him up and down suspiciously, “Then where do you sleep?” Liam’s grin widened. “Why, feeling sorry for me? Want to invite me to your bed?” Wow, who cares about you! Go sleep on the street!!! I angrily broke free. Marched upstairs unapologetically. Slammed his door, climbed into his bed, pulled his duvet over my head. Squatter’s rights. Silence at last. The hotel bedding carried a hint of Liam’s cologne, like his unique pheromones. Occasionally overpowering the ambient smell, rushing into my nose with every breath… … Slept deeply. The duvet was yanked off, cold air rushing in. For a moment, I thought I was back in my room. Sarah’s chirping voice hovered near my head. “Brother Liam, morning! Time to wake up for missions!!!” Consciousness lagging. I groggily opened my eyes and locked gazes with Sarah, who was holding a handheld camera… ???!!!

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On my first day of school, I accidentally crossed the Queen Bee of the sophomore class. She threatened to sick her “bad boy” boyfriend on me. Sure enough, the school’s notorious delinquent strutted over with a walk that screamed “I own this place.” But when he saw me, he froze and shouted in disbelief: “Sis?” I smirked coldly and proceeded to give him a lesson filled with “love and care.” The Queen Bee watched, trembling, and stuttered: “Sis, since you hit him, you can’t hit me too, right?” 1 “Which class are you in?” The girl blocking my path wasn’t wearing her uniform properly. She had streaks of red dyed into her hair and radiated “Queen Bee” energy. Her tone was arrogant. “Do you know who I am?” I shook my head honestly. “You don’t know who I am, and you dare block me? Haven’t you heard of Bella from the high school division?” I shook my head again. “I’m new.” “Oh, a transfer student,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Then my skipping class is none of your business. Get lost, or I’ll make you regret it!” Five minutes ago, I was walking by the school fence when I saw a student trying to climb over. I called her down. “According to school rules, truancy is prohibited,” I said calmly. “I suggest you go back to your classroom.” Bella, as she called herself, sneered at me. “Fine, want to play hero? You might not know me, but you’ve heard of my boyfriend, right? Carter. He’s famous even outside of school. Want me to call him over to deal with you?” Boyfriend. Puppy love? I crossed my arms. “Go ahead. Call him.” Provoked by the challenge in my eyes, she pulled out her phone and dialed. “Babe…” I didn’t hear what was said on the other end, but she hung up quickly, looking even more smug. “You just wait!” I checked the time. I could wait. A few minutes later, a group of boys marched aggressively toward us. I squinted. The leader wasn’t wearing a uniform, and his build looked familiar. Bella sneered. “It’s not too late to apologize. My boyfriend isn’t as nice as I am.” “Really?” I replied coolly. “I’d love to see how ‘not nice’ he is.” As the group got closer, I finally saw the leader’s face clearly. The corner of my mouth twitched uncontrollably. The leader, oozing “Big Brother” energy, strutted toward his girlfriend without glancing at anyone else. He barked dominantly, “You okay? Who’s the blind idiot messing with my girl at North High…” He looked up at the “blind idiot”—me. His voice cracked mid-sentence. “Sis?” That single syllable stunned his entire entourage. I smiled—a smile that promised pain. “Carter, you’ve really made something of yourself. Boss of the school now, huh?” The school bully took a sharp step back. Too late. I threw the uniform jacket I’d brought for him right into his face. In two steps, I grabbed his ear and slapped his forehead. Not hard enough to cause brain damage, but enough to rattle his brain cells. “Who taught you to act like a king at school?” “Carter? Bullying classmates now, are we?” “And ‘your girl’? Not even eighteen and playing house? I ought to beat you…” “…” I gave Carter a thorough education filled with “love and care.” He scurried around like a rat, covering his head. “Sis! Sis! It’s school! Give me some face!” 2 As the eldest child, I have a natural bloodline suppression over Carter. When he was a toddler causing trouble, my parents were too soft to discipline him. I wasn’t. Won’t eat dinner? Smack. Disrespecting Mom and Dad? Smack. Stealing my stuff? Smack. Causing trouble outside? Smack. Addicted to video games? Smack. My parents realized my “gentle taps” were effective and let me handle it. I molded him into a good kid. Carter has always been simple-minded and not exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. A beating followed by a piece of candy usually set him straight. He holds no grudges as long as he gets fed. Such a good kid. How did he turn into this? Carter couldn’t escape. Since I realized my little brother would eventually outgrow me, I started taking martial arts classes. Cornered, he looked to his minions and girlfriend for help. However, the girl who was just playing the tough Queen Bee now had eyes clear of any rebellion. I looked at Carter’s little girlfriend. She shuddered visibly. “Sis,” she stammered, “since you hit him, you can’t hit me too, right?” “…” The warning bell rang, saving Carter’s life. He screamed, “Sis! Class is starting! I need to go to class!” The desperation in his voice suggested a newfound, intense passion for education. I smiled gently. “Didn’t you want to skip class just now?” From Bella’s phone call, I knew they were planning to skip together. “No, no! Sis, I’m going back to class!” I let him go and nodded. “Fine. Go back to class, all of you.” Carter and the others looked like they’d been granted amnesty and sprinted toward the academic building. However, after a few steps, they realized I was following them. “Sis, why are you following us?” Carter whispered. “I promise I’m going back to class.” I smiled. “It’s fine. It’s on my way. I’ll walk you to your classroom.” Carter didn’t think too deeply about my words. He just muttered for me to go home. I hadn’t been home in a while, so Carter clearly didn’t care enough about his sister’s life updates. He probably thought Mom sent me just to deliver his jacket. The group of students, who looked like a teacher’s nightmare, walked ahead like obedient little ducklings. Finally, under my gaze, they walked into the classroom marked Sophomore Class 9. The bell had rung, but the room was chaotic because the teacher hadn’t arrived yet. I raised an eyebrow at the sign on the doorframe. “Sis, I’m here. You can go back now,” my dear brother whispered, eager to escape my clutches. I tilted my chin. “You go in first.” Carter went in. I waited outside for another ten seconds, then, under the gaze of everyone, walked into the noisy classroom. And stepped onto the podium. The class went quiet for a second. The students who had just seen me outside stared with wide eyes. “Hello everyone, let me introduce myself,” I said, my voice steady and projecting without a microphone. “I am your homeroom teacher for this year, Ms. Shen. I’ll also be teaching you Physics. Nice to meet you all.” As my words fell, I met the despairing eyes of my brother and his little girlfriend. 3 I am nine years older than Carter. Because of the bloodline suppression, when I went to college, my third-grade brother was still a well-behaved baby in my eyes. After I graduated and went to grad school, I visited home less. Carter finished elementary school and started middle school. I heard my parents complain about his rebellious phase over the phone. I thought it was just normal teenage angst. Who knew I’d come back to find a full-blown delinquent? Where did my sweet, soft cupcake of a brother go? The first period was basically homeroom. I got to know everyone’s names. To them, I was just reading a list. When the bell rang, I walked slowly to Carter and Bella’s desks. Bella, the girl I stopped from climbing the wall, and my brother’s puppy love interest. They sat across the aisle from each other. I tapped their desks. “Phones. Out.” North High rules: No electronics on campus without special permission. They both looked devastated as they pulled their phones from their desks. “Come to my office during the long break.” The next period was also mine. Physics. It had been a while since I taught basic physics. Class 9 wasn’t the top tier, nor the bottom. Just average. The first lesson was foundational and simple. Most of them listened, especially my brother, who was terrified I’d catch him spacing out. After class, I went straight to the office with the confiscated phones. When the long break finally arrived, Carter and Bella appeared at the office door, dragging their feet. “Sis, why are you teaching at our school? Why didn’t I know?” Carter finally burst out. Of course he didn’t know. I only told our parents I was moving back to town. Last night when I visited, I mentioned getting a job at my alma mater, but Carter was gaming with headphones on. This morning, Mom noticed he left without his jacket and asked me to bring it. She didn’t mention his class, just told me to text him. I kept my face neutral. “Call me Ms. Shen at school.” “Oh. Ms. Shen.” Carter hung his head obediently. “Truancy, dating, phones, forming cliques…” I listed their crimes, then looked at my brother. “Carter, what else don’t I know?” “And you, Bella. You two are a pair. You think Carter is reliable? At your age, you should be focused on grades and dreams, not romance and gang loyalty.” My brother: “…” “Sis… Teacher, I was wrong. Please let us off this once. I promise it won’t happen again.” Carter tugged at my sleeve, begging quietly. I’ve only been working for two years and haven’t dealt with students like this much, but I know a student’s promise is worth less than sand in the wind. “I’m calling your parents tonight.” Both of their faces changed. “Teacher, aren’t you… my parent?” 4 I didn’t look up. “Call your Mom and Dad.” “Bella, is the contact in your file your father or mother?” I asked the silent girl. She didn’t look as arrogant as this morning, but there was still a stubborn set to her jaw. “It’s my dad’s secretary.” I didn’t overthink it. “Give me your father or mother’s direct number. I’ll talk to them.” She went silent. Cosplaying a mute. “…” I rubbed my temples. I knew I wasn’t cut out to be a homeroom teacher. Carter whispered helpfully, “Teacher, Bella’s mom died two years ago. Her dad remarried and ignores her now.” I paused. Family issues weren’t something a teacher could solve easily. “Bella, give me your father’s number first.” As a homeroom teacher, I had to try communicating. She finally spoke. “I don’t have it. We fought, I blocked him, didn’t memorize it.” “…” Compared to my brother, the prick, this girl had way more issues to unpack. A twenty-minute break wasn’t enough to solve this. I sent them back to class. I tried contacting the secretary Bella mentioned. The secretary politely informed me that Mr. Cheng was in a meeting and would get back to me. I waited two hours. The secretary called back, saying Mr. Cheng didn’t have time to come to the school, but provided his direct line. I called. A middle-aged man answered, sounding annoyed. “What trouble did that ungrateful girl cause now?” “Not trouble exactly. If you’re free, could you come to the school? I’d like to discuss Bella’s situation.” Before I finished, a baby started crying in the background. A woman’s voice cooed, “Honey, the baby is crying again, is he sick…” Chaos ensued on the other end. Then the man said, “If she caused trouble, punish her according to school rules. I don’t have time for her.” Click. He hung up. “…” I regretted taking this job. I grabbed my textbook and headed to another building. There were only about twenty students in the room. I stood at the podium. “Welcome, freshmen, to the Physics Olympiad Class.” Physics Olympiad Coach. That was my real job. A few days before school started, the original homeroom teacher for Class 9 (who also taught physics) had a medical emergency regarding her pregnancy. She took a long leave. The school scrambled to find a replacement. Her other class was covered by a senior teacher, but Class 9 was left hanging. The administration asked if I could cover it. Since the freshmen Olympiad team wasn’t competing this year, I had the time, so I took it. I didn’t know Carter was in that class. Looking at the fresh faces in the Olympiad class, I felt nostalgic. Ten years ago, I was sitting there, listening to my coach ramble. Throughout the year, some would drop out, some would join. The road to the Olympiad is long and hard.

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My childhood best friend, Luke, got caught sneaking around with the school’s prom queen, Tiffany. To protect Tiffany’s reputation, he lied and said I was his girlfriend. I got suspended for it. Tiffany looked at me with mock sympathy, her eyes red. “Are you happy now?” “It’s just a few days of suspension,” she said. “Now the whole school thinks you two are together, so what am I?” Luke, trying to comfort her, forbade me from returning to school. “Be good,” he told me. “It’s exam season, she’ll get upset if she sees you.” “You’re smart anyway. You can study from home.” I didn’t listen. I went back to school. Luke scoffed when he saw me. “Miss me that much?” He didn’t know I was there to pick up my transfer papers. A month later, Luke called, demanding to know why I transferred. What he heard instead was a lazy, affectionate boy’s voice on the other end: “Babe, how can you be distracted right now? Answering other people’s calls?” “I’m enough for you. Be good, hang up the phone.” 1 Holding the thin transfer application form, I finally breathed a sigh of relief. The principal looked reluctant, still trying to keep me. “Miss Wen, the school apologizes for misunderstanding you. Suspending you without investigation was wrong. Please reconsider transferring…” I shook my head gently, but my resolve was firm. Saying goodbye to my favorite teachers, I couldn’t help but tear up. My favorite teacher wiped away my tears. “I hate to see you go, but your potential is wasted here.” Just as I reached the classroom door, I heard Luke’s lazy laughter. “I waited in line for four hours for this. Will the princess honor me with a bite?” Luke was leaning intimately against Tiffany’s desk. He held a spoon of tiramisu, coaxing it toward her lips. It was hard to imagine someone like Luke having the patience to wait in line for anything. Tiffany still looked a bit grumpy, but the corners of her mouth were already turning up. “Tsk, finally smiling for me?” Tiffany huffed. “Who told you to call someone else your girlfriend? I just wanted to teach you a lesson!” Luke smiled, pleading for mercy. “I did it for you! Wen is top of the class, she just gets a suspension. You’re… average. You would have been expelled.” Tiffany looked at me standing at the door with a triumphant smirk. “Aren’t you worried Wen will get expelled?” Luke pressed a finger to her lips, his eyes playful. “Wouldn’t that be better? Save you the trouble of seeing her.” “As long as you’re mad, I won’t let her come back to school. Forgive me now?” Tiffany slapped his hand away and lifted her chin. “Then who’s that standing at the door? Are you blind?” Luke froze. He turned to me, his smile vanishing instantly. He strode over, grabbed my arm, and dragged me out of the classroom, frowning. “Why are you here?” “Didn’t I tell you to study at home? It’s crunch time for exams, what if you distract her?” “I just got her to calm down, you ruined it!” Maybe because my heart had finally died, I didn’t cry like before. I shook off his hand and moved to pack my things. Luke saw my red eyes and paused. “Miss me that much?” He sighed, helpless. “Fine. Go home now, I’ll come back early to keep you company tonight, okay?” He hooked his pinky around mine and shook it. For a second, I was dazed. 2 Luke and I were inseparable since birth. Our parents were classmates, then neighbors. We were even born on the same day. Luke was older by a few minutes, so he was told to protect his “little sister.” In kindergarten, the first word he learned to write was my name. I had a stutter growing up. Luke fought anyone who laughed at me. When I was ten, my mom died. I locked myself in my room, refusing to eat. Luke climbed through the third-story window when I wouldn’t open the door. He held my pinky and comforted me all night. I cried until I broke, asking, “Will you leave me?” He hugged me tight. “Never.” When Luke bombed his high school entrance exams, I gave up my spot at the elite magnet school to stay with him at the local public school. I believed we would be together forever. But in high school, Luke changed. He started finding me clingy and annoying. He distanced himself at school. His attention shifted to Tiffany, the school beauty. He chased her loudly and proudly. Two weeks ago, someone snapped a photo of them kissing in the woods and posted it on the school forum. Luke’s tall frame hid the girl, showing only messy hair and a pale neck. The Dean was furious. He demanded to know who the girl was. Luke put his arm around me, kissed my forehead in front of everyone, and smirked. “Do you even have to ask? It’s obviously my childhood sweetheart!” I had imagined Luke confessing to me many times. I never imagined he would use me as a human shield for another girl. “I won’t leave you.” That promise still echoed in my ears. But Luke was no longer the boy from my memories. 3 I snapped out of the memory and pulled away from Luke again. Seeing me packing, Luke’s frown relaxed. “Just tell me what books you need, I would have brought them. Why come all this way?” “Do you know what day it is…” He stopped himself. “Whatever, now Tiffany’s upset again. I have to go fix this.” I’ve never been much of a talker. And I didn’t tell him I was transferring. Packing was quick. Senior year textbooks were heavy. My arms were getting sore. Luke naturally reached out and took the bag, walking out. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.” He carried the heavy bag effortlessly with one hand. With the other, he tossed me a bag of pastries. “Bought your favorite chestnut cakes. Eat them later.” I trotted to keep up, reaching for my bag. Luke switched hands, using his free hand to pinch the back of my neck, laughing. “Stop it. With your tiny arms, you’ll break something carrying this.” Suddenly, Tiffany spoke up. “Luke…” She bit her lip, looking pitiful. “My stomach hurts…” Luke spun around. The next second, the heavy bag was shoved into my arms. I stumbled back, hip slamming into a desk corner. “Take a taxi home.” Luke didn’t even look at me as he ran to Tiffany. Pain radiated from my hip. I picked up the bag and limped out. Behind me, Tiffany’s voice floated over: “Your little friend looks hurt. Poor thing.” “Is it cramps? Your period?” “But she really got hit hard.” “Stay there,” Luke said, impatient but not at her. “I’ll get heat packs and brown sugar water.” The hallway was noisy. Their voices faded. The last thing I heard was Tiffany’s sweet voice: “You’re so good to me.” I threw the chestnut cakes in the trash and walked away. 4 Back home, I got a call from Magnet High. “Miss Wen, your dorm and supplies are ready. Just come whenever.” The admissions officer sounded cheerful. “When will you be joining us? Your new classmates can’t wait to meet you.” I thought for a moment. “Tomorrow.” After hanging up, my dad knocked and entered with a plate of fruit. When I suddenly asked to transfer, I thought he’d ask why. But he just nodded. “Where do you want to go? I’ll handle the paperwork.” I wanted to tell him everything. But the words stuck in my throat, and I just cried. “It’s okay not to say.” He patted my back like when I was little. “I know you don’t make decisions lightly. Transferring is good. A fresh start.” “You’re my daughter. Whatever you want to do, Dad supports you.” I begged him not to tell Luke’s parents. He was surprised but agreed. This time, I wouldn’t sacrifice my future. 5 I started packing everything Luke had ever given me. Gift boxes piled up in the corner. Paper stars he folded when I was sad scattered on the floor. A giant teddy bear taking up half my bed. Expensive dresses. Handmade gloves. The polaroid camera and the stack of photos he insisted on taking. Two huge boxes. Taping them shut, I realized it was already night. I struggled to carry the boxes downstairs. The dumpster was at the corner. Just as I was about to throw them in, laughter drifted on the wind. Luke, holding a beer, smiling brightly. Tiffany leaning on his arm, holding sparklers. Someone yelled “Make a wish, Tiffany!”, someone sang Happy Birthday. So it was her birthday. They were chatting and laughing. Somehow the topic turned to transfers. “Heard someone in our grade is transferring? Is it… Wen?” “No way.” Luke was fixing Tiffany’s hair, scoffing. “She’s obsessed with me. She can’t leave me.” “True, she listened to you and stayed home. You’re ruthless, Luke. Aren’t you worried her grades will drop?” Luke sounded casual but certain: “Doesn’t matter. She’s going to the same college as me anyway. Higher scores won’t help.” Tiffany stomped her foot. “Luke! Do you have to talk about her on my birthday?” Luke pinched her nose lovingly. “Princess, how many times do I have to say it? She’s just a sister to me. You jealous of her?” I finished dumping the trash and turned to leave. But then I saw Tiffany playfully hit Luke’s arm. On her wrist was a familiar red string bracelet. I rushed over. “That… that’s mine!” Luke spun around, shocked. “Wen? Why are you here?” I couldn’t mistake it. The bracelet had little silver stars. My mom got it from a temple when she was sick. She climbed thousands of steps for it. One for me, one for Luke. She said it would protect us, that it would be like she was always with us. The string was frayed. Luke had worn it for five years. And now he gave my mom’s last gift to Tiffany! How dare he! Tiffany shrank behind Luke. “What’s wrong with her? Scary…” Smack. The sound of the slap cut through the night air. My hand wouldn’t stop shaking. Luke’s face turned to the side. He froze, shock and anger in his eyes. My eyes burned. I ripped the bracelet off my own wrist. “Who wants your trash!” I threw it over the bridge railing. “Keep it!” “Luke treats you so well, and you hit him!” Tiffany cried. Luke grabbed my wrist, face dark. “Why did you throw it?” I watched the red string disappear into the river below. Without hesitation, I climbed over the railing. “Wen!” “Luke!” Two panicked voices. Tiffany held Luke back. “Don’t go! She’s doing it on purpose! She hit you! She doesn’t care about you!” Luke’s hand froze in mid-air. Conflict raged in his eyes. Anger, worry, and the sting of humiliation. “The bridge isn’t high, the water isn’t deep. She’s just scaring you!” “You’re bleeding. We need to go to the hospital!” After a long silence, Luke’s voice was ice cold. “Let’s go.” The river water hit my knees, bone-chillingly cold. We crossed this bridge every day for school. I remembered Luke always holding my hand, keeping me in the middle, away from the edge. “Stay away. What if you fall? I’m scared.” I’d tease him. “What if you fall?” He’d grip tighter. “I’d be fine. But you can’t fall.” The bridge that seemed so high back then was just a small jump now. I found the bracelet in the rocks. Walking home, I realized something. The bridge didn’t get shorter. The person who used to be afraid I’d fall just stopped caring if I got hurt. But it’s okay. I don’t need him anymore.

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My husband has a bizarre fetish. Role-playing. And in his twisted scripts, I’m always cast as the devoted wife he casts aside. Today, he’s the ruthless tycoon who falls for the nanny. Tomorrow, he’s the brilliant professor infatuated with his student. Each time, he makes me sign a divorce agreement, only to tear it up with a laugh the next day. “Darling,” he’d say, “it’s just a game.” That is, until my mother was in a car accident and needed $50,000 for emergency surgery. On that day, he was role-playing a bankrupt loser. “I’m broke, darling, completely penniless. Where would I get the money to save your mother?” I watched my mother take her last breath. On the day of her funeral, he showed up with a beautiful young college student on his arm. “Honey, I’ve fallen in love with my student. Let’s get a divorce.” Frank pulled a document from his briefcase and handed it to me. This time, I didn’t wait for him to tear it up. 1 A fresh divorce agreement. His signature was already on it. The game again. He was starting the game again, right here, at my mother’s wake, just after I’d lost the only family I had left. I stared at him, at that handsome face I once adored. For the past three years, every time he produced one of these agreements, I would play my part. I’d cry, I’d scream, I’d demand to know why. And then he’d laugh, rip up the paper, and pull me into his arms, cooing that it was all just for fun. He called it spicing things up, a way to keep the magic alive. And I believed him. But now, my mother was lying in a coffin just a few feet away. Before she died, she had gripped my hand, her eyes fixed on the door, waiting. She was waiting for the son-in-law she’d always treated as her own to come and see her one last time. He never came. I knelt before her coffin and pressed my forehead to the cold floor in a final, silent goodbye. Then I stood, and took the pen from Frank’s hand. There were no tears. No hysterics. As he watched, I wrote my name, each stroke deliberate and firm. “There. It’s done.” Frank froze. The breakdown, the screaming fit he was expecting, never came. The woman standing before him was unnervingly calm. “Clara, what kind of trick is this?” he frowned, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. The student, Mia, sensed something was wrong too. Her hand tightened on his arm. “Professor Vance… do you think she’s just in shock?” I ignored them. I picked up the second signed copy of the agreement, folded it neatly, and placed it in my purse. “Frank,” I said, looking him straight in the eye, my voice even and clear. “The game is over.” 2 The next morning, I went to the courthouse. I filed the petition for divorce, along with the legally signed agreement. The clerk glanced from the document to my face, then processed the paperwork with bureaucratic indifference. I pulled out my phone. The screen was flooded with missed calls and texts from Frank. “Clara, have you had your little tantrum yet? Get home now!” “I’ve torn up the agreement. We can pretend this never happened.” “How dare you hang up on me? Who do you think you are?” The last one had arrived half an hour ago: “If you’re not back by tonight, don’t ever bother coming back at all!” I blocked his number. I rented a small apartment, and after a bit of cleaning, I started my job search. After Frank and I got married, he’d convinced me to quit my job to be a full-time housewife, a willing participant in his endless, tedious role-playing games. He said he loved me, loved me to his very core, and that’s why he wanted to experience the thrill of falling in love with me over and over again in different scenarios. He insisted the cruel, heartless men who cast their wives aside in his games weren’t the real him. It was just acting. How ridiculous that sounds now. Maybe he was never acting at all. Maybe those cold, selfish, cruel masks were his true face. The court summons reached Frank quickly. I was in the middle of a job interview when his call came through. “Clara! Are you out of your goddamn mind? You actually took me to court?” I calmly walked to the end of the hallway. “Frank, we both signed the divorce agreement. The legal filing is just a formality to speed things up.” “Formality? Let me tell you something, this divorce is not happening!” “Frank, my mother is dead,” I said, cutting him off. There was a brief silence on the other end. “I know,” he said, his voice turning cold. “But that was her fate. You can’t take your anger out on me. A game is a game, and reality is reality. Can’t you even tell the difference?” “You’re the one who can’t tell the difference anymore.” I hung up and went back to my interview. It was for a clerical position at a small firm. The pay wasn’t great, but it was enough to support myself. The interview went well, and they told me I could start on Monday. That evening, when I returned to my apartment, I found two people waiting at my door. Frank and Mia. Frank’s face was a thundercloud. Mia just looked smug, as if she were here to watch a show. “Well, Clara. You’ve certainly grown a spine. Daring to play games with me for real?” Frank stepped forward, blocking my path. “There are no more games to be played between us, real or fake,” I said, trying to step around him to unlock my door. He grabbed my wrist, his grip like steel. “Come home. Come back with me, and I can forget any of this ever happened.” “Let go of me,” my voice was ice. “Clara, don’t push your luck!” Mia fanned the flames from the side. “Professor, she’s just doing this for attention. It’s a classic move. Don’t fall for it.” Frank started to drag me away. “Frank, if you don’t let go right now, I’m going to scream.” “Go ahead! Scream! Let’s see who dares to get involved in a husband and wife’s private business!” he roared. A few neighbors peeked out of their doors at the commotion, but seeing Frank’s furious expression, they quickly retreated. I lifted my free hand and, with all the strength I could muster, I slapped him across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the hallway. Everyone froze. Including Frank. He touched his cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You… you hit me?” 3 A furious fire ignited in Frank’s eyes. He raised his hand as if to strike back, but at the last second, he stopped himself. He stared at me, his gaze so intense it felt like he wanted to devour me whole. “Clara. You’ve got guts. Real guts.” He released my arm, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “You will regret this.” With that, he grabbed Mia’s hand and stormed away. Watching them disappear down the stairs, I finally noticed my hands were shaking. Not from fear, but from rage. I went inside the empty apartment and shut the door, sliding down against it until I was sitting on the floor. There was no trace of Frank here, yet I still felt like I was suffocating. His so-called games had left a deeper scar on me than I had ever realized. The next afternoon, I got a call from the bank. Our joint account had been frozen. It held all our savings—though, of course, most of it was money Frank had earned. I had expected this, so I wasn’t panicked. I still had a little money my mother had left me. If I was careful, it would be enough to last until my first paycheck. On Wednesday, while I was still getting the hang of my new job, a gaudily dressed woman burst into the office and pointed a finger right at my face. “Clara Vance! You shameless homewrecker! How dare you seduce my husband!” I stared at her, completely stunned, as every one of my new colleagues turned to gawk. “Ma’am, I think you must have the wrong person,” my supervisor said, stepping forward. “No, it’s her!” The woman brandished a photograph. It was a picture of me with a man. He was an old friend from college I hadn’t seen or spoken to in years. I had no idea where she got it. “Everyone, look! This is the woman who destroyed my family! My husband is divorcing me because of her!” she shrieked, collapsing into a heap on the floor, wailing and tearing at her hair. The office descended into chaos. I was trapped, unable to defend myself against the baseless accusations. I knew, with a sickening certainty, that this was Frank’s handiwork. He was trying to ruin my reputation, to leave me with nowhere to turn. My supervisor called me into her office. Her face was grim. “Clara, while I want to believe you, the company has to consider its image… Why don’t you take a few days off to sort things out.” It was their polite way of firing me. My phone rang. It was Frank. “How does it feel?” he asked, a smug smile in his voice. “I told you you’d regret this, Clara.” “You’re a despicable bastard, Frank.” “Despicable? I learned from the best,” he chuckled. “I’m giving you one last chance. Come back, beg me, and I might consider forgiving you.” “In your dreams.” I hung up. I would not beg him. Never. I walked in the rain for what felt like hours, until I was soaked to the bone. When I finally made it back to my apartment building, a cloying cloud of perfume assaulted me in the hallway. Mia was standing at my door, leaning against the frame as if she owned the place, a contemptuous smirk on her face. “What do you want?” I asked coldly. “Just came to see you,” she purred. “To see just how miserable you are now that the professor has thrown you away.” Her eyes raked over my drenched, pathetic state, and she laughed. “Tsk, tsk. So pitiful. You lost your job too, didn’t you? The professor said he’s going to make it impossible for you to survive in this city. He said you’ll come crawling back to him on your knees.” “He can wait forever.” I pushed past her and unlocked my door. “Still acting tough, are we?” Mia followed me inside. She walked over to the small table where I’d placed my mother’s portrait and picked it up. “You know, if your mother knew what a stubborn little fool you’re being, do you think she’d jump right out of her coffin?” “Take your hands off that,” my voice trembled. “What? Getting angry?” Mia tossed the frame lightly in her hand. “Oops. What if I… accidentally… dropped it?” “I said take your hands off it!” I lunged at her, trying to snatch the picture back. Mia let out a little shriek and deliberately let go. The frame hit the floor, and the glass shattered into a thousand pieces. My mother’s smiling face, fractured by a spiderweb of cracks. Something inside me snapped. 4 I don’t know where the strength came from. I grabbed Mia by the hair and slammed her to the ground. She screamed, clawing at me, her nails digging bloody tracks into my arms. I didn’t feel a thing. All I knew was that she had crossed a line. She had desecrated the memory of my mother. I was like a wild animal, ripping at her hair, slapping her face over and over. “I told you not to touch it! I told you!” Mia was dazed, her protests turning into terrified sobs. “You’re crazy! You’re a psycho! Frank! Help me!” The door was suddenly thrown open with a crash. Frank stormed in. His face turned white when he saw the scene. “Clara! Stop it!” He rushed over and shoved me away. I stumbled back, my back hitting the wall with a painful thud. Frank helped the hysterical Mia to her feet. When he saw the red welts on her face and her disheveled hair, his eyes turned murderous. “Clara, you’ve really lost your mind!” He advanced on me, his face twisted with a ferocity I had never seen before. “You dare touch her?” Seeing him shielding Mia like that, I started to laugh. A hollow, broken sound. “Frank,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “She broke my mother’s portrait.” Frank paused. He glanced at the shattered frame on the floor, then back at the weeping Mia. Mia immediately started defending herself. “I didn’t mean to! She just charged at me and I lost my grip!” Frank’s brow furrowed. He didn’t pursue the matter of the frame. Instead, he turned his cold gaze back to me. “Even so, you have no right to attack her. Apologize.” Apologize? He wanted me to apologize to the woman who had insulted my dead mother? “I said, apologize,” Frank repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And if I don’t?” I stared right back at him. “Then I’ll have to find another way to make you.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. “Hello, Captain Miller? I have a situation here… Yes, at a friend’s apartment. I’ve discovered some… illicit substances.” He was going to frame me. “Frank, you’re shameless!” “You forced my hand,” he said, ending the call. He looked at me, his eyes cold and hard. “The police will be here any minute, Clara. When they find the drugs, red-handed, what do you think will happen to you?” Mia had stopped crying. She was now looking at me with a triumphant smirk. “You can’t win against the professor, Clara. If you get on your knees right now and beg him, maybe, just maybe, he’ll have a change of heart and let you off the hook.” A chill washed over me. I looked at Frank’s familiar face, now a complete stranger to me. This was the man I had loved for three years. For another woman, for his sick and twisted games, he was willing to personally shove me into hell. Faintly, from outside, I could hear the sound of sirens approaching. A victorious smile touched Frank’s lips. “Time’s running out, Clara. What’s it going to be?”

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I sold my grandfather’s only legacy—our ancestral home. The five million was anonymously wired to my fiancée Isabella’s company, Aetherion Dynamics. It saved a three-billion-dollar drone contract, keeping the business afloat. Isabella promised to repay me once her project bonus came, so I could buy the house back. But on payday, the bonus went to a new intern, Ryan Croft. I confronted her. “Did you give my money to Ryan?” Isabella rubbed her temples, her eyes weary. “Noah, I know about your gambling debts. That money would vanish in a week. Ryan is talented and hardworking—he deserves it. This is for your own good.” Her words pierced me like ice. “Gambling debts? Who told you that?” “It doesn’t matter! You promised to change, and now you’re lying and trying to steal company funds!” I looked at her angry face, silent. Picking up the resignation letter on her desk, I signed my name. 1 Isabella didn’t even glance at the letter I signed. She simply tossed it into a drawer. There wasn’t a trace of regret or sadness on her face, only the quiet relief of having disposed of a problem. As I walked out of her office, I saw Ryan handing her a cup of coffee. “Bella, don’t waste your energy being angry at people who aren’t worth it. Your health is more important,” Ryan’s voice was a smooth, soothing balm. Isabella took the coffee, her furrowed brow relaxing into a faint, appreciative smile. “You’re always so thoughtful.” That smile was a dagger in my eye. The hushed whispers of my colleagues followed me as I walked away. The words were quiet, but they sliced through the air with perfect clarity. “A gambler? I knew he was a lost cause.” “Ms. Byers really did everything she could for him. She tried to save him.” “Serves him right. Five million dollars? Who in their right mind would give that to a degenerate gambler?” My face was a stone mask as I walked to my desk and began to pack. On the corner of my desk sat a framed photo from the early days of the company. In it, Isabella and I were crammed into a tiny office, slurping instant noodles. She was grinning at the camera, her smile so bright and pure. I picked up the frame, hesitated for a single heartbeat, then swept it, along with stacks of my design schematics, into the cardboard box. Nine years of my life’s work, traded for a slanderous lie. Clutching the box like a shield, I walked out of the building I had watched rise from the ground, a failure in the eyes of the world I had helped create. When I got back to my small apartment building, I froze. Piled by the entrance were several cardboard boxes, soaked through by the rain. They were the things I’d moved from my ancestral home—all of my grandfather’s old books and belongings. I had asked Isabella to store them at her villa, since my rented place was too small. A note from her, stuck to one of the boxes, was dissolving in the rain, the ink bleeding into the soggy cardboard. “No room for this. Get rid of this trash.” Trash… I knelt, my hands trembling as I touched the waterlogged spines of the antique books. The pages were fused together, my grandfather’s handwritten notes bleeding into illegible gray smudges. They were his life’s work, the last remaining root of my family. A cold, bottomless rage I had never known before surged through me. My heart felt like it had been encased in ice. I pulled out my phone to call her, to demand an explanation for this cruelty. The screen lit up, displaying the smiling face of my grandfather—my chosen wallpaper, a reminder of the man I wanted to be. His expression was so kind. My thumb hovered over the call button, unable to press it. Just then, a text message from a real estate agent popped up. “Mr. Kane, the ownership of the ancestral property was officially transferred at 3 p.m. today. As per your instructions, the funds have been anonymously deposited into the Aetherion Dynamics corporate account.” The last thread of hope snapped. I opened my banking app. Checking Account xxxx Balance: $86.52. The leftover change from selling my heritage. A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped my lips. For her company, for our supposed future, I had sold my grandfather’s home, and now I was penniless, branded a degenerate gambler. Another notification popped up. It was from the company’s internal group chat. An announcement for a celebratory party, posted by Isabella herself. The theme: “Celebrating the brilliant success of our genius new talent, Ryan Croft, in securing the military contract!” My project, my triumph, the contract I had saved by selling my soul, had become the centerpiece of their celebration. The pain was so deep it had turned to a numb, cold fury. I tried calling Isabella one last time. The only reply was the robotic voice of the automated system: “The person you are calling is unavailable. Please try again later.” She was busy, no doubt, celebrating with her “genius.” I blocked her number, and with it, the entire absurd chapter of my life. I didn’t go home. I dragged the soaked boxes to a cheap motel nearby. The next morning, I went to the bank. I had one other savings account with a little over a hundred thousand dollars in it—my life savings, my last emergency fund. “Sir, I’m sorry, but all accounts under your name have been frozen,” the teller said, her voice flat and impersonal. I stared at her. “Frozen? Why?” “The request was made by your fiancée, Ms. Isabella Byers. The reason cited is a request from family to cooperate with a police investigation into your ‘illegal gambling activities.’” Isabella. Again. She didn’t just refuse to believe me; she was determined to cut me off at the knees, to destroy any chance I had of starting over. An icy dread snaked its way up my spine. I walked out of the bank and called her from my secondary phone, the one she hadn’t blocked. It rang for a long time before she picked up. “Who is this?” Her voice was hoarse, thick with a hangover. “It’s me.” A few seconds of silence, then her tone became frigid. “Noah. Why are you calling? Have you finally come to your senses? Are you ready to admit you were wrong?” “Why did you freeze my bank accounts?” I asked, my voice tight with suppressed rage. “For your own good,” she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “When you finally kick your addiction and show some real remorse, I’ll unfreeze them. Until then, I’ll manage your money for you.” “What gives you the right—” “The right of being your fiancée! I will not stand by and watch you destroy yourself!” she snapped, cutting me off. “I have a meeting. I’m hanging up.” The line went dead. At that exact moment, a call came in from an unknown number. “Is this Noah Kane?” a rough voice growled. “You owe Titan Financial three hundred grand. When are you planning on paying up?” “I’ve never borrowed money from you.” “Oh yeah? Social Security number ending in xxxx, sound familiar?” He recited my entire SSN. “We’ve got your picture, too. Don’t try to weasel out of this. You’ve got three days. Pay up, or you’re going to find out what happens when you don’t.” He hung up. I understood instantly. Ryan’s setup was more than just a few photoshopped pictures. He had woven an entire web of fabricated debt around me. Before I could even process the shock, my landlord called. “Noah? Have you gotten yourself into some kind of trouble?” he asked, his voice wary. “Ms. Byers’s assistant paid me a visit today. Said you’ve got a bad gambling problem, told me to be careful. I can’t have that kind of thing in my building. The apartment’s no longer yours. I need you out in three days.” My career, my savings, my home. In a single day, I had been wiped clean, thrown out onto the street. I sent my resume to a few other tech firms, but the responses were all the same. “Mr. Kane, we’re sorry, but there are some concerns about your professional reputation. We cannot offer you a position at this time.” Every road was blocked. Desperate for cash, I took the high-performance computer I had built myself—a machine with the power of a server—to a second-hand electronics market. As the dealer stuffed a few crumpled bills into my hand, I felt the last piece of my spirit being stripped away. I found myself walking aimlessly, my feet eventually leading me back to my grandfather’s house. I just wanted to see it one last time. The iron gate swung open, and a group of people emerged, centered around one man. Leading them was Ryan Croft. He was dressed in a tailored suit, beaming like he owned the world—and this house. “Well, well, if it isn’t Noah,” he said, patting the grand, red-lacquered door behind him. “This place has great energy. My girlfriend rented it for me. A little reward for single-handedly landing the military project. It’s going to be my new studio.” He deliberately walked over and bumped my shoulder, whispering in a voice only I could hear. “Your house, your woman, your achievements… they’re all mine now.” I stared at him, my fists clenched at my sides. Just then, my phone rang. It was Isabella. I answered on instinct. “Noah, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you. If you’re out of money, just tell me. Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll take care of your finances for you, and I’ve asked Ryan to keep an eye on the old house for you, so don’t worry, okay?” Her perfectly timed “concern” was the final, twisted joke. Keeping an eye on it for me meant giving it to her new lover. I hung up without a word, a dead silence filling my soul. Looking at their triumphant faces, the last shred of my love for Isabella withered and died. I turned and walked into the drizzling rain. I had no destination, and I needed none. I pulled out my phone and made one more call. “Hello? Is this the U.S. Patent and Trademark Office?” The next day, Aetherion Dynamics published a long article on their official company blog. In it, Isabella wrote in the first person, a heart-wrenching account of how she had “accidentally discovered” my crippling gambling addiction, which had driven me to financial ruin. She detailed her desperate, failed attempts to reason with me, and her ultimate, painful decision to “do what was necessary” to pull me back from the brink, even if it meant public shame. The article was accompanied by a series of expertly photoshopped images, courtesy of Ryan. There were pictures of me entering and exiting casinos in Macau, the backgrounds blurry but my face perfectly clear. There were even forged IOUs for massive sums, with a sloppy imitation of my signature at the bottom. The narrative painted Ryan as the heroic young talent who had stepped up in a moment of crisis to save the company. And I was cast as the ungrateful degenerate who had nearly destroyed it all. The story exploded online. It was picked up by major news outlets. My name became a trending topic, tagged with “gambling,” “traitor,” and “scumbag.” My parents, back in my hometown, obviously saw the news. The moment I answered their call, my father’s rage-choked voice roared through the phone. “You worthless son! If your grandfather knew you sold his house to gamble, he’d be rolling in his grave!” I opened my mouth to explain. “How could you do this to his memory! How could you!” His shouting grew louder, and in the background, I could hear a commotion, other voices yelling. “How could the Kane family produce such a disgrace!” “You should be ashamed to be alive!” I heard strangers’ voices cursing me. “Get out of our town!” “The family of a gambler is just as bad!” It hit me like a ton of bricks. The online mob, using the information Isabella had so conveniently provided, had found my parents’ home. “Dad, listen to me—” “Don’t you dare call me Dad!” he bellowed. “Do you have any idea what just happened? Those people, they came to the house!” “They broke our windows!” “Your mother was so scared, she had a heart attack!” My world went silent. The phone nearly slipped from my hand. “I didn’t gamble, Dad, you have to believe me…” “Still lying!” My father’s voice was cracking now, turning into a sob. “The pictures, the IOUs online, it’s all right there in black and white! Are you saying it’s all fake?” “That nice girl Isabella even spoke out about it! Who are you trying to fool?” My mother must have snatched the phone, because all I could hear was her muffled, desperate crying. “Son, please, it’s not too late! Isabella is a good girl, she’s still waiting for you to come back to your senses. You can’t disappoint her again. Just go back, apologize to her… our family needs you…” “A good girl?” The words were like knives in my heart. She hadn’t just ruined me; she had manipulated my own family into becoming her accomplices. I was defenseless. I stood there in silence, listening to the agonizing sting of being condemned by the people I loved most, until my heart was completely numb. After I hung up, a text from Isabella arrived, as if on cue. “See how much your family is hurting for you, Noah? Does it feel bad?” “Just admit it, and come back. If you’re willing to confess, I can find it in my heart to forgive you this one time.” Her condescending offer of charity, her nauseating hypocrisy, made my stomach turn. I finally understood the exquisite pleasure one could derive from grinding a person into the dirt, then magnanimously offering them a hand up. I didn’t reply. I walked into a nearby internet cafe and sent one last email. “Due to personal reasons, I, the sole patent holder, am hereby freezing all commercial use of said patent, effective immediately.” You wanted to play dirty? Fine. My turn.

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1 At a critical juncture in the project, Human Resources, citing company policy, forced me to take my ten-day annual leave. The multi-million dollar order I had been on the verge of closing? Gone. My boss, face flushed with rage, dragged me and the HR manager into his office. “At a time like this, who the hell authorized her vacation?” The HR manager looked at him, the picture of innocence. “Sir, it’s company policy. All employees must take their annual leave before November, or they forfeit their year-end bonus.” It was like punching a pillow. The boss turned his fury on me. “And you? Even on vacation, you can’t answer a client’s email?” I pulled out the disciplinary slip I’d received last month for taking my work phone into the cafeteria. “Company policy states that work phones are not to leave the office area. Penalty: a five-hundred-dollar fine.” My boss’s face darkened. “Are you two idiots? Can’t you be flexible?” he roared. “The rules are rigid, but you’re living, breathing people!” The HR manager and I exchanged a look of helpless resignation. “We don’t dare,” we said in unison. I spoke up. “Sir, last month on a business trip, I noticed a flight was cheaper than the train. I took the flight, but you refused to reimburse me because it wasn’t in line with the company’s travel policy. I ended up paying for it myself.” The HR manager added, “And remember Kevin? He rushed out to meet a client without getting your approval first because it was an emergency. You docked his entire month’s bonus for being absent from his post during work hours.” “It’s not that we don’t know how to be flexible, sir,” I concluded. “It’s that we can’t afford the consequences.” The boss waved his hands dismissively. “Enough, enough, you’re giving me a headache.” He sighed. “Fortunately, the client was gracious enough to give us one more chance. Get back to it, prepare a new proposal, and if you can’t close this deal, it’s your head on the chopping block!” As I left his office, a colleague handed me an application form. “According to company policy,” she said, her voice flat, “any employee who takes more than three consecutive days of leave must submit a formal request to have their work phone reactivated.” I let out a long sigh. The approval process would take at least a week. At this rate, the deal would be dead and buried long before I could even contact the client. So, application in hand, I knocked on the boss’s door again. But this time, I was met by the boss’s wife—Seraphina Thorne. The story went that she had built the company from the ground up with him. They were inseparable. “Who are you?” she demanded, her eyes cold. I respectfully placed the application on her husband’s desk. “Mrs. Thorne, hello. I’m Sarah Miller, from the sales department. I just need Mr. Thorne to sign this so I can get back in touch with a client.” She glanced at the form and snorted. “Don’t think I don’t know the rules. All applications must be signed by the department head before being submitted to the CEO. You’re trying to bypass the chain of command, and I know exactly what you’re trying to do.” So she saw me as a rival, did she? Lady, I just want to do my job, pay my bills, and go home. I really don’t have the energy for anything else. I looked at her, my expression a mask of sincerity. “I’m only trying to expedite this because the situation is extremely time-sensitive. I would really appreciate your understanding.” Without a word, she stood up and slapped me across the face. “I said no. The company rules are not just for decoration,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “And we’re both women here. I know your type. Cut the act, or you’ll be the one who ends up embarrassed.” I cupped my stinging cheek, a wave of hot rage washing over me. But I knew that fighting fire with fire would only get me burned. So I calmly retrieved the application from the desk. “You’re right. If that’s the company policy, then we should follow it.” A smug smile finally touched her lips. “Exactly. Now get out.” After leaving the office, I took my time, enjoying a leisurely lunch before heading to my supervisor’s office. His assistant frowned. “I’m sorry, he’s out of town on business. He won’t be back for at least a week.” I put on my most disappointed face. “Oh, what terrible timing. Well, I’ll just have to come back then!” I walked away feeling a strange sense of lightness. After all, I wasn’t the one with everything to lose. Three days later, a furious Mr. Thorne hunted me down. “The client says they can’t reach you! What the hell have you been doing?” I pointed to the still-pending approval on my phone. “Waiting for my supervisor’s signature. After he signs, and then you sign, I can get my work phone back.” He took a deep breath. “Then why didn’t you just come directly to me?” Just then, Seraphina walked up behind him. “I tried to,” I said, my voice even. “But Mrs. Thorne insisted that no matter how urgent the situation, company policy must be followed to the letter.” Seraphina’s face flushed. “Don’t you dare slander me! You never said it was urgent! This is just an excuse for your own incompetence!” Nice try, but no. I gestured to my colleague, Chloe, at the next desk. “The other day, I brought the application to this office. Mrs. Thorne stopped me. Not only did she refuse to help, but she also slapped me across the face. If you don’t believe me, you can ask her.” Hearing her name, Chloe stood up. “It’s true, Mr. Thorne. When she came out of your office that day, half her face was swollen.” Unable to deny it, Seraphina resorted to a ridiculous defense. “Fine… I hit her! But why didn’t you dodge? It’s your own fault for being slow!” I let out a weary laugh. So now it was the victim’s fault. But this time, I wasn’t going to let it slide. After she hit me, I went straight to the hospital. The doctor said I was at risk for a concussion. I handed the medical report to Mr. Thorne. His face turned as black as ink. “All of your medical expenses will be covered from my personal account,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “And I’ll give you an additional ten thousand dollars in compensation.” Seraphina grabbed his arm, her voice shrill. “Are you crazy? It was just a slap! Why are you paying her so much?” Mr. Thorne looked like he was about to break a tooth. “If she presses charges, we’ll be paying a lot more than ten thousand dollars, and you could be facing jail time.” He was right. If he hadn’t handled this to my satisfaction, my next call would have been to the police. But for now, ten thousand dollars for a slap seemed like a fair trade. Seraphina shot me a murderous glare and stomped out of the room. Mr. Thorne started to go after her, but I stopped him. “Mr. Thorne, while you’re here, would you mind signing this? So I can contact the client?” “You…” He met my innocent gaze, and with a flourish of frustration, he scrawled his name on the form before rushing after his wife. Phew. Chloe let out a long breath. “I’ve been waiting to see someone put Seraphina in her place for years. Next time you plan something like this, count me in.” With the CEO’s signature, I finally got my work phone back. The moment I turned it on, a tidal wave of notifications washed over me. I found the contact for the client I had lost touch with. “Hello, this is Sarah Miller from Thorne Industries. I was wondering if you had some time this afternoon to continue our discussion about the partnership?” He replied almost instantly. “I have other plans this afternoon. Let’s do dinner. The Grand Majestic Hotel. This is your company’s last chance.” Suddenly, I had a new problem. Not the pressure, but the location. Company policy stipulated a client dinner budget of no more than one hundred dollars. The so-called reason was to control costs. What can you even get at the Grand Majestic for a hundred dollars? I had to swallow my pride and go to the finance department. “Hey, Brenda. I have a client dinner tonight, and he picked a rather expensive place. Is there any way you could approve a slightly larger budget?” She looked up from her desk, her expression annoyed. “What are you people eating, gold? A hundred dollars isn’t enough? No.” I bit my tongue. Fine. I’m just an employee. If something goes wrong later, it’s not on me. Just as I was about to leave, Seraphina waltzed in, all smiles. “What’s going on? Why the long faces?” Brenda shot me a venomous look. “It’s just Sarah here, making my life difficult. Says a hundred dollars isn’t enough for a client dinner and wants me to approve more. Can you believe the nerve? What a waste of company money.” I braced myself for another tirade from Seraphina. But instead, she slung an arm around my shoulder. “Brenda, that’s where you’re wrong. Sarah is one of our top salespeople! A budget increase is a small price to pay for a major deal. You go have dinner with the client,” she said to me, her voice syrupy sweet. “Don’t worry about the cost. As long as you close the deal, the company will cover the entire bill, no matter how much it is.” I had to pinch myself. Was I hallucinating? Was this the same Seraphina who had slapped me just a few days ago? I mumbled a thank you and quickly escaped the finance office, feeling a massive sense of relief. But hey, an unlimited budget was an unlimited budget. No more penny-pinching for me. I arrived at the private dining room at the agreed-upon time. The moment I stepped inside, a small child appeared out of nowhere and rammed headfirst into my stomach. The impact sent stars exploding behind my eyes. “Where did you…” I started to snap, but the client rushed over and pulled the boy back. “Did he hurt you? I’m so sorry. My wife’s out of town, and I had no one to watch him, so I had to bring him along.” The client’s son. Thank god I hadn’t finished my sentence. “Oh, it’s your son! No problem at all. It’s good for a boy to be energetic.” We sat down and got straight to business. I had done my homework, and the conversation flowed smoothly. Before the main course even arrived, Mr. Henderson announced that he was ready to sign the contract the next day. I was ecstatic. I raised a glass of wine. “To our new partnership. I’ll drink to that!” The next morning, I dragged my hungover self into the office. “Girl, you look like you got run over by a truck. Did you get into a fight last night?” I shot Chloe a tired look. The only thing on my mind was getting that dinner reimbursed. Sixty-seven hundred dollars was not a small sum. I knocked cautiously on the finance office door. “Brenda? Busy?” She glanced up at me. “What is it? Spit it out.” I laid the receipt from the restaurant on her desk. “The deal is closed. If you could just reimburse me for this… Mrs. Thorne said the full amount would be covered.” She picked up the receipt with a bored expression. Then her eyes widened. “Sixty-seven hundred dollars! What on earth did you eat?” Well… the client ordered. It’s not like I could stop him. She continued down the list. “A glass of juice for five hundred and eighty dollars? Was it made of liquid gold? And why were you ordering juice at a business dinner anyway? Was someone actually drinking it, or were you just padding the bill for a little kickback, Sarah? I think you have some explaining to do.” Okay, now I was angry. She was accusing me of fraud. But I needed that money, so I took a deep breath. “Mr. Henderson brought his son with him last night. The juice was for the boy.” CRASH! Her glass shattered on the floor. “Sarah, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable! Mr. Henderson doesn’t have a son! Are you admitting to falsifying expenses for a kickback? I could have you arrested for this!” That did it. My patience snapped. Just because she didn’t know didn’t mean it wasn’t true. “If you don’t believe me, go ask the restaurant. But that’s your problem. My problem is that you need to reimburse me right now.” My sharp tone made her face flush with anger. “Do you know who I am? How dare you speak to me like that! The company policy is a hundred dollars per meal. That’s what I’m reimbursing you. The rest is on you.” Sixty-six hundred dollars out of my own pocket? Not a chance. I leaned over the desk, my hands planted firmly on its surface. “Are you absolutely sure you’re not going to reimburse me?” She nodded without a second’s hesitation. The next thing she knew, I had snatched the receipt and was storming into the boss’s office. He looked up, startled. “What are you doing here? Did you close the deal?” I slapped the receipt down on his desk. “The deal is closed. Now, are you going to pay for this or not?” Hearing that the deal was done, a flicker of glee crossed his face. He picked up the receipt, but his brow furrowed when he saw the total. Tsk. “Sarah, this is way over budget.” Just then, Brenda rushed in. “Mr. Thorne, I’d like to report Sarah for submitting a fraudulent expense report to get a kickback. Just look at the details on this bill! Who orders a five-hundred-and-eighty-dollar juice at a business meeting?” Mr. Thorne scrutinized the bill, clearly looking for any excuse not to pay. “The authenticity of this bill is questionable. How about this: once the contract is officially finalized and we’ve verified this receipt, we’ll reimburse you the standard hundred dollars, and we can split the rest fifty-fifty.” Fifty-fifty? Was he serious? I struggled to keep my voice even. “Every single item on that bill is a legitimate expense. The juice was for Mr. Henderson’s son. If you don’t believe me, you can verify it yourself. But I will not accept your offer. Are you planning to split the profits from this deal with me fifty-fifty as well?” Mr. Thorne had the grace to look embarrassed. “It’s not that we won’t reimburse you, it’s just… this is an exorbitant amount. You should have checked with me before paying.” “Mrs. Thorne said the budget was unlimited as long as I closed the deal.” Just as our argument was escalating, Seraphina herself breezed in, humming a little tune. “What’s all the fuss about? Why are we shouting?” I tried to stay calm. “Mrs. Thorne, you told me yesterday that if I closed the deal, the company would cover the full cost of the dinner, no matter what.” She blinked her big, innocent eyes. “Did I say that? I don’t recall.” Brenda shook her head vehemently. “No, you never said anything like that to me.” Oh, I see. It was a setup. I pulled out my phone and played the recording I had made of our conversation the day before. Seraphina’s sweet, encouraging voice filled the office. “Sarah, don’t worry. As long as you close the deal, the company will cover the entire bill, no matter how much it is.” The faces of Seraphina and Brenda turned a deep shade of crimson. “Mr. Thorne,” I said, my voice dripping with false sweetness. “Can I get that reimbursement now?” He waved his hand dismissively. “Mr. Henderson will be here any minute. Let’s get the contract signed first.” Fine. I could wait. I wouldn’t let them derail this now. We all filed into the conference room, where Mr. Henderson was already waiting. “Mr. Thorne, your Sarah is a real rising star. She has a bright future ahead of her.” At the praise, Seraphina’s face soured. After some pleasantries, we got down to the signing. Just as Mr. Henderson was about to put pen to paper, his assistant burst into the room, his face pale. “Mr. Henderson, it’s an emergency! Your son ate some cookies from the break room, and now he’s foaming at the mouth!”

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A bullet had torn through my brother’s heart on his last peacekeeping tour. A ruptured artery. Massive bleeding. He had three hours to live, tops. But as they wheeled him into the OR, I was calmly watering my plants. A minute later, the door to my office flew open, kicked in by my wife, Lena. Her voice was a blade. “That’s your brother in there, Elias! Are you just going to let him die? How can you even wear that uniform?” I knew, with cold certainty, that I was the only surgeon who could save him. I just murmured, “Oh,” and continued tending to my flowers. The next second, a sharp sting exploded across my cheek. My mother’s slap. “Elias Thorne! You ungrateful monster. You wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for your brother!” My father ripped the service ribbons from his own uniform and threw them at my face. “Get in that operating room and save your brother. Now.” I simply raised a hand to wipe the blood from the corner of my mouth, then coolly rolled up my sleeve, revealing the tapestry of horrifying scars that covered my arm. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice flat. “This hand is useless. I can’t operate anymore.” 1 The air in the office seemed to crystallize. Every eye was fixed on my right hand. This was the hand that had performed countless impossible surgeries. The hand they once called “The Hand of God” at this military hospital. But now, it was a grotesque ruin, twitching uncontrollably. It trembled so violently I could barely hold the watering can steady. I was, for all intents and purposes, a cripple. Lena shook her head wildly, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Stop acting, Elias. You were in surgery just yesterday. How could your hand be ‘useless’ today?” “You’d really sink this low? You’d lie about this just to avoid saving him?” I met her accusation with a faint, chilling smile and held my arm out closer for her to inspect. “Believe what you want, Lena. My hand is finished.” I let the smile widen. “Perhaps fate has decided it’s Clark’s time to die.” The dark, swollen veins looked as if they were about to burst from my skin. The sight made her recoil, but her indignation quickly returned. “You’re a medical genius! I bet you did something to your own hand, used some obscure technique to make it look like this. I don’t believe for a second it was ruined in just a few hours!” Beside her, my mother’s composure finally broke. Tears streamed down her face. She reached for me, not to strike me again, but to clutch at my sleeve, her voice pleading. “Elias, I’m begging you. As your mother, I am begging you. Please, just go operate on your brother.” Her voice cracked. “Have you forgotten who saved you when you were being torn apart by those wild dogs?” A phantom pain shot through me, the old scars on my back burning as if they were fresh. I was eight years old, a Boy Scout on a camping trip in the countryside. A pack of feral dogs appeared out of nowhere, lunging for me. Their teeth sank into my back, ripping flesh from bone. I was moments from death when he appeared. Nine-year-old Clark, brandishing a heavy branch, driving the dogs away before carrying me home. He saved my life. My parents were overwhelmed with gratitude. When they learned he was the victim of horrific abuse at home, they decided to adopt him. My injuries were severe. I spent a full year bedridden, missing the selection trials for the elite military academy. Clark, naturally, took my spot. I could only watch from my sickbed as he dazzled the recruiters, earning the praise that should have been mine. Everyone lauded my parents for gaining such a brilliant son. No one seemed to remember that I had once been even more brilliant. My body healed, but it was never the same. The rigorous training of a soldier was now beyond me. For my parents, both decorated battlefield commanders, having a son who was a true, hardened soldier was everything. A dream only Clark could fulfill. From that day on, the scales of their love tipped, never to be balanced again. Clark got the first pick of everything. Clark’s needs always came first. In my own home, I started to feel like the one who had been adopted. I was jealous, but I swallowed my bitterness and accepted it. Hoping to win back their approval, I became a military surgeon. But it changed nothing. Their eyes still followed Clark, their pride swelling only for him. Their cold indifference nearly drove me into a deep depression. I pushed the memories away. I didn’t answer them. I just went back to my flowers. My father strode forward and swatted the planter from my hands. It exploded on the floor, a shower of terracotta and soil. “Your brother is lying on a gurney, bleeding out, and you have the heart to play with these damn flowers? Are you even human?” He wasn’t finished. He brought his boot down, grinding the delicate petals into the dirt. A sharp pain lanced through my chest. My grandmother had given me the seeds for those flowers. Still, I said nothing. I knelt, carefully picking up the broken shards and ruined blossoms. My mother completely unraveled. Her hair was a mess, her face streaked with tears as she sobbed. “Please, Elias! I’m begging you! Do you want your father and me to get on our knees? Just go look at him! Please, just one look!” She bent her knees, as if she truly was about to prostrate herself before me. I had never seen her lose control like this. Not even when I was a child, mauled and bleeding, had she shown a hint of panic. A commander, she always said, must remain impassive in any situation. Why was it so different for Clark? My father’s voice boomed with the authority he used on the battlefield. “I don’t care if you’re crippled. You will perform this surgery, and you can fall apart after!” A sharp edge of a broken pot sliced my palm. A thin line of red welled up. A mocking smile played on my lips. “Are you sure about that? If Clark dies on my table, whose fault will it be then?” 2 Disappointment, regret, sheer disbelief—a storm of emotions churned in their eyes. “Enough, Elias,” Lena snarled. “We all know if you do this surgery, it will be a success. Unless you don’t want to save him.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or maybe… you want to kill him?” I just chuckled softly and continued to gather the broken pieces of my flowerpot. “This is insane!” Their words washed over me, but I remained silent, my head bowed. Time was ticking away. Clark was running out of it. Suddenly, a nurse burst in from the operating theater, her face pale. “It’s bad! Colonel Thorne is flatlining! If we don’t operate now, he won’t last another ten minutes.” My mother swayed, her eyes rolling back in her head as if she might faint. That’s when Lena stepped forward, her fists clenched. “Mom, Dad… let me do it. Let me perform the surgery.” “Elias and I studied under the same mentor. I’ve observed this procedure countless times. I know I can do it.” My parents trusted Lena, but this was Clark’s life on the line. Their golden boy. Their everything. My mother hesitated. “Lena, are you sure? The senior specialists all refused. You’ve never been the lead surgeon on something this complex.” A flicker of steel entered Lena’s eyes. She shot a venomous glare in my direction. “That’s only because Elias hogs the spotlight, never giving anyone else a chance! The truth is, my skills are every bit as good as his now.” She pressed on, her voice filled with conviction. “I know this procedure inside and out. And with the help of Elias’s surgical assistance mech, I’m confident I can succeed.” My body went rigid. I had spent seven years developing that mech-assisted surgical system. It was designed for the most delicate operations, like suturing microscopic blood vessels, guiding the surgeon’s hand with inhuman precision. Its success rate was hovering around sixty percent. The hope of saving Clark lit up my parents’ faces, though a shadow of doubt remained. “I’ve heard how difficult this is,” my father said. “Can a machine really make the difference? I’m still not sure.” Lena was ready with a reassuring answer. “Don’t worry. The assistance arm handles the fine motor skills, the impossibly precise suturing. Plus, I won’t be alone. I’ll have a full team of doctors assisting me.” As if on cue, a group of surgeons filed in from the hallway, all nodding their agreement, all offering their help. I scanned their faces. Most of them were my own residents, my protégés. And now, every single one of them had turned their back on me. Tears of relief streamed down my parents’ faces. They grabbed Lena’s hands, their gratitude overflowing. “Lena, my dear, if you pull this off, we’ll write you a letter of recommendation to the Central Command Medical Center. You’ll be made a senior consultant. And everyone who helps you, we’ll make sure their superiors know of their valor.” My hand twitched again, a tremor of ice this time. A position I had bled for, worked seven long years to achieve, and they could grant it to Lena with a single letter. A letter they had never once offered to write for me. My heart, already a cold, dead weight, sank even lower. “Hold on,” I said, my voice cutting through their celebration. “You want to use my machine? Have you obtained my authorization?” The atmosphere in the room instantly dropped back to absolute zero. Lena stared at me, aghast. “Elias, have you lost your mind? Your brother is dying, and you’re talking about authorization?” 3 A cold smile touched my lips. “That machine is the result of seven years of my life’s work. Why should I let you use it for free?” Lena’s eyes burned with hatred. My parents looked at me as if I were a monster they were seeing for the first time. “Elias,” my mother choked out, “we were wrong to have ever raised you. If we’d known you’d become this… this thing… Clark should have let those dogs finish you off!” My own mother, wishing me dead. I should have felt something. Pain. Anger. But there was nothing left inside me but a vast, silent emptiness, like a dead lake. I continued calmly, “Unless… you sign over the villa. The one in my parents’ name. Then I might consider it.” My parents were trembling with rage. “You bastard!” My father’s hand flew up, striking me again. I just smiled through the pain. “That’s another million you owe me. Pay up, or you get no authorization.” His hand hovered in the air, shaking, but it didn’t fall again. “You vile creature!” my mother screamed. “Using your brother’s life to blackmail us for money? That house was meant for Clark! It was going to be our wedding gift to him and his future bride.” I didn’t respond. I just tapped my watch, a silent reminder that their time was running out. After a moment of agonizing indecision, my father finally broke. He scribbled out a transfer deed on the spot and had it rushed for an official seal. Minutes later, the signed contract and the deed to the villa were in my hand. “There,” he spat. “Now sign the authorization.” My pen hovered over the paper, then stopped. “Seven years of work,” I mused. “One house is hardly enough. I also want the family heirloom. The locket.” My mother’s eyes widened in horror. “That is for the eldest son’s wife! It belongs to Clark’s future bride! How dare you!” The eldest son. Before Clark, that was me. I said nothing, just idly twirled the pen between my fingers, waiting. Finally, they yielded. My father sent someone to retrieve the heirloom. Only after the delicate, antique locket was safely in my possession did I sign the paper. “There. You have my permission,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “I do hope you know how to operate it.” The mech’s success rate was sixty percent, but that number was entirely dependent on the lead surgeon. In the end, it was the human, not the machine, who would determine the outcome. Lena scoffed. “Just you watch. You’re not the only genius in this hospital, Elias.” I gave a slight, knowing smile. With the deed in one hand and the locket in the other, I walked out of that office with my head held high. As I passed my parents, my father’s voice, cold as a tombstone, followed me. “Don’t bother coming home again.” I just grunted in acknowledgment and kept walking. The stares of everyone in the hallway were like daggers. Even patients I had personally saved now shook their heads in disgust. In their eyes, I was a monster, a pariah who would trade his own brother’s life for profit. I didn’t care. I smiled as I left the hospital behind. I went back to the house, packed my bags, and erased every trace of my existence there. Then I drove to the villa. My grandmother’s favorite carnations by the front door had withered and died. It didn’t matter. I would bring them back. I placed the locket on the small altar before her photograph. Grandma, I got it back. I’ll never let someone like Clark tarnish it. He doesn’t deserve it. The surgery took nearly four hours. The entire field hospital held its breath. The grounds outside were swarming with media, a circus of cameras and reporters. My phone blew up with calls and messages, a flood of hate from a world that had already judged and condemned me. I was a cold-blooded animal, a disgrace. My years of service, my past triumphs, were all rendered worthless. I ignored it all, focusing only on the delicate, withered carnations in my hands. Six hours after it began, the doors to the operating theater swung open. Lena emerged, proclaiming the surgery a resounding success. The hospital erupted in cheers. The media descended upon her, hailing her as a hero. The headlines were already being written: The top surgeon’s throne had a new heir. Lena was the new “Hand of God.” She spoke eloquently to the cameras, describing the grueling procedure and magnanimously promising to make the surgical mech technology available to hospitals everywhere. “A doctor’s duty is to save lives,” she declared, her voice ringing with false piety. “What Elias Thorne refused to do, I did for him!” Offers from medical tech corporations poured in. Lena ultimately signed an exclusive deal with the titan, Astral Corp. Overnight, Lena became a household name. And I became a rat, scurrying in the filth of public opinion. Looking at the court summons that arrived on my phone, I knew my judgment day was at hand. 4 A few days later, a military vehicle pulled up in front of the villa. I gathered my prepared documents and stood for a moment before my grandmother’s portrait. “Wait for me, Grandma,” I whispered. “I’ll be back soon.” Then I walked out and calmly surrendered myself to the military police. At the tribunal, every face was a mask of contempt. My parents glared at me with a hatred so pure it could have melted steel. The judge banged his gavel. “Elias Thorne, you stand accused by this council of dereliction of duty and gross violation of the Military Medical Code. How do you plead?” I slowly lifted my head, meeting his gaze. “Not guilty.” The courtroom exploded. Accusations flew from every corner. If not for the bailiffs holding them back, my parents would have torn me apart with their bare hands. “Not guilty?” Lena scoffed from the witness stand. “You abandoned your brother and blackmailed your family! We all saw it! How dare you deny it?” “Elias, if you had a shred of decency, you’d confess,” she continued, her voice dripping with disgust. “If I hadn’t stepped in, your brother would be dead!” I looked at them, my expression as still and dead as a frozen lake. “But he’s not dead, is he?” A collective gasp swept through the room. Camera flashes strobed around me, the media desperate to capture the face of this unrepentant villain. No matter what the judge asked, my answer was the same. “Not guilty.” Just as the proceedings reached a stalemate, the grand doors of the courtroom swung open. Clark was wheeled in, looking frail and pale. Even with the surgery’s success, his body was shattered. He’d never regain the strength to be a commander. The life he had stolen was now, finally, broken. “Your Honor, Mom, Dad,” he said, his voice weak but clear. “If my brother won’t admit to abandoning me… then perhaps he’ll admit to treason!”

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