Author: Momo Chan

My heart died on our tenth wedding anniversary. It started when I half-jokingly told my husband I wanted a Hermès Birkin 25. His face went cold. “A housewife like you has no use for a bag like that.” The words were a stiletto to the heart. Ten years ago, I was by his side when we built this company from nothing. Now, on the eve of its IPO, I thought my sweat and tears counted for something. He could buy himself a hundred-thousand-dollar Mercedes GLE to “keep up appearances.” He could gift a client’s wife a gray Kelly bag to close a big deal. But on our anniversary, a gift for me was a waste? As I looked down, my spirit sinking, I saw his phone’s screen, a perfect, damning reflection in the window pane. He was messaging a woman with a pink avatar. I’m heading to the Hermès store now. Pick any color you like. So, my place had already been taken. It was time to take back everything that was mine. 01 The clink of wine glasses was crisp and clear. “Happy tenth anniversary.” I set my glass down, forcing a smile at the man across the table. In the dim restaurant light, my husband, Ethan, looked like a stranger. He was in an impeccably tailored suit, his hair slicked back, a new Rolex—my gift to him—gleaming on his wrist. After a decade of grinding, he finally had the status symbols he’d always craved. Just a moment before, I’d made my joke. “Honey, you know what I’d love? A Birkin 25.” “A housewife like you has no use for a bag like that,” he’d mumbled, his eyes never leaving his phone. I noticed his thumb swiping furiously across a chat interface I’d never seen before. A woman’s intuition is a powerful thing. I had booked this exclusive restaurant to celebrate our decade together. He had shown up empty-handed. That’s when I saw it. The mirrored wall behind him gave me a perfect view of his phone screen. I quickly angled my own phone and snapped a picture. I remembered the day we got married. We celebrated with a cheap plate of fish and chips at a greasy spoon diner behind the university. His eyes, back then, were only for me. He’d get annoyed if I focused more on my food than on him, refusing to let it go until I kissed him. “Is it busy at the office?” I asked, cutting a piece of foie gras and letting it melt on my tongue. “Yeah. New project.” He finally put his phone down, but immediately started glancing at his watch. “Is Teddy okay at home by himself?” “I asked a friend to come over and watch him,” I said, meeting his eyes. “We agreed, remember? This is our anniversary date. No kids.” He froze for a second before plastering on a smile. “Of course. I was just worried about our son.” The lunch ended in a flat, sterile silence. I never got a gift. On the way home, Ethan drove me in his new Mercedes. “I’ve got to swing by the office for a bit,” he said after a moment. “I won’t be long. You go on home and take care of Teddy.” Suddenly, a notification pinged through the car’s Bluetooth speakers. He fumbled to switch the audio to his phone’s private mode, but it was too late. I saw the notification on the dashboard screen. A pink cartoon avatar. The message that flashed beneath it was a punch to the gut: Thanks, honey. I quickly turned my head, pretending I hadn’t seen a thing. “Who’s bugging you today?” I asked, trying to sound casual. After ten years, everyone at the company knew today was our anniversary. “It’s just Mark, from the project team,” he said. The tension in his voice was so thick, not even the Bose sound system could hide it. As I got out of the car, I leaned in, feigning to straighten his collar. A cloying perfume, not mine, hit me. And there, just behind his ear, was the faint, unmistakable print of wine-red lipstick. “What’s this?” I asked, pointing directly at it. He wiped at it with his hand, his face turning ghostly white. He struggled for a moment before forcing a laugh. “Oh, that. We had a department thing today, you know? The interns were fooling around, putting makeup on everyone…” I smiled and nodded, letting it drop. Ten years of marriage had taught me one thing: some battles require careful preparation before you declare war. 02 Back home, Teddy was taking his nap. After my friend left, I started mechanically sorting the laundry. A dark blue button-down shirt appeared in my hands. Almost immediately, that same sweet, nauseating perfume wafted up from the fabric. An idea sparked. I pulled out my phone and found the picture I’d taken at the restaurant. I zoomed in. Then zoomed in again. For a second, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. In the photo, Ethan was chatting with the woman with the pink avatar. Her contact name was “Cora.” His last message to her read: I’m heading to the Hermès store now. Pick a color you like. The washing machine rumbled to life, but the sound was distant, muffled. All I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears. I thought back over the past six months. The increasing number of late nights “at the office.” The new gym membership. The new passcode on his phone. His recent, sudden enthusiasm for taking Teddy on solo outings. The signs had all been there. I had been so busy managing our home, raising our child, that I’d missed the betrayal happening right beside me. It seemed I had lost myself for a very long time. “Mommy!” Teddy stood at the laundry room door, rubbing his sleepy eyes. “What is it, sweetie?” I quickly wiped away the tears that had fallen without my notice. “Daddy said he’s taking me to the amusement park next Saturday!” Teddy’s face was lit with pure joy. “That’s wonderful! Haven’t you been wanting to spend more time with Daddy? Are you excited he’s making time for you?” “Yes! But…” My son’s face clouded for a moment. “Daddy always brings that Auntie Cora with us. I don’t like her, but she always brings me presents!” The blood in my veins turned to ice. “Auntie Cora?” “Yeah. Daddy says she’s his good friend. She even told me to call her my new mommy.” Teddy clamped his hand over his mouth. “Oops! Daddy said that was our secret game. I wasn’t supposed to tell you!” I swept him into my arms, burying my face in his hair to hide the trembling that had seized my body. “It’s okay, baby. You can tell Mommy. What does Auntie Cora look like?” “She’s really pretty! She has long, curly hair. She said I’m way cuter than Daddy…” Teddy spilled a torrent of crucial details, including the specifics of every single one of their outings. He finally tired himself out and drifted off to sleep in my arms. I gently laid him back in his bed and stood in the doorway of his room, my hands clenched into tight fists. I knew who “Auntie Cora” was. Fifteen years ago, on our university campus, Ethan had pointed to a girl in a white dress. “That’s Cora Lynn,” he’d said, his voice bitter. “My first love. Dumped me for some rich kid. I swear, I’m going to make her regret that decision.” And now, she was back. I wiped my tears. Suddenly, everything was crystal clear. She was back to be a thief. To waltz in and harvest the fruits of my labor without lifting a finger. But I would not let her win. 03 A few nights later, I stared at my laptop, my fingers trembling slightly on the trackpad. On the screen was the backend of the company’s financial system. Ethan’s corporate expenses were laid out in stark detail. For the past three months, he’d spent a fortune at designer boutiques. I had never seen any of these items, nor had he mentioned gifting them to any clients. “What are you looking at?” Ethan’s voice boomed from behind me. I instantly switched screens. As I spun around, I bumped into him, knocking the coffee mug from his hand. Brown liquid spread across the white tile. “The monthly financial report,” I said, grabbing a paper towel and kneeling to clean the mess. “You’re home earlier than I expected.” “Meeting was canceled.” He tossed his suit jacket aside. That same dark blue shirt, still stained with her scent, was on him again. “Where’s Teddy?” “The sitter took him to his art class.” I stared at the shirt, then reached out. “I haven’t seen this brand before. Is it new?” Ethan’s expression flickered. Just for a second. He quickly recovered, grabbing my hand and pulling it away. “Just something I picked up.” I recoiled. The perfume on the shirt was overpowering. “You changed your cologne recently? If I’m not mistaken, that’s a woman’s fragrance.” “Vivian!” His voice sharpened. “What’s gotten into you lately? You’re so paranoid!” “Last Friday, you said you were with a client until two in the morning.” I pulled up a screenshot of his credit card statement on my phone. “So why was there a charge at a perfume counter at midnight? What kind of client needs you to buy them cosmetics in the middle of the night?” Ethan’s face flushed a deep red, the veins in his neck bulging. “Are you spying on me?” “Do you have something to hide? Something you’re so afraid I’ll find?” I shot back with a cold laugh. He lunged, snatching the phone from my hand. “I was buying it for a client! When did you become so irrational?” “For a client?” I turned, pulled an envelope from a drawer, and threw it at his chest. “Was this ‘for a client,’ too?” Photos spilled from the envelope, scattering across the floor. Every single one was of him and a long-haired woman, shopping at high-end boutiques, dining at fancy restaurants. It had taken my private investigator three days and less money than I expected to get them. Ethan stood frozen, unable to speak. “Who is she?” My voice was terrifyingly calm. “Let me explain…” He finally found his voice. “That’s Cora. We’ve been working on a project together…” “Cora?” I grabbed a picture frame from the desk and hurled it against the wall. The glass shattered over our wedding photo. “Your gold-digging first love? The one who dumped you for a trust-fund baby fifteen years ago?” At that, Ethan exploded. “Shut up! You have no right to talk about her like that!” “Teddy told me everything!” I screamed. “How his ‘new mommy’ buys him gifts! How you take them out to play! You’re letting my son call that whore ‘mommy’?” “You watch your mouth!” He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron. “Cora’s having a hard time. Her husband is abusive. She just needs a friend to comfort her…” “Comfort her? Is that what you call it? Screwing her in a hotel room?” My control finally snapped. I threw the last stack of evidence at him. Hotel receipts. Check-in records. All from the past month. Faced with undeniable proof, Ethan finally dropped the act. His face was a mask of pure fury. I searched it for any sign of guilt, of remorse. There was none. I wrenched my arm free and ran to the study, pulling a dusty box from the top of a bookshelf. Inside, tied with a ribbon, were our college love letters. On top of the pile was a faded photo of Ethan and Cora on campus. “Ten years!” I flung the photo in his face. “You kept this garbage for ten years! And what about me? I lived with you in a basement apartment, eating instant noodles while I helped you write business plans! When the company was about to go under, I was the one begging my family for money to keep you afloat! And now that you’ve made it, you go crawling back to the bitch who threw you away because you were poor?” Ethan’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. “That’s right! I never forgot her! Cora is never hysterical like you! She knows how to make a man happy, instead of acting like a bitter shrew all day!” Crack! The sharp sound of my palm connecting with his cheek echoed in the room. I always believe in settling debts on the spot. But I had miscalculated. Ethan touched his cheek, a dangerous light I had never seen before flashing in his eyes. He lunged, shoving me down onto the sofa, his knee pinning the fabric of my dress. “Listen to me,” he whispered, his hot breath on my neck. “The company is valued at over a hundred million. You’ll get nothing in a divorce. For Teddy’s sake, you’ll learn to look the other way.” I couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t even pretending anymore. After everything, he was casting me aside and using our son to threaten me. He had his success, and now he was going back to the woman he “truly” loved. What did my years of sacrifice mean? I struggled, but he was too strong. Just as panic began to set in, the doorbell rang.

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For a mandatory company retreat, I took the day off to be with my husband for his surgery. When I came back, my manager fined me five thousand dollars in front of the entire office. “Company policy is crystal clear: group morale takes precedence over everything!” she declared. “Kate, as a department head, you led the charge in defying company rules. Your penalty is doubled!” The next day, I saw her new assistant, a fresh college grad, sporting a brand-new five-thousand-dollar watch. And just like that, it all clicked. So that’s how we’re playing it. Fine. I’m done. 1 The news that I’d been fined five thousand dollars for skipping the company retreat spread through the office like wildfire. In the breakroom, my old rival, Jenna, gave me a look dripping with pity. “Honestly, Kate, you should’ve just played along. You have to request time off in advance, you know.” “I submitted the request a week ago,” I countered, pouring myself a coffee. “She sat on it. She never intended to approve it.” Jenna looked shocked. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Her niece just got back from overseas, graduated from some fancy university. Rumor is, she’s looking to ‘get some experience’ here.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. This wasn’t about “making an example” of me. It was about creating an excuse to push me out and bring in her own family. I got the message. I’d move aside for her. But when I got back to my desk, her new assistant, a young man named Sam, was waiting for me. He tapped on my desk with a smug look. “Kate, you’re moving. Out to the main floor.” I glanced at the open-plan workspace. The design department was all cubicles. As the department head, I had a private office—essential for confidential client meetings. Being forced to move out there wasn’t just a relocation; it was a demotion. “Sam, you can’t just move me without a formal notice,” I said, keeping my voice even. “A notice? Sure, here’s your notice,” he sneered. “You’re demoted. You’re a junior designer now. Got it?” As if on cue, my manager, Diana, stepped out of her office. Seeing me still in mine, she frowned. “What’s going on? Kate, why haven’t you moved yet?” “Sam here tells me I’ve been demoted,” I said calmly. “All because I missed the retreat?” “That’s right,” Diana confirmed, her voice sharp. “I’ve already informed the CEO. You’ve shown a complete lack of team spirit, actively working against company culture. We’re putting you on probation.” “If you don’t like it,” she added with a smirk, “you can file a complaint.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Fine. Then I’ll require a formal, written notice of this change. Otherwise, I’m not moving.” Diana pointed a trembling finger at me. “You just wait, Kate! Sam, get that notice out to her now!” “She wants to play hardball? We won’t indulge her.” Less than two minutes later, Sam posted a formal document in the company-wide group chat, officially demoting me. I saved a copy and began packing my things. Immediately after, Sam added a new member to the chat. “Everyone, please welcome our new Head of Design, a top graduate from an Ivy League school. She’ll be leading the department from today. Let’s give her a warm welcome!” My team looked at me, confused. I said nothing, just pulled out my phone and started a game. A few people slowly posted celebratory emojis in the chat, welcoming the newcomer. The message was clear. I had been replaced. My team was furious on my behalf. “Kate, they can’t just kick you out like that! It’s not right,” one of my designers whispered. “Yeah, and we just submitted the new design proposal. What are we supposed to tell the client when they ask for you?” another added. I shrugged. “The company has its reasons. We just follow orders.” My calm response left them baffled. But I knew what was happening. They were using my work, my success, to prop up their new hire. But they had made one critical mistake. They had acted too soon. Half an hour later, Diana’s niece, a young woman named Chloe, arrived. New boss, new rules. And her first order of business was to target me. “This department has thirty designers,” she announced, her voice full of unearned authority. “Some of you are not pulling your weight, just collecting a paycheck. That ends today.” “From now on, each designer will submit one new design every day. If you can’t finish, you work overtime. If you can’t handle it, the door is open.” Then, she pointed at me. “You! Kate, right? I’ve heard about you. I don’t care what you’ve achieved in the past. From now on, you follow the rules. Understood?” She looked at me, her face a mask of arrogance. I nodded, my voice flat. “Understood.” 2 My compliance only seemed to fuel Chloe’s ego. She added two more rules: a strict attendance policy and a mandatory client feedback log. The team groaned in protest. Client meetings often ran late, or were in different cities, making it impossible to clock in and out on time. But Diana quickly shut them down. “Rules are rules,” she snapped. “We just had to fine someone five thousand dollars. Have you all forgotten already?” “Let me be clear,” she continued, “we brought Chloe in to whip this department into shape!” The room fell silent. I didn’t say a word. Clock in? Fine. Submit a design every day? No problem. I wasn’t worried. In a week, maybe even five days, they would regret this. That day, Chloe settled into my old office, barking orders. I, on the other hand, worked calmly. I used an AI generator to create a design, submitted it, clocked out, and left on the dot. Jenna caught me on my way out. “The workaholic is leaving on time? What’s going on?” “Just following the new company policy,” I said with a wave. Jenna had always been after my job. Now, not only was she not promoted, but she was stuck with a new, overbearing boss. Seeing me leave, she shut down her computer and left too. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d left work at a reasonable hour. It was always endless revisions, late-night client calls, only to end up using the first draft after all. This was a new, and not unwelcome, feeling. On my way home, I picked up groceries. My husband was surprised to see me home so early. When I told him I’d been demoted, he was worried. “Is it because of me?” “It has nothing to do with you,” I reassured him. “Honestly, the company needed a shake-up. Why should the Gen Z kids have all the fun?” He seemed relieved. That evening, for the first time in ages, I relaxed. I set up the projector and watched a movie, even posted about it online. Jenna commented: “Look at you, living the life!” I replied with a smiley face. A moment later, the company group chat blew up. Diana was subtweeting me. “Some people just know how to relax. I wonder if their work is done. I wonder if they’re earning enough to afford such a lifestyle!” I laughed at her petty jab and tagged her in the chat. “Diana, it’s important to have a work-life balance. I’m all for enjoying life when I can, but I’ve never slacked off on my work.” Then, I posted all my recent project reports and proposals in the chat. The senior executives were in that group too. I had nothing to hide. A second later, Diana sent me a private message, demanding I delete the posts. I ignored her and muted the chat. The next morning, I was summoned to her office. “Let’s cut to the chase, Kate,” she said. “You need to hand over your projects. And pay the fine.” “The handover is no problem,” I replied. “But I don’t have the money for the fine. You can deduct it from my salary.” “My husband’s surgery was expensive. I’m broke.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t play games with me, Kate.” “I’m not. I requested the time off a week in advance. I told you three months ago that my husband was having surgery and that money was tight. That’s why I took on those extra high-profile clients, which you approved.” “I desperately need the money,” I continued. “I don’t have five thousand dollars to spare right now. But my commission and bonus this month should cover it. Just take it from there.” 3 Her brow furrowed. I just looked at her, my expression unreadable. “I don’t have the money. It’s up to you.” I turned and walked out. She followed me, her face livid. “Kate, don’t think you can get away with this just because you’ve been here a while!” The whole office was staring. I turned back to her. “I’m not trying to get away with anything, Diana. I’m following company policy. Go ahead and deduct it.” She thought I was bluffing. She immediately had finance alter my paycheck, deducting the entire five thousand from my commission, leaving me with only my base salary. I remained unfazed. I came to work on time, left on time, and submitted my AI-generated designs every day. They couldn’t find a single thing to fault me for. Until Mr. Harrison from Apex Corp came in. I had handled the initial design phase for their project. Now that the project was handed over, Chloe was in charge. Apex was our biggest client. We’d worked with them for three years without a single issue. This new project alone was worth ten million dollars. That morning, Diana and Chloe were a bundle of nerves, waiting by the entrance. I strolled in right on time, earning a glare from Diana. I just slipped into the breakroom for breakfast. When Mr. Harrison arrived, he was ushered into the conference room with great fanfare. That’s when Sam came over to my desk. “Kate, take these blueprints to the new development in Green Valley.” Green Valley was on the west side of the city. We were on the east. A four-hour round trip. “Isn’t there a digital copy?” I asked. “The client wants a hard copy. Now go, don’t waste time.” Fine. I’ll go. The moment I arrived in Green Valley, Diana called. “Kate, where are you? Get back here now!” “Diana, Sam sent me to deliver blueprints. I just got here. What’s up?” “Send me the design concept and creative brief for the Apex project!” I smiled. “It’s all in the handover files. Sorry, have to meet the client now!” I hung up. A moment later, Chloe called. “Kate, stop playing games. Those are company files, you can’t take them with you! If this project falls through, you’ll be held responsible!” I didn’t even bother to answer. I just blocked her number. Jenna messaged me. Apparently, Mr. Harrison had noticed right away that I wasn’t in the meeting. He asked Chloe a few simple questions about the project, and she couldn’t answer any of them. He was not pleased. Finally, he asked about the patent for the smart home technology integrated into the design. Diana and Chloe had no idea what he was talking about. Now, he was demanding to see the patent certificate, and they were scrambling. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Jenna typed. “You set them up!” “No wonder you’ve been so relaxed these past few days! You were waiting for this!” Without that patent, the design was useless. A ten-million-dollar project, down the drain. And when the higher-ups found out, Diana and Chloe would be in deep trouble. I could hear Jenna’s gleeful laughter through the phone. Then, Chloe’s voice. “Is that Kate? Give me the phone!” “Kate, get back here now! What’s this about a patent?” “Sorry, Chloe, I can’t help you. That project isn’t my responsibility anymore.” “You’ll have to find someone else.” She was getting desperate. “Kate, I know you’re upset. Just come back, and we can talk about this.” Diana’s voice came on the line. “Just come back, Kate. At least help us get through this meeting.” I refused. “I can’t do that. This is Chloe’s first big client meeting. I wouldn’t want to overstep.” I could hear her screaming on the other end. “Don’t get cocky, Kate! We don’t need you!” I laughed. “Let me be honest with you. Give me three hours, and I’ll have you on your knees, begging me. Want to bet?” 4 I hung up, put my phone on silent, and after delivering the blueprints, I spent the rest of the morning chatting with the client in Green Valley. He invited me to take a walk on the nearby mountain trails. The signal was spotty up there, but I couldn’t refuse a client. Back at the office, things had descended into chaos. Mr. Harrison had canceled the contract and returned the designs. Without the patent, they were worthless. He was furious that they knew nothing about the project’s core concept, a concept I had yet to fully reveal. I had planned to present the final, perfected version to him in person. But of course, they had pushed me out. Not only did they not have the patent, but they couldn’t even execute the design. Mr. Harrison was livid. “If you can’t produce the patent, we’re done,” he had declared. “There are plenty of other design firms in this country.” He had walked out, ignoring Diana’s desperate pleas. With me still gone, Diana had turned on Chloe. “You’re from an Ivy League school, right? Call your fancy friends, figure this patent thing out!” “Kate is a nobody, and she impressed him. You should be able to do better.” Chloe, spurred on, started making frantic calls. Jenna just watched, a smirk on her face. Diana noticed. “What are you smiling at? Go find a solution!” Jenna threw her hands up. “I can’t help you. That was all Kate. If I had her connections, I’d be the one in charge.” The comment hit its mark. Diana flew into a rage, throwing things around her office. When a colleague relayed the story to me later, I just laughed. It wasn’t my problem. They had brought this on themselves. A company retreat wasn’t a big deal. But they had made it one. Besides, who wants to spend their free time on forced fun? Not me. Even if my husband hadn’t been sick, I wouldn’t have gone. As for the patent, it was for a smart home system I had developed myself. It was a personal project, something I’d worked on for three years. Mr. Harrison had loved the idea. And now, they had cut me out of my own creation. The client in Green Valley and I had a wonderful afternoon. We picked wild mushrooms and ate a delicious free-range chicken stew. I told him about my situation at work. He just smiled. “Don’t worry, Kate. You’re destined for bigger things. You won’t be unemployed for long.” “In fact,” he continued, “I’m planning to develop this mountain into a resort. The scenery, the ecosystem… it’s perfect. I’ll need a good designer to plan it out.” I accepted on the spot. 5 If the resort was built, it would be the perfect place to bring my husband to relax and breathe the fresh air. After reaching a preliminary agreement with the client, I drove back to the city. I didn’t go to the office. Instead, I went to the hospital, got a doctor’s note, and submitted a request for sick leave through the company’s online portal. Diana was furious. She called me immediately. “Kate, you’re doing this on purpose! The whole company is scrambling, and you’re taking sick leave?” “Don’t push your luck!” I laughed. “Diana, you’re overreacting. I’m not that important. I’m just exhausted. I’ve been taking care of my husband through his surgery, and now I need to rest. I’m not a machine.” “If you don’t approve it, I’m taking the time off anyway. Just mark me as absent.” She hung up, but eventually approved the request. She sent me a text: “Don’t think the company can’t function without you. The world would keep spinning even if you disappeared.”

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Three years after being cast out of the Hawke family, Eleanor Hawke walked into my shop for a pair of custom shoes. As it happened, I was the one assigned to her. I knelt reflexively, ready to help her with her shoes, but she stopped me, her hand on my arm. “Julian,” she said, her voice laced with surprise. “What are you doing working a job like this?” It seemed she never imagined that her once-pampered heir would now be serving others with such practiced humility. I used her grip to help myself up, and in the same smooth motion, talked her into putting $200,000 on a store card. She did it without hesitation. As she was leaving, she asked, a little too carefully, “Julian, do you still hate me?” I gave her a perfect, professional smile and saw her out the door. The moment she was gone, I asked my manager for a transfer to another branch. I didn’t hate her anymore. But I never wanted anything to do with the Hawke family again. 1 It was pouring rain when I got off work. Eleanor’s Maybach was parked by the curb, its hazard lights blinking. She rolled down the window and called out to me. “Julian, let me give you a ride home.” I glanced at the rideshare app on my phone. The wait was endless. I wisely accepted her offer. Life has taught me one crucial lesson: never pass up an opportunity for comfort. Otherwise, your entire existence becomes a trial. The driver was still Arthur. He grinned when he saw me. “Young Master Julian, you look different.” “More grounded,” he continued. “A bit like your father.” “Arthur, just drive,” Eleanor said sharply from the back. My father’s death was a wound that never healed for any of us. The slightest mention was enough to make it ache. A soft classical piece began to play through the car’s speakers. Eleanor had looked like she wanted to say something, but the mention of my father had silenced her. She leaned back against the leather, her expression weary and dark. I took a pause in the music to speak. “Arthur, you can just call me Julian. I haven’t been the ‘Young Master’ of the Hawke family for a long time.” Arthur just kept smiling, unfazed by Eleanor’s mood. “It’s just a title, son. A habit of many years.” 2 Hearing Arthur’s warm, steady voice, I couldn’t help but smile. When I was fourteen, at the peak of my rebellious phase, Eleanor brought home a boy she was sponsoring. His name was originally Caleb, but after learning he was an orphan, Eleanor had him take our name. She thought his given name was common, so she renamed him Caleb Hawke. I was Julian Hawke, he was Caleb Hawke. But everyone always said how polite and thoughtful Caleb was, how it was no wonder Eleanor doted on him. As for me, I was arrogant and spoiled, not nearly as composed as the boy from the mountains. A rebellious teenager has his pride. I wouldn’t let him outshine me. I berated every gossiping servant in the house until I was exhausted. I sat down to catch my breath, only to see Eleanor standing around the corner, her eyes filled with disgust. And next to her stood Caleb, dressed in the latest designer clothes, looking smug. I knew it was his doing. Ever since he arrived, everything I did was twisted to make me look like a bully. I had been friendly to him at first, but he would always act hesitant and wounded. Within days, rumors were flying that the Hawke heir looked down on commoners. I swore to Eleanor, argued, collapsed into her arms in a desperate hug, and pleaded, “Mom, why don’t you believe me?” She just sighed. “Julian, when will you ever grow up?” She always thought I was a lost cause. She seemed to forget that she once promised, “No matter what Julian does, Mommy will always have your back.” I wanted to rip the mask off Caleb’s face and show her the ugliness underneath. But what I said was, “What gives you the right to wear something like that?” The clothes were from a new collection. He couldn’t have worn them without her permission. Her favoritism had been there all along. I was just too stupid to see it, too desperate to win a game that was already lost. The day after that, Caleb’s name was legally changed. He became the sole heir of the Hawke family. And I became a complete joke. 3 Only two people ever stood by my side: my father and Arthur. My father was always busy with work and carried a deep guilt towards my mother. Even when he knew I was being wronged, his only solution was to give me more money. This only made Eleanor despise me more, believing I was a greedy manipulator. Arthur was originally my father’s driver. After hearing that Caleb was being “bullied,” Eleanor assigned Arthur to drive him, a clear message that the entire household stood behind Caleb. But no matter how Caleb tried to win him over, Arthur remained unmoved, never saying more than was necessary. With me, however, he was different. “Young Master,” he’d say, “it’s getting cold. Make sure you wear a coat.” When he saw me withdrawn and miserable, he’d try to comfort me. “She’s your mother, son. Deep down, she still loves you.” Did she? I had stopped believing that a long time ago. But I was still grateful for his kindness. A dark cloud of scorn hung over me, and Arthur was the only one who ever tried to let a little light through. The car slowed. I knew we were close to my place. “Arthur, you can just stop here. The alley ahead is a nightmare to get in and out of.” Eleanor seemed to wake from a trance, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the run-down neighborhood. “Julian… you live here?” I just smiled and gave a polite farewell. “Thank you for the ride, Mrs. Hawke. I won’t take up any more of your time.” Pain flickered in her eyes. “Do you have to speak to me like that?” I simply bowed my head. Then I opened my umbrella and walked alone into the heavy curtain of rain. 4 When I got home, I saw a new friend request on my phone. The name was simply “[Mom]”. My manager had told me Mrs. Hawke had specifically asked for my contact information. She’d praised my service and added two million dollars to her store card. “Keep this client happy, Julian,” he’d said, “and you’ll be our top salesman for the year.” I hesitated, but the thought of Leo’s medical bills made me accept. “Thank you for your support, Mrs. Hawke 🙂 :)” I typed. The status indicator showed she was typing for a long time. I waited, wondering what she could possibly be writing. Eventually, I gave up and went to take a shower. When I came back, I saw a string of retracted messages. Only one remained. “Your father’s memorial is the day after tomorrow. Will you come?” The message triggered a night of relentless nightmares, replaying the events that had destroyed my life. Caleb had been suddenly diagnosed with leukemia. He needed a bone marrow transplant, and I was the only match. But my own health was poor at the time, and I was undergoing treatment. I refused. I was ready to give up everything, to leave the Hawke family and never look back. The night before I was set to leave, Eleanor sat me down for a talk. She reminisced about my childhood. How I was a messy little boy, and she had dreamed of raising a perfect prince. How for her birthday, I had dressed up in a flamboyant suit to make her happy, only to be scolded for being too ostentatious. How I’d cried in the middle of the night, telling her, “I just wanted to make you happy, Mommy.” How in elementary school, I’d overheard other parents mocking her for being a bad mother because of my poor grades, and I’d studied relentlessly to get a perfect score, losing so much weight in the process that my chin was sharp against her shoulder. “It hurts my shoulder,” she’d said, “but it hurts my heart more.” She looked at me with a misty, nostalgic gaze. “Julian, do you still love your mother like you did when you were a little boy?” “Of course,” I’d answered. “But Mom… do you still love me?” “…Of course.” If only I had seen the flicker of evasion in her eyes through the dim light. If only I hadn’t taken that glass of water she’d drugged. I collapsed into her arms. I remember her soft fingers on my cheek, gently wiping away a tear. But when I woke up, it was to an ice-cold reality. My own mother had drugged me so they could take my bone marrow for Caleb. The procedure left me bedridden and weak for months. 5 Lying alone in that sterile hospital room, I had only one thought: revenge. To hell with her. From that day on, she was no longer my mother. She was just… that woman. I stormed back to the Hawke estate, weak and shivering in a thin hospital gown. They were celebrating Caleb’s birthday. I took a baseball bat and demolished the entire ground floor of the mansion. If security hadn’t stopped me, I would have caved their heads in. I screamed until my throat was raw, the rage in my eyes making that woman shrink back in fear, right into Caleb’s waiting arms. Their solution was to have me committed to a psychiatric hospital. If my father hadn’t returned when he did, I would have ended up either a mindless vegetable or a corpse. He returned with the truth. The leukemia, the transplant—it was all a lie, a scheme cooked up by Caleb. His real target was my fiancée. My engagement to Isabella Vance had been arranged since we were children. The Vance family’s new energy enterprise had made them far more powerful than the Hawkes. No matter how hard that woman tried to push Caleb into high society, she could never find him a better match. So, Caleb had been secretly corresponding with Isabella for months. And I had worked tirelessly to earn the approval of Isabella’s parents, finally securing my place in their family. 6 Now, with the truth revealed, that woman just held Caleb and wept. “In that case,” she declared, “Caleb should marry Isabella.” “What else can we do? We can’t lose our connection to the Vance family.” “As for Julian…” She glanced at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, before looking away. “You can have the villa in Northwood. You can move there today.” I had grown up in Southwood. She was banishing me to the other side of the city. I didn’t want to stay in that house a moment longer, but I would not let them get away with this so easily. My father flew into a rage, but she just sobbed. “What was I supposed to do? I finally have a son who loves me. Are you asking me to lose him too? It’s because you were never here! I had to raise him alone!” “If I can only have one son,” she screamed, “it will be Caleb! If you make him leave, I’ll go with him.” In the end, my father gave in. The day I left, he said, “Wait for your mother to come to her senses. Don’t hate her.” He didn’t understand. I hated him too. For his weakness. I left without saying goodbye. I became a snake, coiled in the darkness, waiting. I watched as Caleb and Isabella got married. I watched that woman beam with joy at the wedding. I heard that Isabella had bought Caleb a yacht, and they threw extravagant parties. The media called Caleb a golden boy, the savior of the Hawke-Vance alliance. One day, my father called me. “Isabella is pregnant. The morning sickness is hitting her hard.” Then, after a pause, “Julian, it’s been a while. Are you feeling better?” I heard myself answer, my voice wooden. “No. The doctors say the damage is permanent.” Everything after that happened in slow motion. I drove to the hospital. I saw that woman helping Isabella out of a car, laughing and chatting. I saw my father and Caleb walking side-by-side, a perfect picture of father and son. I pressed my foot on the accelerator. Faster. Faster. I was going to kill him at the peak of his happiness. I was innocent. Why did he deserve a life of joy? Their faces turned to masks of horror. My father shoved Caleb out of the way. He hit the windshield, blood blooming across the spiderweb of cracks before he fell away. I slammed on the brakes, my chest colliding with the steering wheel, a tearing pain ripping through me. The car door was wrenched open. I was dragged out. That woman beat me over the head with her handbag. Something sharp cut my face. A flurry of slaps. The police came. They took me away. My father’s last words were: “Don’t blame Julian.” But that woman and the Vance family hired the best lawyers. They pushed for the maximum sentence. The day I was sent to prison, they told me Isabella had lost the baby due to the shock. I smiled. “You monster,” they screamed. “How can you still smile?”

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My decade with Ethan ended under a sky choked with snow. He stood in the center of the campus green, his friends cheering behind him, and in his arms, he held the girl who, according to legend, was his destiny. And I, his girlfriend of three years, stood at the edge of the crowd, a complete and utter joke. A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind. [Congratulations, Host. Mission ‘Unite the Protagonists’ is complete. Do you wish to return to your original world?] I watched the two of them kissing in the snow and smiled, a thin, brittle thing. I had no one left in my original world. Here, even though I had just lost the love of my life, I had parents who adored me and a youth I had lived for ten years. I told the System, “I choose to stay.” [Wish protocol initiated. Please state your wish.] I closed my eyes, letting the snowflakes land on my face, their icy touch numbing me to the core. “My wish,” I said, forcing each word out with all the strength I had, “is to forget Ethan. Completely.” … Our school had an unwritten rule, a romantic legend. The first snowfall of winter was Confession Day. Any couple who confessed their love on this day was said to be blessed, destined for a lifetime together. I had imagined this moment a thousand times. Ethan, holding my hand, telling me in front of everyone that he would love me forever. After all, we were childhood sweethearts. Everyone said we were perfect for each other. From the moment I arrived in this world ten years ago, the first person my age I saw was him. We grew up together. He watched me transform from a little girl with pigtails into the young woman I was today. In our first year of high school, on a snowy day just like this one, he had wrapped his arms around me to shield me from the cold, his voice filled with a boyish mix of confidence and nerves. “Maya, will you be my girlfriend?” Everyone thought we would be the couple of the legend. Until Sophia showed up. She was like a character straight out of a campus romance novel: poor but resilient, kind, with a stubborn streak she didn’t even know she had. The day she transferred to our school, she ran right into Ethan, knocking the basketball from his hands and stumbling straight into his world. From that day on, everything spiraled out of control. He would drive all over town to buy her favorite snack just because she’d mentioned it offhandedly. He’d give her his jacket when she was caught in the rain, completely ignoring me shivering right beside him. He would leave in the middle of our dates because she called, needing his help with something trivial. My best friend, Sadie, had yelled at me more than once. “Maya, are you blind? That girl, Sophia, has him completely bewitched, and you’re just standing here, lying to yourself!” I would just smile. Because I knew. It was the power of the plot. I was a transmigrator. Ten years ago, I was a sick little girl lying in an orphanage hospital bed. When I woke up, I was here, in this novel, as the childhood sweetheart of the male protagonist, Ethan—the classic, cliché villainess. My mission was to use my supposed arrogance and irrationality to highlight the female protagonist Sophia’s kindness and virtue, ultimately serving as a stepping stone for their great love story. The System told me that if I completed my mission, I could return to my own world and have one wish granted. My original wish was to be a multi-millionaire. But ten years is a long time. Long enough to forget who I was. Long enough to gain parents who loved me. Long enough to… truly fall in love with Ethan. I naively believed that a decade of shared history could defy a pre-written plot. Until today. The first snow arrived, right on schedule. Ethan texted me, asking me to meet him on the green, saying he had something important to tell me. Clinging to one last sliver of hope, I dressed carefully, wrapping the white scarf he’d given me around my neck, and arrived half an hour early. But it wasn’t him I was waiting for. It was a grand, public confession, meticulously prepared for another girl. Ethan’s friends had arranged candles in the shape of a giant heart. A romantic ballad drifted from a portable speaker. And Ethan, the boy who had whispered countless promises to me, was now looking at Sophia with an ocean of devotion in his eyes. “Sophia,” his voice, amplified by a microphone, carried to every corner of the field, “I don’t know when it started, but my eyes just started following you everywhere. When you smile, my world is sunny. When you cry, it rains. I know this makes me a bastard, and I know I’m hurting Maya, but I can’t control my heart.” A wave of good-natured laughter and cheering rippled through the crowd. “I’m in love with you. Will you be my girlfriend?” Sophia covered her mouth, her eyes welling with tears as she nodded emphatically. The cheers were deafening, loud enough to shake the stars from the night sky. They kissed in the falling snow, a fairytale prince and princess. I stood outside the circle, feeling the blood freeze in my veins. The same guys who used to joke around and call me Ethan’s “better half” were now roaring with applause for his new romance. No one saw me. Or maybe they did, and they pretended not to. In a perfect love story, after all, I was just an insignificant side character, destined to be sacrificed. My phone buzzed. A text from Ethan. It was short, simple, and colder than the ice forming on my heart. [Maya, I’m sorry. We’re over.] I stared at the words until my vision blurred. I didn’t cry. I just felt cold, a deep, bone-aching chill. I calmly deleted the message and dialed his number. He picked up almost immediately, his voice barely audible over the celebratory noise. “Maya?” A flicker of impatience and guilt. “Ethan,” I said, my voice unnervingly steady, “we’re breaking up.” I hung up before he could reply and blocked his number from everything. Then, in the quiet of my mind, I spoke to the System that had been dormant for so long. The moment I made my choice, it felt like a mountain had been lifted from my shoulders. A virtual panel materialized in my mind’s eye, presenting two options. [A: Return to Original World] [B: Remain in Current World] Without hesitation, I chose B. The System was silent for a moment, as if surprised. [Host, please confirm. Returning to your original world will allow you to forget everything here and start anew.] I smiled, but a tear I couldn’t stop slid down my cheek. I couldn’t start anew. Before I came here and knew the love of parents and the warmth of friendship, my reality had been nothing but the cold, sterile walls of a hospital and the sharp smell of antiseptic. “I confirm,” I whispered. “I’m staying here.” At least here, I knew what warmth felt like. The virtual panel shifted, displaying an input box. [Wish protocol initiated. Please enter your wish.] With fingers numb from the cold, I traced the letters in the air. “I. Want. To. Forget. Ethan.” As I finished the last letter, I felt completely drained, as if every ounce of my strength had been siphoned away. [Wish confirmed. The System will now erase all memories pertaining to Ethan. Warning: The erasure process will be accompanied by a strong external physical impact. Please prepare, Host.] [Countdown initiating. 10, 9, 8…] I took a deep breath and turned away from the suffocating scene. I couldn’t bear to look at the happy couple, couldn’t bear to hear another cheer. I needed to go home. Home, where there was hot soup and a warm light waiting for me. I walked, step by step, as the snow began to accumulate on my hair and shoulders. A decade of memories flashed through my mind like a movie reel. The first time I met Ethan, he was a cocky little kid who pulled my pigtails and called me a tag-along. We climbed trees to find birds’ nests, counted stars in his backyard on summer nights, and shared popsicles. The first time he got into a fight for me, his face was a mess of scrapes, but he grinned like an idiot. “Don’t worry, Maya,” he’d said, “I’ll always protect you.” I remembered him giving me piggyback rides on the long walk home, the evening breeze cool against my skin, his back so broad and warm. And that day in the snow, just like this one, when he’d blushed and told me, “Maya, I think I’m falling for you.” He said we’d go to the same college. We’d get married after graduation and have a daughter who was just as cute as me. He said he would love me forever. Those memories, once so sweet, were now daggers twisting in my heart. So this was it. Ten years of friendship and three years of love, all worthless against the so-called “destiny” of a single glance from her. How utterly pathetic. [3, 2, 1…] The moment the countdown finished, I reached the edge of the road. A pair of blinding headlights flared, followed by the screech of tires. I didn’t even have time to react. My body was thrown into the air like a broken kite. In the final second before my world went dark, I thought I heard the System’s last words. [Memory wipe commencing… I wish you a bright future, Maya.] Goodbye, Ethan.

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1 Just as I was leaving with the last of my antidepressants, the final prescription of a long and grueling treatment, I ran into my biological parents. They were at the hospital to give a lecture. Five years. We hadn’t seen each other in five years, yet he recognized me in an instant. His voice was laced with disbelief. “Your… condition. It’s still not better?” I said nothing, just kept walking toward my ward. “How did you let yourself become like this?” my father asked, his voice thick with a pain that felt a decade too late. His eyes were already turning red. “Elara, your mother and sister miss you terribly. Come home with me.” His words stopped me in my tracks. I slowly pulled up the sleeve of my shirt, the long sleeve I wore year-round, regardless of the heat. “That’s their home,” I said, my voice flat. “I have nothing to do with you anymore.” Hundreds of scars, deep and jagged, crisscrossed the pale skin of my arms. A roadmap of my pain, etched from wrist to elbow. Countless nights in the ER, countless battles fought in the dark had long ago eroded any love or hate I had left for them. Now, finally, I was on the verge of breaking free from the illness that had defined me. I had a new family. All I wanted was to live the rest of my life in peace. … My father abandoned the flock of stunned medical interns and hurried after me. “The psychiatric hospital said you vanished after being rushed to the ER for emergency surgery. Elara, where have you been all these years?” His voice was a strained whisper. “They said you stabbed yourself in the abdomen. Why would you do that? Why would you hurt yourself so badly?” His eyes were bloodshot as he reached for my arm. The moment his fingers brushed against the strange, uneven texture of my skin, he recoiled as if he’d been shocked. His questions stirred nothing in me. Not a ripple. I just quickened my pace, desperate to put space between us. “This is a public place,” I said, my tone as calm as if I were addressing a stranger. “If you don’t want anyone to connect a ‘crazy person’ like me with the world-renowned Dr. Ashford, I suggest you stop following me.” Perhaps he was too used to the world’s admiration. My coldness seemed to stun him into silence. “Elara,” he finally managed, his voice cracking, “are you still angry with us…?” As a child, I was his shadow. Ten minutes without him and I’d burst into tears. After my depression hit, I became even more dependent, a prisoner in my own home, unwilling to see anyone. My parents were the only living things I could bear to be around. Just then, a few doctors spotted him and swarmed over, blocking my path. I was trapped. “Congratulations, Professor Ashford! Another prestigious award for you and your wife in the field of psychology. Truly pioneers!” “And we heard your daughter won yet another prize for one of her early paintings! You must be so proud to have such a genius in the family.” My father’s eyes darted toward me, a flash of guilt and embarrassment in his fleeting glance. He forced a weak smile. “Yes… she’s always been a hard worker,” he mumbled, trying to steer the conversation away. But they were oblivious. “Speaking of which, isn’t her wedding to the Sterling heir next month? Any chance we might get an invitation to the grand event?” A tremor went through me. The award. The fiancé. I glanced down at myself—a faded, pilled t-shirt and worn-out jeans that, if you got close enough, probably smelled faintly of the butcher shop. Those things had nothing to do with me anymore. They belonged to another world. I saw a gap in the crowd and made a break for it. “Elara!” My father pushed past the surprised doctors and chased after me. “I know you blame us, but we had no choice back then… Your sister doesn’t blame you anymore. Please, just come home,” he pleaded, his eyes swimming with a shallow guilt. My fingers traced the raised, mottled scars on my arm. Each one a souvenir from a trip to hell and back. ‘No choice.’ ‘Doesn’t blame me.’ What a fucking joke. I finally reached the ward door. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to expel the tightness in my chest. Slam. I stepped inside and threw the lock. My friend, a fellow warrior who had battled depression alongside me these past few years, was staring out the small window in the door, her jaw slack. “Oh my god, isn’t that Professor Ashford? Elara, since when do you know a celebrity doctor?” She hopped off her bed, ready to unlock the door. “Let him in! If you’d known him earlier, maybe you would’ve recovered years ago.” As she passed, I grabbed her hand, my knuckles turning white. “Don’t open it.” Her face filled with confusion. If I had never known them, I never would have been sick in the first place. She wouldn’t let it go, so for the first time, I told her my story. The Ashfords had two daughters, twin girls. Me, and my sister, Clara. But when we were ten, we were kidnapped. She was killed by her captors. From that day on, a severe depression took root in my soul. I locked myself in my room, terrified of the outside world, terrified of people. My only escape was painting. Only in my art could I dare to express the storm of emotions raging inside me. Having lost one daughter, my parents were desperate not to lose another. They made a radical decision, abandoning their promising careers in clinical medicine to specialize in psychology. To protect my fragile state, our house fell silent, as if someone had hit the mute button on our lives. They tiptoed around me, treating me like a dying animal, terrified of causing the slightest distress. Until the day they found a girl during one of our trips to my therapist. She was small and dirty, huddled into a ball. But her eyes, her face… she looked so much like my sister. My mother held her, her hands trembling. “Elara,” she whispered, “she looks… she looks like Clara. Can we… can we take her home?” Seeing the tears welling in my mother’s eyes, how could I say no? Once she was cleaned up and dressed in fresh clothes, it was uncanny. It was like Clara had stepped right out of a photograph. A sob broke from my mother’s lips. She pulled the girl into a crushing embrace. “Clara is back! Mommy finally found you!” She named the girl Caroline. I stood in the doorway, watching them cling to each other, their tears mingling. From that day forward, all the love that could no longer be given to my dead sister was poured onto Caroline. The silence in our home was replaced by laughter. Their laughter. And I retreated further into my room, sealing myself off completely. Then one day, Caroline snuck into my studio and scribbled all over my latest painting. My breath hitched, ragged and fast. A scream tore from my throat as my body began to convulse. When my parents rushed in, they found me curled on the floor, unable to breathe. “Elara, don’t scare me! Caroline! Didn’t I tell you not to come in here? Why did you disobey me!” my mother shrieked, holding me tight. “Honey, get her medication! Quickly!” My father was about to bolt from the room. But Caroline, with wide, innocent eyes, tilted her head. “Does she really have depression? Because… I saw her pouring her pills down the toilet late at night.” She paused, then added another, more devastating blow. “Oh, and I heard her saying that as long as she pretends to be depressed, Mommy and Daddy will never blame her for getting her sister killed. What does that mean?” In an instant, the way my parents looked at me changed. The warmth vanished, replaced by an icy cold. The next thing I knew, my mother’s eyes were bloodshot with fury. She ripped through my studio like a hurricane. The paintings I had poured countless nights of pain and sorrow into were torn from the walls, ripped to shreds like garbage. I scrambled to save them, but my mother’s hand flew out, a sharp slap across my face that sent me stumbling back into a shattered canvas. Splinters of wood dug deep into my shoulder. “All these years,” she hissed, her voice a raw wound, “I have suppressed my own grief, terrified of losing another daughter. But it was you. You were the one who killed my Clara! You monster!” She collapsed, weeping. “Clara, my baby, I’m so sorry!” My father just stood there, his face a mask of profound disappointment. Blood was streaming down my arm, but I couldn’t feel it. My eyes were vacant as I fell to my knees, gathering the torn scraps of paper into my arms. In the doorway, my mother was clutching Caroline as if she’d found something she’d lost to death itself. “I knew it,” she sobbed. “I knew Clara came back to me. You even exposed Elara’s lies. Mommy will never lose you again. I will never let anyone hurt you, ever!” After Caroline’s “revelation,” my mother was convinced my depression was a lie. She began a cruel campaign to force me to admit I was “normal.” She dragged me from my room, ignoring my struggles and pleas. “Stop faking it! Caroline saw you sneaking out to play! Now you’re going to walk home on your own!” She shoved me into the middle of a bustling intersection. Every brush from a stranger sent a jolt of terror through me, making me scream. Horns blared. A car screeched to a halt inches from me. “Are you trying to get killed?! Go do it somewhere else!” the driver yelled, his face purple with rage. I was a tiny boat, sinking in a vast, merciless ocean, utterly alone. My depression spiraled. I stopped sleeping, spending my nights hidden under my covers, drawing and drawing until my fingers bled. Then, a world-renowned art competition was announced. It felt like a lifeline. If I won, I could get a full scholarship to study abroad for six years. I could finally escape. My friend beside me smacked her forehead, pulling me from the memory. “I remember that competition! Someone cheated, right? The internet went crazy. I think some people even found the cheater and… broke her hand!” I took a deep breath, my right hand still trembling slightly after all these years. “That person… was me.” “No way!” she gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. The night before the competition, my mother did something she hadn’t done in years. She brought me a glass of warm milk. “Always making trouble for others,” she muttered, not looking at me as she closed my window against the wind. “You want milk, but you won’t even leave your room to get it.” She paused at the door. “Painting has been your dream since you were a little girl. Don’t embarrass me tomorrow.” For a fleeting moment, a pang of guilt hit me. She had no idea that the moment my dream came true would also be the moment I escaped her forever. The next day, the judges hailed me as a prodigy. Prestigious universities from the US and UK made on-the-spot offers. But as they were about to hand me the grand prize, my mother stormed the stage and snatched the trophy from my hands. “This painting isn’t by Elara Ashford! It was painted by my daughter, Caroline!” I froze. Every artist has a unique style. How could I have stolen someone else’s work? Just then, Caroline walked onto the stage, her eyes red and teary. “Sister, this competition was my dream. Why did you lock me in my room and steal my painting to enter?” she sobbed. “And didn’t you know? All of my paintings have a personal signature in the bottom right corner.” She pointed to the darkest patch of color on the canvas. My eyes followed her finger. There it was. A tiny, almost invisible “Caroline.” The world tilted on its axis. How? Then, a memory exploded in my mind. The glass of milk. After I drank it last night, I’d been so drowsy I could barely keep my eyes open. I’d thought it was just exhaustion from painting.

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1 At the company dinner, my girlfriend’s childhood sweetheart accused me of stealing his diamond watch. In front of everyone, he snatched my briefcase and dumped its contents onto the floor. When I demanded to see the security footage to clear my name, my girlfriend, Isabelle, just looked at me with contempt. “Leo, I know your mom’s medical bills are piling up, but that doesn’t give you the right to steal.” With that one sentence, my fate was sealed. Everyone was convinced I was a thief. I was ostracized by my colleagues and mocked by the man she truly loved. Eventually, I took my mother and disappeared without a word. But Isabelle, the high and mighty CEO who had never looked down, spent the next five years searching for me like a madwoman. … When I returned to the private dining room, everyone stared at me. I could feel their strange, accusing glances, but I was too preoccupied to care. “Ms. Meng,” I said to Isabelle, “something’s come up. I have to go. You all have fun.” The hospital had just called. My mom was feeling down after her chemo session, and they asked if I could come and sit with her. But Richard, Isabelle’s golden boy, stepped in my way. “In a hurry to sell off the goods, Leo?” I was completely lost. “Sell what off?” “Still playing dumb? You’re a thief. You stole my diamond watch.” My brow furrowed. “Richard, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t steal anything.” He shot me a look of pure disdain. “We all went out to watch the floor show. You were the only one who stayed behind in the room. If it wasn’t you, who else could it be?” I’d stayed behind because my mind was a thousand miles away, consumed with worry for my mother. A song and dance performance was the last thing I could stomach. “You can’t just make accusations like that without proof,” I said, my voice tight. “That’s slander.” Richard’s eyes flicked to the briefcase in my hand. “You stole my watch, and now you’re rushing off to fence it. I bet it’s still in that bag.” He spoke with an air of command. “Open your bag. Let me see.” “That’s just your assumption, Richard. I told you, I didn’t take it, and you have no right to search my property.” “I think you’re just scared.” Before I could react, he lunged forward and ripped the briefcase from my grasp. He unzipped it and turned it upside down, shaking it violently. A thick stack of my mother’s medical reports and treatment plans fluttered to the floor like dead leaves. I’d already been on edge for weeks, crushed under the weight of my mother’s illness. His blatant disrespect was the final straw. Something inside me snapped. I snatched my briefcase back, my voice shaking with rage. “What the hell is wrong with you, Richard? Have you no decency?” He ignored me, crouching down and sifting through the scattered papers. From the pile, he produced a watch, its face glittering with diamonds. He held it up to my face, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, Leo? What do you have to say for yourself now? You’re a thief.” I stared at the watch, stunned into silence. “I don’t know… I didn’t take it…” Richard let out a short, cruel laugh. “It was in your bag, but you didn’t take it? What, did it just grow legs and walk in there by itself?” One of my colleagues spoke up. “Maybe there’s been a misunderstanding. I’ve worked with Leo for two years. He’s not that kind of person.” “You can know a person’s face, but you can never know their heart,” Richard said smoothly. “Two years is nothing if someone is putting on an act.” After the initial shock wore off, a cold clarity settled over me. I hadn’t stolen the watch, but it was in my bag. Someone had planted it there. And the only person here who had it out for me was Richard. He and Isabelle had grown up together; he was the one she’d never gotten over. He’d come back from America a month ago and had been targeting me from day one. I lifted my head and pointed to the security camera in the corner of the ceiling. “Pull the footage. I’m just as curious as you are to see how your watch ended up in my bag.” Richard didn’t flinch. “Fine by me. Let’s see how you talk your way out of this one.” Just then, another colleague pointed toward the wall socket. “Hey, look. The camera’s unplugged.” My eyes shot to Richard. Of course. No wonder he was so calm. He’d planned this. He seized the opportunity. “It must have been you, Leo! You unplugged it and then pretended you wanted to see the footage. Who do you think you’re fooling?” But he was mistaken if he thought that was enough to frame me. “Then let’s call the police,” I said, pulling out my phone. “Let them clear my name. If I’m the one who unplugged the camera and stole the watch, my fingerprints will be on the plug, the watch, and all over your things.” Seeing my phone, Richard’s composure finally cracked. He quickly adopted a magnanimous tone. “Look, I’ve got my watch back. I don’t want to press the issue. Calling the police would just create negative publicity for Isabelle’s company. Let’s just drop it.” “It’s not dropped for me,” I said, my gaze fixed on him. “I didn’t steal your watch. Unless you admit, right now, that you framed me, I’m calling the cops.” He hesitated, then his eyes darted to Isabelle, his expression shifting to one of wounded innocence. “Isabelle, for your sake, I’ve been more than generous. But he’s insisting on making a scene. It’s only going to embarrass you.” Isabelle’s lips thinned, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes as she looked at me. “Ms. Meng,” I started, my voice pleading, “I didn’t steal…” She cut me off. “That’s enough. This conversation is over. No one is to speak of this again.” I couldn’t hide the wave of despair that washed over me. Not only had she not defended me, but she had chosen this ambiguous, damning silence. If this wasn’t cleared up now, I would be branded a thief for the rest of my life. I shook my head firmly. “No. I need my name cleared. Tonight.” Isabelle’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Leo, don’t push it. Are you addicted to playing the victim?” Then came the final blow. “I know your mom is sick,” she said, her voice laced with cold pity. “I know you’re desperate for money. That’s why you went after Richard’s watch.” I just stared at her, numb. “You… you don’t believe me?” She looked down at me from her pedestal. “How am I supposed to believe you? You have the motive. The evidence is right there. We have a witness.” “Leo, I told you I would help you with the money. Did you really have to do this?” I looked up at her face, the face I had loved, and it was the face of a stranger. With their CEO’s verdict delivered, the rest of the employees quickly fell in line, their whispers turning into a chorus of condemnation. “I can’t believe we have a thief in our company. What a disgrace!” “I always knew there was something shady about him. My coffee kept disappearing from the breakroom. I bet it was him.” “He’s so cheap. I strongly recommend he be fired!” “Fire him!” Isabelle’s face darkened. “I said that’s enough. This matter is closed.” The room fell silent, but their eyes still burned with scorn. The hospital called again. After taking the call, I walked out of the room and into the cold night. The wind was biting, but it was nothing compared to the ice in my heart. A Rolls-Royce pulled up beside me. The window rolled down, revealing Isabelle’s perfect profile. I ignored her and kept walking. “Get in the car,” she commanded. “Do you want everyone to see you like this?” “I wouldn’t want to trouble you, Ms. Meng. This way, there’s no risk of being seen together.” I hailed a taxi and got in, leaving her behind. We had been together for three years, a secret relationship. At first, it was my choice. I wasn’t sure how long we would last, and I didn’t want to be the subject of office gossip, labeled as some gigolo who’d latched onto the boss. But ever since Richard had returned, everything had changed. Her patience with me had worn thin, and her contempt was palpable. I knew it was over. After calming my mother at the hospital, I decided to quit. But I couldn’t be reckless. My mom’s treatment was expensive. I had to find a new job first. From that day on, life at the office became a living hell. Led by Richard, my colleagues isolated me completely. They’d “forget” to tell me about meetings, leaving me to be reprimanded in front of everyone. I’d find my chair mysteriously soaked with water. At lunch, all that was left for me were cold scraps. I lost ten pounds in a week. One afternoon, I was coming downstairs after delivering a file when I saw a group of them crowded around the office entrance, pointing and jeering at my mother. “So, what do you have to say about your son being a thief?” “They say a child’s failings are the parents’ fault. We heard Leo’s father isn’t in the picture. Did he learn how to steal from you?” My mother, her face pale and drawn, tried to defend me. She told them I had always been a good, obedient boy, that I would never steal. She said that even though she wasn’t educated, she would never teach her son to do something wrong. They treated her words like a joke, their laughter sharp and cruel. Someone shoved her. Weakened by months of chemotherapy, my mother stumbled and fell, the lunchbox she was carrying scattering its contents across the pavement. I saw red. I charged into the crowd, pushing them back. “Get away from her! All of you, get out of here!” The one who had pushed her just sneered. “I barely touched her. Look at her, playing dead on the ground. You two are probably just broke and looking for a payday.” I grabbed him by the collar. “My mother has a tumor. If anything happens to her today, I swear I will make you pay.” “If she’s sick, she should be in a hospital, not out here bothering people.” My mother had always been my entire world. I raised my fist to strike him. But she grabbed my wrist. “Leo, don’t…” We had always been on our own, with no one to rely on. My mother lived in constant fear of me getting into trouble. I lowered my hand, but shoved the man away with all my strength. I turned to my mom. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” She shook her head. “I’m fine.” Her voice was laced with guilt. “But the food I made for you… it’s all ruined. It’s my fault. I’ll go home and make you some more.” I had visited her yesterday, and she’d noticed how thin I’d gotten. She’d blamed herself, saying she was a burden and that I should stop spending money on her treatment. I told her I was just craving her cooking, that once she was better, she had to cook for me every day and fatten me up. I couldn’t believe it. She had made my favorite dish—her famous meatballs. I could only imagine the effort it took for her, in her frail state, to prepare them. I knelt, picked up one of the fallen meatballs from the dirty pavement, and took a bite. “It’s delicious, Mom. Just as good as always.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Leo, don’t eat that! It’s dirty! I’ll make you a fresh batch, I promise.” Just then, the black Rolls-Royce pulled up. Richard got out of the passenger seat and shot me a contemptuous look. He turned to Isabelle in the driver’s seat. “Isabelle, I don’t believe there’s a company policy that forces employees to eat garbage off the ground, is there?” Isabelle emerged from the car, her face a mask of cold fury. She looked from me to my mother with disgust, then waved the crowd away. She turned on me, her voice sharp. “Leo, what have I ever done to you to deserve this? First stealing, and now this? Who are you trying to embarrass?” I looked at her, my heart sinking. “I didn’t steal anything, Isabelle. And this isn’t garbage. This is the food my mother made for me.” My mom rushed to explain. “He would never steal, there must be some misunderstanding, my Leo would never…” Isabelle turned and walked away, not even giving her a second glance. My mom tried to follow, but Isabelle sidestepped her as if she were contagious and disappeared into the building. Watching her back, I felt my world collapse. This was the woman I had loved for three years? The stress was too much. My mother’s eyes rolled back, and she collapsed. I frantically called an ambulance. After a tense wait at the hospital, the doctor told me she was stable but that her condition was deteriorating. He mentioned a specialized clinic in Riverbend City that had a high success rate with her type of tumor. The treatment would cost around fifty thousand dollars. He urged me to transfer her as soon as possible. I sat alone in the sterile hospital corridor, my mind a blank. Fifty thousand dollars? Where was I going to get that kind of money? A pair of gleaming leather shoes appeared in my line of sight. I looked up. It was Richard. He held out a bank card. “Leo, I know you need money. There’s fifty thousand on this. Take it, and disappear from Isabelle’s life. Forever.” The old me would have slapped the card out of his hand and told him that when I left Isabelle, it would be on my own terms, not his. But my mother’s life was on the line. She had sacrificed everything for me. I couldn’t abandon her now. I swallowed my pride. I bowed my head and took the card. “I’ll leave,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “But I’ll pay this back. It’s a loan.” A triumphant smile spread across his face. “I always told you, you and Isabelle are from different worlds. You were just a novelty to her. I’m the one she’s meant to be with.” I murmured my blessings, my voice hollow. “Then I wish you a long and happy life together.” Richard left, satisfied. Not long after he was gone, my phone rang. “Hello, is this Mr. Miller?” “Speaking.” “This is the manager of the Grand Crest Hotel. We were doing maintenance on our security system today and discovered that the camera in your private room has a battery backup. We have the full recording from the night of the incident with the watch.” He paused. “I thought you might find it useful.”

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I’d just gotten off work and was heading for the subway when I ran into an old university classmate. She asked me when I was finally going to forgive Luke Pei. Luke and I were childhood sweethearts. We were supposed to get married five years ago. But at our engagement party, the night before we were to register our marriage, he called it all off. In front of everyone. He said he was tired of being a substitute for my one true love, and wished the two of us a long and happy life together. Then he grabbed his graduate school mentor and walked out. I was baffled, desperate to explain that I didn’t have a “one true love,” but the humiliation shattered me. In the end, I was the one who left Kingsbridge. “Luke still has feelings for you,” she said, as if letting me in on a great secret. “He says if you hadn’t used him as a stand-in for that other guy, you two would have been married years ago.” “All you have to do is admit you were wrong, and he’s willing to give you another chance.” Another chance? I laughed. My son is three years old. What past is there to continue? 1 Renee’s jaw dropped, her mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. She stared at me as if I’d just announced I was from Mars. “M-married?” she stammered. “Your kid’s already in preschool?” I just nodded, not wanting to waste my breath. I turned to leave, but she grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. “No way! Amy, you’re lying, aren’t you?” Her voice was so loud that people waiting for the train started to stare. “Everyone in Kingsbridge knew how much you loved Luke! You gave up a guaranteed spot at a top-tier university for him. You would never marry someone else!” I frowned. Hearing her dredge up those old stories felt like a bad joke. It was true, I had loved Luke. Loved him enough to give up everything. But that was a lifetime ago. “Why would I lie to you?” I asked, my voice flat. My indifference seemed to fuel her fire. “Well, who’s your husband, then? What does he do? Is he as rich as Luke? Is his family as powerful?” The questions came out like machine-gun fire, each one dripping with condescension, as if she was certain I’d married some pathetic loser I was ashamed of. I ignored her, trying to wrench my arm free, but she held on tighter. “Amy, are you just doing this to spite him?” she pressed. “I know what happened back then was unfair to you. But it’s been five years. You should be over it by now.” “Do you have any idea what Luke’s life has been like?” she continued, a note of pride in her voice. “He took over the Pei Corporation and tripled its market value. He’s the most brilliant rising star in the business world! And he’s been completely devoted to you. Besides Cecilia, his work partner, he hasn’t been seen with another woman. Everyone says he’s a tragic hero, wasting five years of his life on a woman who didn’t appreciate him.” The man she described sounded like a saint, a powerful, tragic figure from a romance novel. All I felt was disgust. It reminded me of a phone call I’d received just before I left Kingsbridge. It was from Luke’s mother. Her voice, as always, was gentle and polite, but held an unmistakable, dismissive chill. “Amy, dear, I know you’ve been wronged,” she’d begun with a soft sigh. “Luke has been spoiled his whole life. He’s just too impulsive.” She soothed me first, then pivoted. “But then again, it’s normal for young couples to have their little disagreements. Luke’s career is just taking off, and he’s under a lot of pressure. What he needs is a partner who can support and guide him, someone who can be an asset.” I had held the phone, silent. I understood perfectly. “That girl Cecilia,” she’d continued, “I’ve met her a few times. So poised and mature. She’s brilliant academically, has so much in common with Luke, and she’d be a great help to his career.” Her voice was light, but every word landed like a stone in my heart. “You, on the other hand… your lively spirit is charming, but for a man in Luke’s position, his future wife needs to be proper. She needs to know her place.” Proper. So all my passion, my energy, was just “improper” in her eyes. I grew up with their family. She had watched me grow, treated me like a daughter. But when it mattered most, twenty years of affection meant less than a business connection. To families like theirs, a strategic match would always be more important than a childhood sweetheart. I hadn’t said a word. I just hung up and blocked every single one of them. “Amy, are you even listening?” Renee’s voice snapped me back to the present. “Luke has been so good to you. Are you really happy married to some nobody? Don’t you regret it?” Regret? I looked at her like she was an idiot. “I’m very happy,” I said, enunciating each word. “And I don’t need anyone’s concern.” With that, I finally yanked my arm free and walked away, leaving her standing there with her mouth still hanging open. 2 When I left Kingsbridge, I cut ties with my old life completely. New city, new number, new address. They all assumed I was frozen in time, waiting for my prince to come back and rescue me. They had no idea. I had already turned the page. And Luke Pei was just a typo I had long since erased. The train arrived. I got off and walked toward the preschool near my home. Through the fence, I saw my son laughing as he went down the slide with his friends. A tall figure walked over and scooped him up. It was my husband, David. He saw me and smiled, walking toward me with our son in his arms. “Home early today?” He took my bag and laced his fingers through mine. “Missed you guys,” I said, smiling as I pinched our son’s chubby cheek. He snuggled against me, murmuring “Mommy!” in his sweet, milky voice. That single moment of warmth was enough to ward off all the cold in the world. Regret? What was there to regret? Luke and I had grown up next door to each other. He was two years older and had always protected me. If anyone so much as looked at me wrong, he’d be the first to throw a punch. Everyone said I was the apple of his eye. I thought we’d go from school uniforms to a wedding dress. Until Cecilia showed up. She was his graduate school mentor, a woman of gentle, intellectual grace. She started appearing by his side constantly, always under the guise of academic discussion. The library, research projects, academic forums. At first, I didn’t think much of it. Luke was always surrounded by brilliant women, but he only ever had eyes for me. I trusted him. The first seed of doubt was planted at a party. We were playing Truth or Dare, and Cecilia lost. Her dare was to reveal a secret about someone in the room. Her eyes scanned the group before landing on me with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Amy, but I have to tell your secret,” she said, her tone deceptively innocent. “The other day, I accidentally saw Amy’s phone wallpaper. It’s a photo of her with another guy! He’s really handsome. I wonder who he is?” Every head in the room swiveled toward me. A few glanced nervously at Luke. The smile on his face vanished. “That’s my cousin,” I explained quickly. “He passed away a couple of years ago. That’s the only picture I have of us.” “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry,” Cecilia stammered, looking mortified. “I had no idea. I really didn’t mean anything by it.” Everyone rushed to smooth things over, but the damage was done. Later that night, Luke brought it up again. “Your cousin? How come I’ve never heard you mention him?” “He was always sick, living abroad for treatment. Of course you never met him.” I handed him my phone. In the photo, a pale young man was propped up in a hospital bed, his smile gentle. I stood beside him, grinning like an idiot. “See? We even look a little alike.” Luke studied the photo for a long time before handing it back. “Yeah, you do.” He pretended to believe me, but I could feel that a seed of doubt had been planted. After that, Cecilia was always “accidentally” bringing me up in front of Luke. “Luke, Amy has such a great personality, so many friends. I wish my social circle was that big.” “Luke, I saw Amy at the movies with a guy yesterday. She’s so popular.” “Luke, isn’t Amy graduating soon? She loves to have fun so much. I wonder if she can handle a nine-to-five job.” She never said a bad word about me. Every sentence was a compliment, but each one carried a hidden barb, implying I was flighty, promiscuous, and not serious enough. Luke became suspicious and possessive. We had our first real fight over it. He insisted I accompany him to a formal academic dinner. I ran into a senior colleague from my internship and chatted with him for a few minutes about work. Luke’s face went cold. He turned and walked out, leaving me there alone. I chased him down in the parking garage. “Luke, what the hell is your problem?” “My problem?” he sneered. “Did you ever stop to think how I felt, watching you laugh it up with another man right in front of me?” “He’s my colleague! We were talking about work!” “Does talking about work require you to smile like that?” he roared. Looking at his face, twisted by jealousy, he seemed like a stranger. I felt exhausted. “You’re being completely irrational.” “Irrational?” He grabbed my wrist. “Are you tired of me being so controlling? Am I not as gentle and understanding as your dead cousin?” He brought up my cousin again. I was shaking with anger. “You’re a bastard, Luke!” I ripped my hand away and ran off, crying. We didn’t speak for a long time after that. I thought our relationship was cracking. I didn’t realize it was about to shatter. 3 We were in a cold war for a week. He didn’t call. I didn’t either. Usually, he’d be the first to apologize after a few days. Not this time. I was fuming, but with the engagement party just days away, I figured he’d have to come around eventually. The night before the party, I got a text from Cecilia. It was a photo. Luke was drunk, passed out on her shoulder. Her head was tilted slightly toward his, a victorious smirk on her face. The caption read: He’s going through a lot. You should try to be more understanding. My heart twisted, but I told myself he was just drunk, and she was just taking care of him. On the day of the party, I dressed up, planning to surprise him and make up. I found him in the dressing room. He was wearing a suit that matched my dress, looking impossibly handsome. But when he saw me, his eyes darted away. “Luke,” I said, stepping forward to take his hand. “Let’s not fight anymore, okay?” He yanked his hand away as if he’d been shocked. The force of it sent me staggering. I stared at him in disbelief. The guests were arriving. The MC was on stage. We took our places. The spotlight hit us. I forced a smile, trying to keep up appearances. Luke didn’t even bother. He stared straight ahead, his face a mask of ice. When the MC asked us to exchange rings, the final blow came. He pulled his hand away from mine again. In front of our families and all our friends, his eyes were glacial. “Is it fun?” he asked, his voice low and venomous. “Using me as a stand-in?” The room erupted in whispers. My mind went blank. “Luke, what are you talking about?” “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He sneered and pulled a letter from his pocket. It was on scented, pink stationery. “What is that?” I asked, my voice trembling. “It’s a love letter you wrote to your ‘one true love’!” he snarled. “Cecilia found it in my study!” He unfolded it and began to read it aloud. The sappy, romantic words, spoken in his cold, angry voice, were like a thousand tiny cuts. “I didn’t!” I cried, panicking. “I never wrote that!” “No?” he laughed cruelly. “The handwriting might be forged, but the perfume on this paper is the exact same one you always wear! How long are you going to keep up this act, Amy?” I was reeling from the sudden, public humiliation. I saw the shock on my parents’ faces, the fury on his, the mixture of pity and contempt from the guests. I was a joke. When he finished, he crumpled the letter and threw it in my face. Then he took out the engagement ring, the one meant for my finger, and threw it to the ground. “I wish you and your one true love a long and happy life together.” He spat out the words, then turned to Cecilia, who was pretending to comfort him, a triumphant gleam in her eyes. He took her arm, and together, they walked out, leaving me alone in the spotlight. In that moment, my world caved in. The disastrous engagement party made me the laughingstock of Kingsbridge. I was the two-timing slut who had tried to land a rich heir while keeping a lover on the side. The rumors were vicious and relentless. The Pei family said nothing, letting the gossip fester. I became the gold-digger who got what she deserved. I was done. Done with Luke, done with his family. I didn’t offer a single word of explanation. I knew he wouldn’t believe me anyway. I deleted my contacts, deactivated my social media, and bought a one-way ticket out of the city I had called home for twenty years. There was nothing left for me there. Renee must have told Luke about my new life. Suddenly, my phone was blowing up with calls and texts from unknown numbers. I ignored them all, blocking them as they came in. A few days later, he found me. As I was leaving work, he was there, blocking my path. He looked different. The boyish charm was gone, replaced by a sharp, mature intensity, but his eyes were bloodshot and filled with a dark, restless energy. He stared at me, his voice raw. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?” 4 His voice was hoarse, like he hadn’t slept in days. I said nothing and tried to walk around him. He grabbed my arm, his grip so tight I thought the bone would snap. “Amy, I’m talking to you!” he roared. Pain shot up my arm. “We have nothing to do with each other anymore,” I said through gritted teeth. “Let go of me.” My coldness only enraged him further. “Nothing to do with each other? Is that what you call it?” he spat. “You vanish for five years without a word, marry someone else, have a kid… what am I to you?” “You’d rather marry some nobody who came out of nowhere than come back and give me a single explanation?” His eyes were wild, like a cornered animal’s. “Amy, did you ever even love me?” He asked me if I ever loved him. After he had humiliated me with a forged letter in front of everyone I knew. After he had let the world tear me apart while he did nothing. After he had spent the last five years happily playing house with Cecilia. He had the audacity to ask me if I loved him. I looked at his anguished face and felt nothing but a cold, hollow irony. The girl who had stood on that stage, alone and ridiculed, was the one who should have been asking that question. Did you ever love me, Luke? If you did, how could you believe a stranger over twenty years of us? “Mr. Pei, please let me go.” The formal, distant title made him flinch. “Mr. Pei?” he whispered, then his voice rose in fury. “What did you just call me? Say it again, Amy!” His grip tightened. “You owe me an explanation!” “There’s nothing to explain.” I tried to pull away, but he was too strong. As we struggled, a small voice called out. “Mommy!” I turned to see my son running out of the office building, a little butterfly flapping toward me. He was holding a crayon drawing of three stick figures holding hands. “Look, Mommy! It’s you, Daddy, and me!” I finally broke free from Luke’s grasp and knelt to hug my son. “Leo, what are you doing out here?” “Daddy said you were done with work, so I came to get you.” I looked up and saw David standing a few feet away, a warm smile on his face. But Luke, the moment he saw Leo, froze as if struck by lightning. The color drained from his face. He stared at the child in my arms, his lips moving but no sound coming out. David walked over, smoothly lifted Leo from my arms, and gently guided me behind him, shielding me. He looked at Luke, his gaze calm but firm. “Sir, can I help you with something?” Luke seemed to snap out of his trance. His eyes moved from my son, to David, and finally back to me. They were a maelstrom of shock, pain, and utter disbelief. “A child…” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You even have a child…” His voice was so quiet, yet it was filled with a universe of despair. I looked at his devastated expression and felt no satisfaction. Just a vast, empty peace. 5 Yes, I have a child. When I was at my lowest, abandoned by him and condemned by the world, I met David. He was the one who pulled me from the mire. He was the one who gave me a home. He was the one who taught me that love isn’t about possession and suspicion, but trust and protection. What you see now, Luke, is the happiness I fought for with everything I had. And you have no place in it. He took a sudden step forward, as if to grab me. “Amy, tell me this isn’t real!” Before he could touch me, David’s arm shot out, blocking him. David was taller, broader. He just stood there, an immovable wall between us. “Mr. Pei, is it?” David’s tone was polite, but the warning was clear. “Please do not disturb my wife and my son.” My wife. My son. Every word was a dagger to Luke’s heart. His face went another shade paler. He looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Amy, just give me five minutes. Please. Let’s just talk.” If this had been five years ago, I might have caved. Now, it was just pathetic. “There’s no need, Mr. Pei. We have nothing to talk about.” I took David’s arm and leaned against him. “Honey, let’s go home. Leo must be hungry.” David smiled gently at me and nodded. “Okay.” He held our son, and I held his arm. The three of us turned and walked away, not giving Luke another glance. I could feel his gaze on my back, hot and painful, like it was trying to burn a hole through me. I started talking to David, my voice loud enough for Luke to hear. “Honey, can we have sweet and sour ribs for dinner? It’s Leo’s favorite.” “Of course. I bought some fresh ribs this afternoon. I’ll make them as soon as we get home.” “Daddy’s the best!” Leo cheered from David’s arms. The sound of our happy, normal family conversation must have been like knives twisting in his gut. I heard a soft thud behind me. I didn’t turn back.

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Three years of marriage to Harvey Wen, and we were still as polite as strangers. He was gentle and considerate, always showering me with gifts and money, a man who never seemed to get angry. Until he suddenly reverted to his eighteen-year-old self. He demanded a divorce, threatening to jump off a building if I didn’t agree. I reluctantly gave in. In his glee, he ran off to an all-night internet cafe, dyed his hair blond, and adorned his ears with half a dozen piercings. He even slapped temporary tattoos of dragons and tigers on his arms. It was only then that I realized the old Harvey had been a bit of a punk. On the day we were supposed to finalize the divorce, a man who looked exactly like Harvey appeared in our home. The adult version was back. I looked from the big one to the small one, a long-forgotten silence falling over me. So… are we getting this divorce or not? 1. What do you do when your gentle, wealthy husband suddenly turns eighteen and becomes a raging rebel? I stood in the middle of our living room, completely at a loss, staring at the hostile boy who was supposed to be Harvey. He was holding a kitchen knife, his face a mask of panic. “There’s no way I’m married! Especially not to someone like you!” A bitter taste filled my mouth. “Harvey… honey, could you please put the knife down?” “No way! You’ll just try to hug me and kiss me again, you pervert!” I flushed with embarrassment. A few moments ago, I’d just stepped out of the shower, barely dressed, and had wrapped my arms around him from behind, planting a kiss on his neck. His reaction was explosive. A deep blush had spread from his cheeks all the way down his neck as he’d screamed, calling me a seductress. When I’d tried to explain that I was his wife, he’d been stunned into disbelief. I’d moved closer to figure out what was going on, and he’d grabbed the fruit knife, holding it out as if I were about to defile him. “Harvey, I won’t kiss you,” I said, trying to sound calm. “Don’t you want to know why you’ve time-traveled ten years into the future?” He frowned, but his guard didn’t drop. He finally lowered the knife, his eyes averted. “Just… don’t walk around dressed like that in front of me. I’m not your husband.” I glanced down at myself. I was wearing a perfectly normal lace slip dress. A little form-fitting, perhaps, and the neckline was admittedly eye-catching. The twenty-eight-year-old Harvey always lost control when I wore it. It was one of the few times he ever showed any real passion. Today was supposed to be one of those nights, which was why I’d been so forward. I quickly grabbed a robe. This younger Harvey obviously wasn’t ready for that kind of fun. The atmosphere was thick with awkwardness. His frustration was a palpable force in the room. “You stay here,” he finally said. “We’re getting a divorce tomorrow.” “No,” I replied without thinking. Harvey and I had met on a blind date. While there wasn’t much passion, our three years of marriage had been respectful and calm. Besides, ours was a business alliance. This marriage was about more than just the two of us; it was about two corporations. But the boy in front of me couldn’t possibly understand that. And even if he could, he wouldn’t care. “Woman! I don’t care what you’re scheming, we’re getting a divorce!” he declared. “My life is the untamed wilderness! It cannot be chained! I want freedom!” I stared at him, bewildered. “What are you talking about?” “My dad set this up, didn’t he?” he demanded. “That old bastard loves to control my life.” “No, it was your mom.” It had been his mother who had approached my family about the match. He snorted. “I knew it!” He stormed into the walk-in closet and started rummaging through the clothes, his face wrinkling in disgust at the racks of black, white, and gray suits. “What is this trash? Don’t tell me you bought this for me.” “You bought it yourself,” I said, exasperated. He muttered under his breath, “My taste can’t be this bad.” 2. He finally settled on a pink button-down shirt—one I had bought for him, which had hung unworn in his closet ever since. I was surprised to find it appealed to his younger self’s aesthetic. After changing, he made a beeline for the door. I blocked his path. “Where are you going? It’s late.” He scowled. “Woman, mind your own business.” “You have an important meeting tomorrow. You need to get some rest.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, his face flushing. “What are you doing so close to me?” I dropped my hand, sighing. “You really can’t go.” I didn’t know how long this would last, but his company couldn’t afford any disruptions. He brushed off his shoulder as if my touch had contaminated him. “You’re so annoying! I’m not your husband, why do you get to tell me what to do? I don’t care if the company goes bankrupt.” He puffed out his chest. “You have to divorce me! And don’t try any tricks. I have someone I like, and she’s not a shameless flirt like you.” “I’m sorry, but that’s not your decision to make,” I said, my face a blank mask, though I could feel a slow burn of anger rising within me. Even a saint would lose their temper after being treated like this. I knew he was just a kid, not the gentle, considerate man I was used to, but still. That’s when he picked up the knife again and held it to his crotch. “If you don’t agree to a divorce, I’ll castrate myself! You’ll be a widow for the rest of your life!” I was speechless. Honestly, it wasn’t much of a threat. “Oh,” I said with a shrug. “Go ahead.” He gasped, looking at me with disbelief. “You’re completely shameless! You’d do anything to be with me.” I really wanted to know what was going on in that teenage brain of his. He threw the knife down. Just when I thought he’d given up, he bolted for the balcony, hoisted himself up, and sat on the railing. “What are you doing?” His body teetered precariously. “If you don’t agree to a divorce, I’ll jump!” he shrieked. His self-mutilation, I could ignore. His life, I could not. I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Fine,” I sighed. “I agree.” Maybe the real Harvey had always hated this marriage. He was always kind to me, but it was a polite, distant kindness. A performance of a husband’s duty. The eighteen-year-old could at least voice his own desires. The twenty-eight-year-old couldn’t. He would accept things he clearly disliked with a placid smile. Hearing my agreement, he leaped down from the railing, nearly twisting his ankle. “I’m going to the internet cafe,” he announced triumphantly. “Don’t tell my dad.” The door slammed shut behind him. I stood there for a long time before slowly crawling into bed. I had just laid down when his mother called. “Elara, is Harvey there? I’ve been calling him, but he’s not picking up.” “Uh, he had to step out for something,” I lied automatically. “Your grandmother’s birthday is the day after tomorrow. She wants to celebrate at the Ocean Palace. Can you ask Harvey if that’s alright?” “Of course.” We chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up. Harvey’s grandmother, despite her age, had always been a trendsetter. The Ocean Palace was an aquarium Harvey had opened for me, a tribute to how we first met. On our blind date, we had no idea what to do, so we went fishing. We spent the entire day without a single bite, returning empty-handed with our buckets and rods. We didn’t say a word to each other the entire way back. After we got together, he opened the aquarium. So I could fish to my heart’s content, he’d said. 3. Harvey didn’t come home all night. His assistant called me in a panic. “Mrs. Wen, do you know where Mr. Wen is? I can’t find him, and the board meeting is about to start.” I had sent Harvey a dozen texts, with no reply. I took a deep breath. “I’ll handle it. You all just wait for my signal.” The day was a blur of meetings and damage control. Still no word from Harvey. Frustrated, I dropped my briefcase and started searching the internet cafes in our neighborhood, going from one to the next. I never thought I’d be playing the role of a worried mother so soon into my marriage. When I finally found him, I almost didn’t recognize him. His hair was bleached a shocking yellow, a silver chain hanging around his neck. His exposed arms were covered in tattoos. My heart leaped into my throat, terrified he had actually gotten inked. But then I realized there was no way he could have gotten that much work done so quickly. They had to be temporary. He was glued to the screen, mouse clicking furiously. I recognized the game—he was playing a first-person shooter. I reached over and pulled off his headphones. He whipped his head around, his face a mask of annoyance. “What the hell? Why did you follow me here?” Everyone in the vicinity turned to stare. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” I asked, my voice cold. “Why should I? You’re not still trying to get back with me, are you? Because it’s not happening. I’m not him. I’m never getting married. I don’t believe in it.” His words struck me. I remembered that before me, Harvey had never been in a serious relationship, aside from a laughable middle school “romance.” But hadn’t he just told me yesterday that he had someone he liked? “Come home with me. We need to talk about a few things concerning your career.” This wasn’t working. His lack of cooperation was becoming a serious problem. His rebellious streak flared. “No way. I’m not going. What are you gonna do, hit me?” So I slapped him across the face. Before he could react, I grabbed his ear and twisted. He yelped in pain. “You crazy woman! You witch!” I was usually so calm, so composed. But I had reached my breaking point. I treated him like I would my younger brother. I kicked him in the ass, and he went sprawling to the floor. His insults quickly turned to pleas for mercy. “Grandma! This is domestic abuse!” he wailed, then added a pathetic threat. “If I wasn’t against hitting women, I would have beaten you to a pulp by now!” I slapped him again. He clutched his face, stunned. “How did I end up with such a violent wife?” The cafe owner came over to intervene. “Hey, ma’am, take it easy. It’s normal for kids to want to play games.” “I’m not his mother,” I said calmly. “I’m his wife.” The owner looked from me to Harvey, then whispered, “Ah, a sugar mama, huh?” Harvey overheard. “Who are you calling a sugar baby?!” he shrieked. “Your whole family are sugar babies!” Despite his ridiculous getup, he was still handsome. He couldn’t win a fight against me, so he started arguing with the owner instead. “Open your eyes! Do I look like I need her money? Do I look poor to you? You don’t think we’re a good match?” I grabbed his arm and dragged him out of there, dying of embarrassment. Once outside, he shoved me away. “Get off me! You’re so annoying!” He was like a bantam rooster—all squawk and no bite. “Don’t you want to get a divorce? Let’s go home and discuss the terms.” He frowned. “What’s there to discuss? We just sign the papers.” “If you want to walk away with nothing, not a single penny, then sure.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Fine. I’ll go back with you.” He wasn’t about to be called a kept man. 4. On the way home, I couldn’t help but lecture him. “You need to come up with a plan. Tell everyone you have amnesia. Your assistant will help you with work. And stay out of the internet cafes.” I glanced at the fake tattoos on his arm, a headache starting to form. “I don’t want to,” he said stubbornly. “…” I took a deep breath. This kid was a walking rebellion. “Do you have any idea how much the twenty-eight-year-old you has sacrificed for his career?” “What’s that got to do with me?” he said, unconcerned. “I’m not him. Stop using me as his replacement. I am who I am, a different kind of firework.” His cheesy line made my toes curl. This was going to be impossible. The twenty-eight-year-old Harvey was obedient to a fault; the eighteen-year-old was his polar opposite. How could ten years make such a difference? When we got home, I parked the car. He stormed off without a second glance, not even waiting for me. I trailed behind him, but then he suddenly slowed down, and I easily caught up. He glanced at my high heels. “You walk so slow.” “…” Patience, I told myself. He’s just a child. “So, how are we splitting the assets?” he asked. “I’m so awesome, I must have a lot of money, right?” He was in for a rude awakening. How much he got depended entirely on how generous I was feeling. If I wanted to be cruel, he’d get nothing. Our prenuptial agreement stated that in the event of a divorce, he would leave with nothing. That was the clause that had won over my parents, convincing them to entrust their daughter to him. As we reached the door, he poked my shoulder. “Hello? Are you going to answer me? How much do I get?” The next second, the door swung open from the inside. The housekeeper had been on leave for a month. There was no one home. My heart started to pound. I looked up and met a pair of familiar eyes. My jaw dropped. I looked back at the younger Harvey. He was now staring, wide-eyed, at the older one. The air grew cold. The younger Harvey tensed, his expression guarded. I was the first to speak. “Honey, you’re back?” The younger one snapped, “Who are you calling honey? I’m not your husband.” The older one’s lips curved into a thin smile, his gaze shifting from the boy to me. “She was talking to me. And this is my house. It’s perfectly normal for me to be here.” I felt another wave of awkwardness. “Let’s just… go inside,” I said, trying to sound casual. Once inside, the question returned, more pressing than ever. Are we getting this divorce or not? I looked from my young husband to my old one, and back again.

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The Holt family’s monthly dinner was a private affair. No outsiders allowed. Yet Ethan’s young secretary, Hope, was always the exception. I’d tolerated her presence before, when she was just a quiet shadow in the background. But tonight, my own son, Leo, handed her the menu and asked her to order. In that instant, everything felt… pointless. When we got home, I slapped the divorce papers on the table in front of Ethan. He gripped the edge of the paper, a cold sneer on his face. “All this because Hope ordered a dish? Are you serious?” “I’m serious. Sign it.” 1. “Leah, if you’re determined to make a scene, can we at least talk about the timing? I have to work late. Can’t you wait until I get back tomorrow to fight with me? I’m exhausted tonight.” Ethan sank into the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut. Hope stood by the door, clutching a folder, her expression a careful mask of professional neutrality. Outside, the low rumble of the Maybach’s engine was a constant hum. The house staff moved silently, cleaning, their eyes fixed on their tasks. Everything was in its proper place, running like a well-oiled machine. The only thing out of place was me, standing before Ethan, coiled and ready to strike. After a long silence, he finally opened his eyes and looked at me. “Just let it go for tonight, Leah. Please.” The moment the words left his mouth, I heard a soft, contemptuous scoff from somewhere in the villa. I knew it was one of the maids, looking down on me. I had a history of picking fights over trivial things, desperate for any proof that I mattered to him. Now, his weary concession just made me look like a shrew. A fire ignited in my chest. I grabbed the spare copy of the divorce agreement and threw it down in front of him again. “No. Sign it. Now.” Ethan’s eyes met mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths—frustration, fatigue, as if my relentless pressure was wearing him down to nothing. “Leah, if you’re angry about the ordering, I can promise you it will never happen again. And as for Leo hurting your feelings, I’ll have him apologize to you the second he wakes up tomorrow. I’ll drag him to you myself. Will that be enough to satisfy you?” Ethan never compromised. But after a quick, subtle glance from Hope, his tone had softened. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, a wave of desolation washing over me. The proud, untouchable Ethan Holt was taking cues from his secretary. We were supposed to be the perfect match—childhood sweethearts from families of equal standing. I had wanted to marry him, but his heart belonged to someone else. In the end, he couldn’t fight his family’s demands and married me. His first love left for America, heartbroken. Then fate dealt me another blow. Shortly after our wedding, my parents died, leaving me an orphan. The Holts’ grand plan of merging our families to dominate the city’s business landscape collapsed before it ever began. And for that, they resented me. I wasn’t even allowed at their monthly family dinners until I was pregnant with Leo in our third year of marriage. And even then, with a child growing inside me, I was expected to serve the entire Holt clan like a maid. But I loved Ethan, so I endured it. I swallowed my pride and accepted it all. Things only improved slightly after Leo was born. But as my son grew, he absorbed their attitude towards me. He was never close to me. And tonight, at the family dinner, he had personally handed the menu to another woman. A woman who coveted his mother’s place. I could never forget the time I was suffering from morning sickness and asked Ethan to order me something simple. The Holts had ridiculed me, their insults escalating until they were attacking my upbringing, calling me uncultured. Ethan saw it all but said nothing, just telling me to bear with it. When I tried to defend myself, he joined them, criticizing my every move. I’ve drafted and redrafted these divorce papers more times than I can count. Each disappointment was a drop in the bucket, and tonight, the bucket finally overflowed. I uncapped the pen, signed my name at the bottom, and shoved it into Ethan’s hand. “Enough talk. Sign it.” 2. His knuckles were white around the pen, as if he wanted to snap it in two. The fire in his eyes blazed hotter. “Leah, there’s a line you don’t cross. Pushing too hard always backfires. Do I really need to teach you that?” With a surge of anger, he hurled the pen. It smashed against the wall, shattering into pieces and splattering ink across the pristine paint. Hope cried out, dropping her files and covering her head. A tremor went through my own body. The temperature in the living room seemed to plummet. Shaken, Hope gathered the broken pieces of the pen and went to Ethan’s side. She placed a hand on his shoulder, patting it gently. “Ethan, don’t be angry. It’s not good for you. Just talk to Leah.” Her soft, gentle voice seemed to instantly calm him. Before he could speak again, Leo came pattering down the stairs, barefoot and anxious. The nanny followed close behind, holding his dinosaur slippers. “Young Master, please put on your shoes. If you get sick, your mother will worry.” I watched as Leo ran right past me and straight to Hope. He circled her, checking her from head to toe before letting out a sigh of relief. “Auntie Hope, don’t be scared. I’ll protect you from now on. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” Hope smiled warmly and ruffled his soft hair. “Okay, Leo. But shouldn’t you put your slippers on first? Your mommy will be worried if you get sick. Nanny, could you give me the slippers?” Only then did Leo’s gaze shift to me, his lip curling in disdain. The nanny stood awkwardly to the side, unsure how to act without offending someone. “I’ll take them,” I said, taking the slippers and crouching down in front of Leo. “Put on your shoes.” Instead, he started grabbing things off the coffee table and throwing them at me. “I don’t want you to do it!” The ashtray struck my forehead. Blood started to flow, warm and sticky. Hope rushed to find the first-aid kit, but Ethan just watched me with cold eyes. “Are you satisfied now that you’ve caused all this chaos?” He still thought I was just making a scene. And why wouldn’t he? They looked like the perfect family of three. I was the intruder. Eight years of my life, all for nothing. I calmly picked up the things he’d thrown and placed them back on the table. Ethan watched me in silence for a long time. Perhaps seeing me so defeated stirred some flicker of pity in him. He came over and tried to pull me up. “Leave it. The maids will clean it up. Just stop causing trouble.” I sat on the sofa and pushed the divorce agreement towards him again. “Can you sign it now?” “Leah!” Ethan’s voice was a raw cry of fury. He shot to his feet, glaring down at me. “You just won’t quit, will you? Fine! You want a divorce? You can forget about getting custody of Leo!” I almost died from blood loss giving birth to Leo five years ago. That’s why, no matter how cold he was to me, I poured all my love into him. When he was sick, I’d stay up all night, watching over him. Ethan knew how much Leo meant to me. He thought he could use him to control me. He was wrong. The moment Leo chose Hope, I had already let him go. “I relinquish my rights to custody. I’ll leave behind my dowry jewelry as his child support. You can rest assured, the moment this agreement is effective, I will disappear from Leo’s world completely and never return.” A dead silence fell over the room. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Leo scowled at me and shouted, “Good! I was sick of you being my mom anyway! I want Auntie Hope to be my mom!” He was only five. He couldn’t possibly understand the devastating power of those words. A dull ache spread through my chest. I doubled over, covering my face, forcing myself to swallow the grief. Ethan didn’t correct him. Instead, he turned his rage on me. “What the hell do you want, Leah? Are you happy now that you’ve torn this family apart, turning mother and son into enemies?” He swept the already cracked ashtray off the table again. After the loud crash, Leo burst into tears. He threw himself into Hope’s arms, sobbing. “Auntie Hope, I’m scared. Can you make Daddy stop being angry? He always listens to you…” Hope gently patted his back, soothing him. “Ethan, you promised me you wouldn’t get angry again. Please, just talk to her nicely.” Then she turned to me, her expression apologetic. “Ma’am, please don’t mind him. Mr. Holt is just upset. Tonight’s dinner was my fault. I shouldn’t have ordered anything. I promise I won’t attend any more of the Holt family dinners. Please, don’t fight with him anymore.” Her eyes were glistening with tears, her face a perfect portrait of someone trying to keep the peace. It made me want to vomit. My gaze shifted to Ethan. Though his anger was still simmering, he had indeed fallen silent. I suddenly started to laugh, a broken sound that was so close to a sob. “Miss Shaw, on what grounds, exactly, are you playing peacemaker between my husband and me?” “Ma’am, I—I—you’ve misunderstood! Mr. Holt and I are just colleagues! Please don’t be angry. If you don’t like me, I’ll leave the Holt family right now. I’ll quit the company. As long as you and Mr. Holt can be happy…” Ethan stared at her, his fists clenched. I saw the concern blazing in his eyes, so obvious he might as well have shouted it. I spoke deliberately. “You should know, Miss Shaw, that Ethan treats you as someone special. But if I don’t willingly give up my position as Mrs. Holt, you will never have it. If you keep interfering, I might just decide to stay. Are you sure that’s the outcome you want?” 3. In the end, amidst Hope’s choked sobs, Ethan signed the papers. I immediately called my lawyer to handle the rest. Ethan watched me, his face a cold, hard mask, as I made the arrangements. When I hung up, he couldn’t resist a final, cutting remark. “Remember this, Leah. You brought all of this on yourself today. And since I’ve signed, there’s no turning back. We have a prenup. Don’t even think about getting a single penny from me.” I carefully folded the agreement and nodded. “I understand.” Then I stood up. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to go pack.” My calm, almost gentle response seemed to smother his blazing anger, leaving it trapped and festering inside him. I knew the feeling. It was like having a ball of cotton stuck in your chest—suffocating, unbearable. For eight years, that was how he’d handled every conflict between us: with cold, silent withdrawal. As Ethan stewed, Hope cautiously approached and put a supportive hand on his arm. I pulled my gaze away and looked at Leo, his face streaked with tears. After a moment’s thought, I spoke to him. “I won’t be picking you up from school anymore. And I won’t be there to watch over you when you’re sick. You’re five years old now. It’s time you learned to tell the good people from the bad. Don’t go off with strangers just because they offer you a lollipop.” Six months ago, Ethan had an unexpected business trip and asked me to bring his luggage to the office. I’d been late once before and been harshly reprimanded for my poor choice of outfits, so the call immediately put me on edge. I carefully selected several outfits I knew he’d like and rushed them to his office as fast as I could. Because of that, I was late picking up Leo from kindergarten. He had wandered out of the school by himself and was found roaming the streets. A stranger offered him a lollipop, and he got into their car. Luckily, the person was just trying to take him to the police station. But in the time he was missing, I was frantic, searching for him like a madwoman. The Holts dispatched a legion of bodyguards. Ethan even canceled his trip and sped back from the airport. In the aftermath, I became the villain. Regardless of the facts, the entire Holt family directed their fury at me. I could have endured it—I was, after all, their designated punching bag. But from that day on, Leo began to treat me like an enemy. And that was when the last thread of my affection for him finally began to fray. “Leah, Leo is the future heir of the Holt Corporation. We don’t need an outsider like you worrying about him,” Ethan spat. “Or are you just saying all this because you’re hoping I’ll ask you to stay?” I just smiled and walked towards the bedroom without another word. I never thought that after eight years as a full-time housewife, something as simple as packing a suitcase would feel so foreign. I looked around the bedroom, at all the little touches I had personally added, and suddenly, it all seemed so dull. In the end, I only took a photo album from my vanity and two keys. Ethan was standing in the doorway, his eyes boring into me. As I walked past him, I said calmly, “Have the maids throw all my things out tomorrow.” “Don’t you dare regret this, Leah!” he roared at my back. I didn’t break my stride. I just kept walking, away from that cold, gilded cage. 4. A large part of why I loved Ethan so fiercely for so long was because he was once a beacon of light in my darkest, most insecure years. During puberty, my face was covered in acne. My parents took me to every doctor imaginable, but nothing stopped the relentless breakouts. I was already self-conscious, and the constant mockery from my classmates sent me spiraling toward depression. Ethan and I were in the same grade, but different classes. After every period, he would come to my classroom, a silent protector. If anyone dared to bully me, he’d roll up his sleeves and start a fight. He got into a lot of trouble for fighting those two years, but he never cared. He’d just clap me on the shoulder and say, “You’re my girl, Leah. I’m the only one who gets to tease you. If anyone else tries, I’ll beat them into submission.” The sound of a car horn behind me snapped me back to the present. I instinctively turned. Hope was getting out of the back of the Maybach, hurrying to catch up with me. “Ma’a—Leah. Ethan has to get back to the office for a meeting. Where are you headed? We can give you a ride.” I glanced toward the car. Ethan had rolled down the window, and our eyes met. After a moment of silence, he spoke, his lips a thin line. “Get in.” As it happened, my car was in the shop for maintenance. And while the garage was filled with luxury cars, none of them were mine. Our marital home was in the suburbs, and the only way back to the city was along a long, winding mountain road. Without much thought, I turned to get into the front passenger seat. But Hope was faster, sliding in before I could. She left the entire back seat for me and Ethan. I gave them an address and then fell silent. The atmosphere was frigid. But for the first time in a long time, he sat beside me without pulling out his phone or a file to work. I could feel his gaze on me, again and again. It wasn’t like him to hesitate. I let out a small, humorless laugh. Just before the car stopped, I finally broke the silence. “What is it you want to say, Ethan?” His brow was furrowed as he looked at the scabbed-over cut on my forehead. “Leah, if you would just admit you were wrong, I could let you see Leo once a week.” “No, thank you.” The reply was swift. I opened the door and got out. Ethan exploded. “You’re so ungrateful, Leah! The Suttons are all dead and gone! Let’s see how you survive on your own!” My greatest fear was being alone. He always knew exactly where to stick the knife. I slammed the car door and walked away quickly. But Hope chased after me, grabbing my arm. “Leah, Ethan’s just worried about you. That’s why he wanted to give you a ride. He cares about you, he really does…” Before she could finish, Ethan got out of the car, pulled her hand from my arm, and yanked her into his embrace. “Let her go!” “Ethan!” “I said, let her go!” I stood there and watched them struggle, not missing the flicker of triumph under Hope’s panicked facade. A wicked thought sparked in my mind, and I smiled. “Ethan, I’m just curious. Are you so taken with Hope because you’ve genuinely fallen for her, or is it because she’s a dead ringer for your first love, Ava?”

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Eight years ago, they said I was a monster. A drunk driver who killed dozens of people. I tried to tell the truth, but my parents had already forged the evidence. They sacrificed me to protect my adoptive brother, Finn. In the ensuing public outrage, every gallery canceled my contracts. I begged my fiancée for help, but she refused to listen to a word of my explanation. She called me a butcher. She stood by and watched as the victims’ families severed the tendons in my right hand, ensuring I’d never hold a paintbrush again. Then, she, my parents, and my brother conspired to send me to prison for eight years. Now, I’m out. A ghost with a new name, working as a security guard in a quiet apartment complex. No one knows my past, and I’ve grown used to the calm. Until she appeared again. My former fiancée, Elara. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her jaw tight with accusation. “Noah, why did you disappear?” “Don’t you know your parents and I have been looking everywhere for you?” … I sat frozen in the security booth, my uniform a shield of anonymity. “Ma’am, I think you have the wrong person.” But Elara wouldn’t be dismissed. She lunged forward, grabbing my hand, trying to drag me out into the open. “You’re always so stubborn! It was your stubbornness eight years ago that got all those people killed! When are you going to stop?” Her voice was loud, sharp enough to cut, but it died in her throat the moment she saw my right hand. Her gaze dropped, fixing on the mangled limb. Her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch the grotesque, crisscrossing scars. It’s been eight years. The pain is long gone. But her touch felt like a blade, threatening to slice open the old wounds. A cold sweat soaked through my shirt. The terror of that day, of the tendons being torn from my flesh, rushed back, and I began to shake uncontrollably. Elara’s voice was a raw whisper. “Noah… did it hurt?” “I’m sorry.” I didn’t answer her, but her commotion had already attracted the attention of my captain, Dave. He came running over, his face etched with concern. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing? Let go of him!” Before Dave could reach us, a group of students from the nearby arts university swarmed around Elara. “You’re Elara Vance, aren’t you? The most famous artist in the country right now! Could I please get your autograph?” Thanks to them, Elara let go of my hand. I scrambled back, putting as much distance between us as I could. Dave, finally understanding the scene, turned to me, his face a mask of shock. “Noah… these kids are saying you’re someone important. Who… who are you?” Before I could answer, one of the students piped up again. “I heard you’ve been looking for your fiancé, the one who went to prison. Don’t tell me it’s this security guard?” The student shot me a look of pure disdain. “Your fiancé was a genius painter. This guy is just some broken-down guard. A cripple. You must have the wrong person.” A bitter smile touched my lips. He was right. I couldn’t even hold a paintbrush anymore. I was nothing but a shadow of my former self. But Elara, who had been signing autographs, froze. Her face hardened. “Shut up,” she snapped. “This is between me and Noah. It’s none of your business.” She pushed through the crowd and walked back to me, holding out a gold-embossed invitation. I looked down. The words burned my eyes. 【Wedding Invitation: Finn & Elara】 Of course. She was marrying my adoptive brother. “Noah,” Elara’s face was a canvas of pain. “What you did eight years ago… it destroyed me. Finn was there for me through it all. He stayed by my side for eight years. I can’t let him down.” “You always said you wanted to see me in a wedding dress. I hope you’ll come.” I took the invitation and placed it on the counter beside me, turning away from it. I thought that would be the end of it. But that night, I got a call from the factory where I’d found a second job. “Noah, son. You’re a young man, a great painter once. This place is beneath you.” The old factory manager’s voice was trembling over the phone. “I’ll pay you a full month’s salary, three thousand. Just please… don’t come back.” I was stunned, but before I could ask what was happening, he had already blocked my number. A moment later, my phone rang again. It was Elara. “Noah,” her voice was heavy with exhaustion. “You shouldn’t be working as a security guard. I spoke to the factory. Come back. Your parents and I will take care of you. I have ways to get you back into the art world, you don’t have to…” I hung up. Who the hell did she think she was? Eight years ago, she refused to listen, so certain of my guilt that she let them destroy my hand as punishment. Now, without asking, without a single shred of trust or a single question about the truth, she was bulldozing her way back into my life, shattering the peace I’d fought so hard to build. Her words made me sick with anger. I sat on my dorm bed, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm inside me. Dave saw my distress and brought me a cup of hot water. “Kid, what the hell is going on?” I knew he was bursting with questions. Dave had been good to me. When I first got out of prison, with nothing to my name and a useless hand, he’d taken pity on me and gotten me the security job. The pay was only a thousand a month, but it came with room and board. It was a lifeline. I wasn’t going to lie to him. I bought a rotisserie chicken and a bottle of cheap whiskey, and I told him everything. He listened in silence for a long time, then clapped a hand on my shoulder and let out a heavy sigh. “Forget the job. We’ll find another one. If you have nowhere to go, I’ve got a basement. It’s not much, but you can stay there for now.” The next day, as I was packing my things to move out, I found them waiting for me. The families of the victims. I don’t know how they found me, but they were blocking the entrance to the dorm. The moment they saw me, their rage ignited. “You animal! We finally found you!” “Our families are dead because of you! Why are you still alive?” They surged forward, surrounding me. I tried to speak, to explain, but a foot slammed into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. I curled into a ball on the ground, pain exploding through me as a storm of fists and clubs rained down. Warm blood seeped from my body, my few belongings scattering in the dirt. A single drop of rain hit my face. The sky, a bruised gray, finally broke, and the heavens opened up. Maybe they grew tired, or maybe it was the rain, but they eventually stopped. After a few final, spiteful kicks, they left. I lay there alone, unable to move, as the downpour washed the blood from my skin. I tried to push myself up, again and again, but each time I collapsed back into the mud. “Noah! Are you okay?” It was Dave, running toward me with an old umbrella. He helped me to my feet and loaded me onto his beat-up scooter, taking me to the hospital. But every clinic, every hospital, big or small, saw me and immediately refused to treat me. Finally, an old doctor took pity on me. He secretly slipped me a bottle of antiseptic. “Son, someone important has made some calls,” he whispered. “No one will dare treat you. Go home.” I laughed, a broken, bitter sound that turned into tears. Elara, is this your idea of helping me? It’s a cruel kind of help. Defeated, I returned to Dave’s basement. I had just collapsed onto the cot when there was a knock at the door. It was my parents, with Finn. He saw me and his eyes immediately welled up. “Brother, why are you living in a place like this? I know you still love Elara. You must be doing this to protest. Fine… I won’t marry her. I’ll give her back to you…” He trailed off, his voice catching in a sob, as if he were enduring some terrible sacrifice. It was his signature move. Anytime he wanted something from me, he’d pull this act. Because his parents had died in the car crash that saved my own, my parents felt an endless debt to him. Whenever he cried, they automatically assumed I was the bully. Sure enough, seeing his pitiful display, my father strode forward and slapped me across the face. “Stop embarrassing us! Do you think acting pathetic is going to make us feel sorry for you? Make Elara take you back? Dream on!” My mother rushed to comfort Finn, her voice cold as she addressed me. “Alright, people have already found you. If you don’t come home with us, it will look like we’re mistreating you. We can’t have anyone getting suspicious and looking into what happened back then. Let’s go!” When I didn’t move, my father took it as a challenge to his authority. He kicked me, his foot landing squarely on one of my fresh wounds. Blood soaked through my shirt. My father raised his hand to strike me again, but froze. He stared at the spreading stain, and slowly, his hand dropped. My mother’s voice softened with a hint of concern. “Noah, what happened? Where did you get these injuries?” I clenched my jaw, my body trembling with pain. Finn’s eyes darted nervously. “Mom, Dad, he must have done it to himself! He’s probably so angry he’s self-harming, like in the movies!” He wiped away a fake tear and leaned close to me. “Brother, please don’t make them worry. Don’t hurt yourself like this.” His words were earnest, but then he leaned closer, his voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “Why didn’t they just beat you to death? Useless.” He pulled back, adding a few more words of feigned concern for our parents’ benefit. They bought it, of course. My father snorted. “If he wants to hurt himself, let him. Finn, you’re too kind. Let’s go. Leave him.” They turned and left with Finn, never seeing the triumphant smirk he shot me over his shoulder. After they were gone, I locked the door and, gritting my teeth against the pain, re-bandaged my wounds. I had just finished when Dave knocked and came in. He was wringing his hands, his face a picture of misery. “Noah, kid…” He paused, struggling for words. “It’s not that I don’t want you here… it’s just… some important people from the city… they came by. My kids are still young, I just can’t…” I knew what he was trying to say. I didn’t blame him. He had done more than enough. I thanked him again, and not wanting to cause him any more trouble, I packed my things and left that same night. The moment I stepped outside, Elara was there with a moving truck. Seeing her confirmed my suspicions. I frowned. “Is this fun for you, Elara? Why are you threatening innocent people?” She avoided my gaze, glancing at Dave’s house. “I didn’t want to, Noah. You forced my hand. Just come back with me peacefully. I will help you get out of this rut. Why are you fighting this?” I didn’t answer. The ride back to the city was silent and suffocating. She took me to a small apartment where my parents were already waiting on the sofa. The moment I saw them, my instinct was to turn and run, but Elara slammed the door shut behind me. “Where do you think you’re going?” my father snapped. “Haven’t you caused enough shame?” “A murderer like you should be grateful we’re giving you a place to hide,” my mother added coldly. “We know you’re not over Elara marrying Finn, but look at yourself. Do you really think someone with your record deserves her? You will stay here until after the wedding. If you go out, you report to us first, and you wear a mask!” Their words were so absurd I almost laughed. “Me? A murderer? A shame?” I began, “You of all people know what really happened…” My mother’s hand flew out, cutting me off with a sharp slap. My father shot to his feet, his face contorted with panic and rage. “Shut your mouth! If you dare say another word, I will tear it off your face!” Elara looked confused, but just then, my father’s phone rang. It was the butler. “Sir, it’s terrible! The young master has a fever, he’s collapsed!” That was all it took. Elara’s confusion vanished, replaced by alarm. She and my parents rushed out, slamming the door behind them. As I watched their retreating backs, a familiar ache spread through my chest, but it was mixed with a profound sense of relief. My phone buzzed. A text from Finn. 【See, brother? All I have to do is say the word, and they all come running back to me.】 Attached was a photo: Elara in the kitchen making soup, my parents gently tending to him with a hot drink. I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone and lay back on the bed. I had given up on them long ago. I no longer cared who held the higher place in their hearts. I hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since Elara had reappeared in my life. I was asleep almost instantly. The next day, I woke up to a searing pain. My mother was dragging me out of bed by my hair. Before I could even cry out, she was screaming. “Noah, what the hell is wrong with you? Why did you post about your return online?!” I was bewildered. “What? I was asleep all day! I didn’t do anything!” My father threw his phone at my face. I picked it up. An account, claiming to be me, had posted a new status: 【I’m back, but my fiancée is about to marry someone else.】 The post had exploded. The comments were a torrent of hate. 【A murderer thinks he has the right to a good woman like her?】 【Take a look in the mirror, you piece of scum!】 【Just die already! Why didn’t you pay for your crimes with your life? Murderer!】 “You’re still lying!” my father seethed. “You can’t stand to see your brother happy, can you? He’s getting married tomorrow! After everything he’s done for you, why have you always been like this?” Elara’s face was a mask of disappointment. “Eight years, Noah, and you haven’t changed one bit. You disgust me.” Without another word, she grabbed my arm and dragged me into a small, dark storage closet. The door slammed shut, and I heard the lock click into place. [Paywall] “Noah, Finn has been crying all day, saying he’s sorry for hurting you,” Elara’s voice came from the other side of the door. “To make sure you don’t ruin the wedding, you’re going to stay in here. You’re not going anywhere.” I pounded on the door, my voice raw with panic. “No! No! I won’t go out tomorrow, I swear! Please, let me out! I can’t be in here!” But there was no answer. I heard the front door close, and then the apartment was silent, filled only with the echoing sound of my own desperate pleas. The closet was tiny, windowless, and pitch black. In prison, I’d been bullied, locked in a toilet stall for three days without food or water until I passed out. Ever since, I’ve had severe claustrophobia. I curled into a tight ball, the wounds on my body beginning to seep blood again. Pain, fear, and the suffocating darkness swam together, my consciousness starting to fade. But my survival instinct was a cruel master, refusing to let me slip away completely. I don’t know how much time passed. It might have been the next day. I could hear the faint, festive sound of a wedding procession outside. It must be time. Elara and Finn were getting married. I felt like I couldn’t hold on any longer. But just then, a thick, acrid smoke began to seep under the door. Fire.

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