Author: Momo Chan

So, I had to hit the ER over the weekend. Just my luck, my ex-husband was the doctor on duty. He glanced at my test results, didn’t even lift his head, and sneered, “Three years, and you still can’t find a man to come with you to the hospital?” I stayed silent, staring at the ceiling tiles, trying not to pass out from the pain. He kept going. “Get a family member here. You need surgery. I need to discuss the procedure with someone responsible.” “Don’t try to find me later. We’re divorced.” The next day. A chart-topping pop star. A billionaire heir. A genius race car driver. Three dangerously handsome men show up in my hospital room at the same time. Taking turns grilling him about my condition and treatment plan. His eye twitched, fighting to keep a professional face while looking like he was about to cry. “Tell me… these three men are all your ‘family’?” “Yep. Does the hospital have a rule against having more than three family members?” 1 I took an Uber to the ER over the weekend. Never thought I’d run into my ex-husband working the shift. Looking at the man in front of me—white coat, gold-rimmed glasses, face like stone—my heart felt worse than my stomach. Divorced for three years. Didn’t expect to reunite like this. Dr. Julian Vance looked at the clipboard, head down. He told me to lie on the exam table. Then his long fingers gently pressed on my lower abdomen. “Hurts here? Anywhere else? Is it a cramping pain or intermittent?” I turned my face away, not wanting to look at him. “Sharp, twisting pain.” His cold voice drifted down from the fluorescent lights above. “Probably appendicitis. Needs to come out. But there’s an issue…” He stopped. Looked up at my pale face. Frowned. “You’re not in good shape. I suggest surgery ASAP to relieve the pain.” “Where’s your current husband?” When I didn’t answer, he started scribbling on my chart again. Finally, he looked me in the eye, voice dripping with icy sarcasm. “Three years. Still haven’t found a guy to hold your hand at the doctor’s?” I kept quiet, staring at the ceiling, fighting the pain. He scoffed. “Stop playing dead. Just medical advice. Get a family member here now. You need surgery. I need to go over the options with them.” “And don’t look at me for support. We’re divorced.” I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Seriously, Julian? Three years and you’re still this full of yourself? I’d pick literally anyone over a washed-up has-been like you.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I didn’t even get to see his face turn purple. I passed out from the pain. Appendicitis isn’t a disease, but man, it feels like it’s killing you. 2 When I woke up, I was in a hospital room. Vague voices floated into my ears. “We still haven’t reached her family. Poor thing. Doesn’t look old, probably married, right? She’s got a ring, but where’s the husband?” “Who knows? Even if she has no family, what about friends? Not a single visitor. Must be a lonely life.” “Hey, I saw Dr. Vance handled her admission himself. Seemed kinda personal. Maybe she’s stalking him? I heard him asking about her husband…” “Shh! Don’t be ridiculous. Dr. Vance? With her? His girlfriend is that rich girl with class. His first love. They’re solid. Don’t drag him down with just anyone.” I couldn’t take it anymore. They weren’t whispering. They were broadcasting right next to my ear. Just as I was about to say something, I heard Julian’s voice. “Don’t discuss patients in the ward.” Great. So you were there the whole time. Listened to the whole thing, let them trash me to boost your ego, huh? Divorced, and he’s still dating that trust-fund “first love”? Makes sense. He fought so hard for the divorce just to be with his “white moonlight.” Thinking back to that rainy night, seeing them entangled in the doorway… makes me want to puke. Julian walked to my bedside, tone flat. “If you’re worried about your family seeing me and getting the wrong idea, I can step out. There are other doctors on rotation. As long as…” Suddenly, a man rushed into the room, gasping for air. Dressed like a hypebeast, mask and cap on. You’d think a celebrity just walked in. He instantly grabbed everyone’s attention. “No need, doc. I’m family. Can you brief me on my wife’s condition?” Julian turned, saw the guy. Then whipped back to glare at me. “You remarried? This guy is really your husband?” I paused, tilting my head. “Family, I guess. We had a beach wedding.” The masked man walked up to me. Smiling eyes, like peach blossoms. He looked Julian up and down. Then, shockingly, extended a hand. “Hi, Dr. Vance. I’m her husband, Leo Starling. You can discuss the surgery with me.” Julian sized up the man who was just as tall as him. Even with the mask, the eyes were stunning. Clearly a looker. Julian’s voice turned colder. “You sure you’re the husband? She came alone yesterday, passed out cold. You weren’t exactly by her side.” Before Leo could reply, I jumped in. “He’s busy. Packed schedule. I didn’t tell him.” Julian’s mouth tightened, face darkening. “What kind of job is so busy he can’t care about his wife’s health?” “Your taste in men is getting worse.” I cut him off. “Dr. Vance, aren’t you crossing a line? We’re just doctor and patient.” Next second, my hand was gripped tight. Leo pulled down his mask. A top-tier handsome face leaned in close. “Aw, babe, don’t be mad. It’s my fault.” “I called you all night. Just finished my concert and caught the red-eye back.” “Don’t fight with the doctor. If he scolds me, fine. If he scolds me, he can’t scold you.” The tea was piping hot. Julian looked like he swallowed a lemon. The nurses nearly screamed. “It’s really Leo Starling! OMG! I watched his music show! He’s even hotter in person! I love his new song! I heard he was married, didn’t know it was true! His wife is right here!” The chatter in the ward was getting louder. Julian took a deep breath. Glared at me. “Family members cannot disturb the patient’s rest.” Leo didn’t even look up. “Then get my wife a VIP suite.” Julian: “No beds.” Leo narrowed his eyes: “Then we transfer.” Julian gritted his teeth: “She needs surgery immediately.” Sparks were flying. Even the nurse noticed the weird vibe. “Dr. Vance, you seem really invested in this patient. Are you friends?” “No.” Julian denied it instantly. 3 Hearing that, Leo slowly turned his head. Tears welled up in those pretty eyes. “Boohoo, wifey, do you have a terrible disease? Trying to hide it and break up with me? I won’t allow it! We have money! We can cure anything!” “No! We’ll go abroad! If we can’t cure it, I’ll die with you!” Seeing him script a whole K-drama in his head, I pushed his face away. “Fix your brain first. It’s appendicitis.” Tears still in his eyes, he threw himself on me, hugging me tight. “Just appendicitis? Bad appendix! Nasty appendix! We’re not playing with it anymore!” I winced in pain and pinched his side. “Leo, stop acting like a moron or get out!” Leo had his fun. The nurses were suppressing squeals. “Ahhh, he’s so cute! He’s even hotter than Dr. Vance! They’re so in love!” Dr. Vance stared at Leo’s hands on me. His gaze turned icy. He dropped a stiff sentence. “Come to my office later. I’ll explain the afternoon surgery.” As soon as Julian left, Leo whispered in my ear with a smirk. “Ex-hubby got mad and ran away.” I rolled my eyes. “So? You better stop groping me.” I moved his hand off my waist. Leo sat on the stool, looking pathetic, peeling an apple for me. “Can’t a husband touch his wife?” I rolled my eyes at him again. Whispering a correction: “Technically, we just have a contract.” Leo’s starry eyes shimmered. Like he was about to cry again. “Oh. So you’ve always just seen me as a Contract Beast, not a man?” 4 I looked at him, headache brewing. My Contract Beast No. 1, Leo Starling. Current human identity: A pop idol who debuted three years ago. Got famous for his voice and skills, but exploded because of that face. In this world, Beastkin and humans coexist. But normal people don’t know. Only a few researchers do. My family has a secret. If a woman reaches adulthood without a partner, the family assigns her three Contract Beasts. In plain English— If you’re 25 and single, the family forces three hot Beastkin dudes on you. They look human, have human identities. But they can only bond with you. It starts as a Servant Contract. If you choose one, it becomes a Lover Contract. Naturally, all the males want the Lover Contract. Servants can’t control their own lives. Lovers… well, if the human dies, they die too. It’s romantic like that. Leo was assigned to me three years ago, right after I divorced Julian. I knew the family’s game. He’s still a servant, trying to charm his way into a promotion. I forced a smile and pinched his cheek. “Idols dating? Shouldn’t you just retire? Where’s your professional integrity?” “I’m a singer, not a face model. My agency doesn’t ban dating. Besides, if you give me the Lover Contract, I’ll quit everything. Stay home, raise the kids.” Leo said it casually, but his tone was dead serious. I avoided his gaze. Coughing twice. “Thirsty. Water, please.” Leo trotted off happily. Nurses kept peeking in. Worried about paparazzi and crazy fan girls, I asked Julian for a private room. Being surrounded by hemorrhoid patients wasn’t ideal. Julian rejected it cold. “No private rooms. Stay or transfer.” “Forgot to mention, surgery is at 1 PM.” Great. 100% holding a grudge. Petty ex. Allowed to date his rich girl, but I can’t have a pop star? If the other two show up, will he explode? Leo insisted on waiting until my surgery was done. His assistant was blowing up his phone. He had a show to film tonight. Julian was the lead surgeon. Blue mask, surgical cap. Just those handsome eyes showing. Right before anesthesia, he “casually” chatted. “Is he good to you?” Silence in the OR. He continued, pretending not to care. “With his job, he must be busy. Can he eat with you every Friday? Watch a movie every week?” My mouth twitched. “Do I have to answer, Doc?” Julian’s amber eyes dimmed. “Just chatting. Want coconut chicken later?” I almost lost it. Dude, I’m getting my appendix out. You’re talking about men and chicken? I wanted to ask if he got possessed after the divorce. Next second, the drugs hit. Lights out. Vaguely, I remembered what he meant. I chased Julian five years ago. He was an intern. used every trick in the book to get his WeChat. Chased him for three months. Made him my boyfriend. Married him two years later. He was busy. But every week, we had date night. Dinner, walk, movie. He’d hold me when I fell asleep halfway through. How long did the happy days last? Less than a year and a half… We started fighting. Why? I forgot. I just remember… Julian didn’t love me. There was always his “first love” between us. 5 Wheeled out of surgery. Leo wasn’t on his phone. He was right there, looking worried. Rushed over to hold my hand. Julian blocked him. Anesthesia was wearing off. I cracked an eye open. Leo didn’t get mad. Just sighed. “Moon, get well soon. I have a show to film. Can’t stay. Didn’t hire a nurse… guessing the others got the news. You won’t lack care.” He meant the other two beasts. Before leaving, Leo patted Julian’s shoulder. Julian looked exhausted. “Tough break, Ex-Hubby. But you gotta get in line. Way back.” Julian looked weirded out. Leo strutted off. His manager had already bribed everyone in the ward to keep quiet. Julian looked grim. Tucked me in. “How did you fall for a guy like that? Do you only look at faces? Do you know his character? Is he considerate?” “You seem very concerned about my taste in men. Jealous?” I asked weakly. Julian looked at me. Nurse staring nearby. He feigned indifference. “You can’t be alone. Need a caregiver until the catheter is out. Want to hire one? I’m… free these next two days…” Knock on the door. A pretty woman in a Chanel suit stood there. Pale face. “Julian! I couldn’t reach you. My friend felt sick while we were shopping for wedding favors. Can you check her?” She walked in. Saw me lying there, half-dead. Eyebrows raised. Smile froze. Nurse gasped. “It’s Ms. Gold! Dr. Vance’s fiancée! They’re wedding prepping!” “Did she hear something? I heard she keeps him on a tight leash.” “I heard Dr. Vance is divorced. His ex-wife took a payout and left. Dumped him for money.” The gossip was getting wild. Ms. Gold covered her mouth in fake shock. “Is that Luna Lin? Are you sick? Did Julian operate on you? Where’s your family? No one here?” She walked over, grabbing my hand with fake sympathy. “You should have said something! I would’ve told Julian to take extra care of you. He’s a Chief now. Even if you’re divorced, we can be friends, right?” Fake smile. Loud voice. Making sure everyone heard. Julian frowned, pulling her away. “Leave the room. Take your friend to my office. I’ll be there after rounds.” She nodded, playing the victim. “Okay, okay. I won’t disturb your work. Just business, I know.” Emphasizing “business.” Implying his care for me was just professional obligation. I was too tired for this. “Whatever. If you really care, wire me twenty grand.” Ms. Gold froze. Julian almost laughed. Suddenly, the door burst open. A team of professional caregivers marched in. Behind them, a man in a custom suit. Sharp features, mixed race, handsome in a cold, aristocratic way. Different league entirely. I closed my eyes. Damon Cross. Contract Beast No. 2. Identity: Heir to a conglomerate. Controls half the city’s economy. Walking romance novel trope. I swear, my family breeds these guys based on Wattpad tags.

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Five years in Hollywood, and I was still a nobody. Despite the resources thrown my way, I had zero heat. I was the definition of a flop. Defeated, I had no choice but to bow to my parents’ wishes and go home for an arranged marriage. My fiancé hated me. He refused to show up for the wedding rehearsal and called me instead to lay down the law. “Hello. Listen, I have someone I like. Don’t waste your time on me.” “You can go find whoever you want. I won’t interfere.” “This marriage is strictly a transaction. We divorce in one year. Get your head right, and don’t come crying to me when it’s time to sign the papers.” He laid out his rules and hung up immediately. I stood outside his study, deep in thought. Why? Because inside his study, the walls were covered in my merch. 1 I changed my name to break into the industry on my own, grinding for five years. But due to my “cold” constitution—or maybe just bad luck—I never popped off. So, I had to compromise. I agreed to the family merger. The guy was Liam Sterling. The eldest son of the Sterling empire. Cold, ruthless, a shark in a suit. My friends warned me. They said Liam had the face of a siren—dangerously attractive, making you let your guard down—but inside, he was ice. He only cared about profit. “Faye, honestly, everyone feels bad for you,” my friend said over the phone. “Marrying a heartless robot like that? You’re in for a miserable life.” I gripped my phone, silent for a long moment, before letting out a bitter laugh. After hanging up, I opened my social media backend. I went to the drafts folder and finally hit “Post” on the retirement statement I’d prepared months ago. 2 Even though I was D-list, I had a few die-hard fans. As soon as the retirement post went up, the familiar IDs flooded my DMs. Among the wall of text, a user named “Q” stood out. I knew this guy. Too well. For the past five years, every time I posted, he was the first to like and comment. He was my OG stan. He had top-tier gear, too. Every candid photo he took of me was 4K quality. He dropped serious cash on my promo campaigns, so the other dozen fans affectionately called him “Sugar Daddy Q.” I clicked on his profile. His pinned post was a fan-cam edit of me, and a video of him trying to learn my hand-dance choreography. He never showed his face, but his movements were serious, bordering on clumsy. It was cute. But what stuck with me were his comments. No flowery poetry, no cringe pick-up lines. Just one simple, stubborn sentence, every single time: I hope you’re happy today. But today, he broke character. The text box was filled with a massive paragraph. He wrote about how he stumbled upon my videos during the darkest time of his life. How a random sentence I said helped him survive a sleepless night. How his hands shook with excitement every time he saw a notification from me. In the end, he used every ounce of his courage to say: “I’m sorry if this is overstepping.” “But I want to tell you that to me, you are a light. You are the straw that saved a drowning man. You are the reason I kept going.” “For the past five years, knowing you existed made me happy.” “Nina, you are as important to me as my own life.” (Note: Nina was my stage name). I stared at the screen. I noticed typos. He must have been typing frantically, his fingers trembling, maybe even breaking down as he hit the keys. I read his essay, my eyes stinging. I typed back a genuine reply: “Thank you for five years of support and love. I hope you stay happy too. Maybe our paths will cross one day.” 3 After replying to every DM, I took a deep breath, swallowed the lump in my throat, and got ready to deactivate the account. That’s when I saw my fiancé’s name trending at #1. #LiamSterlingCryingInCar Curious, I clicked the hashtag. A ten-second video auto-played. The dim streetlights illuminated Liam’s chiseled profile. His lashes were lowered, his shoulders shaking. Tears were visibly streaming down his face. He radiated a shattering, desperate heartbreak. The comments section was in shambles. “OMG, the Demon CEO is crying? Did the sun rise in the west?” “LMAO, I thought he was possessed. That looked painful.” “Whatever possessed Mr. Sterling, please leave his body immediately…” “But seriously, what could make a cold-blooded capitalist cry like that?” People started guessing. Some said the forced marriage broke him. Some said work stress. I didn’t care. I scrolled past, disinterested, and went to deal with my agent. 4 At 2 AM, I dragged my exhausted body home. I checked my phone and saw a friend request. It was the crying man from the trending topic. The verification message was two words: “Liam Sterling.” I hesitated, checked his profile. Black avatar. Blank bio. Username “Z.” He gave off strong “do not approach” energy. Rubbing my temples, I accepted. Liam immediately sent a voice note. His tone was icy, distant. Like he was dealing with a pest he couldn’t exterminate, barely maintaining basic manners. “Miss Faye, hello. I am your fiancé, Liam Sterling.” I hate voice notes. I typed back: “Hello.” Liam didn’t care for small talk. He went straight for the jugular. “I have someone I love. I will only ever love her. So, after we marry, do not waste your time on me.” “Our marriage is a business deal. I’m fine with an open marriage. You can find whoever you want. I won’t interfere, and you won’t interfere with me.” “Faye, I heard from your father that you have a first love who is currently abroad. I travel often. I don’t mind taking you with me to create opportunities for you two to meet.” I paused. Was he serious? “You mean… you’ll be my wingman? So I can cheat on you with my ex?” Liam: “Yes. Exactly.” “I don’t want you clinging to me. It’s safer for me if you’re obsessed with someone else.” “…” I didn’t know what to say. “Okay, keep going. What else?” Liam: “Remember, this marriage lasts one year.” “One year, then we divorce. Don’t make a scene. Don’t cry and refuse to sign. It’ll be embarrassing for both families.” Me: “Sure. Don’t worry, I won’t.” Hearing my guarantee, Liam seemed to exhale. “By the way, Faye.” “We don’t need a wedding ceremony. And obviously, no marital duties in the bedroom.” “We don’t need to announce the marriage publicly. Keeping it low-key is better for both of us.” I had no objections. After listing his demands, Liam went silent for a long time. Probably checking if he missed anything. Fifteen minutes later: “That’s all for now.” “Sorry, Faye. I’m a businessman. I don’t trust verbal agreements.” “To prevent you from backing out, I’m drafting a contract. We sign it. Okay?” “It covers assets, the one-year limit, the no-sex clause, and my assistance in helping you see your ex.” Me: “Sure, Liam. Send it over.” Liam: “I’ll have it ready by tomorrow morning.” I thought for a second. “Should we meet before we get the marriage license?” Liam rejected me instantly. “No need. Waste of time. We have nothing to say to each other. See you in three days at City Hall.” Fine by me. “Okay. Sounds good.” 5 Liam was terrified I’d change my mind, so he was efficient. He emailed the digital draft at 4 AM. Then, shockingly, at 6 AM, he personally delivered the hard copy to my house. While my dad made small talk with him in the living room, my mom dragged me out of bed to brush my teeth. I hid at the top of the stairs, toothbrush in mouth, peeking at Liam. He looked exactly like my friend described. Sitting on the leather sofa, legs crossed, wearing a tailored black suit that screamed money. He had that aesthetic bone structure—cold, abstinence-vibes sexy. I could see why my dad picked him. But then, I spotted it. Peeking out from under his expensive cuff was a cheap, braided pink wristband. Electric Pink was my fandom color. So, the top-tier alpha CEO likes wearing cute pink accessories? Interesting.

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When Liam Sterling lost his memory, he forgot I was his sugar baby. He wired me a breakup fee and told me to get lost. I rubbed my pregnant belly and happily ran for the hills. Money? Check. Good genes for the kid? Check. No more catering to a demanding man? Double check. Life was good. But my happiness was short-lived. Every time I went to the hospital for a prenatal checkup, I bumped into Liam. Once, twice, three times… The more we met, the darker and more intense his gaze became. Terrified he might remember our past, I seriously considered fleeing the country. But then, he took a deep breath and strode toward me. After all those chance encounters, he finally spoke: “A man who doesn’t accompany his wife to prenatal checkups is trash.” “But a child shouldn’t grow up without a father.” “What I mean is… I fell for you at first sight.” “If I may ask… can I be your child’s father?” 01 I was Liam Sterling’s kept woman. Pretty, obedient, and suspiciously compatible with him in bed. That’s why Liam, known for being indifferent to women, did something that shocked everyone—he kept me around for three years. Just when people started whispering that he might actually be in love with me… He got into a car accident. And forgot only me. Damn you, Liam Sterling. Did you fake amnesia just to save on the severance package? I was fuming silently while his assistant, Wang, relayed the amnesiac Liam’s verdict over the phone. He put it delicately. “Miss Summers, after the accident, Mr. Sterling finds his past behavior of keeping a mistress… baffling. He doesn’t believe he has any feelings for you and doesn’t wish to see you again. I’m afraid you’ll need to move out of the villa at Sunset Bay within two days.” Sunset Bay was where Liam stashed me. It was also where we’d spent three years tangling in the sheets. After three years, it felt kinda like home. I’d decorated the place with pink lace and filled the garden with sunflowers. So, hearing I had to leave made me a little sad. But hey, his property, his rules. His money, too. I nodded listlessly, ready to pack up and leave empty-handed. Then Wang cleared his throat. “Mr. Sterling isn’t heartless. He knows you’ve been with him for three years. So, he’s transferring a breakup fee and gifting you an apartment in the suburbs. The only condition is… you don’t contact him again.” Ding. A text notification from my bank. Seven figures. My sadness evaporated. Fireworks exploded in my brain. Pew! Pew! Pew! I tried to suppress a grin as I promised Wang: “Don’t worry! I’ll move out today! I promise never to appear in front of Mr. Sterling again!” I was laughing all the way to the bank. I had money, and I was carrying a baby with top-tier DNA. Plus, I no longer had to service a man with an insatiable appetite. Jackpot. 02 Yes, I’m pregnant. I love kids. When I first found out, I tried testing the waters with Liam. “Do you like kids?” He shot it down instantly. “No. Noisy and annoying.” He glanced at me, frowning. “Do you want kids?” His expression was dead serious. Like if I said yes, he’d kick me out on the spot. So, naturally, I lied through my teeth. I shook my head vigorously. “No way! I hate kids. Besides, people in our… situation shouldn’t have kids…” No status, no ring. I thought my answer was perfect. It clearly expressed Liam’s sentiments. But Liam looked like he’d swallowed a bad mushroom. He snapped. “What situation?” “You don’t want to have a child with me?” His reading comprehension skills were clearly lacking. So I mentally flipped him off behind his back. Of course, the dog of a man threw me onto the bed anyway. Luckily, the kid was tough. Even with his dad pounding away like a pile driver all night, he held on. But that just confirmed my decision. So when amnesiac Liam told me to scram… I took the money and ran, happily. 03 I transferred the apartment deed that same day. Moved in overnight. Started my blissful life of incubating. Days were for walks, cooking, and freelance art commissions. Nights were for reading, music, and liking videos of hot guys on TikTok. Back when I was Liam’s canary, life wasn’t this good. The psycho had a rule: one like on a hot guy video equaled one round in bed. Sure, he was hot and good in the sack, but my waist couldn’t take the abuse. So I had to watch hot guys in secret. Liking? Never dared. Now? I was free. I fell in love with 108 different guys a day. My like button was on fire. And the next video was always hotter. Materially secure, mentally thriving. Life was bliss. Time flew. Soon, it was time for my prenatal checkup. Thinking about seeing my little bean made me giddy with happiness. So giddy, I ignored the tiny sliver of unease in my gut. 04 I never expected to see Liam at a suburban hospital. I spotted him instantly in the crowded lobby. Bandaged head, blue and white striped patient gown. His glorious black hair was shaved into a buzz cut due to the injury. But it didn’t dim his looks. If anything, his features looked sharper, more striking. When his gaze swept over, I ducked my head in panic. Feeling his burning stare on the top of my head, I screamed internally. He’s the prince of a business empire! Even if he wasn’t at a private clinic, shouldn’t he be at a top-tier city hospital? What was he doing at a mediocre suburban public hospital? While I was cursing my luck, the gaze lifted. I peeked up cautiously. Liam’s back was disappearing into the crowd. I patted my chest, exhaling a breath I didn’t know I was holding. It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine! He has amnesia. He forgot me. So even if he saw me, it’s fine. To him, I’m just a stranger. comforting myself, I headed to the OB-GYN department. 05 It’s 2025. Not many people are having babies. Getting a number and waiting was quick. The checkup went smoothly. When the doctor handed me the ultrasound and said the baby was healthy… I was nervous and excited. His arrival let me feel a blood connection again after losing my family. He was my miracle in this world. Even though he wasn’t born yet. I loved him. I was keeping him. I stared at the ultrasound happily, wondering how to preserve it. First photo! Need to laminate it, get a cute frame… “Oof!” Someone running towards me slammed into me. I couldn’t dodge. As I stumbled, a strong arm wrapped around my waist, steadied me, then instantly let go. I stood there, shaken, touching my belly as I watched the ultrasound photo drift to the floor. The person who hit me tossed a half-hearted “Sorry” over their shoulder and kept running. I cursed them silently and bent down to pick up the photo. I blew off the dust and looked up to thank the Good Samaritan. He was looking down at the ultrasound in my hand. When I saw his face, my voice died in my throat. Sharp brows, piercing eyes, high nose… The guy who just saved me and my baby was Liam Sterling? My jaw dropped. The “thank you” stuck in my throat. Liam looked me up and down, then at the photo. His usual icy face had evolved from a glacier to permafrost. I panicked. What if he remembered? What if he dragged me to get an abortion? Or worse, kept the kid and kicked me out? My imagination ran wild with terror. I blurted out: “The kid isn’t yours.” Regret hit instantly. Liam had amnesia. Why was I confessing? Talk about a self-own. I forced a smile and tried to salvage it: “Haha, just kidding.” “Thanks, handsome. My husband isn’t here right now. Good thing you caught me, or I couldn’t explain it to him. This baby is the heir the Wang family has been waiting for…” I started babbling nonsense. Liam’s face turned darker. Finally, unable to handle my rambling about the “Wang family heir,” he turned and walked away without a word. Holy crap. That was scary. Next time, definitely changing hospitals. I patted my chest, watching him walk away.

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I busted my butt for 24 hours straight, securing two massive contracts worth millions. I took a 15-minute power nap in the bathroom stall. That afternoon, I got hit with a random $150 fine. I ignored it because, honestly, I was exhausted. The next day, I clocked in only to find out I was fired for “failure to pay the fine.” I stormed into the CEO’s office—who also happened to be my fiancé—to demand answers. His little assistant, smirking like she owned the place, cut me off. “Taking a bathroom break on company time is time theft. Fining you a day’s wages is perfectly reasonable!” she chirped. “Everyone else can finish their business in ten minutes. Why are you so special?” My fiancé chimed in, backing her up. “You’re a senior executive, Sarah. You should know better. We need to make an example out of you.” I walked out, catching a glimpse through the blinds of their silhouettes merging into one. I immediately dialed the CEO of our biggest competitor. “I’ve got twenty million in contracts. Give me a job.” “Conditions? Does your company time bathroom breaks?” 1 A hearty laugh erupted from the other end of the line. “Sarah, are you pranking me?” “Who the hell times bathroom breaks? Is your boss a psychopath?” I shot over my resume. “Just give me a title.” Harry, the competitor CEO, sent back an offer letter for Vice President. “VP work for you? Or do you want my chair?” “You’re a founding member of Jack’s company. You’ve been with him since day one. I’ve tried to poach you dozens of times, and you always said no. What happened? Lovers’ quarrel?” I snapped, “None of your business. You should be worrying about whether these twenty million dollar contracts can finally drag your company out of second place and crush Jack.” Harry’s voice was crisp, brimming with ambition. “Forget the contracts for a second. Without you, Jack’s company ain’t shit!” I filled out the onboarding forms and forwarded the contract details for the two deals I secured. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Harry, realizing I wasn’t joking, turned serious. “Sarah, if you’re genuinely joining, I’ll roll out the red carpet. But if this is just a power play to mess with Jack, rethink it. I’m not handing over the reins of my company just to get stabbed in the back.” A power play? I felt a chill run down my spine. Any executive fired for spending ten extra minutes in the bathroom would be mortified. Especially when the person firing you is the man you’ve been with for three years, the man you were about to marry. Especially when you built that company with him from the ground up, turning it into the industry leader it is today. It was cold, but expected. Jack’s special treatment of his assistant, Amber, had been a red flag for a while. “I don’t joke about work. Clear a desk. I start tomorrow.” I hung up. Harry kept blowing up my phone with disbelief. I packed up my desk, ignoring his messages. Suddenly, the overhead speaker blared, “Sarah, silence your phone during work hours. Violation: $30 fine!” Amber’s voice echoed through the office. Everyone looked at me. I ignored her and kept packing. She marched out of the office, furious. “Sarah, did you hear me? Jack was nice enough to pay your previous fine, and you’re still breaking rules?” I chuckled dryly. She was a joke. “Why would a fired employee follow company rules?” Jack heard the commotion and walked over. He leaned in close, whispering, “The girl made the rules. I can’t break them in front of her. But I paid your fine. You don’t have to leave.” I looked at him coldly and tossed my badge on the desk. “Don’t bother. You didn’t fire me? Fine. I quit.” I grabbed my box and headed for the door, but Jack blocked my path again. His face was flushed with anger as he scolded me in front of the whole office. “Sarah, stop throwing a tantrum.” “Amber set these rules to keep everyone in line. The company culture is better than ever, isn’t it?” I rolled my eyes. Better? Just moments ago, people were complaining in the group chat. Sales reps had to take the cheapest trains for business trips. Accommodation was capped at shady $20 hostels. Client dinners were restricted to street food because the budget was a measly $40. Jack enabled her, thinking she was cutting costs. But the employees were suffering. Trying to close million-dollar deals over a $40 dinner was embarrassing. Amber was the cheapskate, but Jack was the idiot for approving it. I’d been on the road so much lately, I barely spent time in the office. Now they were timing bathroom breaks? Two a day, ten minutes max? His company was doomed. I ignored the new fine Amber slapped on me for not silencing my phone and walked out. 2 I slept until the afternoon and decided to cook myself a nice meal. Just as I set the dishes on the table, the door unlocked. Jack walked in with Amber, and they casually sat down and started eating. I stared at them coldly. “I cooked this. What are you doing?” Jack frowned. “Didn’t you see my messages?” My phone was flooded with texts from him. Since hiring Amber, he hadn’t texted me in a month. Today, he sent a dozen messages, all about her. First, he scolded me for embarrassing him. Then he claimed I made Amber cry. Finally, he demanded an apology or he’d call off the wedding. It’s your fault for disrespecting Amber in public. She did nothing wrong. She’s just looking out for the company. I’m bringing her over for dinner. Cook something nice to apologize. Jack looked at the cilantro in the soup with disgust, fueling my rage. “I told you Amber hates cilantro. Are you blind? Pick it out, stem by stem!” He picked a piece of meat, blew on it, and fed it to Amber. “This is Sarah’s specialty. Try it.” Amber ate it off his chopsticks, still pouting. “The food is okay, but unless she apologizes in front of the whole company, I won’t forgive her!” “If she’s this insubordinate, how am I supposed to manage anyone else?” Jack turned on me. “Hear that? Apologize to Amber. Or forget about your job. I’m cancelling the engagement!” We promised never to use breaking up as a threat. Lately, he’d threatened it multiple times because of Amber. They were flirting right in front of me. I gripped my phone so hard I thought it would crack. “Something needs to be picked out, alright. You two!” I roared, “Jack, take Amber and get the hell out!” “You get yourself a mistress, bring her to work to flirt, and I’m supposed to apologize?” “If anyone’s cancelling the engagement, it’s me!” Jack’s face turned icy. He sneered, “This is our house. You’re kicking me out?” I kept a straight face. “This is my house. Get out.” Amber huffed as she left, smugness plastered on her face. “You dare kick me out? Do you know who I know?” “I know a bigshot investor! Apologize on your knees right now, and I might put in a good word for you!” Jack frowned, his tone menacing. “Hear that, Sarah? Kneel and apologize. The company needs her connections.” I slammed the door in their faces. “I don’t care who you know! The company isn’t my problem anymore.” Amber was fuming. Alone at last. Peace and quiet. But the food was ruined. I’d lost my appetite. I decided to eat out. While waiting for my food, I saw Jack’s Facebook post. “Sarah, I’m telling you, if you don’t publicly apologize to Amber, the wedding is off!” I rolled my eyes and blocked him. I hadn’t left the company group chat yet. The next morning, someone leaked that Jack and Amber arrived in the same car, wearing the same clothes as the day before. Rumor had it they spent the night at a hotel. Someone saw them. Photos included. I left the group chat and headed to Harry’s company. I didn’t want to hear another word about them. 3 Harry gave me my own office. He still looked shocked to see me. “You actually came! I was worried I set this up for nothing.” I handed him the contracts. “The annual industry awards are in three days. Whether we get first place depends on you.” His eyes burned with determination. “Don’t worry. With you on board, we’re taking Jack down.” I had three years of client relationships under my belt. That afternoon, I closed another deal. Walking out, I saw Jack with his arm around Amber, looking cozy. I tried to ignore them, but Jack pulled away and approached me. “I know about the group chat rumors. Don’t overthink it. Amber’s apartment flooded. I just gave her a place to crash as her boss.” Who was he kidding? Everyone knew they slept together. I stayed silent and tried to leave. Jack, feeling generous, offered, “Sarah, I know you want to come back. Amber drafted a proposal. If you help her close the deal, I’ll reinstate you.” I scoffed. “Dream on. I’m not helping her.” Jack sighed, his self-righteousness nauseating. “Amber’s fresh out of college. She lacks experience. Help her, and consider it your apology for yesterday.” “Stop being stubborn. Close this deal, and not only do you get your job back, but the wedding is back on.” We were on different planets. I didn’t want to talk to him anymore. I walked past him. Amber spotted the signed contract in my hand and gasped. “That’s the new project proposal I drafted! You stole my work!” She showed Jack her papers, whining, “I stayed up two nights working on this, and she stole it.” The papers in her hand were the proposal I submitted for approval before I left. I was the lead. When I left, the project was orphaned. She simply slapped her name on it. I opened my mouth to defend myself. Jack didn’t ask questions. He slapped me across the face. “Amber fined you according to policy, and you steal her project? No wonder you wouldn’t help her. Sarah, you disgust me! Did you steal all your previous wins too?!” My face burned. I stared at Jack in disbelief. I worked there for three years. Amber was a rookie. How could I steal her project? He snatched the papers from me and ordered his bodyguards to pin me to the ground. They grabbed my hair. Jack’s face was cold. “Sarah, you owe Amber an apology.” I struggled but was forced to kowtow to Amber. My scalp screamed in pain. Amber smirked, stepping on my hand with her stiletto heel. “Sarah, I despise thieves. Did you think an apology was enough?” Pain shot through my hand. She pressed down harder. “Thieves like you deserve to lose their hands!” It felt like her heel was piercing through my skin. My vision blurred from the pain. I whispered my defense, begging Jack to help. We were together for three years. He used to treat me like a princess. A papercut would send him into a panic. But now, Jack pretended not to hear. disgust filled his face. “No wonder your dad divorced your mom. You inherited her trashy habits. Even our engagement was something she sneaked behind my back to arrange. Like mother, like daughter.” “I will never marry a thief. Sarah, the wedding is off!” He turned and walked away. My heart, already shattered, was pulverized. He used my family trauma, something he once comforted me about, as a weapon. I realized how pathetic it was to hope he’d save me. Amber waved the stolen proposal in my face, showing me a photo of her stepping on me. She sneered, “The project is mine. Jack is mine! Sarah, I’m warning you. Try to fight me, and I’ll show everyone exactly what you look like crawling on the ground like a dog!” 4 I passed out from the pain. A stranger took me to the hospital. When I woke up, Harry was sitting by my bed. A flicker of pain hid deep in his eyes. He sat in silence. I whispered that I needed a few days off to recover. Harry agreed instantly. “Take your time. The awards are in three days. We’ll take Jack down.” On the day of the awards, Harry and I sat in the front row. Jack saw us and walked over with Amber, mocking, “Sarah, you stole Amber’s project and ran to the runner-up? Even if you were fired, have some self-respect.” “Oh wait, my company is number one. You couldn’t find anywhere better.” Amber chimed in, “Wait until we win again this year and partner with that investor. You’ll be eating dirt while we monopolize the market!” I felt sick looking at them. My scalp tingled with phantom pain. Jack didn’t hide it anymore. He held Amber close. “Amber is way more capable than you! She designed a cross-state medical collaboration effortlessly. You won’t get a chance to steal from her again.” I laughed internally. Was he talking about the scrap paper I threw in the trash? Amber liked dumpster diving, apparently. If Jack actually went through with that plan… showtime. Other CEOs swarmed Jack. “Why even have this award? As long as Jack is here, first place is a lock.” “Exactly. The Best Enterprise trophy is nothing to Jack. But the funding from that investor? That’s the real prize.” “It’s gotta be Jack.” They glanced at Harry and me. “Sitting in the front row doesn’t make you a winner. You gotta earn it!” Jack soaked up the praise and walked away with his entourage. Harry and I watched them calmly. Who would win was still up in the air. The ceremony began. Jack stood up before his name was even called, heading for the stage. In the dim light, he shot a rude gesture at Harry. But when the host announced the winner, the room gasped. “Congratulations to Harry for winning Industry Leader of the Year! And securing the meeting with Mr. Stone!” Jack froze on the steps. His mind went blank. Harry walked past him, a polite smile on his face, but his eyes danced with triumph. He whispered, “Jack, sorry we took your spot this year. But don’t worry, you won’t be getting it back. You threw away your ace.”

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To get the school bad boy’s attention, the Prom Queen paid me a hundred grand to publicly bully her. “If you bully me, he’ll be heartbroken. He’ll definitely step in to protect me!” So, I blocked the Prom Queen at the school gate and screamed: “Just because you’re pretty, rich, and have good grades doesn’t mean you’re special! Stop acting like a princess!” She cried like a tragic heroine, attracting the whole school’s attention. On my way home, the bad boy’s Bentley cut me off. I was about to kneel and apologize when he handed me a platinum card. “Nice work. I’ve hated that little pick-me girl for ages.” “There’s a hundred and fifty grand in there. I’m hiring you to be my girlfriend. Keep destroying her.” 01 I stared at the bank card in front of me, my brain short-circuiting for a second. I looked up like a confused golden retriever. “Huh?” My head was still full of Chloe—our school’s resident princess—gushing about him earlier. “Maya, you don’t get the romance of rich kids like us. Jax likes me, and I like him, but we’re both too proud. Whoever confesses first loses.” “But if you bully me, he’ll be so distressed he’ll have to save me!” Looking at Jax now, leaning against his Bentley, I asked blankly, “I bullied her. Aren’t you mad?” Jax clicked his tongue. “Mad? It was satisfying as hell. You don’t know how annoying she is. Two days ago, she climbed through my window at midnight to deliver ‘homemade love snacks.’ I almost had a heart attack. I said I didn’t want it, she shoved it in my mouth. I had food poisoning all night.” Even though Chloe had serious Main Character Syndrome, to be fair, she hadn’t actually done anything bad to me. Plus, she gave me $100,000. But I firmly believe in customer service. Since I took the money, I needed to play the villain role perfectly to push their toxic romance forward. So, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and let out a cold laugh. “You aren’t even going to ask why I bullied her? I’ll tell you the truth. I’m jealous. She’s rich, pretty, smart, and popular. Do you still feel satisfied now?” Jax gave me a thumbs up. “Honesty is a virtue. A villain admits their jealousy, but a pick-me girl hides it. You just casually admitted your dark psychology. You’re a legend.” Me: “…” Jax crossed his arms, sizing me up, clearly plotting something. “Maya, I appreciate you. Here’s the deal: from now until graduation, you pretend to be my girlfriend. Your job is to keep Chloe away from me. Name your price for the hardship fee.” 02 After saying goodbye to Jax, I walked home with two bank cards, my heart pounding like a drum. I’d already checked the ATM. Between the two cards, I had a quarter of a million dollars. It was an astronomical figure for someone like me. I never expected my life to get this spicy. On one side, I’m the fake villain, the wingman for the beautiful Prom Queen’s romance. On the other side, I’m the fake girlfriend, the bodyguard for the single-since-birth bad boy. I came to this high school to get into college, not to become a double agent. But after the excitement faded, reality hit. Being a double agent is dangerous. If this blows up, I’m getting beat up twice. Chloe is one thing, but looking at Jax—6’2″, muscular build—if he punches me, I’m engaging in immediate dialogue with God. The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed with dark circles under my eyes, deciding to return the money for the sake of my life expectancy. But the moment I stepped into the classroom, I was surrounded. I go to a famous private school. Great campus, top-tier teachers, insane tuition. To boost their Ivy League acceptance rates, the school recruits a few top-scoring students every year. Tuitions waived, scholarships granted. I am one of the “charity cases.” I thought I was on the path to success, but I walked straight into a caste system. These kids are rich, watch too many dramas, and form cliques. They don’t respect teachers, let alone a broke nobody like me. Plus, I have a “pushover” face. So, bullying me is basically their team-building exercise. “Yo, Maya’s here,” my desk-mate sneered, looking at my shoes. “Didn’t I tell you? Wearing knock-offs is fine, just don’t wear the same style as me. Are you brain-dead or deaf? Why haven’t you changed them?” Before I could speak, the gym rep laughed. “Forget the shoes. Come on, Maya. I’m taking you somewhere fun.” My desk-mate looked at him. “Where? The boys’ locker room? Ew.” The group laughed as the gym rep hoisted me up by my collar like a chicken. I struggled, but it was useless. Dammit. I forgot the gym rep is Chloe’s number one simp. If I knew being a villain paid in bruises, I wouldn’t have taken the job. As we neared the locker room, I panicked and screamed: “If you touch me, I’ll tell Jax to beat you up!” The gym rep scoffed. “Jax doesn’t give a crap about you.” “Why wouldn’t he? He’s my boyfriend!” The gym rep paused, then dragged me toward Class 2. “Make way! The bad boy’s girlfriend is here!” He shouted it out, drawing a crowd. Jax was leaning against the podium, chatting. Seeing me being dragged in, his brows furrowed, and he strode over. The gym rep smirked. “Jax, Maya claims she’s your girl. You know about this?” I looked at Jax nervously, terrified he’d woken up sober and realized I wasn’t up to his standards. Instead, Jax pulled me down, then raised his leg and delivered a clean, brutal kick to the gym rep’s chest. The guy flew back six feet and didn’t get up. “You knew she was my girlfriend and you still touched her? Did I give you permission to breathe?” Jax’s face was dark. He grabbed the guy by the collar and punched him in the gut. “Apologize to my girlfriend.” Nobody messes with the heir to the Fu Corporation. The gym rep, clutching his stomach, wheezed out, “Sorry.” Everyone’s eyes snapped to me. I channeled my inner villain, lifted my chin, and stood next to Jax. “I’ll let it slide this time. Next time you mess with me, Jax will shank you.” Jax whispered in my ear, “Let’s not go that far.” “Right. Shank you, then throw you in the ocean to feed the sharks,” I nodded. Jax: “…” Just then, a scream pierced the air. Chloe came running, grabbing Jax’s arm and shaking it frantically. “What did you say? Who is your girlfriend?! Jax, explain yourself!” Jax pushed me forward and declared, “Her.” He winked at me frantically. Start working, bodyguard. I was riding the tiger now; I couldn’t get off. I grabbed Chloe. “Let’s talk privately.” I dragged her to the rooftop, locked the door, and immediately slid to my knees, hugging her legs. “Sis, let me explain!” “AHHHH!” Chloe screamed. “You evil witch! You seduced Jax! I’m going to stab you!” Me: “Not necessary, not necessary.” She started hammering my back with her tiny fists. “It is necessary!” “Listen to me!” I grabbed her wrists. “You’re missing the big picture. Look at you—supermodel looks. Look at me—average four-eyes. Jax isn’t blind. Who do you think he really wants?” Chloe calmed down, thinking. “Me?” “Obviously! He only said I’m his girlfriend to stimulate you! He wants you to be jealous!” Chloe’s face lit up instantly. “Oh! Like in the novels! I wouldn’t confess, so he found a villainess to trigger me. Our minds are totally in sync!” Me: “…Yes. Exactly. So what’s your next move?” Chloe sighed. “I guess I should just confess.” “NO!” I yelled. “You can’t talk to him!” If they get together now, who’s going to protect me from the gym rep? And I need to survive until graduation to pay them back. Chloe frowned. “Why?” “Love is like mochi,” I improvised. “The more you beat it, the chewier it gets. If you get together too easily, it’s boring. You need obstacles to solidify the bond.” Chloe nodded, entranced. “I will sacrifice my reputation and go full evil villainess. The more I bully you, the more pained he’ll feel. The more pain, the more love. Eventually—BOOM! He’ll explode, grab you at the school gate, and force a kiss on you!” “AHHH!” Chloe stomped her feet, blushing. “Then I’ll run away crying, get hit by a car, and he’ll kneel at my hospital bed begging for forgiveness. Classic redemption arc!” I gave her a thumbs up. “Foolproof.” 03 On the way down, students stared. Chloe had already entered her “tragic heroine” era. She looked at me, eyes teary. “Maya… sorry I was mean to you before.” I immediately switched to “evil villain” mode. I sneered. “If you know you were wrong, fix your attitude. Tsk, arguing with you made me miss breakfast. Go to the cafeteria. Two meat buns, soy milk, one tea egg. No sugar in the soy milk.” Chloe glanced at Jax, bit her lip, eyes red, sniffled, and trotted downstairs to buy my breakfast. Jax craned his neck watching her go, then whispered to me. “Holy crap. How did you do that? She didn’t throw a fit?” I whispered back. “She did. But I don’t play that. I grabbed her by the hair and told her if she acts up, I’ll have you deal with her. Told her I’m the favorite now. She got scared.” Jax looked at me with pure reverence. “A true Queen walks among us.” 04 Our whispering confirmed my status as the “Big Sister.” Back in class, my desk-mate had cleaned the insults off my desk and peeled my tea egg for me. I sipped my soy milk. “Do I still need to change my shoes?” “No, no! Keep them!” she said quickly. “Authentic ones give me blisters anyway. Yours look way comfier. You have great taste.” Wow. Being the boss’s girl rocks. I finished my breakfast and studied in peace all morning. It was glorious. But by lunch, I was summoned to the homeroom teacher’s office. The bully clique was led by my desk-mate, and Mr. Higgins was her distant relative. He got his job through her family, so he usually ignored my suffering. “Maya, you’ve got some nerve!” Mr. Higgins slammed his thermos on the desk. “Openly dating? Making a scene? I thought you were a good kid, but your morals are corrupt! Call your parents. Now!” I looked distressed. “My guardian can’t come.” “Can’t come? Then you’re suspended until they can!” He shouted so loud the whole hallway heard. I walked out, defeated. My desk-mate and her friends snickered and ran off. I texted my brother, Leo. He’s three years older, in college nearby. People say the eldest brother is like a father, but Leo is also the mother. Our dad is in prison. Mom died early. We grew up in a rural village where everyone hated us because of Dad. Leo took me to the county seat, then the city. He worked odd jobs to feed me while studying. We both survived on scholarships. He hates complaining. If he says he’s “a bit busy,” it means he hasn’t slept in two days. Leo replied: A bit busy. Miss me? I’ll visit when I can. Just sent you $50. Buy those shoes you wanted. I covered my face. I couldn’t burden him. Just then, Chloe shimmied up to me. “Hey, bestie! At lunch, go sit with Jax. I’ll walk by with soup, and you push me down. Warn me to stay away from him. Genius, right?” I looked at her deadpan. “What is this crap?” Chloe: “?” “Sorry, slip of the tongue. I meant, what is this plot?” “The ‘Chase Wife Crematorium’ arc!” (A popular Chinese romance trope where the guy grovels). I was stressed about the parent meeting. Suddenly, a lightbulb went off. “That’s weak,” I grabbed her hand. “Here’s the play: Make your mom accept me as her goddaughter! I steal all your mother’s love. You lick your wounds in a corner. If Jax has any humanity, he’ll comfort you!” Chloe gasped. “Omg. You’re a genius. The layers! The drama!” “Yes! Hurry, get your mom to handle Mr. Higgins.”

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To celebrate my nephew getting into a prestigious private elementary school, my brother treated the whole family to hot pot. While we were waiting for the food, my nephew suddenly leaned way too close to the boiling broth. The burner was already on high. Worried he’d get scalded, I yanked him back to his seat. My sister-in-law, Tiffany, thought I was hitting him. She grabbed a fork and stabbed me right in the eye. Later, they dumped my bleeding body on the side of the road, where I was hit by a car and killed. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the moment my brother suggested hot pot. This time, I didn’t stop my nephew. You like to fidget? You like to touch things you shouldn’t? Go ahead. Burn. 1 “Yes! We got in! Our son is going to St. Jude’s Prep!” Tiffany was screaming, waving her phone in the air like she’d won the lottery. I jolted awake at the sound of her voice, my hand instinctively flying to my eye. It didn’t hurt. I could see. Wait. Was I… back? “Our son is going to be elite now! He’s going to rub shoulders with old money!” My brother, Brad, let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. Everyone in the room was grinning from ear to ear. Everyone except me. “We need to celebrate big time. Let’s go get hot pot.” Just like in my previous life, Brad suggested eating out. I gripped the dishrag in my hand so hard my knuckles turned white. My eye throbbed with a phantom pain. In my last life, I died right after that meal. My nephew, Brayden, had gotten into the expensive private school via a lottery system. The whole family was ecstatic. Brad, who usually rotted on the couch gaming, insisted on a celebratory dinner. I was allowed to tag along, purely to foot the bill if needed. While waiting for the food, Brayden—who acted like he had untreated ADHD on steroids—was bouncing off the walls. I saw him leaning dangerously close to the boiling pot. Instinctively, I pulled him back. It made a noise. Tiffany, who was glued to TikTok, looked up, saw a red mark on Brayden’s wrist, and went feral. “My son does what he wants! Who are you to touch him?” She stabbed me with a fork. I was blinded instantly. They dragged me out, dumped me on the curb so I wouldn’t ruin their appetite, and went back to eating. Disoriented and blind, I stumbled into traffic. As I lay dying on the asphalt, I had one regret. I regretted saving that brat. I regretted not cutting this toxic family off sooner. But now? Now I had a second chance. “Hey! Your nephew is going to a private school. Aren’t you going to offer something, Auntie?” My mom noticed my silence. She reached out and twisted my ear, hard. “I’m giving you face here. Don’t pretend you can’t hear me.” The sharp pain snapped me back to reality. I waved my hands apologetically. “Of course not, Mom. How about I pay for the hot pot?” Mom let go, satisfied. “That’s more like it.” “I want Legos! And those new Jordans!” Brayden started jumping on the sofa, screaming. “If you don’t buy them, I’m gonna smash the TV!” “Your Auntie will buy them for you, right?” Tiffany looked at me, her eyes narrowing with a silent threat. I suppressed the hatred boiling in my gut and smiled, a sweet, plastic smile. “Whatever you want, Brayden. Auntie will buy it all.” Brad’s stomach growled loudly. “Alright, enough yapping. Let’s go eat. I’m starving.” Tiffany shot me a look of pure disdain before masking it. I caught it this time. Turns out, she didn’t love her husband as much as she pretended to, either. On the way to the restaurant, my mind raced. If I was there when Brayden got hurt, they’d blame me. I needed an alibi. In my last life, I treated them like family no matter how much they abused me. Not this time. The pain I suffered? They were going to feel every ounce of it. 2 “Get two orders of everything. Except the shrimp, make that three.” Brad ordered like a king. Looking at the menu, this meal was going to cost at least three hundred bucks. My wallet ached out of habit. Tiffany saw my hesitation. “Oh, fix your face. You look like we’re eating your life savings. It’s just a few hundred.” Mom chimed in, “My grandson is destined for greatness. In the future, people will pay thousands just to look at him. You should be honored.” Delusional. Absolutely delusional. Internally, I was screaming. Outwardly, I nodded. “Brayden won’t forget his Auntie when he’s rich, right?” Brad suddenly pointed his chopsticks at me. “Oh yeah. Tuition is twelve grand a semester. Due next week. Don’t forget.” When I didn’t answer immediately, Mom threw a chopstick at me. “He’s talking to you! You aren’t trying to wiggle out of it, are you?” Why should I pay? Mom forced me to drop out of middle school to work so Brad could go to a community college. When he graduated, I paid for his wedding. Then Brayden was born. Formula, nanny, preschool—I paid for all of it. Brad hadn’t worked a day since he got married. Hearing the demand again made my blood boil. But I kept my voice steady. “Okay. I’ll handle it.” After today, Brayden might not need tuition anymore. He might need a burn unit. The restaurant was packed. A waitress rushed over, apologizing. “Sorry for the wait, the food will be out soon.” Brayden slammed his fist on the table. He started shredding the napkins into confetti. “I want to eat! NOW!” Diners at nearby tables glared at us. Brad scowled, puffing up his chest. “Son, you’re going to a noble school soon. Don’t let these peasants look down on you.” Brayden sniffled. “But I’m hungry.” “You are royalty! In the future, you’ll book the whole restaurant! You can make whatever mess you want, and these losers will have to watch from outside!” It was so cringe-worthy I almost laughed. The people around us were whispering about “bad parenting” and “delusions of grandeur.” Spot on. It was just a private elementary school, yet Brad acted like he’d been knighted. Brayden stopped crying but started acting out. He yanked my hair. He mixed all the condiments on the table into a gross sludge. Finally, the waitress brought the pot. “I’ve turned the heat on high to get it boiling. Please be careful, do not touch the pot. It is extremely hot.” Brad and Tiffany were glued to their phones. Mom was picking her teeth. No one listened. “Okay, we got it,” I said. My hands trembled slightly under the table. Not from fear, but from anticipation. “Mom, my stomach hurts. I need to use the restroom.” Mom didn’t even look up from her Candy Crush. Before I left, I looked Brayden dead in the eye. “Brayden, listen to me. Do not touch the pot. It’s dangerous. Okay?” Brayden was a classic defiance disorder kid. Tell him no, and he’d do it twice just to spite you. Hearing my warning, his eyes lit up. He stared at the metal pot like it was a shiny toy. I saw the glint in his eyes. He was going to touch it. In my last life, I saved him. My reward? Blindness and death. If kindness kills, then I choose to be heartless. You want to touch it? Go ahead. I walked to the bathroom. I waited exactly one minute. Then, a scream pierced the air. A sound so shrill it sounded inhuman. “MY SON! BRAYDEN!” I checked my phone, composed my face, and walked out. Karma had arrived. 3 “Are you people stupid?! Why is the pot so hot?!” Mom was screaming at the waitress, spit flying everywhere. I pushed through the crowd and saw Brayden. His face and the entire right side of his upper body were lobster red. He had practically hugged the boiling metal pot. “I’m calling the police! This is attempted murder! Where is the owner?!” Tiffany was clutching Brayden. She squeezed him too tight in her panic, making him shriek in agony again. The owner rushed over. He looked at the waitress. She was sobbing. “I told them! I told them the switch was on! They didn’t listen!” “So it’s our fault?!” Mom stood up, pointing a trembling finger at the girl. “Did we force the kid to lick the pot?” No, you didn’t. But he did it voluntarily. I rushed forward, putting on my best panicked face. “Mom! What happened? Oh my god, Brayden!” “Don’t talk to me! It’s your fault! Why did we come to this restaurant? You jinxed us!” The owner frowned, trying to de-escalate. “Let’s get the child to the hospital first. I’ll cover the medical bills for now.” Tiffany screeched, “You just want to get rid of us so you can run away! I’m calling the cops! You’re going to jail for life!” The owner actually laughed. “Fine. Call the cops. Check the security cameras. Let’s see if we pushed him or if he grabbed it himself.” The word “cameras” froze them. “I’m telling you! If my son is hurt, you’re paying for it! Just you wait!” A bystander piped up. “I saw it. The lady warned the kid. The aunt warned the kid. The kid grabbed it anyway. He’s a brat, and it’s his own fault.” Brad slammed the table, eyes murderous. “Shut up! You say one more word and I’ll end you!” I didn’t want innocent people getting hurt by my rabid brother. “Tiffany! Look at his face, the blisters are forming! We need to go to the ER now!” Brayden was clawing at his melting skin, whimpering, “It hurts, it hurts…” Finally, they realized yelling wasn’t helping. They scooped him up, shouting threats at the owner as they left. “You wait! We’ll sue you into bankruptcy!” The owner crossed his arms. “I’ll be here.” It was rush hour. It took ten minutes to get a cab. In the car, Mom slapped me across the face. Hard. “You jinx! If it weren’t for you, my grandson wouldn’t be hurt!” Tiffany sobbed, eyes full of venom. “If anything happens to his face, I will kill you.” They conveniently forgot he hugged the pot of his own free will. I stayed silent. Experience taught me that arguing only made them violent. With burns that bad, Brayden was definitely disfigured. But this was just the appetizer. At the hospital, they rushed into the ER. I followed, playing the role of the silent ATM. The doctor took one look and grimaced. “Third-degree burns. Why did you wait so long to come in?” Tiffany was shaking. “Doctor, his face… will it scar?” “The burn area is huge. There’s a risk of infection and complications. We need to run a full blood panel immediately. Go to the lab.” It was a standard procedure. But Tiffany turned pale. “D-do we have to? Can we skip the blood test?” I frowned. Why was she hesitating? Her son was cooking in his own skin. Then, it clicked. Sweat on her forehead. Shifting eyes. Is Brayden… not Brad’s son? I stepped in. “Brad, the doctor is right. If we don’t treat this perfectly, he’ll have scars. The rich kids at St. Jude’s will bully him.” That hit Brad’s vanity. “Right. My son can’t be looked down on. Go. Do the test.” I ignored Tiffany’s murderous glare and grabbed the requisition form. “I’ll take him.” When the nurse handed me the results, Tiffany looked like she was about to faint. I didn’t even need to look at the paper. Her reaction confirmed it. Unfortunately, a standard CBC doesn’t always show blood type clearly to the layman, but if surgery was needed… “The burn is severe and infected. We need to do a debridement surgery immediately.” The doctor’s words made Brad scowl. “What about his face?” “We’ll worry about skin grafts later. Saving the tissue comes first.” Mom finally started crying, glaring at me through her tears. “This is all your fault! You’re paying for the surgery!” I nodded. “Okay.” I’ll pay. It’s a small price to see the look on their faces when they realize the family prince is a bastard. The surgery went well. Brayden came out wrapped like a mummy. “Mom, you guys go home and rest. I’ll stay and watch him tonight.” Mom looked at me with disgust. “Obviously you’re staying. You think we should suffer?” Once they left, I sat by the bed. I reached out and pressed my thumb firmly onto Brayden’s bandaged wound. He thrashed in his sleep, whimpering. I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh. This is how it should be. In my last life, my empathy got me killed. I waited until the nurse came to change the dressing. I made sure to look distressed. Then I texted Brad. Brad, Brayden won’t be able to do P.E. for a long time. I’m photocopying his medical records to send to the school. He didn’t reply, but I knew he saw it. He lives on his phone. The next morning, Brad and the family arrived. I handed him the stack of papers. I had arranged the pages so the blood type report was right on top. As expected, Brad glanced at it, then froze. His face turned a shade of purple I’d never seen before. He snatched the paper closer. Tiffany, oblivious, tried to cling to his arm. “Honey…” Brad threw her off. He roared, shaking the paper. “I’m blood type AB! You’re type O! How the hell is this kid Type O?!” (Author’s Note: Biologically, an AB parent cannot produce an O child). Mom froze. “What?” I stood in the corner, watching the blood drain from Tiffany’s face. Showtime. 4 Brad lost his mind. He gave Mom a look, then grabbed Tiffany by the hair and dragged her out of the ward, kicking her as they went. Mom understood immediately. She went to the front desk and discharged Brayden against medical advice. My job was to carry the boy home. He was seven, but thanks to my funding, he was obese. He weighed as much as a teenager. My arms were screaming by the time we got back. I opened the door to the sound of Tiffany wailing. “I didn’t mean to! It was just one time! I didn’t think…” Brad kicked her in the ribs. “You whore! You dare make excuses? We are divorcing today!” “Honey, you raised him for seven years! Don’t you have any feelings for him?” Tiffany hugged his leg, snot running down her face. “Get out! Take that bastard and get out!” Mom jumped in. “Wait! No!” She whispered something in Brad’s ear. I was standing right behind them. I heard every word. Mom wanted to use Brayden to scam the hot pot restaurant owner. Tiffany couldn’t hear. She thought Mom was defending her. Brad grinned, a twisted, greedy smile. “Fine. You get out. But the bastard stays.” Tiffany wasn’t stupid. She knew Brad wouldn’t treat the boy well now. “Please! Don’t hurt my son! I’m begging you!” They beat her again and threw her out the door. “Hey. Go get a banner made.” Brad kicked my shin. He showed me a picture on his phone. Text: EVIL BUSINESS KILLED MY SON. I couldn’t refuse yet. “Okay.” I went downstairs. Tiffany was still there, limping. She saw me and grabbed my arm. “I’ve always been good to you, right? Help me.” “Okay,” I said instantly. “I’ll watch out for Brayden.” She paused, surprised I agreed so fast. Then her face twisted. “If anything happens to him, I’ll drag you down with me.” Still threatening me. Just like my last life. “Don’t worry,” I smiled. “I’ll make sure he stays alive.” She limped away. I went to the print shop, then detoured to the hot pot restaurant. The owner laughed when I told him about the banner. “Thanks, kid. Don’t worry about me.” I went back home. The scene inside made me gasp. “Mom, he doesn’t look pathetic enough. Cut the bandages on the other side.” Brayden had passed out from pain. He looked like raw meat. Mom looked manic. “This is gonna get us a fortune. We’re gonna be rich.” Brad saw me staring at the boy. “The money is ours. Don’t even think about getting a cent!” I almost laughed. They hadn’t even scammed the money yet, and they were already fighting over the split. “You stay here. If you follow us, I’ll beat you to death!” Mom threatened. In my last life, she shoved a sock in my mouth to stop my screaming after my eyes were blinded. “He can’t make money if he’s blind,” Brad had said. “Useless.” They were monsters. All of them. “Okay, I’ll stay,” I said meekly. I waited until they left, then put on a hat and followed them. At the restaurant, Mom was sitting on the ground, wailing. A crowd had gathered. But the owner was ready. He had a TV screen set up outside. “Folks, look at the security footage! And look at the medical report! The kid was burned on the right side yesterday. Why is his left side bandaged today?” The crowd turned on Mom instantly. Police arrived. Mom and Brad tried to argue, but the evidence was overwhelming. The owner only paid for the initial surgery fee, nothing more. They walked home in silence, faces dark as thunder. Scam failed.

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I just finished my finals, the ink barely dry on my SAT bubbling sheet, when I blinked and woke up ten years in the future. I’m wearing my backpack, staring at a tombstone. My tombstone. The corner of my mouth won’t stop twitching. Cell service is garbage, bars flickering in and out. I rack my brain until I remember exactly one landline number. It belongs to the most depressed, anti-social, toxic-tongued pretty boy in my homeroom. The call connects fast, accompanied by the hiss of static. A voice—familiar but strange—answers. “…Babe?” I freeze. “Who?” 1 The voice on the other end pauses for half a second. “Chloe?” Okay, maybe he just mistook me for someone else. Terrified the signal would drop, I rush to speak. “It’s me. Don’t yell at me, I can’t explain right now, but if you aren’t married, don’t have a girlfriend, and happen to be free… can you come pick me up at the cemetery?” Wait. He called me “Babe” earlier. Doesn’t sound single. I backpedal hard. “Ah, haha, sorry to bother you! Actually, could you just call someone else to get me? Like Julian…” Julian. The guy I’ve been low-key crushing on. My social standing in high school was mid at best. I only kind of knew these two by accident. They count as friends, right? “…Wait for me.” It’s been—God knows how many years—but Liam is still a man of few words. I blink, staring at the screen as the call drops from bad service. Bored, I squat in front of my own grave. It hits me late: Did I just make a prank call claiming to be a zombie? I wonder how Future Me and Liam got along? He probably thinks this is a scam… His guard was always insanely high. Whatever. My legs go numb from squatting, so I hop up and sit on top of my tombstone. It’s polished to a shine, reflecting the sunlight. There’s a huge bouquet of sunflowers in front of it. They aren’t wilted yet. Someone must have visited “me” a few days ago. Guess I was popular? I swing my legs, bored out of my mind. Not long ago, I was celebrating the end of high school. Classmates were tossing papers, screaming “Freedom!” and “I’m dyeing my hair green!” I was quietly asking the teacher if I could take the leftover papers to the recycling center for cash. I wanted to buy treats for the kids at the group home. Liam had helped me pack up, silent as usual. I told him to go home early so his dad wouldn’t beat him. He bristled like a stray cat. Stood up, glared at me coldly. “None of your damn business.” And walked off. I spent hours haggling with the scrap yard guy, and finally caught the last bus before total darkness. I took a nap… and woke up here. At a graveyard. At noon. Finding out I’m dead is shocking. It’s like finding out I flunked out of high school when I was tracking for the Ivy League. …I wonder which college I got into? The sun is blinding, but my phone says it’s midnight. This phone was a gift from the group home director. Cheap, prepaid. She told me not to worry about paying her back, just to study hard. They must be freaking out that I’m missing. I sigh. “Beep-beep!” A text notification sound. Footsteps approach from behind, soft and slow up the stairs. I pivot on my butt, spinning around on the tombstone. A man in a fitted black suit crashes into my line of sight. It’s too hot, so I’ve got my school blazer over my head like a hood. I squint at him. Is that… Liam? I barely recognize him. This man is a galaxy away from the boy who cursed me out yesterday. He freezes, his pitch-black eyes locking onto mine. It seems like he stopped breathing. High school Liam was pretty—pale skin, sharp features—but gloomy. His eyes were always cold, his words poisonous. Current Liam is still good-looking, but the boyish awkwardness is gone. He’s solid, stoic, distant. He’s staring so hard I stop swinging my legs. I hop down from the tombstone. “Hi?” 2 Liam’s breath hitches. He strides forward and crushes me into a hug. My face slams into his rock-hard chest. My nose actually hurts. …When did he get so tall? Wait, if he has a partner, he shouldn’t be hugging me like this! I try to push him away, but his strength has grown with his height. I can’t budge him. Maybe he’s just excited to see a dead friend’s ghost? I let him hug me for a minute, then whisper, “I’m not interrupting anything, am I? Your dad isn’t…” No, wait. It’s been ten years. He looks successful. I correct myself. “I’m not causing trouble, am I?” He buries his face in my neck and rubs against me like a puppy. “I missed you so much.” I stiffen. This is wrong. Is this really Liam? We were “friends,” sure, but this is way too intimate. Does his partner know? I turn beet red from my ears to my toes. I smack his back. “Liam! Let go! Off, off!” He finally loosens his grip but insists on interlacing his fingers with mine. I try to shake him off. He holds tight. …Maybe Future Me and him were really close. “Doesn’t your ‘Babe’ mind us doing this?” I ask awkwardly. “?” He looks at me, then smiles. “You are my Babe.” Me: “…” What the hell did I do in the last ten years? I can’t process this. He takes my backpack. Since I sold all my books, it’s empty and light. Liam, looking like a CEO, slings my high school bag over one shoulder and holds my hand with the other. He asks zero questions about how I’m here. His acceptance level is suspiciously high. I chatter nervously as he leads me away. “What year is it?” He smiles secretly. “2035.” Damn! I really time-traveled ten years. The tombstone said “2032.” I’ve been dead for three years. …Why did I die so young? Twenty-five? That sucks. I frown. “What was my SAT score? Class rank? Which college?” “Never mind, you probably don’t remember the details. just tell me the college.” His voice is soft, melting into the wind. “1560. Top 1%. Z State University.” My eyes go wide. I grab his arm. “That good?! So I…” I stop. I see the ring on his left ring finger. It glints in the sun. I drop his hand like it’s radioactive. “Liam, you’re married?” 3 He grabs my hand back, tightening his grip. He smiles, but he looks away. “Yeah. I married my Babe.” Me: “…” Why is he so calm?! Let go of me! I don’t want to be blasted on TikTok by his wife as a homewrecker. I’m technically 18. Standing next to him, I look like his little sister, but we aren’t siblings. “Just drop me off at a bus stop,” I say, frowning. “I’ll go back…” He tightens his grip again, helping me down the stairs. “Go back where?” Anywhere but with him. “Home…” I need to check on the group home. The director might recognize me even if I’m supposed to be dead. Liam relaxes. He smiles again. “Then let’s go home.” His smiling creeps me out. The Liam I knew didn’t smile. Julian was the one who always smiled. Liam was the one who looked like he wanted to murder everyone. “Let go of my hand…” He stuffs me into the back seat of a car. He climbs in right after me. His face screams “pity me.” I choke on my words. Liam has always been stubborn. If he wants something, he’ll smash through a brick wall to get it. Now he’s looking at me with puppy dog eyes, gripping my hand. “Babe…” My scalp tingles. What is this?! Why is he calling me Babe?! Is this future slang? Who is this dog wagging its tail? I push his face away with my free hand. “Liam, chill! I know you’re excited to see your dead friend, but I just finished high school!” “And you’re married! We can’t do this!” He freezes. Just when I think I got through to him, he pulls me into a hug again. “Sorry. You probably won’t believe me, but once we get home, you’ll see.” Your home, I think blankly. How am I going to explain this to his wife? “…Mr. Lu? Are we leaving?” The driver asks, terrified. I make eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror. The awkwardness is palpable. Great. I’ve time-traveled and immediately become a mistress. Liam holds me tight. His wedding ring digs into my skin, pricking my conscience. He gives a low “Hmm,” and the driver relaxes. Just as the engine starts, there’s a knock on the window. A man holding a massive bouquet of red roses leans down. He knocks again. He’s smiling. He looks older, but that mole under his lip is iconic. My eyes widen. “Julian?” Liam slams my face into his chest, hiding me. “Drive,” he orders coldly. “Wait! Don’t drive!” I scramble against him. “Liam, that’s Julian!” He knows I had a crush on Julian in high school. He pushes my head down again. “Drive.” I don’t want to be kidnapped to his house to be accused of adultery. I struggle and manage to hit the window button. I try to pop my head up to say hi, but Liam shoves my face into his lap. I freeze. “Well, long time no see,” Julian says. His voice is deeper, smoother. He sounds amused. “Saw you from a distance. You… you’re hiring lookalikes now?” Liam sneers. “If you have nothing to say, get lost.” “Can’t say hi to an old classmate? You’ve gotten cute again since Chloe died.” Hearing my name makes me wince. I try to move, but Liam presses down harder. Now my face is pressed against… something. I turn bright red. I want to die again. To Liam’s unknown wife: I am so sorry! Wait, Liam is the scum here. Why should I die? I wiggle cautiously. Liam groans. I freeze instantly. “Ah, my bad. Didn’t realize you were busy,” Julian laughs. No shame at all. Dude! He definitely misunderstood! Julian leans on the window, chatting casually. “Making out right outside Chloe’s grave? Trying to piss her ghost off?” The air smells like gunpowder. Liam ignores him. “Drive.” The driver hesitates. “Mr. Su… his hand is on the car…” Is everyone a “Mr. CEO” or “Mr. Heir” now? And I’m just “The Dead Girl”? “Hey, little sister,” Julian says, seemingly talking to me. “Still wearing a school uniform…” He sighs dramatically. “Don’t do this kind of work. If you need money, name your price. I’ll beat it.” Julian is still so gentle. I should go with him! I struggle free from Liam’s claws and lunge for the window. “Julian—” Julian’s pupils earthquake. He stares at my face. His smile cracks. “…How much is Liam paying you? I’ll double it. No, name any price. Will you come with me?” 4 What are they talking about?! I open my mouth to say I am Chloe, but Liam yanks me back. His face is ice cold. He glares at Julian. “If you want a substitute, go find your own. Stay away from her.” Julian chuckles, ignoring him. He pulls out a black and gold business card and flicks it at me. Liam tries to block it, but I snatch it mid-air. “If you get bored of Liam… if you want a change of pace…” Julian smiles deeply. “Call me.” I want to put it in my bag, but Liam might confiscate it. I memorize the number instantly and shove the card in my pocket. “Okay, I’ll call.” Assuming he isn’t married too. Liam is grinding his teeth beside me. I can’t believe the guy who wouldn’t talk to anyone in high school grew up to be a cheater! Men ain’t shit. “I’ll be waiting,” Julian says, dropping his eyes. My heart skips a beat. He steps back, waving, holding those roses. He doesn’t look like he’s visiting a grave. He looks like he’s waiting for a date. “Too bad these flowers aren’t for you… Next time, I’ll bring you your own.” The driver hits the gas. I tumble back into Liam’s arms. He feels warm, but his vibe is freezing. I break away easily this time and buckle my seatbelt. The car interior is luxurious. Even a broke kid like me knows this leather is expensive. I glance at Liam. He’s staring straight ahead, looking like he’s built a fortress around himself. The driver is driving like a maniac. “Liam…” He snaps his head to look at me, eyes wide with hope. “…Put your seatbelt on?” His eyes dim. He buckles up. I’m terrified of meeting his wife. I run through a dozen scenarios in my head until the car stops. I step out nervously. Liam grabs my hand again. I try to shake him off. “What are you doing?!” He purses his lips. Silence. He drags me to the elevator. Beep. He drags me to the door. Beep. I close my eyes, preparing to be yelled at by a angry wife. He lets go and pushes me gently inside. “Look.” I peek through one eye. There, on the wall, is a massive wedding photo. My eyes pop out of my head. My face catches fire. Liam stands behind me, sounding hurt. “I told you, you’re my Babe.” “Who else would I marry?” Oh my God. This is scarier than being dead. I’m eighteen. I’ve never dated. I only know the sour taste of a secret crush. And now I’m looking at this? Also… at my age… I like Julian.

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I rushed to the ER for an emergency, only to find my ex-husband on duty. He held my chart, not even bothering to look up, and sneered coldly: “Three years later, and you still can’t find a man to hold your hand while you’re sick?” I stayed silent, staring at the ceiling, trying not to scream from the pain. He continued, “Call a family member. You need surgery, and I need to discuss the procedure with your next of kin.” “And don’t try to call me. We’re divorced.” The next day. A chart-topping pop star. A billionaire CEO. A genius Formula 1 racer. Three drop-dead gorgeous men appeared in my hospital room simultaneously. They took turns grilling him about my condition and treatment plan. His eye twitched, holding back a breakdown, his eyes rimmed red as he cornered me. “You’re telling me all three of these men are your family?!” “Yup. Does the hospital have a rule against having more than three?” 1 I took an Uber to the ER over the weekend. I never expected to run into “The Ex” working the night shift. Looking at the man in the white coat, gold-rimmed glasses, and that stoic, unsmiling face… My heart hurt worse than my abdomen. We’ve been divorced for three years. I didn’t expect our reunion to look like this. Ethan Hayes stared at the clipboard, eyes glued to the paper. He ordered me onto the exam table. Then, his long, slender fingers gently pressed against my lower abdomen. “Does it hurt here? Anywhere else? Is it a cramping pain or intermittent?” I turned my head away. I didn’t want to look at him. “It feels like my insides are being twisted.” His voice was cold, drifting down from under the bright fluorescent lights. “It’s likely appendicitis. It needs to come out. But there’s an issue…” He paused. He finally looked up, taking in my pale face. He frowned. “You’re not in good shape. I suggest surgery immediately to relieve the pain.” “Where is your current husband?” When I didn’t answer, he went back to scribbling on my chart. Finally, he looked me dead in the eye, his voice dripping with icy sarcasm. “Three years later, Maya. Did you really fail to find a single man willing to accompany you to the hospital?” I stayed silent, the pain forcing me to stare at the ceiling tiles. He scoffed. “No need to play dead. This is standard protocol. Get a family member here. You need surgery, and I need to clear the plan with them.” “And don’t try to list me. We are divorced.” I finally couldn’t hold it back. “Seriously, Ethan? Three years and you’ve only gotten more narcissistic? I’d date a literal garbage can before I’d crawl back to you.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I didn’t even get the satisfaction of seeing his face turn green. Because the pain spiked, and I passed out cold. Appendicitis isn’t a disease, but man, it hurts like hell. 2 When I woke up, I was in the inpatient ward. I could hear hushed—but not hushed enough—voices buzzing nearby. “We still can’t reach her family. She’s so pitiful. She looks young, but I saw a ring on her finger. Where’s the husband?” “Who knows? Even if she has no family, what about friends? Not a single visitor. She must be a total loner.” “Hey, I saw Dr. Hayes handle her admission personally. He seemed… weird about it. You think she’s a stalker? I heard him asking about her current husband…” “Shh! Don’t be crazy. Dr. Hayes has standards. His fiancée is that heiress, Vanessa Vance. She’s his college sweetheart. Don’t drag random patients into their fairy tale.” I couldn’t take it anymore. They weren’t whispering; they were broadcasting directly into my ear canal. Just as I was about to snap, I heard Ethan’s stern voice. “Do not gossip about patients in the ward.” Great. So he was there the whole time. He let them trash me and praise him just to stroke his ego, didn’t he? Divorced for three years, and he’s still with his “white moonlight”—his precious first love? Right. She’s the heiress he practically begged me for a divorce to be with. Thinking about that rainy night, seeing their silhouettes tangled together in the doorway… I felt bile rise in my throat. Ethan walked to my bedside, his tone flat. “If you’re worried about your family seeing me and feeling awkward, I can step aside. There are other doctors on rotation. As long as—” Suddenly, a man burst through the door, panting for air. He was dressed like he was dodging paparazzi—oversized hoodie, baseball cap, face mask. But his aura screamed “celebrity.” Every head in the room turned. “No need, Doctor. I’m family. Is it convenient to discuss my wife’s condition?” Ethan whipped around to look at the newcomer, then shot a questioning glare at me. “You remarried? This guy is your husband?” I stayed silent, tilting my head as I thought about the wording. “Family, technically. We had a ceremony by the ocean.” The masked man walked up to me. Even with the mask, his peach-blossom eyes were crinkled in a smile. He looked Ethan up and down, then extended a hand. “Hi, Dr. Hayes. I’m Maya’s husband, Jax Ryder. You can run the surgery plan by me.” Ethan sized up the man who was just as tall as him. Even hidden, those eyes were undeniably pretty. This guy was a looker. Ethan’s voice dropped a few degrees. “You’re sure you’re the husband? She came in alone yesterday and fainted. As her partner, you were notably absent.” Before Jax could reply, I jumped in to cover for him. “He’s busy. His schedule is packed. I didn’t tell him.” Ethan’s lips thinned, his expression turning ugly. “What kind of job is so busy that he can’t care about his partner’s health?” “Your taste in men has really deteriorated.” I cut him off cold. “Dr. Hayes, you’re crossing a line. We are doctor and patient. That’s it.” The next second, my hand was enveloped in a warm, desperate grip. Jax pulled down his mask. A face that graced half the billboards in Los Angeles leaned in close. “Babe, don’t be mad. It’s my fault. I’m the worst.” “I called you all night and you didn’t pick up. I finished the concert and hopped on the first flight back this morning.” “Don’t fight with Dr. Hayes. If he wants to scold me, let him. As long as he doesn’t yell at you.” Jax’s voice was dripping with “pick-me” energy. He effectively made Ethan look like a bully and himself like a tragic hero. The nurses nearly screamed. “It’s actually Jax Ryder! OMG, I watched his music variety show two days ago! He’s even hotter in person! I heard rumors he was married, but I didn’t think it was true—and his wife is right here!” The gossip volume in the room cranked up to an eleven. Ethan took a deep breath, glaring at me. “Family members cannot disturb the patient’s rest.” Jax didn’t even look up. “Then get my wife a VIP suite.” Ethan: “We’re at capacity.” Jax narrowed his eyes: “Then we transfer hospitals.” Ethan gritted his teeth: “Her condition requires immediate surgery.” Sparks flew between them. The tension was thick enough to choke on. Even the nurses sensed the vibe shift. “Dr. Hayes… you seem really invested in this patient. Are you friends?” “No.” Ethan denied it instantly. 3 Hearing that denial, Jax slowly turned his head. His pretty eyes instantly filled with tears. “Boo-hoo… Wifey, is it terminal? Are you dying? Is that why you hid it from me? Did you want to break up to save me pain? I won’t allow it! We have money. We can cure anything.” “No, we’re going to Switzerland. If they can’t cure you, I’ll go with you. Romeo and Juliet style.” Seeing that he was already writing a tragic screenplay in his head, I stiffly pushed his face away. “Check your brain first. It’s appendicitis.” He blinked, tears still shimmering, and threw himself into my arms, hugging me tight. “Just appendicitis? Bad appendix! Evil appendix! I’m never talking to an appendix again!” Fighting the pain, I pinched the soft flesh at his waist. “Jax, if you don’t stop acting like a toddler, get out.” Jax had satisfied his drama quota. The nurses were practically vibrating. “He’s so handsome… honestly, he might be hotter than Dr. Hayes. And he’s so cute! They’re so in love!” Dr. Hayes, the subject of comparison, stared at Jax’s hands wrapped around me. His gaze was frigid. He dropped a stiff sentence before walking away. “Come to my office later. I need to explain the afternoon surgery.” Once Ethan was gone, Jax smirked and whispered in my ear. “Scared off the Ex-Husband. Mission accomplished.” I rolled my eyes. “So what? You better stop taking advantage of me.” I peeled his hands off my waist. Jax sat on the stool, looking wronged as he peeled an apple for me. “As your husband, am I not allowed a little touchy-feely?” I stared at the man before me and whispered a correction. “Accurately speaking, we are in a contractual relationship.” Jax’s eyes, bright as stars, shimmered. He looked like he was about to cry again. “Oh. So you really just treat me as a Contract Shifter, not a man?” 4 I rubbed my temples, looking at him. My Contract Shifter No. 1: Jax Ryder. Identity in the human world: Idol singer, debuted three years ago. He blew up overnight because of his ethereal looks and clean vocals, though he insists he’s a “serious artist.” In this world, Shifters (Beastmen) coexist with humans. But ordinary people don’t know they exist. Only a few researchers and elite families are in on the secret. My family has a… tradition. If a woman from our bloodline doesn’t have a mate by the time she’s an adult, the Family arranges three Shifters to bind to her. In plain English: If you’re 25 and single, the Family forcefully assigns you a harem of three male Shifters. They look human and have human identities. But they are bound to you. Initially, it’s a Servant Contract. Once you pick one, you can upgrade it to a Lover’s Contract. Naturally, all the males want the Lover’s Contract. A Shifter under a Servant Contract has no autonomy over their life or death. But with a Lover’s Contract? They live and die with their human. If the human dies, they die. Jax was assigned to me three years ago, right after I divorced Ethan. I knew exactly what he was doing. He’s still stuck in the Servant Contract. He’s trying to butter me up to get the upgrade. I pinched his smooth cheek with a fake smile. “If an Idol dates, his career implodes. Don’t you have any professional ethics?” “I’m a singer, not just a pretty face. My agency doesn’t ban dating. Besides… if you sign the Lover’s Contract with me, I’ll quit everything. I’ll stay home and raise the kids.” Jax said it jokingly, but his tone carried a terrifying hint of sincerity. I looked away. “Cough. I’m thirsty. Get me some water.” Jax trotted off obediently. While he was gone, nurses kept peeking in. Worried that paparazzi would catch wind of Jax and his fans would come for my head, I asked Ethan to move me to a private room. Being surrounded by people recovering from hemorrhoid surgery wasn’t exactly private. But Ethan rejected me cold. “No single rooms available. Stay or transfer.” “By the way, surgery is at 1:00 PM.” Great. He is 100% holding a grudge. Petty ex. He’s allowed to chase his Heiress First Love, but I can’t have a hot pop star boyfriend? If my other two Shifters showed up, he’d probably explode. Jax, being a busy guy, insisted on waiting until my surgery was over. His assistant had called ten times. He had a variety show recording at the local TV station tonight. The lead surgeon was Ethan. He wore a blue mask and surgical cap, revealing only his sharp brows and nose. Right before the anesthesia hit, he started “casual” small talk. “Is he good to you?” The OR went silent. He continued, pretending not to care. “A job like his… he must be busy. Can he eat dinner with you every Friday? Does he watch a movie with you every week?” My mouth twitched. “Do I have to answer that, Doctor?” Ethan’s hazel eyes dimmed. “Just chatting. Do you want coconut chicken soup later?” I almost lost it. Bro, I’m getting my appendix removed. You’re oscillating between jealous ex and catering service? I wanted to ask if he’d been possessed. But the anesthesia hit. Everything went black. Vaguely, I remembered what he meant. I chased Ethan five years ago. He was just an intern then. I used every trick in the book, pestering him until I got his number, then aggressively pursuing him for three months. I finally turned him into my boyfriend. Two years later, we got the marriage license. His job meant he was busy. But every week, he made time to eat with me. We’d walk home, pick a movie. When I fell asleep halfway through, he’d gently carry me to bed. How long did those happy days last? Less than a year and a half… When did the fighting start? I forgot. I just remember realizing Ethan didn’t love me. There’s a saying: “Women chasing men is easy, like breaking through a veil.” But between Ethan and me… there was a wall. His “First Love.”

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1 I’m living with the guy who made my high school years a living hell. When the morning light hits the room, I barely shift my arm. The arm clamped around my waist just tightens, pulling me flush against him. Sebastian buries his face in my neck, his voice rasping with that morning gravel. “Did you sleep at all last night?” I freeze for a second, then nod obediently. Before, I might have fought it. But he spent the last three weeks teaching me a very specific lesson: Submission is survival. He grabs my hand, interlocking his fingers with mine, playing with them like they’re toys. He chuckles into my hair, sounding amused. “Didn’t throw the ring away this time?” … He means the diamond on my ring finger. There were two before this. One I hid in the freezer. The other I chucked into the complex’s fountain. I don’t want to think about the consequences of those first two attempts. But the consequence of this third ring is clear: I am going to marry him. The man I fear most in this world. 2 I love shower time. It’s the only time I don’t have to look at him. The only time the memories don’t choke me. But staring into the fogged-up mirror, even the steam can’t hide the marks on my skin. My eyes are bloodshot. I stare at my reflection like a ghost. Then comes the slow, rhythmic knock. Sebastian. “Taking a while in there, Chloe.” “Come out, or I’m coming in.” … He’s done it before. No boundaries. I shut off the water instantly and wrap a towel around myself. … Breakfast is laid out perfectly, but Sebastian doesn’t have time to eat. The news is playing on the TV. He’s tying his tie with practiced, elegant movements. Catching me staring, he leans over and taps my nose. “Like the view? Maybe you can tie it for me next time.” I look away. He just chuckles, unbothered. Then, just to mess with me, he picks up my glass of milk, finds the lipstick stain on the rim, and drinks from the exact same spot. … “Be good. Wait for me.” “We’re fitting for wedding dresses tonight.” 3 Sebastian leaves. I stare at the TV for a long time. Then I pick up the glass he just drank from and hurl it at the screen. The TV screen glitches, spiderwebbing, and the glass shatters on the floor. The crash brings the maids running, gasping. I just curl up in the chair, hugging my knees, and cry. … Sebastian was my nightmare. Back in high school, he was the king of the bullies. He once threw my backpack out of a third-story window. He orchestrated the isolation. Because of him, girls dragged me into the bathroom and slapped me. No one dared to help me. Sebastian is the heir to the Shen Group. His family literally donated the library wing. He led the charge, and bullying me became the class trend. They say he was the dream guy for half the school. To me, he was the demon that kept me awake at night. And now, seven years later. He says he wants to marry me. 4 I still shake when I see him. Old habits die hard. Even after sharing a bed with him for three weeks. No one helped me. My mom found out Sebastian Shen wanted to marry me and basically thanked God. He switched cars today. This one has a spacious backseat. I hate it. The partition is up. The driver can’t see or hear what happens back here. But Sebastian is quieter today. I’m trembling. The AC is on, but I’m shaking like a leaf. He pulls me into his lap, ignoring my resistance. “Chloe, are you really that scared?” His voice is low, teasing my ear. He knows exactly why I’m like this. “We’re just picking a dress. Relax, okay?” I try to stop shaking, but a bitter laugh escapes my throat. Who would believe it? The guy who pushed me into the abyss is now whispering sweet nothings about wedding gowns. 5 The bridal shop is inside a private villa. Crystal chandeliers. Gowns that cost more than my life shimmering on mannequins. I don’t care. I don’t want to choose. I let Sebastian talk to the designer about custom fits. I let the assistants measure me like a doll. The villa has a backyard garden. I’m more interested in that. While they talk, I hike up the skirt and slip out the back door. There’s a gate past the garden. Maybe past that gate is freedom. I’ve thought about running a thousand times. But every time I work up the courage, I realize I have nowhere to go. My mom thinks I’ve hit the jackpot. She told me to stop being dramatic. I sit by the koi pond until Sebastian finds me. “Whatcha thinking about?” He’s looming over me again. High and mighty. I hold out my arm. There’s a small, circular scar on my wrist. Raised, pink skin. “Look. Your cigarette burn.” High school. One day he was in a bad mood, dragged me to a corner, and put a cigarette out on my skin. It hurt so bad I forgot what happened after. Sebastian stares at it for a long time. Then he crouches down. I hate admitting it, but his face is perfect. Like a marble statue carved by a master. If he looked at anyone with soft eyes, they’d drown in them. The Bible was right. The devil has the most beautiful face. The flame of a lighter flickers. He lights a cigarette right in front of me. I flinch, terrified he’s going to burn me again. But he doesn’t. Without breaking eye contact, he presses the lit cigarette into his own wrist. Same spot as mine. He watches the smoke rise, calm as a frozen lake. “Feel any better, Chloe?” “…” I look down. The ash mixes with fresh blistered skin. It looks agonizing. Suddenly, he pulls me into a hug. “Chloe… if only I could take some of your pain for myself.” Fireflies drift over the pond. I stare at the moonlight reflecting on the water. “Sebastian, you’re the one who gave me the pain.” He stiffens. Then, slowly, he strokes my hair. “Then let me atone for it. Okay?” “…” 6 This morning, after Sebastian left, I threw my milk at the TV again. Usually, the maids just heat up another cup and bring it to me. But today, I didn’t want it. I used to love milk. My mom always packed a carton for me in high school. Until one day. Sebastian was sitting on my desk. He loomed over me, casting a shadow. Someone laughed. Someone said, “Let’s have some fun, Sebastian.” He smiled at me and held out his hand. I handed him my milk. He unscrewed the cap. Before I could smell it, white liquid poured over my head. My nose, my collarbones, my uniform skirt. Everything was sticky and wet. I was crying. Everyone else was laughing. “Look at her. Trying to seduce him like that?” “God, Sebastian, you have weird tastes.” He wiped my cheek with his thumb, staring at me. Then he sneered. “Ugly.” … So now, I hate milk. But I hate Sebastian more. When I knocked over the second glass today, the maid almost knelt. “Miss… please just drink it…” I refused. My eyes landed on the landline. I crawled over and dialed the only number it allows. A man answered. Not Sebastian. “Miss Qin?” It was his assistant. The driver. “I need Sebastian.” “He’s in a board meeting, Miss Qin…” “I’m coming over.” I hung up. The security at the villa let me pass. I’m the future Mrs. Shen, after all. I walked straight into his corporate HQ. Up to the top floor. No one stopped me. Only when I reached the conference room did the assistant try to block me. “Miss Qin, you can wait in the lounge…” I shoved the heavy doors open. 7 Sometimes I don’t know what I want. Maybe I just want to drag someone down into the dark with me. Or maybe I want to make such a scene that he realizes I’m worthless. If I’m worthless, I don’t have to wonder if I’m savable. The room is full of middle-aged men in suits. Sebastian sits at the head of the table. He looks out of place—too young, too handsome, too cold. Forty pairs of eyes land on me. Maybe the AC is too strong. I start shaking. Then, I’m being held. It’s the first time I smell smoke on him. Cold and cruel. “When did you get here?” A second ago he was tearing into his executives. Now his voice is soft. … The meeting is paused. He carries me into his office. It’s huge. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. From up here, the people below look like ants. He looks like a god who could crush anyone. Especially me. He tosses me onto the bed in the adjoining lounge. He loosens his tie, red silk slipping through his fingers. I interrupted his meeting. He’s mad. He’s not actually that patient with me. “Missed me that much?” He plays with my hair. I stare at him blankly. “Sebastian, do you have milk?” He pauses. This is his private suite. His shirts and suits are scattered around. He goes to the mini-fridge and pulls out a carton. “We ran out at home…?” Before he finishes, I snatch it. I unscrew the cap. And I pour the entire carton over his head. He just stands there. He could have dodged. He has the reflexes. But he lets the white liquid soak his hair, his expensive suit. I look up at him. Dammit, he still looks handsome. “Sebastian. This is how you poured milk on me back then.” I say every word clearly. … I doubt anyone has ever made him look this pathetic. Milk drips down his eyebrow. He clenches his jaw. Then, he chuckles. He reaches into the fridge and grabs another carton. I don’t realize what’s happening until he unscrews the cap. My eyes go wide. The milk is ice cold. He pours it over my head. I shiver violently as it runs down my chin, into my shirt. It feels colder than I remember. … I heard the cleaning ladies gossiping once. calling me crazy. Saying I’m lucky to marry him. But Sebastian? He’s crazier than I am. He finishes pouring, then gently brushes wet hair from my cheek. “Now we’re the same.” I shove him away. “Chloe, you know it’s not good to make me angry, right?” He grabs my chin. I’m not scared of him, exactly. I just don’t want him angry. I hate the consequences. He carries me into the bathroom. The steam blurs his silhouette. “Sebastian, seven years… why did you come back for me?” My voice is hoarse. I feel like I’m dying. His answer, as always, is silence. 8 He puts me to bed. Tucks me in like a child. I haven’t slept well in days. Someone changed the sheets while we were in the shower. No scent of him. I fall asleep fast. My dreams are fragmented. High school trauma playing on a loop. Half-awake, I hear voices. Maids cleaning the room next door. “You know who that girl was? The one who crashed the meeting?” “Miss Qin. The boss’s fiancée.” “God, she has no class.” “Mr. Shen spoils her…” “Why? I’ve never seen her before a few weeks ago.” “I heard… just rumors… he found her recently.” “Because she looks exactly like his first love.” “He couldn’t get the real girl, so he settled for a dupe.”

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The Prom Queen bound herself to a “Slimming System” and chose me as her reference point. Her weight is eternally locked at exactly half of mine. When I weighed 220 pounds, she was 110. She had the perfect body, the kind everyone envied. When I dropped to 210, she was 105. She was worshipped, surrounded by endless simps. But with the prestigious Dance Conservatory Showcase coming up, she lived in constant terror that I might eat a single extra bite. So, she weaponized the entire football team. She sent her minions to humiliate me daily, hoping the trauma would starve me into shedding a few more pounds for her benefit. “I swear to God, I’m going to get skinny!” Watching me make that vow, the Prom Queen smiled like she’d won the lottery. But let’s see if she can still smile on the day I hit 110 pounds. 1 My hair was plastered to my forehead, sweat dripping into my eyes. Every time my heavy frame jiggled with a step, a group of guys would link arms and cackle as they jogged past me. “Yo, Big Bertha! Shake the ground much?” “Careful, or she’ll cause a magnitude 8 earthquake! Hahaha!” This was my daily hell. Chloe’s lapdogs. A rotation of varsity jackets and cruel mouths, ensuring I never had a moment of peace. Morning run, cafeteria, study hall—they stuck to me like gum on a shoe. One of them feigned a shove at my back. His fingers were sweaty and gross against my thin shirt. A wave of nausea and panic rose in my throat. I flinched violently, my feet getting tangled in my own clumsiness. “Whoa, easy there, tank!” Laughter exploded around me. Not far away, under the shade of an oak tree, Chloe stood watching. She looked like an angel, eyes crinkled in a sweet smile. She flashed the boys an “OK” sign. The boys scattered. Thud. I tripped over nothing and slammed into the track. The pain was instant. My knees scraped against the red rubber granules, skin tearing open. Blood mixed with dirt. I lay there, sprawling and pathetic, too heavy to push myself up immediately. The wind slapped my face as other students ran by. No one stopped. No one helped. Instead, someone shouted, “Fatty hit the deck! Tsunami warning!” The track field erupted. “AHAHAHAHA!” I sat there as the wind picked up dead leaves around me. I felt like a piece of discarded trash in the middle of the lane. Staring at their retreating backs, I screamed the only thing I could think of. “I’m going to lose weight! I swear!” Chloe’s footsteps paused. She turned slowly, looking down at me from a distance. Her eyes didn’t hold pity. They held the gleam of a plan falling perfectly into place. 2 I discovered Chloe’s secret a week ago. It was school physicals day. Chloe weighed in at 105 lbs. The dance instructor told her, “If you lose another five pounds, you’ll be camera-perfect for the showcase.” I was walking past the equipment room when I heard her complaining to her childhood friend—and our class Quarterback—Brad. “I need to lose more… but that damn cow eats so much, how am I supposed to drop weight?” Cow? The insult made me freeze. I pressed my ear to the door. In the conversation that followed, my world tilted. A year ago, Chloe got a “Slimming System.” She designated me as the anchor. Her weight would always be exactly 50% of mine. Because I hovered around 200 lbs, she stayed a perfect 100. Even if my weight fluctuated, she stayed in that golden 90-110 range without lifting a finger. But there was a catch. She couldn’t control it directly. It was like a blind box. Two weeks ago, on my birthday, I decided to treat myself. I binged for two weeks and gained ten pounds. Chloe complained to Brad that she’d suddenly developed a “muffin top.” Recently, due to the bullying, I’d been skipping meals. I lost weight. Chloe lost weight. Now, she needed to lose 5 lbs. That meant I needed to lose 10. She could have just asked me. But she didn’t. She played dirty. Stealing my lunch tray. Spiking my water with laxatives. And getting Brad to lead the harassment campaign to shame me into starving. My blood turned to ice as I listened. She wants me to lose 10 pounds? That’s too little. I’ll give her 80. No, let’s make it a nice, round 100. When I got back to the classroom, my desk was covered in pig stickers. My textbooks were in the trash can, smelling like old banana peels. Brad stood on the podium, pointing at me. “Did you guys hear? The Whale roared on the track field! She said she’s gonna get skinny!” The class roared with laughter. “If Lily gets skinny, I’ll eat dirt!” “If she hits 110, I’ll ask her to Prom!” “Deal,” I whispered to myself. I hope you boys are hungry. 3 I started a TikTok account. Avatar: A generic fitness model. Handle: Project_Perfection. Caption: “210 lbs. Road to Redemption. 80 Days until the Showcase.” In the mirror, my oversized T-shirt hid the rolls, but my thighs were still thick as tree trunks. I downloaded a trending HIIT workout and started moving. Within minutes, I was drenched. My face was tomato red. Viewers started trickling in. “Day 1 is hell, sis. You got this.” “Don’t give up!” Of course, the trolls came too. “Ew.” “Clout chaser.” “With that build? You aren’t making any showcase. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I replied calmly: “Not dancing. Just betting.” I kept going until I collapsed on the carpet, chest heaving. Then, a comment popped up that stopped my heart. “LMAO wait, isn’t this Lily the Whale from our class? 💀” My phone blew up. Brad had found the stream. He screenshotted the most unflattering angle of me sweating and Photoshopped me into the Michelin Man. He spammed it in the class group chat. Brad: “Lily Tire Co. Built tough!” The chat exploded with “😂” reacts. Random Classmate: “@Lily Good luck on that Michelin sponsorship!” I turned off my phone and buried my face in the couch cushions. After I stopped crying, I turned the stream back on. I wasn’t quitting. Strangers were cheering for me. Why were the people I saw every day the monsters? I made a plan. Calorie deficit. Cardio. No mercy. 4:00 AM. Pitch black outside. I ran from my house to the school. I looked at the calendar on my wall before I left. Showcase: 80 Days. 4 The morning air was crisp. The world was kinder when the sun wasn’t up. The sanitation workers waved at me. The guy at the bagel shop knew me as the “early runner” and stopped trying to sell me cream cheese. I stared at the golden bagels, swallowed my saliva, bought a boiled egg, and washed it down with water. Between classes, while everyone gossiped, I was in the stairwell doing squats. My legs shook. My shirt was soaked. Chloe and her clique would “accidentally” walk by. “Wow, look at her go.” “Still gross though.” Lunchtime. Boiled chicken breast. Broccoli. No dressing. The cafeteria smelled like pizza and fries. It was torture. Boys walked past my table with trays piled high with burgers. “Hey Lily, does that cardboard taste good?” “I bet you twenty bucks she binges tonight.” “Life’s short, eat a burger, cow.” Chloe would swoop in then, playing the saint. She’d scold them gently, acting like my protector. “Guys, stop it. Lily, don’t listen to them. Skinny is beautiful.” She’d cling to my arm, terrified I’d give up and eat. I acted moved by her “kindness.” “You’re right, Chloe. I’m going to lose another ten pounds just for you.” I chugged water and threw the rest of my chicken away. Back in class, the girl in front of me was eating fried chicken. The smell of grease and spices filled my nose. I buried my head in my arms. My brain was offline. Only my nose was working. Showcase: 70 Days. 5 “20 days, 10 pounds down. That’s 0.5 lbs a day…” I was doing the math on my notepad. The paper looked like a slice of white bread to my starving eyes. At this rate, I wouldn’t hit my goal. Current Weight: 190 lbs. Goal: 110 lbs. Days left: 60. I needed to lose over a pound a day. Mr. Henderson, our homeroom teacher, slammed a ruler on my desk. “Doing math about your weight again? Look, Lily, I admit you lost a little.” The class turned to look. Some whispered that I actually looked different. “But,” Henderson sneered, “It’s just water weight. It’s genetics, Lily. You can’t fight nature. Some people are born to eat, some are born to shine.” He gestured to the front row, where Chloe sat. “Speaking of shining… I have an announcement. The lead for the school’s promo video has been selected.” “It’s Chloe!” Applause erupted. “Obvious choice.” “She’s perfect.” I looked up. Chloe basked in the adoration. She looked radiant. My 10 lb loss meant she had dropped 5 lbs. She was now 95 lbs. Perfect for the camera. “She looks even better today,” someone whispered. I leaned back to hear more. The girls behind me leaned away, wiping their desks like I was contagious. “Ugh, sweaty.”

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