Author: Momo Chan

Damian Vance, the heir to Aurelia City’s most powerful family, had a fight with his childhood sweetheart. Crying, she boarded a flight overseas. Furious and soon regretful, Damian ordered the plane to be grounded immediately. However, there was a passenger on board in critical condition. The pilot and the flight director, under immense pressure, chose to continue the flight as scheduled. When the plane landed, the young woman, Clara, ignored all warnings and wandered off alone. She was cornered and assaulted by local thugs, and when Damian finally found her, she was injured. Three days later, the pilot and the flight director were found dead in an alley. Their end was gruesome, a scene so horrific no one dared to intervene. Their bodies were left to be torn apart by stray dogs, leaving nothing behind. Five years later, I curled into Damian’s arms, my eyes red-rimmed as I watched the woman across from us, his wife, break down in utter despair. “I’m sorry, Damian, darling,” I whispered. “I just wanted to say a few words to my sister…” Damian soothed me with one hand while casting a careless glance at his wife. “Don’t make a scene, Clara. The title of Mrs. Vance will always be yours.” His voice was a silken blade. “But a man needs a little novelty now and then.” … The first time Clara Morgan completely lost control and tried to strike me was when Damian brought me to her mother’s hospital room. The moment her father saw me, he exploded. He screamed that I was a homewrecker who deserved a miserable death and, when Damian wasn’t looking, he hoisted a chair to smash over my head. “You little slut! How dare you show your face here!” Damian was faster. He intercepted the chair with a sharp crack of wood against his arm. After wrestling Clara’s father out of the room, he left me alone with her mother. Clara wasn’t there. Her mother lay on the bed, her breathing as faint as a thread. “Clara…” she rasped. “Water…” I pressed my lips together, a small, knowing smile playing on them as I walked over. “Here you are, Mrs. Morgan. Drink up.” Through the window, Damian watched my display of gentle obedience with a look of deep satisfaction. It only hardened his expression as he dealt with the struggling man in the hallway. Mrs. Morgan managed to force her eyes open. When she saw it was me, her face contorted in horror. With a surge of adrenaline, she shoved me away. I stumbled backward, unprepared, and fell to the floor. A shard of glass from a fallen vase sliced into my calf, and blood began to well up, staining my skin a brilliant crimson. “You’re so young,” she wheezed, her voice trembling with rage. “Couldn’t you learn to be a decent person? Don’t you know that home-wreckers like you are cursed by God?” “And now… now…” she gasped, “you come here to torment my family!” “Get out! Don’t let my Clara see you!” At the thought of her daughter, her eyes filled with tears. When I didn’t move, just sat there on the floor, she grew frantic and tried to get out of bed. Her breaths came in ragged, desperate gasps, like a broken accordion. Then, she collapsed onto the floor. Just at that moment, Clara walked in, carrying a bowl of soup. The scene that greeted her made her freeze. After helping her mother back into bed, she wiped the tears from her own face, walked over to me, and poured the entire bowl of hot soup over my head. “I have turned a blind eye for so long,” she hissed, her body trembling like a leaf in a storm. “Why? Why must you come here and torture my parents?” She stood there, a fragile white flower braving a hurricane, both delicate and unyielding. My voice was a choked sob, tears streaming down my face. “Sister, I was just worried you couldn’t handle taking care of your mother all alone. I wanted to help…” “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know—” She ignored me. Behind her, her mother’s condition worsened, and the heart monitor began to shriek a piercing alarm. Shaking, Clara fumbled for the call button. The door flew open, but the incoming team of doctors was stopped dead in their tracks, held back by an invisible wall. Damian strode in and swept me into his arms, his face a mask of concern. “Clara,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Apologize to Maya.” For a moment, a flash of defiance lit up Clara’s eyes. She grabbed the bouquet of flowers I had brought, tore them to shreds, and threw the ruined petals at us. “Damian, do you have any idea why my mother is in this hospital in the first place? It was you! You make me sick,” she spat. “Get out. Both of you, just get out!” The outburst drained her completely. She crumpled to the floor, a heap of helpless despair. Damian remained unnervingly calm, utterly unmoved by her breakdown. His only concern was me, his fingers gently probing my injuries. When he discovered the gash on my leg, his gaze on Clara turned to ice. “Are you done with your tantrum?” he asked coldly. “If you are, get up. Don’t you find this embarrassing?” The doctors, though they dared not enter, were getting an eyeful. I could feel their veiled, contemptuous glances on me. Clara pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Get out! Didn’t you hear me? I said get out!” Damian just smiled, a chilling, indifferent curve of his lips. “Clara, you need to think very carefully. If I leave—” He walked over to her mother, who was now convulsing on the bed, and his hand closed around the tube of her ventilator. The monitor’s alarm blared even louder, more insistent. But without Damian’s permission, no one dared to set foot inside the room. Gasps of horror echoed from the hallway, but no one moved to stop him. The look in Clara’s eyes shifted, a rapid, horrifying kaleidoscope of shock, agony, and finally, a dead, hollow numbness. Everyone watched as the woman Damian had once spoiled into Aurelia City’s most celebrated socialite, the woman who had everything, slowly, inexorably, sank to her knees. Under the desperate, pleading eyes of her parents, she knelt before me. “Miss… Maya… I’m sorry.” Her voice was a ghost of itself. “I shouldn’t have misunderstood your kindness. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have thrown the soup on you.” “Please, forgive me.” She bowed her head, breaking her own spine. She had surrendered to Damian. Satisfied, his expression softened. “See, Clara? I told you. If you just behave, we can still have a good life together.” He stroked my hair. “Maya is very sweet and understanding. She heard your mother was in the hospital and insisted on coming to visit. She’s no threat to your position.” His gentle, placating words were like a series of sharp slaps across Clara’s face. But she could only keep her head down, all fight gone from her. Everything she had, everything she was, was a gift from Damian. And just like his hand on her mother’s lifeline, he could take it all away. If she didn’t bow, her mother would die. From that day on, Clara accepted her reality. She became the docile, obedient wife Damian wanted. She submitted to his every demand. She swallowed every one of my provocations, each one a slow, twisting knife in her gut. Damian was a man of particular habits. He liked to be clean. After we made love, he insisted on washing up before starting again. He had insatiable stamina, and our nights were often long. Which meant I had to shower several times a night. One evening, exhausted, I slipped in the bathroom and twisted my ankle. Damian was beside himself with worry. Then, he came up with a “perfect” solution. From then on, whenever we were together, he made Clara wait outside the bedroom door. Each time we finished, she had to come in and help me wash. I saw it countless times: her trembling hands, her red-rimmed eyes, the raw hatred simmering just beneath the surface. The woman who wanted nothing more than to tear me to pieces was forced to serve me like a maid. She learned her lesson the first time. Distraught and clumsy, she had accidentally scalded me. “Damian, darling, don’t blame her,” I had cried, my voice laced with feigned panic. “It wasn’t her fault, I was just being careless.” But the fear in my eyes as I looked at Clara betrayed my words. Damian’s fury was explosive. He knew Clara’s weakness. He didn’t punish her directly. He punished her father. That night, her father was dragged behind a car for a mile. The torture only stopped when Clara knelt and begged me, banging her head on the floor until it was bruised and bloody. It only stopped when she took a shard of glass and carved matching wounds onto her own body. She had no choice. Day by day, the light in her eyes grew dimmer, until it was almost gone. Then, one day, she met another man. Clara had been running a high fever, but I had a craving for a specific cake. She went out into the pouring rain to buy it for me, and on the way back, she collapsed. When she woke up, she was in a hospital. A man was sitting by her bedside, and it was clear he had been there all night. It wasn’t her husband, Damian. It was a stranger. When he saw she was awake, he stirred. He was holding an insulated food container, and by some twist of fate, it held her favorite dish: shrimp congee. As she ate, tears began to silently stream down her face. They didn’t speak much. She only learned his name was Liam Blackwood. It was a name she would never forget. From that day forward, it was as if the gears of fate had started to turn, pulling them both onto the same path. Whether she was at her weakest, her most broken, or feeling a glimmer of hope after her mother’s condition improved slightly, she would find him there, a quiet, constant presence in her life. He shared her pain and her joy, and in doing so, became the pillar that held up her crumbling world. One day, she gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been burning in her heart. “Do you have feelings for me?” Liam had always been reserved, almost shy, around her. But this time, he didn’t hide it. He simply nodded. In that moment, Clara felt as though a ray of light had finally pierced the suffocating darkness of her life. Her heart pounded in her chest. But then, her eyes fell on the date on her phone. Tomorrow was her wedding anniversary with Damian. Somehow, inexplicably, she didn’t answer Liam. She went home, clinging to one last, desperate shred of hope. The sounds of my panting moans drifted from the master bedroom. She closed her eyes in disgust. When she opened them again, she saw two plane tickets on the table. They were for the island where she and Damian had spent their honeymoon. The place they had promised to return to every year on their anniversary. “He remembered…” she whispered. Her heart, which she thought was dead, fluttered for him once more. She remembered Damian’s words, that he still loved her, that his affair with me was just a passing fancy. Maybe, if she could just endure a little longer, everything would go back to the way it was. That night, for the first time in a long time, Clara slept soundly. The next morning, she dressed herself in Damian’s favorite style, her heart full of nervous anticipation. But when she went downstairs, the house was empty. The tickets were gone. Just then, a new post appeared on my Instagram feed. [He was hesitant about this island at first when I suggested it, but what my baby wants, my baby gets! We’re off!] [The price was a whole night of ‘punishment’ from Damian though hehehe…] The picture was of me, nestled in Damian’s arms, holding up the two plane tickets and making a peace sign. Clara felt like the biggest fool in the world. A wave of nausea washed over her, and she ran to the bathroom, vomiting until there was nothing left. But she didn’t have time to be heartbroken. Her phone rang. It was the hospital. “Miss Morgan? Your mother just went into cardiac arrest!” On the plane, I was leaning against Damian, watching the clouds drift by, when I overheard a heated argument from the cockpit. “Are you insane? Ground the plane now!” “Just shut up! Have you forgotten what happened last time?” “But there’s a world-renowned surgeon on this flight…” “There’s no patient in critical condition on this flight! The order came from his wife! You might not value your life, but I value mine!” A moment later, the plane began to veer sharply off course. The sudden change in direction sent us straight into a flock of birds. Blood and feathers exploded against the window in front of my eyes. I screamed and fainted in Damian’s arms. When I woke up, Damian’s voice, thick with rage, was ringing in my ears, intertwined with Clara’s hysterical sobs and pleas. “Damian, I’m begging you! Please, let my mother down!” “No! Please, no!” I was in a spacious, comfortable van. When I opened the window, I had a clear view of the scene unfolding on the ocean. It was a vision from hell. Clara’s parents were being dangled from a helicopter, spinning endlessly over the water. Below them, the dark shapes of sharks circled. Men on the helicopter were tossing chum and bloody animal parts into the sea. Some of it landed on Clara’s parents, some of it was snapped up by the sharks. Some of the sharks leaped high out of the water, their jaws snapping just inches from her parents’ feet. Clara’s face was utterly devoid of color. She had lost count of how many times she had kowtowed to Damian. But he just stroked her head, his voice deceptively gentle. “Clara, you’ve been a very bad girl. I spoiled you too much.” “Your mother wasn’t that sick. When I went to see her, she was energetically cursing Maya with you. She was faking it. I don’t believe you couldn’t see that. So why use that as an excuse to ground my plane? Do you have any idea how long Maya was unconscious from the shock?” “This,” he said, gesturing to the horrific scene, “is just an equal punishment. When you do something wrong, you have to be punished.” “Don’t worry,” he added with a chilling smile. “They’re all animal experts. They know what they’re doing. Nothing will go wrong.” Clara could only shake her head, her words choked with tears. “We didn’t lie to you… we didn’t…” But Damian no longer believed her. She couldn’t fathom how the man who had once grounded a plane for her, who had flown into a rage over a tiny scratch, could now torture her like this for another woman. Suddenly, two of the sharks went into a frenzy. They leaped from the water, their jaws clamping down on her parents’ legs. Her parents’ mouths were gagged, but their eyes were wide with unimaginable agony. The men in the helicopter, fearing the sharks would drag them down, frantically cut the ropes. “NO—” By the time Clara’s mind registered what was happening, her parents had been dragged under the waves. The dark water churned, and then, a massive bloom of crimson spread across the surface. Clara’s scream was a sound that could have shattered the sky. Even Damian seemed stunned for a moment. In that instant, Clara found a surge of superhuman strength. She broke free from the men holding her and ran to the edge of the deck. Against the light, she was a broken silhouette. “Damian,” she whispered, her voice a hollow echo. “If this is what you wanted.” Then, right before his eyes, she leaped from the deck, into the blood-red water where her parents had vanished. It was only then that Damian seemed to snap out of his trance. His heart felt like it had been hit by a sledgehammer. “NO—” he roared, his voice cracking. “CLARA—”

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One week before finals, my entire class of thirty students got transmigration-trucked into the body of a “True Heiress.” The “False Heiress” patted our cheek with zero respect, her voice dripping with malice. “You dead-eyed hillbilly. If you want to stay here, you’d better sleep with one eye open.” “Otherwise, I’m going to make your life a living hell.” She didn’t know that we had exactly 15 pairs of eyes to do just that. 1 After eating some sketchy, undercooked meatloaf in the cafeteria, all thirty of us woke up inside the plot of a “True vs. False Heiress” novel. We were sharing one single body. A massive data dump of the plot flooded all of our brains simultaneously. The body we were occupying belonged to Holly Yates. She was the True Heiress who had been swapped at birth by a nanny. For eighteen years, the nanny treated Holly like trash. When she finally found out the truth and ran to the Lynn family to reclaim her identity, nobody gave a damn. Her dad didn’t care, and her mom was cold. At home, she was gaslighted by the False Heiress, Lyla Lynn. At school, she was bullied relentlessly. Holly finally snapped, but her one attempt at fighting back was seen by Mrs. Lynn. Mrs. Lynn decided Holly was bullying Lyla. To “fix” her, they sent Holly to The Ranch—a brutal behavioral correction facility. In the end, Holly fell into a deep depression and jumped off a building. After processing the plot, we all let out a collective mental scream. Heartthrob: [Why do other people get isekai’d into War Gods or Dragon Lords? Why are we stuck in a tragedy? Who did I offend?!] Me: [This is definitely a capitalist conspiracy.] Jock: [AHHH! This novel was written by an NPC, I swear.] Bella (Queen Bee): [How do we get back? I have finals next week!] Nerd: [I need to go home!] Prez: [Everyone chill! Chill! Based on my years of reading web novels, we’re probably here because the True Heiress had too much grievance in her past life. If we help her reclaim everything that belongs to her, we can probably go home.] While we were debating furiously in the headspace, Lyla patted our cheek, dropped her villain lines, and then immediately pivoted. She looked up at Mrs. Lynn, who was standing on the spiral staircase, tears instantly welling up in her eyes. “Mom, just give my room to my sister.” “Sister said I’m a rat and I don’t deserve a big, bright room. I’ll go live in the attic storage closet.” Mrs. Lynn frowned. “Holly, didn’t I just tell you? Being swapped was Nanny Zhang’s fault alone. Lyla is a victim too.” “She’s lived with us for years. We see her as our own child. Lyla has claustrophobia, how could she live in the attic? Can you stop being so selfish?” Is this woman for real? Inside Holly’s body, we couldn’t take it anymore. Thirty of us started fighting for control of the limbs. The True Heiress’s body shuddered, then her face twitched, eyes rolled in different directions, and she started lurching toward them like a zombie from The Walking Dead. Me: [Left foot first! Who is controlling the right foot?!] Prez: [Who is grabbing the mouth? Priority one is explaining to Mrs. Lynn that we didn’t say that stuff!] Jock: [Can’t hold it back! I wanna roast them! Give me the mouth!] Heartthrob: [Why are the eyes blinking like a strobe light? I have no control!] … Mrs. Lynn looked at us in horror and instinctively pulled Lyla behind her. “Holly, what are you doing?” “Are you having a seizure?” Lyla’s eyes were wet with fake tears. “Is Sister pretending to be ugly on purpose to get Mom’s attention?” Seeing us lurch closer, Mrs. Lynn pushed us away with a look of disgust. Her diamond ring snagged on our collar. It was like she had touched something filthy; she yanked her hand back. The collar ripped, exposing a patch of jagged, shocking scars on our collarbone. Mrs. Lynn froze when she saw the scars. Lyla quickly stepped in front of her, blocking the view. I yelled, “Opportunity!” and tried to kick Lyla with the left foot. But I didn’t expect the Nerd controlling the right foot to be on the exact same wavelength. She swung the right foot to kick left at the same time. Holly’s legs crossed in mid-air, both feet left the ground, and the body launched itself like a “stubborn Magikarp,” flopping aggressively toward Lyla. We slammed onto the floor, smacked our head on the banister, and blacked out. 2 While we were unconscious, Prez called a meeting. Prez: [Listen up, squad. We exist as souls inside Holly. That means we all have admin rights to this body.] Prez: [But if we all drive at once, we crash like we just did.] Prez: [Forget going home—we’ll end up in a psych ward.] Prez: [We don’t know the exit condition yet, but we definitely can’t follow the original bad ending.] Prez: [So, I propose a schedule. Only one person drives the body at a time.] We all agreed. When we opened our eyes again, Bella was in the driver’s seat. We had been changed into clean clothes. The butler knocked, telling us to come down for dinner. Before we even got to the dining room, we heard Lyla sobbing. “Mom, does Sister hate me?” “Is that why she acted crazy in front of me…” “Mom, please don’t kick me out. I don’t have to be the young miss. I can be Sister’s maid. I’ll do laundry, sweep the floors… just treat me like a servant.” “Boohoo, please don’t send me away.” Mr. Lynn was wiping Lyla’s tears with heartbreak in his eyes. “Silly child, how could we kick you out? Don’t overthink it.” “Holly is just too immature. I’ll have a word with her when she gets here.” Nerd: [Omg, I’m gonna puke.] Me: [We need a plan. If the plot follows the book, we’re going to The Ranch.] Bella: [Relax. Watch me clutch this. Only a Queen Bee knows how to handle a Pick-Me Girl.] Bella put on a terrified, timid expression and walked toward the table. Mrs. Lynn nudged Mr. Lynn to shut him up. He grunted coldly. Mrs. Lynn stood up and ladled some soup for Bella. “Holly, sit. You scared us earlier. How do you feel? Do you want to go to the hospital for a checkup?” Bella wrapped her arms around herself, shivering violently, and frantically apologized. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry. I was having a somatic symptom episode.” Mrs. Lynn paused, ladle in mid-air. “Somatic symptom?” “I… I have depression. When I get triggered, my body reacts physically…” “How did you get that kind of illness?” Bella whispered, “When I was little, if Nanny Zhang thought I ate too much, she’d hit me with a hot fireplace poker. Sometimes it left a welt, sometimes it took a strip of flesh… The doctor said it’s PTSD from childhood trauma…” Mrs. Lynn’s eyes turned red. Lyla immediately interrupted. “Sister, the past is the past. Why bring that up now? You know Mom has a weak heart. You’re making her sad. She won’t be able to sleep tonight.” Bella looked horrified and bowed her head repeatedly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” Mrs. Lynn looked conflicted but stopped her. “It’s okay, Holly. You don’t need to apologize. Let’s eat.” Bella said “Okay,” took the soup, and turned to walk away. Mrs. Lynn asked where she was going. Bella pointed to the front door, voice trembling. “I… I’ll go squat by the entrance to eat.” “Silly child, why would you squat by the door? Sit and eat with us.” Mrs. Lynn grabbed Bella’s hand to pull her to the chair. Bella looked terrified. “Am I really allowed at the table? Nanny Zhang said I was a little animal, only fit to squat by the door and eat with the dogs.” Mrs. Lynn froze. Then she couldn’t hold it back anymore and hugged Bella, sobbing. Me: [Bella, you are a legend. Three sentences and the billionaire’s wife is bawling.] Bella: [EZ. Light work. The original Holly was too tough. She never talked about the abuse and hid her scars.] Bella: [If you don’t show it, nobody hurts for you. It’s not weakness; it’s strategy.] Inside the mind palace, we all gave Bella a thumbs up. 3 Lyla stared at us with pure venom. But she couldn’t do a thing. Mr. Lynn coughed. “Alright, alright. The past is gone. Holly, we know you suffered, and we will make it up to you.” Mrs. Lynn wiped her tears and sat Bella next to her. “Right, let’s not talk about sad things. Eat.” “Okay.” Bella nodded obediently. Halfway through the meal, Mr. Lynn brought up school. “Holly, we transferred your records. Tomorrow, you’ll start at Crestwood Academy with Lyla.” “You two can look out for each other.” Lyla’s eyes lit up. She smiled at us. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll take good care of Sister.” Nerd: [That smile is sus.] Of course it was. In the novel, this was the first reason the parents started hating Holly. Crestwood is an elite prep school. Top acceptance rate in the country. You either have money or brains to get in. All new students take a placement test. Classes are assigned by score. Money can’t buy you into Class A. Lyla got into Class A on her own merits, which made Mrs. Lynn super proud in her social circle. But Holly had zero formal education for eighteen years. Her grades were trash. She scored a total of 150 points. Across all subjects. Lyla forced her to take an IQ test, and the hospital diagnosed Holly as borderline intellectually disabled. Mr. Lynn thought Holly was an embarrassment, canceled her welcome party, and told everyone she was just an adopted daughter. Holly got dumped into Class F—the zoo for rich kids who didn’t study. She was bullied instantly. But things were different now. We have thirty brains. Thirty brains currently peaked for finals season. Maximum cognitive capacity. On the day of the exam, Prez organized us like a military operation. We breezed through the first three subjects. Then came Math. We all froze. Why is a high school testing AP Calculus and Advanced Functions?! Prez: [I just checked the plot again. Crestwood is insane. They teach college math early.] Heartthrob: [Does anyone here know Multivariable Calculus?] English Rep: [Nope.] Bella: [Crying_emoji.jpg. Nope.] Jock: [Is this fate? Are we doomed? Sobbing_emoji.] I raised my hand weakly. [Maybe let me try.] Jock: [Get real. You got a negative 5 on the last math mock exam. Did you forget?] Bella: [Negative five? How?] Me: [I fell asleep and drooled on the scan-tron sheet. They deducted 5 points for ruining the paper.] Bella: [Bruh.] 4 Me: [But… I can hear what the person in front of me is writing.] Prez: [Bruh.] Nerd: [Bruh.] English Rep: [Bruh.] … Even though nobody really trusted my “skill,” time was ticking. They decided to throw a Hail Mary and gave me the wheel. As soon as I took control, our senses sharpened. I focused on the sound of the pen in front of me. A is three strokes, C is one stroke, B and D are two, but D is written faster. Two hours later, I finished the test. The next day, results were posted. We ranked 36th. We were placed in the Star Class. Nerd: [Holy crap. The Star Class is the best class in the novel. Elites only.] Me: [Oops. I cheated too hard.] Prez: [So what did you actually score on Math?] Me: [It was all multiple choice. I purposely changed a few answers. I got a 140.] Heartthrob: [Your hearing is god-tier. Why do you usually score so low?] Me: [I feel like eavesdropping is cheating. If my rank goes up, I push someone else down. So I usually point-shave. I aim to score just a few points higher than Jock, so I’m second to last. Hehe.] Jock: [Thanks a lot.] I put the report card in my bag. As soon as I walked in the door, Lyla pounced. “Sister! Scores are out! What did you get? Which class?” I sighed. “Not great.” Mrs. Lynn walked over and patted my head. “It’s okay. Crestwood is hard. It’s normal to struggle at first.” Lyla bit her lip, a trace of malice in her eyes. “I heard Sister hangs out with delinquents at school. It’s normal for her grades to be bad.” “Sister should focus on school.” Mr. Lynn frowned. “Holly, education is important.” I looked up and locked eyes with Lyla. “Who did you hear that from?” “People.” “Which people?” I pressed. Lyla stuttered. Mrs. Lynn’s expression shifted. She told Lyla, “Don’t spread rumors.” Lyla pouted and nodded, then doubled down. “Then I assume Sister put all her effort into the test? You must have done well, right?” Mr. Lynn said, “Holly, let me see the report card.” I obediently handed it over, adding, “I missed a bunch of easy questions. Bad day.” Mr. Lynn’s eyes widened when he saw the paper. “You’re in the Star Class.” Lyla looked like she’d swallowed a fly. Mrs. Lynn leaned in, looked, and immediately beamed. “Star Class! That’s my daughter! Genes don’t lie!” “Good, good. Study hard so you can take over the company.” Mrs. Lynn hugged me and shoved a black card into my hand as a reward. Mr. Lynn read the report card over and over, muttering, “Nice. Very nice. She has talent.” Lyla stood to the side, staring at us with eyes full of poison. That night, a dead rat was shoved under our door. Its insides had been hollowed out. There was a note inside. Jock: [Does it say ‘The Revolution Begins’? Doge_face.jpg] Bella: [Bruh.] Prez: [Ignore him.] Heartthrob: [Open it! Open it!] I opened the note. It was one sentence. So you got into the Star Class. I can still make your life at school a living hell.

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Julian Sterling drove over to pick me up. The man was usually an iceberg—cold, ascetic, untouchable. But there he was, letting his brand-new secretary sit in his passenger seat. That was the moment I knew: this marriage was dead in the water. 1 That day, Julian pulled up to the curb. When I opened the passenger door, I froze. A young, pretty girl was already occupying the seat, flashing a sugary sweet smile at me. “Hi, Mrs. Sterling!” She greeted me politely enough. But she made zero move to get her ass out of the seat. My eyes narrowed, shifting to Julian. He was looking down, finishing a call, completely oblivious to the silent warfare happening two feet away from him. We had plans to go to an exclusive auction tonight. I had been looking forward to this date. I’d spent hours getting ready, hair done, dress perfect. I didn’t expect to find a squatter in the front seat. “Hi, Mrs. Sterling. I’m Lola. I’m Mr. Sterling’s new Executive Assistant.” Her smile widened, revealing two cute little dimples. “I heard you guys were going to a private auction tonight, so I begged Mr. Sterling to let me tag along. Just to broaden my horizons, you know? Don’t worry, I won’t disturb you two at all.” My heart instantly dropped into the basement. I knew this man. He was distant. He had boundaries made of steel. He didn’t just let people into his personal space. We got together through a merger—a strategic union. We weighed the pros and cons and chose each other. Outsiders joked that I was marrying a monk. But after we made it official, Julian would hold me with a gentle look in his eyes. In our most intimate moments, the corners of his eyes would turn a flushed red. He once told me, “You are my wife. We are one entity. You are different from everyone else.” Today, it felt like the fine print on that contract had changed. 2 But I wasn’t some shrinking violet trained to swallow insults. I was Summer Vance. I didn’t cater to anyone’s mood but my own. “Get out.” I ordered her out cold. Zero mercy. The girl froze. She clearly didn’t expect me to slap her down so publicly on our first meeting. Maybe my tone was too harsh, because Lola looked completely lost. “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling.” Her voice trembled with unshed tears as she scrambled into the back seat, looking like a kicked puppy. Julian finished his call and finally looked over. He realized I was pissed. A look of helpless indulgence crossed his face. He leaned over to buckle my seatbelt. Feeling that the seat position had been changed, I adjusted it back with aggressive, impatient jerks. The whole ordeal made my blood boil. “Annoying as hell. Who gave anyone the nerve to mess with my seat settings?” The air in the car turned to ice. The girl in the back didn’t dare make a sound. Julian frowned slightly. His tone was calm, reasonable. “If you’re in a bad mood, we can just go home.” In the rearview mirror, I saw the woman silently wiping away tears. I was over it. “Lola, was it? I’m not in the mood anymore. Call yourself an Uber. Julian and I are going home.” Her face went pale. She looked weakly at Julian. He made no move to save her. She got out of the car, looking like her soul had been crushed. 3 Julian would never embarrass me in front of outsiders. He knew how to control the room. That’s why he suggested going home. Issues get solved behind closed doors. That was our unspoken rule. “She’s just a college grad fresh out of school. Why are you lowering yourself to bicker with her?” Back home, Julian pulled me into his arms. “First time.” Julian looked confused. “What?” “In all these years, this is the first time you’ve let another woman sit in your passenger seat.” He didn’t expect that to be the trigger. Everyone in our circle knew how exceptional Julian Sterling was. Countless women threw themselves at him. But he was clean. He walked through a garden of flowers and never let a single leaf stick to him. Julian chuckled softly, rubbing my hair. “I can’t believe I actually made you jealous.” He leaned down to kiss me, his nose grazing my cheek. “She is my subordinate. That’s it. “There will never be anything else between her and me.” Julian cupped my face, staring deep into my eyes. His voice was low, heavy with a promise. 4 A woman’s intuition is basically a sniper rifle. Even though I’d only met Lola once, my gut screamed that this girl had designs on Julian. I thought my little power move at the car would be enough. I was wrong. The diamond necklace from the auction—the one meant for me—was around her neck the very next day. Harper, Julian’s Chief of Staff, sent me a photo and a screenshot of a social media post. In the photo, the crescent moon diamond necklace sat on Lola’s pale neck, making her look delicate and precious. Her eyes were red and puffy, but the corners of her mouth were turned up in a smile. Presumably, she cried all night and received a consolation prize from a certain someone. The screenshot was from Lola’s timeline: [The Big Boss said girls need to be strong even when they’re wronged! Wiping my tears. Yes, sir, my Captain!] xoxo Followed by a few “fighting” emojis and a picture of the necklace in its velvet box. My blood turned to slush. I hate to admit it, but she got to me. It felt like finding a squashed mosquito on my favorite white silk scarf. It was a strange feeling. I wanted to drive my yellow Ferrari 180 mph straight to the office and slap her twice across the face. But looking at my manicured hands, I realized that engaging with a low-tier “Pick Me” girl was beneath my tax bracket. I called my SA at Hermès. Her voice practically vibrated with joy. “Mrs. Sterling, don’t worry! I will empty out Shanghai if I have to. I’ll get the stock allocated and delivered immediately!” That afternoon. Before the workday ended. Every female assistant and employee in the CEO’s office—forty-six people in total—received a gift from the President’s wife. Everyone except Lola. A Hermès necklace worth about $15,000. Sure, the unit price didn’t match the $300,000 auction piece, but I won on volume. Harper handled it beautifully. The condition for receiving the gift was a mandatory social media post with specific copy: [The Boss’s Wife says every girl deserves the best! Clenched fist emoji. Yes, ma’am, my Queen!] The girls were more than happy to cooperate. As assistants in the CEO’s office, they were the hub of all corporate gossip. Receiving a five-figure gift from the Lady of the House? They posted that sh*t instantly. Some smart ones even added their own flair: [Mrs. Sterling plays chess, not checkers!] These executive assistants might not have executive power, but their influence on the company grapevine was terrifying. In less than thirty minutes, the entire company knew the CEO’s wife had dropped a bomb of generosity. And everyone knew why. Lola’s face went white. She felt the humiliation burn. Red-eyed, she hid in the bathroom to take off the diamond necklace. Two colleagues came in to touch up their makeup, saw her, and let out a meaningful snicker. Lola wished the ground would swallow her. She put the necklace back in the box and marched it back to Julian’s office. 5 Julian had just finished a video conference with a partner. He saw the girl, obviously crying again, clutching the velvet box and staring at her shoes. “What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled. Lola’s tears fell before she even spoke. “Mr. Sterling, please take this back. I don’t dare to keep it.” A frown creased Julian’s cold face. He knew something had happened. He didn’t ask directly. He just waited. Lola bit her lip, hesitated, and then poured out the whole story of what happened in the office. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m always causing trouble. I just posted to encourage myself… I didn’t know Mrs. Sterling would see it.” She sobbed quietly. “I didn’t think she would be so angry.” She looked as pitiful as a wet rabbit. “Mr. Sterling, I want to apologize to her. I can explain everything to her face.” Julian never looked at social media. His life was consumed by work. But as a CEO, he knew how toxic office politics could be. His expression turned frosty. “I understand,” he said, his voice deep.

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Everyone said Grant Sterling loved me. After we got married, we treated each other with mutual respect. That was until the day I found out he had been bankrolling his “first love” on the side. When I confronted him, red-eyed and shaking, his reaction froze my blood. Afraid I’d ruin the other woman’s reputation, he had me thrown into the confinement cell on the base. 1 “You’re free to go.” The baton slammed against the iron door, the metallic clang echoing sharply. The guard stood at the entrance of the holding cell, looking down at me with pure disdain. She was just like everyone else on the base. Deep down, she looked down on Mrs. Sterling. I struggled to stand up. It took me a solid minute to realize the truth: I had died under a mudslide, and somehow, I had been reborn. Grant was standing outside the main gate waiting for me, just like in my past life. 2 “Why are you crying?” The man’s handsome, sharp features came into view. I remembered the feeling of tracing his brow bone every night, the intimacy we once shared. But now, back from the dead and looking him in the eye, I was speechless. I really was reborn. I sniffled and walked down the steps in silence. Winter in Harbor City was brutal. The cold made my heart shiver with grief. Out of habit, Grant took off his heavy military coat and draped it over my shoulders. “Don’t catch a cold.” The warmth hit me, mixed with the faint scent of gardenias. I knew that smell—it was the soap Bella used. I remembered my past life. When I questioned him about the scent, Grant’s gentle aura turned icy. He looked at me with suppressed rage. “Zoe, I locked you up for three days. Haven’t you cooled off yet? Can you please stop making a scene?” Back then, I was full of grievances. I struggled, isolated and helpless, while he turned a blind eye to Bella’s provocations. I became a joke to everyone. Grant, in this life, go ahead and love your “one that got away” in broad daylight. I’m done playing. Holding back the tears threatening to spill, I stiffly removed the coat. I didn’t say a word about the scent. “Wear it yourself. I’m not cold.” Grant paused, stunned. It took him a long moment to recover. 3 Back home, I boiled water to take a bath. When I came out, Grant was actually in the kitchen cooking. There were three side dishes already on the table. “Sit down. Soup’s almost ready.” Who would have thought the high-and-mighty Captain Sterling, the man everyone admired, would be wearing my apron? If I hadn’t seen him order me into confinement to protect that woman’s reputation, I wouldn’t believe this was the same man. Even after the hot shower, my body shivered with phantom chills. That was the pain of being buried alive by mud. The despair of being abandoned by Grant. I took a deep breath and told myself: Zoe, you have to be strong. If others don’t cherish you, betray you, or abandon you, then you must love yourself even more. I scooped myself a huge bowl of rice. Three days in confinement with no one looking out for me meant two meals a day: cold buns and watery gruel. Grant brought the seaweed soup to the table and froze. I didn’t wait for him. I shoveled food into my mouth like a starving ghost. He sat opposite me and served the soup. “Slow down. If you like it, I’ll buy more tomorrow.” He placed the soup next to me. The sound of chopsticks hitting porcelain echoed in the house, making the two of us seem like total strangers. I finished dinner like a tornado and stood up to leave. “Zoe,” Grant called out. “We need to talk.” 4 “There’s no need for the cold shoulder.” Grant was reserved, a man of few words. Influenced by his strict father, he was disciplined and accomplished, rarely showing emotion. “Years ago, after Bella’s father passed, she left the city with her mother. We lost contact. “I ran into her years later in the mountains. By then, her uncle had forced her to marry a violent drunk.” No one could understand Grant’s shock and anger back then. The proudest girl in the compound, reduced to a bruised mess by her ex-husband in just a few years. When Grant carried her out, Bella had curled up in his arms, trembling. “She suffered severe mental trauma and had a child with her. It took me two years to help her stabilize. I really don’t want her to get hurt again.” Maybe because my attitude had changed this time, Grant chose to explain the past to me. The pain in his eyes was real. He held a deep pity for his childhood friend. Even though my heart was already dead, seeing my husband moved to tears for another woman felt like a physical blow. He would never know that his moment of vulnerability was like a knife twisting in my heart. I steadied my breathing, clinging to my last shred of sanity. “So, you locked me in a cell?” Grant’s breath hitched. He tried to make me understand his dilemma. “You accused her of being a mistress in front of everyone. Do you know how damaging that is for a single mother?” “Grant, your monthly salary is 80 dollars. You give me 20, and you give her 60. And you call that innocent? “If you love her so much that you can’t stand to see her suffer, why did you marry me? What is this home to you? “You didn’t want her to get hurt, so you threw your lawfully wedded wife into confinement. Did you know that because of that, I’ll be the laughingstock of the base? That I’ll be fired from the textile factory with a mark on my record and never find work again?” Years of grievances from my past life poured out. Looking at the man I had loved for half my life, I laughed in despair. “Of course you knew. You just didn’t care.” Tears blurred my vision. I felt like a fish dying on the shore, suffocating in my own grief. He pulled me into his arms, that crisp, unique scent of his enveloping me. He held my waist, patting my back, seeming at a loss. “I didn’t mean that, Zoe. Don’t cry. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t have a job. I’m your husband. I’ll support you for the rest of your life.” 5 In my last life, he said the exact same thing. I’ll support you forever. Back then, I clung to my pitiful dignity and refused. I tried everywhere to find a job, but with a disciplinary record, no one dared to hire me. In the end, bruised and battered, I crawled back home like a stray dog and became a housewife. Grant didn’t mock me. He was actually a decent provider; he kept his word. When we got married, he handed over his entire savings to me. Before I knew about Bella, I was genuinely happy. But after he locked me up for another woman and I lost my job, the gossip started. People whispered behind Grant’s back that I was a toad lusting after swan meat—that I wasn’t good enough for him. The scariest part? To me, those vicious words felt like the truth. Day after day, I ground myself down until I became exactly what they said: an ignorant shrew who exploded at the slightest provocation. The past was unbearable to look back on. This time, I knew where my path lay. I wiped my tears, pushed Grant away, and whispered, “Okay.” 6 “Grant, is… is Zoe back?” When Grant opened the door, Bella was standing there in a bright yellow quilted jacket, wrapped in a trendy red scarf that made her oval face look exquisite. “It’s cold out. Come in.” Grant stepped aside, habitually setting out slippers for her. Bella lowered her head with a shy smile, eyes full of affection. I knew why she was here. I watched her performance with a cold sneer. “Grant, I came to return the key. It’s not right for me to keep living in your wedding house.” Bella looked at me apologetically, though the provocation in her eyes was loud and clear. “Zoe seems to misunderstand us. I should move out so she doesn’t feel upset.” Grant was stunned and instinctively looked at me. I didn’t react. Panic flickered in his eyes. He opened his mouth but seemed at a loss for words. “Grant?” Bella looked confused, probing. “Does… does Zoe still not know?” Dead silence in the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Grant, I…” Her eyes turned red instantly, as if she had been greatly wronged. “I’ll move out right now and give the house back to you!” Grant grabbed Bella as she made a show of leaving. “Stop it! It’s freezing outside. You have a child, where are you going to go? “Zoe, my family gave me that apartment when I started working. I let Bella and her son stay there so she could recover.” “Mm.” Looking at this pair of tragic lovers, I didn’t want to waste another breath. Grant’s face was pale, his eyes full of oblivious confusion. I stood up to clear my bowl, done with their faces. “Grant, I’m going to prepare for the exams. I can’t control what you do outside, and I don’t want to anymore.” Grant tried to speak again, but I walked away without looking back. 7 In 1977, the country reinstated the National College Entrance Exams. Back then, life had ground me down. I never thought about changing my destiny through study. Reborn, I wanted a different life. No more sleepwalking through existence. I stopped caring about how many women or “sons” Grant supported outside. As long as we weren’t divorced, he had to support this house too. I locked myself at home, buried in books. I asked nothing about his work. I showed zero interest in his progress with his “white moonlight.” I stopped doing his laundry—plenty of people outside could take care of him. I stopped the warm greetings; let those tragic lovebirds comfort each other. When he came home, I was usually at the desk, head down. Days passed. We stopped communicating. Sometimes I heard his footsteps stop outside the bedroom door. I could feel him standing there for a long time. He seemed to want to say something. But I never turned around. Eventually, he would leave in silence. Sometimes late at night, I kept the light on to study at his usual desk. He had to read by the bedside, but he never complained. Occasionally, I sensed he wasn’t reading, just leaning back against the headboard, watching me with a gaze I couldn’t decipher. Only when I shifted in my chair would he look away. He knew I didn’t want to talk to him. Necessary household comms were written on notes left on my desk before he went to work. We still slept in the same bed, but nothing happened. I was exhausted. After studying, I’d crawl into bed and pass out. Once, he saw I had dirty clothes and tried to wash them. He wasn’t built for it. Watching my white shirt get stained with dye, my heart pinched. That was one of my few new shirts. He looked annoyed, like a child who made a mistake, but also secretly sad. “Sorry, I…” It was our first conversation in ages. “It’s okay.” I re-soaped the shirt. “Go do your thing. I’ll wash my own clothes from now on. I don’t need your help.” Grant lowered his eyes, watching me. Even though I was still in this house. Even though I still slept beside him. Everything was different now.

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I was taking my mom to a U-Pick farm for fresh cherries when she suddenly dropped a bomb. “You know, you’re actually kind of cheap.” I looked up, a bit slow on the uptake, and stared at her. “Why would you say that?” “I mean, sure, you have money, but sometimes you really don’t measure up to your sister.” “To put it plainly, you’re a penny-pincher.” She emphasized the words, her tone dripping with righteous indignation as she repeated herself. “Sometimes you look generous. You give me cash, you buy the groceries and household stuff. But you never take me out to eat at nice restaurants. Your sister is different. She always treats me.” It hit me like a ton of bricks. That lunch Chloe paid for two weeks ago. That was still stuck in her craw. She just couldn’t let it go. 1 Two weeks ago, Dad got into a car accident and broke his arm. I was the one who rushed him to the ER, ran up and down stairs handling insurance, paying the deductibles, and hiring a home health aide. By the time my little sister, Chloe, finally showed up, I had basically done all the heavy lifting. So, Chloe decided to treat us to a meal at a Panera Bread across the street from the hospital. At the time, Mom’s face was already dark. She kept shooting me looks, hinting heavily: “You’re the big sister.” I sighed, resigned to my fate, and reached for my phone to pay. The bill was maybe fifty bucks. Tops. I really didn’t want Mom sulking over fifty dollars, giving me the cold shoulder because I didn’t reach for my wallet fast enough. But Chloe was faster. She waved her phone playfully. “Already Venmo’d the register. It’s done.” Mom looked absolutely horrified. She asked Chloe, “Where did you get the money? You spent over a hundred just Ubering here! With me and your sister here, why on earth should you have to pay?” Chloe, afraid I’d get mad, shot me a secret, helpless little smile. Then she linked arms with Mom and whined cutely. “Mom, who cares who pays? Sis already covered the hospital deposit and the nurse fees. There’s no reason I can’t cover the small stuff.” “Once we find the driver who hit Dad, insurance will reimburse all that. Your sister is just floating the cash, it’s not like she’s losing it.” Mom muttered under her breath, clearly unconvinced. But in reality, when Mom got the settlement check later, she never paid me back a dime. Honestly? I didn’t care about that. Dad was hurt. It was my duty to step up. I didn’t feel unbalanced about the money. What hurt was that Mom wouldn’t shut up about that damn lunch Chloe paid for. “We shouldn’t have let your sister pay. Her job is so unstable, she works one month and takes two off. She can barely feed herself.” “Chloe paid for lunch. You know, Harper, you really rode your sister’s coattails on that one.” I spent thousands. Chloe spent fifty. And in the end, I was the one mooching off her? I was at my breaking point, ready to snap back. But I saw Dad on the hospital bed, shaking his head at me desperately. For the sake of my injured father, I didn’t scream at my mother right there in the ward. But all afternoon… Mom called her friends, FaceTimed the aunts, chatted with the neighbors. She told everyone. Chloe bought lunch. It was headline news. And me? I craned my neck to listen, only to hear her whisper-complaining: “The youngest is just so thoughtful. She knew we hadn’t eaten all morning and took us out immediately.” “The oldest sat there all morning and didn’t even think to grab me a bagel.” I couldn’t take it anymore. I made up an excuse, turned around, and walked out. Tears were streaming down my face before I hit the elevator. It wasn’t that I didn’t care she was hungry. I was too busy to think. Admissions paperwork, CT scans, co-pays, dealing with the police report, finding a caregiver. When did I have a second to breathe? I always knew Mom played favorites. back in college, the deal was that Chloe and I both got $1,000 a month for living expenses. But between textbooks, lab fees, food, and basic survival, I was always broke. Chloe, somehow, always had extra cash. Mom always scolded me, saying I wasn’t as sensible as Chloe, that I didn’t care about my parents’ money, that I didn’t know how to budget. Every time I asked for money, I got a lecture. Occasionally, I’d starve myself to stay under budget, but Mom wouldn’t even send the check on time. She’d delay it a few days. To “build my character.” 2 I lived in constant anxiety. Every month, I prayed the transfer wouldn’t be late. But I never dared to demand anything from Mom. Because she always shut me down with one sentence: “How come Chloe has enough? How come she never nags me?” Yeah, I didn’t get it either. I was being cheap as hell. I was rationing tampons. Why was I still drowning? It wasn’t until years after graduation, during a casual chat with Chloe, that I found out the truth. Yeah, the cash allowance was $1,000. But Mom paid for everything else separately. Textbooks, Sephora hauls, snacks—Mom ordered them on Amazon and shipped them directly to Chloe’s dorm. Even her meal plan was prepaid each semester—thousands of dollars I didn’t know about. Chloe’s $1,000 was just for fun. She didn’t know how to spend it all. And me? I had nothing. Everything I needed had to come out of that grand. One Thanksgiving, Mom brought out her special pot roast for guests. Chloe and I both loved it. When we were leaving, Mom packed a huge Tupperware container for Chloe. She didn’t even mention it to me. Dad, feeling the awkwardness, quickly spoke up: “Pack a bag for Harper, too.” Mom curled her lip in disdain. “It’s just leftovers.” She spoke slowly. But her eyes were fixed on me. Then she asked, hesitating, “Do you even want it?” I held back the tears stinging my eyes and shook my head violently. “No. I don’t like it.” She let out a sigh of relief, like she’d been pardoned, and smiled at Dad. “See? I said she didn’t want it. She’s so picky, she’d never want these scraps.” It hurt too much. I rushed out to my car, ready to leave. But Mom chased after me. She completely flipped her attitude, smiling brightly as she shoved a greasy bag into my hands. “Just take it. Your dad insists.” “If you don’t take it, he’s going to fight with me again.” I sighed quietly and took it. When I got home and opened it, I realized it wasn’t the roast she made. Her roast was savory and tender. This was dry, bland meat. It was the leftovers from my Aunt’s house that Mom didn’t want to eat herself. I remembered her heating it up earlier, muttering, “This tastes like cardboard. I should just regift it.” Oh. So I was the garbage disposal. And now, standing in this cherry orchard, listening to her bring up the lunch Chloe paid for again? I snapped. “Mom, the duvet covers, the sheets, the fruit, the snacks, the toilet paper, even the AC unit and the 65-inch TV in your living room—I bought all of that. I Venmo you thousands for every birthday and holiday. Have you ever calculated how much that is? Yet you’re obsessed with the fifty bucks Chloe spent, repeating over and over how I mooched off her. How about this: from now on, let her buy that stuff. I’ll PayPal her a hundred bucks right now to cover that lunch. Will that buy your silence?” “If this is how you keep score, then fine. Let Chloe have the ‘privilege’ of paying for everything. I’ll take the hit on being ‘cheap,’ okay?” My voice was shaking, throat tight. Mom was startled. Her eyes went wide. “Why are you so unstable? We’re just chatting, why are you throwing a tantrum?” “I don’t have a degree like you, I don’t know what’s PC to say and what isn’t. Do you really need to nitpick your own mother? I never said you didn’t spend money. I admitted you buy things. I’m just saying that when it comes to dining out, you aren’t as thoughtful or classy as your sister. Did I lie?” 3 “Honestly. Can’t even open my mouth around you.” “Don’t ever ask me out again. Dragging me out in this heat… acting like I owe you something.” “I was in a good mood, and now you’ve ruined it with your screaming.” She looked at me like I was bad luck personified. She grabbed the baskets of cherries we’d picked and started walking out. From a distance, I heard her tell the farmer, “My daughter will get the bill,” before walking to the road to hail a cab. I stood there, heart filled with frustration and humiliation. I deeply regretted asking her out. Actually, I didn’t ask her out. She called me yesterday saying she craved cherries. I offered to Instacart some. She said she wanted “fresh off the tree.” I canceled my meetings, skipped breakfast, and drove her here. And she left me in the dust. In the past, I would have told myself: She’s getting old, she’s confused, let it go. But this string of events was too much. She was being too cruel. I couldn’t gaslight myself anymore. I decided to let my anger breathe. I wasn’t bowing my head this time. There was one loose end, though. A month ago, Mom mentioned she wanted a Roomba. She said sweeping was hurting her back. She wanted to wait until the weather cooled down to go shopping for it. Usually, if I took her, I’d be the one paying. I’ve fought with Mom before. But I was always the one to break the ice, to apologize. This time, I wondered… If I went no-contact, if I didn’t mention the Roomba, what would she do? Even if she reached out, I knew it didn’t mean she cared about me. But I was curious. Would she initiate contact, even if just for a machine? The answer came three months later. She texted me. But the content shocked me. “You don’t need to take me to buy that robot vacuum anymore.” [Why?] “I asked around. Those things eat electricity. It’ll cost sixty or seventy bucks a month to run. That’s almost a grand a year. Too expensive. I don’t deserve to use it.” My fingers hovered over the screen. I paused, then typed back casually: [It’s not that expensive. Modern ones are energy efficient. It won’t cost that much.] [But it’s up to you. If you don’t want it, that saves me the trip.] I saw the “typing…” bubble bobbing for ages. But two hours passed. Not a word. When I tried to send another message, I got the “Not Delivered” error. She blocked me. I got it. Her passive-aggressive “I don’t deserve it” was code for: Tell me you’ll pay the electric bill too, and then I’ll happily go buy it. I knew the game. But I was done playing. I didn’t say it. At this point, I was heartbroken and disillusioned, but not entirely dead inside yet. I wasn’t thinking about cutting her off financially forever. I just wanted to stop being invisible. I wanted her to acknowledge my existence, my contributions. On the day we were originally supposed to buy the vacuum… Early in the morning, Dad called. He asked casually when I’d be there and if I wanted breakfast. I feigned surprise. “Dad? I’m at work. What’s up?” 4 “Wasn’t today the day you were taking Mom to get that sweeping robot thing? Why are you at work?” “I was going to take PTO, but Mom said she didn’t want it anymore. So I didn’t request the day off.” “Well, request it now. We’re waiting for you.” Dad sounded helpless. But I refused. “Can’t do it, Dad. Need 24-hour notice. It’s too busy here. We’ll do it another time.” Mom must have been listening. She exploded in the background. “I told you not to call! She’s just talking pretty, you think she actually wants to come? God, I’m embarrassed for you! Hang up! Stop bothering her high-and-mighty career!” Her shrill voice dripped with sarcasm. The call ended. Dad texted me on WeChat. His tone was accusatory. “You know how your mother is. She said she didn’t want it because she was mad at you. If you don’t come coax her, why are you taking her literally?” “Dad, Mom blocked me. How do I coax her? Besides, she’s an adult. She said no. Was I supposed to kidnap her to Best Buy?” Meanwhile, Mom posted a video in the four-person Family Group Chat. The title was: “When old people are annoying, do they deserve to die?” Chloe, oblivious to the war zone, popped in with a joke: “Who was brave enough to piss off Mom? Name them, I’ll fight ’em.” “Is it Dad? Apologize now, or your favorite daughters are gonna be mad.” “It wasn’t your father.” “Thank god I have you, Chloe. Otherwise, your mother would die of a broken heart.” Mom’s targeting was laser-focused. Dad @-mentioned me in the group: “@Harper regardless of who is right, you’re the child. Bowing your head won’t kill you. Just apologize.” He then @-mentioned Mom: “And you, stop holding grudges against your own kid. Stop spiraling. We’ll go tomorrow. Harper will take the day off.” “Right, Harper?” Chloe finally smelled the smoke. She DM’d me: “What happened, Sis? Did you fight with Mom?” “No. Just a misunderstanding.” I replied to Chloe, then explained in the big group. “Mom, I’m not breaking a promise. You said you didn’t want to go. That’s why I’m at work.” “You blocked me for no reason. I don’t know what I did. Now you’re doing this. I really don’t know what I did wrong. If you want the vacuum, just tell me. I’ll take off tomorrow. But I can’t guess your mind games anymore. I’m too tired.” “Dad, can we change the dynamic in this house? If you need something, or if I messed up, just say it. We’re family. Why do I have to be a mind reader to make you happy?” Dad replied instantly: “Yes, yes, Harper is right. Come home tomorrow, we’ll lecture your mom together.” Then he DM’d me privately: “Just take the day off. I’ll work on your mother. I’ll drag her there if I have to.” I felt a wave of exhaustion. But I held my ground in the group chat: “Dad, that doesn’t work. I need Mom to say it. Does she want me to come tomorrow? I’m done being the bad guy.”

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The summer after high school graduation, my niece’s diary, “The Pain of Living Under Someone Else’s Roof,” went viral. She came to stay with me for her senior year. Thinking she might feel out of place, I occasionally asked her to help with small chores. When acceptance letters arrived, both she and my daughter got into Stanford. TV stations were practically tripping over each other to interview me, asking for my secrets to raising two geniuses. Just as I was happily sharing my parenting tips, my niece pulled out a diary. The title? The Pain of Living Under Someone Else’s Roof. My niece became an internet sensation overnight. I, on the other hand, got doxxed and flamed by an angry mob. “Auntie, my parents sent you money every month for my living expenses. Why did I have to live like a mouse in your house, tiptoeing around? You deserve everything that’s happening to you.” In the end, thanks to my niece “accidentally” revealing my location, I was pushed into a river by “justice-seeking” netizens and drowned. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day my husband’s brother dropped my niece off. Heh. “The pain of living under someone else’s roof”? In this life, you’re going to learn what that phrase really means. 1 “Sis, sorry for the trouble. Since Lily is in the same grade as your Mia, taking care of one isn’t much different from taking care of two. I’ll Venmo you the living expenses every month. Thanks for looking out for her!” Looking at the WeChat message from my brother-in-law and the notification of a $100 transfer, I finally confirmed I was reborn. I couldn’t help but laugh at that $100. They really knew how to count pennies. My daughter, Mia, was starting her senior year. As a freelance writer with a flexible schedule, I rented an apartment near the school to support her. When my brother-in-law and his wife found out, they used the excuse of “working out of town” to dump their daughter, Lily, on me. They promised $100 a month for her living expenses. I knew $100 wouldn’t even cover her food, let alone the endless expenses of a teenage girl. But I watched this kid grow up. How could I say no? So, Lily moved in. Worried she might feel like an outsider, I told her that her parents sent money every month. I didn’t tell her the amount, just told her to treat this place like her own home. Whatever Mia got, Lily got too. From pens and notebooks to allowance and tutoring classes. I never shortchanged her just because she wasn’t mine. At first, when she offered to do chores, I refused. Later, thinking she might want to feel useful, I let her do small, quick tasks. In the end, both girls got into Stanford. I was proud, thinking my efforts paid off. Turns out, I was a clown the whole time. I raised an ingrate. Thinking about how I was cyberbullied to death in my last life, my heart hardened. This time, no more Mr. Nice Guy. 2 “Auntie, what did my dad say?” Lily craned her neck, trying to peek at my phone screen. In my last life, I hid the screen to protect her feelings. I didn’t want her to know her parents dumped her on me for a hundred bucks. She took that as me hiding how much money I was “pocketing” from her parents. After the fallout, Mia told me Lily used to call her parents crying about how hard her life was. Her parents would curse me out over the phone, claiming they sent plenty of money and I was just mean. But they never told her the “plenty” was actually $100. They’d tell her to suck it up, that living in someone else’s house was just like that, and it would all be over after graduation. Remembering this, I shoved the phone right in her face. “Here. Your parents want you to live here, but they only sent $100. That doesn’t even cover rent.” Yep, $100 wouldn’t cover her share of the rent. This was a prime school district. Rent was easily $3,000 a month. Her share should have been at least $1,000. She lived rent-free for three years without knowing it, and zero gratitude to show for it. I sighed dramatically. “Rent here is crazy expensive, like three grand a month. I don’t know what your parents are thinking. A hundred bucks won’t even feed you.” Being a teenager, she blushed hard. “Auntie, I… I don’t eat much.” Mia tugged at my sleeve, signaling I might be too harsh. I patted Mia’s hand and turned back to Lily. “Look, I’m your aunt. I won’t charge you rent. You eat what we eat. But don’t expect anything extra.” “I understand, Auntie.” Seeing her head hang low, I almost felt bad. But that “pitiful” act fooled me in my last life. Grades don’t equal character. Getting into a top university doesn’t change a rotten core. 3 School started, and soon came the first instance of me being a doormat in my past life. I still can’t fathom how parents can just… not pay tuition. Did they really expect someone else to raise their kid entirely? Last time, I paid Mia’s tuition online. I had no idea Lily’s wasn’t paid. Not until her homeroom teacher called me to the school. My brother-in-law had put my contact info down as the parent. I rushed over and saw Lily standing in the office, head down, looking like a criminal. My heart broke for her. It was her parents’ fault, but she was the one suffering. I paid her tuition immediately and sent her back to class. “Auntie, why didn’t Mia’s teacher call you?” Lily asked later. Looking at her sad face, I couldn’t bring myself to say, “Because I paid Mia’s tuition ages ago. Your parents just don’t care.” Not wanting her to hate her parents, I swallowed my anger and lied. “My bad, Lily. I paid Mia’s early, but your dad only sent the money yesterday. With the start of school chaos, I totally forgot.” And what did she write in her diary? My parents sent the money ages ago, but Auntie refused to pay my tuition. She waited until the teacher humiliated me in front of the whole class before reluctantly paying. This small incident became a scar that lasted all senior year. This time, when the phone rang, I let it go to voicemail once. Then it rang again. I picked up. “Hello, is this Lily’s parent?” “What’s wrong?” “We need you to come to the school regarding a small issue.” “Understood.” I knew I had to go, but I wasn’t rushing. I took my time getting ready. Then I stopped by a bakery to buy Mia’s favorite strawberry shortcake and grabbed myself a boba tea. Senior year is stressful; sweets help. In my last life, supporting two kids meant cutting corners. I rarely bought treats. But this time? I’m not spending a dime on Lily. No need to scrimp on my own kid. 4 I strolled into the teacher’s office an hour and a half later. Lily and the teacher both looked up. I placed my shopping bags on a side table and walked over. “Sorry I’m late. What’s the issue?” The teacher was clearly annoyed, despite trying to be polite. “Lily’s guardian, school has officially started, but we haven’t received her tuition. Did you forget because of work?” “Huh?” I covered my mouth in mock surprise. My gasp drew the attention of other teachers in the office. “Lily hasn’t paid tuition?” “That’s correct. This isn’t good for the school or the student.” “Oh wow, teacher, I had no idea. Her parents dropped her off at my door and dipped to another city. They gave me $100 for living expenses and that’s it. I didn’t know about the tuition. By the way, I’m not her parent, I’m her aunt. My daughter Mia is in Class 1.” This school tracked students by grades. Mia, being top 10 in the city, was naturally in Class 1. Lily was decent, in Class 5, but not top tier. In my last life, I busted my hump to get her grades up, even making Mia tutor her. She eventually made it to Class 1. Hearing I was just an aunt and my kid was in the honors class, the teacher’s tone softened instantly. “I see. Her contact info listed you, so naturally, we called.” “Okay, teacher. I’ll call her parents right now.” I pulled out my phone. Lily tugged my sleeve. “Auntie, didn’t my parents send you the money?” “What are you talking about, child? You saw the chat yesterday. They sent $100. That won’t even buy groceries, let alone tuition.” The stares from the teachers and passing students were burning holes in her. Lily turned bright red. “Can’t you just pay it for me? My parents will pay you back.” “Lily, are you crazy? Tuition is $2,000 for the year. I just paid Mia’s, plus rent and utilities. Rent alone is $6,000 a year here. I’m tapped out. I literally only have the $100 your parents sent. Should I give that to the teacher?” The teacher realized what was happening. She adjusted her glasses. “Maybe you should call her parents.” “On it.” I shook off Lily’s hand, dialed my brother-in-law, and put it on speaker. “Hey, Sis.” “Bro, did you guys forget to pay Lily’s tuition?” “Huh? Sis, isn’t Lily living with you now?” I wanted to reach through the phone and slap him. “Yeah, she’s living here. You dropped her off without a word. I didn’t ask for rent or utilities, but you sent $100 for a month. What is she supposed to eat? Air? And now you forgot tuition? I’m in the teacher’s office. Explain yourself.” He didn’t expect me to air his dirty laundry in public. “Uh, hello teacher. We’re out of town for work. We left everything to her aunt…” I cut him off. “Bro, even though she’s not mine, I care about her. But I just dropped five grand on Mia’s tuition and rent. I’m broke. If you guys don’t have it, maybe ask other relatives?” The teacher chimed in, serious. “Sir, per school policy, if tuition isn’t paid, Lily will have to study at home until it is.” “Fine, fine! I’ll send it to her aunt right now. Teacher, put Lily on.” Lily took the phone with shaking hands. “Dad…” “You useless girl! Always costing me money! You better get into a good college or you’re dead to me!” He hung up. Once the transfer hit, I paid the teacher immediately.

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I was the designated “simp” for Finn Sterling, the school’s golden bad boy. Everyone thought I loved him more than life itself. He skipped class to fight? I copied his notes. He flirted with other girls? I covered for him. I spent three years acting like a total doormat, dragging his sorry ass across the finish line to get him into an Ivy League university. But right before freshman orientation, he dumped me. He looked down at me with that arrogant smirk, “Gwen, I know you’ve been obsessed with me for years. But your brain is just… textbooks. Compared to Hannah, you’re too stiff. Too boring. We’re done. I’m going to be with Hannah.” The crowd held its breath, waiting for my breakdown. I glanced at my bank app. The pending balance of $5 million had just cleared. I smiled sincerely. “Okay. Congratulations.” Nobody knew that my unconditional devotion was purely because his mother paid me an obscene amount of money. Now that the check had cleared, it was time for me to vanish. 1 “The School King just dumped her, and she said congratulations?” “She hung up in less than a minute. She’s definitely losing it. Probably having a mental breakdown right now.” “I don’t know, man. She looked calm. Like she’s been waiting for this.” Someone glanced nervously at Finn. He had his arm around his new girl, but his handsome face was dark, clearly annoyed that I hadn’t begged. The gossip quickly shifted. “No way. Gwen has been obsessed with Finn for years. She’s probably just holding it in. Give it three days, she’ll be crawling back begging him not to leave her.” Finn’s expression softened slightly at that. “If she comes back and begs, I might consider forgiving her. Depends on her attitude.” I didn’t hear any of this. I was already dragging my suitcase to the airport. If I had heard them, I would have laughed. If my parents hadn’t been convinced that “school is useless for girls” and tried to sell me off for a dowry while I was still a teenager… If my alcoholic father hadn’t torn up my acceptance letter and beaten me half to death… If Mrs. Sterling hadn’t found me at my lowest point and offered me a deal—cover my high school tuition and give me $5 million if I got her son into Harvard… I never would have chased after a bully like Finn Sterling. I never would have been his on-call servant. Three years. I used every trick in the book to turn that rebellious slacker into a straight-A student. Now the job was done. I had the money. I was escaping hell. Why would I be sad about him switching girlfriends? I just wanted to survive. Love had nothing to do with it. I didn’t go to the local college I was accepted to. My parents would have hunted me down for the dowry money. To leave, I had to leave completely. Over the summer, I aced the TOEFL and got my French to a B2 level. I was enrolled in a design school in Paris. As I boarded the flight, a text from Finn popped up. “Why are all my calls blocked? Gwen, haven’t you thrown enough of a tantrum? Even if I’m with Hannah, we can still be friends. Stop acting out. Unblock me.” 2 Even in a text, he was condescending. He was so sure I was playing hard to get. He thought I’d come wagging my tail like always. I popped the SIM card out of my phone, snapped it in half, and tossed it into the airport trash can. Along with that card, I threw away the humility, the schemes, and the unbearable past. The plane took off, leaving everything behind. Later, my best friend told me Finn went crazy on my social media. Comments like: “Are you done yet?” “It’s just a breakup, why are you so dramatic?” “Add me back now!” She said, “At first, Finn was sure you were bluffing. When you didn’t show up, he got violent. Mentioning your name made him snap.” It sounded like a story about a stranger. I used Mrs. Sterling’s millions to restart my life in Paris. Top design school. New language. Heavy workload. It was hard, but there was no Finn to please, no suffocating parents to escape. Just sketchpads, fabric, and a future that belonged to me. Years flew by. With talent and sweat, my jewelry designs started making waves at Fashion Week. I won a few international awards. I became the new Chief Designer for Lumina, a rising luxury brand, and was sent back to the States to open up the market. First day back. I was grabbing lunch downstairs at the new HQ when a hesitant voice called out behind me. “Gwen? Is that you?” I turned. It was Ashley, a girl who sat in front of me in high school. Her eyes went wide, scanning me from head to toe. “OMG! It is you! You’ve changed so much!” Gone was the timid, people-pleasing girl in thrift store clothes. Time and money had given me a quiet confidence. “Long time no see.” “This is crazy!” Ashley was hyped. “There’s a class reunion tonight at the Sky Lounge upstairs. Everyone is coming, even Finn! You have to come! No one will recognize you!” Finn Sterling? That name felt like a relic from a past life. I wanted to say no, but then I thought—why hide? I had nothing to be ashamed of. “Sure.” I spent the day handling the handover for the new office. By the time I remembered the reunion, it was late. I didn’t bother changing and went upstairs in my casual clothes. I pushed open the heavy doors, and the noise hit me. 3 My eyes swept the room and landed instantly on the man holding court at the main table. Finn Sterling. He looked older, his features sharper. Wearing a bespoke suit, looking lazy and expensive. He was still the center of the universe. Next to him was a young, flashy girl. Not Hannah. The bad boy had updated his accessories again. A drunk guy spotted me first. “Holy sh*t! Look! Finn! Your simp is back!” The room exploded. Everyone turned to stare. Shock. Amusement. Schaudenfreude. Finn looked up. When he saw me standing there, his pupils dilated. His relaxed smirk froze. It was replaced by shock, and something complicated I couldn’t read. The girl next to him sensed the shift immediately. She tightened her grip on his arm, glaring at me with hostility. “Gwen?” I ignored the whispers. I walked over to the empty seat next to Ashley and poured myself a glass of water. “Gwen, wow, you’re alive,” Tiffany, the class mean girl, spoke up first. Her voice dripped with fake sweetness. “I heard you didn’t go to college? Makes sense, your family couldn’t afford it anyway.” “Where have you been working? People said you married some old guy for money. But looking at your outfit… pretty casual, huh?” She emphasized “old guy,” and a few girls giggled. “I was abroad for a few years. Just got back,” I said calmly. “Oh, abroad!” Chad, the class clown, jumped in with exaggerated sympathy. “It’s tough for returnees these days. Unless you were doing… illegal work over there? Do you have a job now? Need a hookup?” “My uncle’s company needs a clerk. Low requirements, just need to know how to type. The pay sucks, but it’s legit work. Better than whatever you were doing…” 4 He trailed off, implying something dirty. “Yeah, exactly,” Tiffany chimed in. “Foreign guys just like to play around with Asian girls, you know? Gwen, we’re old friends. If you’re struggling, just ask.” “You don’t have a degree, and you look kind of… plain. Interviews might be tough. I can lend you some cash to buy a suit? It’s a shame, you were top of the class once.” Finn remained silent. But his hand gripped his glass tight, his eyes dark, fixed on me. His new girlfriend, Lola, couldn’t take it anymore. She sneered, leaning forward with a look of supreme condescension. “So you’re Gwen? I’ve heard about you.” “I heard you were a total stalker. Chasing my Finn like a desperate puppy.” “Doing his homework, taking notes, covering for him?” “Thanks for your hard work,” she paused, letting the class snicker. “But at least you knew your place. You knew you weren’t in his league and ran away. But it looks like you haven’t done well for yourself?” “Finn is taking over the Sterling Group now. And me? I just took over my family’s fashion brand. I’m busy negotiating a collab with a top international design house. If you’re broke, we can throw you a bone.” I sipped my water. “No thanks.” Lola rolled her eyes. “You probably don’t even know my level. Ever heard of Lumina? It’s the hottest new French jewelry brand.” “Their Chief Designer is a genius in Paris. Very mysterious. I pulled so many strings to get a meeting. If she agrees to a collab… I’ll be famous.” “Once that happens, I can feed you with the crumbs from my table.” The classmates oohed and aahed. “I know Lumina! Their taste is insane!” “That designer is legendary. Lola, you have connections!” “Finn is so lucky to have a power couple partner!” Lola lifted her chin, soaking it in. “What’s the designer’s name?” someone asked. “Her English name is Eileen Gu, but she’s Chinese,” Lola bragged, pretending to know details. “Young, talented, highly respected in France.” “It’s hard for a small brand like ours to get her, but I’m confident.” She leaned onto Finn. “Right, babe?” Finn grunted.

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My parents are in a business marriage. Zero love, all assets. My mom makes out with her boy toys right in front of my dad. My dad openly photoshops his “one that got away” into our family portraits and uses it as his lock screen. They didn’t divorce because they wanted to give me a “complete home.” But recently, the wind changed. Dad’s “one that got away” came back from overseas. Mom’s “dead” first love turned out to be alive. They started talking divorce. But they both decided to fight to the death for custody of me. In court, my mom pulled out a knife, threatening to remove her own uterus right there on the stand. My dad pulled out a pair of scissors, threatening to castrate himself. Their love for me is truly… moving. 1 When my Grandma caught us, I was reading a graphic novel on the couch, and my Mom was playing tonsil hockey with her new boy toy. Grandma was so mad she immediately called my Dad to come over. Mom didn’t care at all. She continued flirting with the fresh meat. I call the new guy Uncle Kyle. When I got tired of reading, Uncle Kyle read to me. Grandma was standing there, cursing my Mom out. She called her shameless, asked her what the Sterling family ever did to her. 2 Mom wasn’t backing down. She put her hands on her hips, ready to scream back. Grandma cut her off: “Save it for when my son gets here. You two are divorcing today!” Mom rolled her eyes. “Good luck getting your son to divorce me.” My parents are a corporate merger. When they got married, both families were at the top of the food chain. But soon after, my Grandpa’s business went belly up. There were a million reasons why. Mom has wanted to divorce Dad forever. They both love other people. Dad loves a poor college student he considers his “White Moonlight”—the pure, unattainable love. He photoshops her into photos of him and me. Originally, he just Photoshopped her over Mom in photos of the three of us. But I threw a fit. I didn’t allow a photo without my Mom. So now, he Photoshops her standing next to us. 3 Mom loves a poor college guy too. They were first loves. But that guy joined the military, went on a spec-ops mission, and “died.” So Mom only dates college boys now. I know she’s mourning her first love. My parents are very sentimental people. Dad arrived quickly. He rushed over, picked me up, kissed my cheeks, and called me his precious “Muffin.” I was happy too. I hugged him and asked for a piggyback ride. Grandma immediately started in: “Richard, your wife isn’t even hiding her cheating anymore! You have to divorce her! If you don’t have shame, I do!” Dad looked furious: “Victoria, are you crazy? Cuckolding me in broad daylight!” Mom rolled her eyes again. “He’s our daughter’s manny.” Dad’s attitude flipped instantly. He nodded at Uncle Kyle. “Thanks for your hard work. Take good care of Muffin. I’ll give you a raise.” Grandma almost had a stroke. “Richard Sterling! I want you to divorce her!” Dad looked pained. “Mom, if I divorce her, she’ll steal my daughter!” Mom scoffed. “She’s my daughter. Why would I give her to you?” “She’s mine too!” “Bullsh*t! She came out of my body!” “Don’t give me that biology crap. Since she was born, I’m the one who raised her! I changed the diapers! Now that she can run and talk, you want to claim the credit? And look how you raise her—hiring playmates? Is that how a mother acts?” Mom fired back: “Ha! You’re so great, you raise her then! If you actually spent time with her, would I need to hire a manny? You’re all talk.” 4 I looked at Dad, then at Mom. I was about to tell them to stop fighting. But their phones rang at the exact same time. I saw the Caller ID on Dad’s phone: Vivian. “Richard, I’m back in the states. Can you pick me up at JFK?” Vivian. Dad’s White Moonlight. His eternal heartache. Dad lost his voice. On the other side, Mom suddenly choked up: “Cole… you’re not dead?!” Cole. My Mom’s first love. Every Memorial Day, Mom makes me yell “Daddy” at his tombstone. Mom’s logic was that Uncle Cole died childless, so he had no one to burn offerings for him. I had to pretend to be his kid so he’d have spending money in the afterlife. 5 The silence was deafening. My parents looked at each other, then tactically looked away. I said, “Mom, Dad, I’m hungry.” Grandma was livid. She cursed Dad, saying she should have given birth to a BBQ pork bun instead of him. Grandma swore they had to divorce. They took me to dinner first. Uncle Kyle took care of me on the side. He breathed quietly, smiled apologetically at Dad, bowed to Mom, and catered to my every need. At the table, I was the only one eating. My parents were on their phones—sighing, looking sad, then looking conflicted. I knew they were reminiscing about their lost loves. I felt a little bad for them. 6 After eating, the food coma hit, and I fell asleep. I felt Dad pick me up, and I slept soundly in his arms. I woke up in the afternoon. I yawned, climbed out of bed, drank a big glass of water, and went downstairs. Downstairs, my parents were negotiating the divorce. Dad said, “Vivian is back. I have to give her a home.” Mom didn’t mock him this time. She looked sorrowful. “Cole isn’t dead. He was deep undercover all these years. He survived because of his love for me. I can’t let him down.” They spoke in unison: “The daughter…” Then silence. Dad spoke first: “I’ll give you half my personal assets. You keep all the joint marital assets. You leave Muffin with me. You’re young, you can have another one.” Mom said: “I’ll leave with nothing. I’ll pay you $30k a month in alimony. Give me Muffin.” Both of them sneered at the same time: “Keep dreaming! Scumbag!” 7 The vibe in the house shifted. Before, they wanted a divorce. Mom would kiss a boy toy, Dad would scream divorce. Dad would cry over his photoshop collection, apologize to “Vivian,” and Mom would scream divorce. But they always stopped when it came to custody. They knew the other person was trash. No compromise possible. Now, they were raising the stakes, desperate to divorce and keep me.

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Chapter 1 At the wedding rehearsal, Preston’s adopted sister suddenly started dry heaving. Panic stricken, he scooped her up and rushed her to the ER. Thirty minutes later, my phone rang. “She’s pregnant.” I was about to say congratulations, but his voice was terrifyingly calm. “It’s mine… She went through a bad breakup that night. She was soaked from the rain, shivering. I just held her to keep her warm, I didn’t think…” “We have to keep this from Mom and Dad. I’m taking her to my place to look after her. We’ll figure it out after the baby is born.” “We need to postpone the wedding for a year. You handle the guests. Explain it to them. Apologize.” My throat felt tight, like someone had their hands around it. I couldn’t squeeze out a single word. He continued, oblivious. “Oh, and you need to quit your job immediately. Bella needs care. We can’t have any accidents over the next few months.” I suddenly laughed. “Sure. Okay.” He hung up, satisfied. But he didn’t know about the bet I made with that guy. If I wasn’t married by thirty, I’d marry him. And today just happened to be my thirtieth birthday. … Maybe my calmness was too weird, because three seconds after hanging up, Preston called back. “Harper, I’m sorry. I know I messed up. But trust me, I only see Bella as a sister. The baby really was an accident.” I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Right. Deep sibling love. So deep you kept each other warm right into bed. Touching.” The line went silent for a moment, followed by his frustrated sigh. “I get that you’re mad. You can yell at me, hit me, whatever. But Bella is still in grad school. If people find out she’s an unwed mother and can’t name the father…” “She’s an orphan. Even though my parents adopted her and treat her like blood, the Huntington family won’t accept a scandal like this. They’ll kick her out.” “So, I was hoping… you could claim the baby is yours. Since you’ll be quitting to stay home anyway, no one will suspect it isn’t yours.” I tilted my head back, forcing the tears back into my eyes, my voice raspy. “Preston, let’s not get married.” “Not get married?” He was silent for a few seconds, then exploded. “Harper, are you serious right now? You’re the one who’s been nagging me about a wedding after dating for five years!” “The entire social circle knows you’re Preston Huntington’s fiancée. Do you think marriage is a game? Harper, when did you become so immature?” I could imagine his brows furrowing. Sure enough, the threat came next. “Miss High-and-Mighty, I’m asking you one last time! Are you seriously saying you don’t want to get married?!” My fingers gripped the phone so hard my knuckles turned white. I gave a bitter smile. “Yeah. I don’t want you anymore, Preston.” He scoffed coldly. “I’m not in the mood for your drama. Suit yourself!” He slammed the phone down. I stood in the center of the banquet hall. Under the shocked gazes of the crowd, I ripped the veil off my head, turned around, and ran out. Preston’s parents quickly blocked my path. His father, Mr. Huntington, struck first. “Harper, have you lost your mind? Just because Preston took his sister to the hospital, you’re ruining this wedding? You want hundreds of guests to laugh at the Huntington family?” His mother sneered, chiming in. “I said from the start they weren’t a match. The Huntingtons are a family of old money and intellect. The Vances are just nouveau riche upstarts. No class.” “But Preston insisted, so I couldn’t stop it. Look, now we’re a laughingstock!” Mr. Huntington scoffed. “Good! Better not to marry. Save us from her temper offending people later and ruining our reputation.” Preston was the one who cheated, yet these two were blaming me. I clenched the veil, my fingertips trembling. “Preston canceled the wedding. As for the specific reason… you two should ask him. I’m too embarrassed to say it.” Hearing it was Preston’s idea, they suddenly felt justified. “Even if Preston canceled it, you’re the bride—you just run off without a word? Shouldn’t you apologize to everyone publicly?” “How did your parents raise you? You don’t even understand basic etiquette. How can you be a Huntington daughter-in-law?” I took a deep breath. “I won’t be marrying into the Huntington family. If you two will excuse me, move.” “You!” Their faces changed color. They clearly didn’t expect the usually docile me to be so tough. I didn’t bother with them anymore, sidestepping them and heading straight for the dressing room. Mrs. Huntington screamed behind me, “You uneducated trash!” Inside the dressing room, someone was already waiting. He was wearing a fitted tracksuit that highlighted his broad shoulders and long legs. The sunlight hit him from the side, outlining a sharp profile. Only the dark circles under his eyes betrayed him; he probably hadn’t slept well. Seeing me enter, he uncrossed his arms and stood up straight, that familiar, punchable smirk on his lips. I looked away. “I thought someone swore they’d never attend my wedding?” He suddenly leaned in close, his warm breath tickling my ear. The moment our eyes met, I suddenly saw the stubborn teenage boy from ten years ago. “Harper, a bet is a bet.” I pursed my lips and didn’t make a sound. He instantly got anxious. “You forgot?!” “I don’t care. We’re getting married in three days. If you don’t show up…” He paused, like he was throwing caution to the wind. “I’ll come to the Vance house and be a live-in husband!” After saying that, as if afraid I’d reject him, he quickly bolted out the door. I suddenly laughed out loud. This idiot. Of course I remember the bet. Our families are old friends. We grew up together. We were too close to be lovers. Ten years ago, he confessed to me. I said let’s just be friends. He looked heartbroken and insisted on making a bet. I didn’t expect that, in the end, I’d actually lose. Chapter 2 I had just changed out of my wedding dress when Preston sent me a photo. All my belongings were piled up like trash at the gate of his villa. The red heirloom quilt my mom hand-stitched for the wedding was the most glaring thing there. It was stuffed haphazardly into a clear plastic trash bag, the bright red satin stinging my eyes in the sunlight. [Text: Come get this junk immediately!] [Text: If you don’t want it, I’ll have the maid toss it.] I stared at the screen, my fingertips going cold. He knew exactly how to manipulate me. I could leave everything else, but I had to get that quilt back. [Text: Fine. I’m coming.] My mom spent three months on that quilt. She’s a woman who never touches a needle, yet her fingers were pricked full of bloody holes. The night before the wedding, she smiled and shoved the quilt into my arms. “Baby, be happy forever.” But when I arrived, the gate was empty. It had only been thirty minutes. I told him I was coming, yet he was in such a rush to kick me to the curb? Rage flared up. I pushed open the villa gate and stormed in. The moment I opened the front door, I froze like I’d been dunked in ice water. Bella was sitting on the edge of the dining table. Preston’s hands were on her waist, his face pressed against her small baby bump, his expression blindingly tender. “Preston,” Bella gasped softly. “The baby kicked me.” Preston immediately pressed closer, the corners of his mouth lifting in a way I’d never seen before. “So naughty, just like you were as a kid.” When he looked up, his gaze was soft enough to melt stone. “If only the baby has your eyes, too.” Bella pursed her lips and smiled. Preston practicedly kissed her lips, his tone suddenly turning guilty. “Are you really sure about leaving after the baby is born? Actually… you could stay. I can take care of you and the baby. The kid is so small, how can they grow up without their biological mother?” Bella put a finger to his lips and shook her head. “Preston, if I don’t go, what about Harper?” Hearing my name, Preston visibly paused, then his face darkened. “Her? She’s just talking about breaking up to throw a tantrum. Once the baby is born, she’ll be begging to come back and help raise it. She’s a merchant’s daughter; she only cares about profit. What does she know about dignity?” “Did you forget how desperate she was to be my girlfriend back then? That pathetic look on her face… thinking about it now makes me sick.” My tears rolled down silently. So, the courage I mustered to confess back then had disgusted him for all these years. The Huntingtons are a famous family of artists and scholars. Preston is the youngest acclaimed fine artist in the city. Five years ago, he brought his portfolio to my dad, looking for an investment for his gallery. My dad couldn’t stop praising him and introduced us. I fell in love at first sight. I shamelessly pestered him to teach me art history. He used to point at me and scold, “Stupid. Zero talent!” I’d grin and say, “Then be my boyfriend. We complement each other.” He glanced at Bella, who was studying with her head down nearby, then suddenly grabbed my hand and let out a self-mocking laugh. “Fine.” I jumped up and hugged him, completely missing Bella running out of the room or how stiff his arm went. Now I understand. His heart always belonged to Bella. No wonder he refused to teach me later, refused to let me even enter his study. My chest felt sour. I wanted to turn and leave, but I remembered Mom’s quilt. I couldn’t leave it. “Harper!” Preston suddenly turned his head, a mocking smirk on his lips. “Why are you sneaking around at the door? I threw your stuff out. Regretting it now?” I dug my nails into my palms. “Where is my quilt? Give it back.” He paused, his face getting colder. “A raggedy old blanket? Like I’d want it?” “My mom sewed that by hand.” My voice started to shake. “Give it back, and I’ll leave immediately.” Seeing I was about to cry, he frowned. “You’re crying? Are you psycho? Is it that serious?” “Yes, it is!” I screamed, the tears finally crashing down. Chapter 3 Preston tugged at his collar irritably, looking like he wanted to say something but held back. Beside him, Bella suddenly acted like she remembered something and spoke up urgently: “Harper, don’t yell at Preston. I told the maid to bring your stuff into the guest room.” As she spoke, she gently stroked her belly, tears instantly welling up. “Harper, can you please not move out? If it’s because of this baby… I-I can get an abortion. His existence was a mistake anyway. None of you welcome him…” Before she could finish, she was sobbing uncontrollably. “I won’t allow it!” Preston’s voice nearly cracked. Trembling, he pulled Bella tightly into his arms, then turned to glare viciously at me. “She can leave if she wants, but don’t you dare touch my child! Right now, you and the baby are my everything!” “Harper, if this is why you came here, get the hell out!” I let out a cold laugh and walked straight to the guest room. The wedding quilt was thrown carelessly on the floor. It was covered in stains and vomit. The dragon and phoenix embroidery was filthy. I pointed a shaking finger at the quilt. “Bella, explain this!” She shrank back timidly. “I didn’t mean to. I just got sudden morning sickness…” She bent down as if to pick it up. “Harper, don’t be mad. I’ll wash it for you.” But as soon as she leaned over, she cried out in pain. “Ah! My stomach hurts.” Preston charged over and shoved me hard. I fell backward. The back of my head slammed into the bedpost. Pain exploded. Warm liquid trickled down my forehead. I bit my lip to keep quiet, just smiling up at Preston, wanting to see if he had a heart at all. He was holding Bella, his eyes filled with extreme disgust. “How much is it? I’ll pay! I’m begging you, stop causing a scene. Do you get off on torturing me and Bella over some worthless junk?” It felt like someone punched a hole in my chest. Even though he was always cold to me, he had never looked at me with such hatred. He must truly despise me now. Suddenly, it all felt pointless. Why stay here and be hated? I gave up. The quilt was dirty. I didn’t want it anymore. This dirty man, I didn’t want him either. I propped myself up. “Preston, I don’t need your money.” As I turned to leave, he suddenly grabbed me, a hint of helplessness in his expression. “You’re in a bad mood today. Go back to the Vance house and cool off. I’ll pick you up in three days.” I shook off his hand and walked out quickly. This home we built for years… in the end, I was just a passerby. … The Vance Residence. I had already explained the wedding fiasco to my parents. Seeing me return, Mom let out a long sigh of relief. “Honey, honestly, thank God! What if you found out after you were married?” “The Huntingtons always looked down on us for being merchants, yet that ‘scholarly’ family raised such shameless trash!” Dad sighed softly. “Don’t talk about it. She’s hurting. I already told my assistant to pull all investments from the Huntington Gallery. From now on, the Vances have nothing to do with them!” I was hesitating on whether to mention Liam, when Mom suddenly spoke up. “By the way, Liam came by today. He even brought the dowry.” She pulled a velvet box from the coffee table drawer. “That boy moves fast.” Inside the box was a pair of heirloom jade bracelets. That’s when I truly realized: the wedding in three days? Liam was serious. Chapter 4 Night fell. Bella sent me a text. [Bella: Harper, come back.] [Bella: I’ll move out right now. I won’t keep the baby.] [Bella: You and Preston have five years of history. Don’t ruin it because of me. I’ll feel guilty for the rest of my life.] I stared at the screen and sneered. If she wanted to cause drama, she could go to her brother. Why bother me? I replied with two words: [Suit yourself.] Then, I blocked her. After that, I leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, zoning out, feeling a lingering sense of loss. My phone vibrated. A video call request from Liam popped up. “Harper,” he said, his eyes sparkling on the screen. “Give me a finger heart.” I paused. “Why all of a sudden…” A finger heart? So cheesy. “I don’t care,” he leaned into the camera like a brat. “Right now.” Amused by his childish expression, I helplessly made a quick heart with my fingers, getting goosebumps myself. He immediately clutched his chest, eyes closed in an exaggerated expression of ecstasy. When he opened his eyes, he winked his right eye at me. My heart skipped a beat. “Look outside. My return gift.” He chuckled, and the video cut off. The night sky outside suddenly lit up. Hundreds of drones formed a shimmering heart, then transformed into words: [Happy Birthday, Harper.] Tears instantly blurred my vision. The drama today made me forget my own birthday. But he remembered. Even if it was a bit cheesy, I felt his sincerity, and I loved it. As for Preston? Every year for my birthday, he just wrote “Happy Birthday” in calligraphy on a piece of paper. He didn’t even sign my name. “My calligraphy has collection value,” he always explained. “If I write your name on it, no one will want to buy it later.” This year, he simply said, “Too busy planning the wedding. No time to write.” But the so-called wedding planning? I tried on dresses at twenty shops alone. I compared quotes from thirty hotels alone. I stayed up all night hand-writing over three hundred invitations alone. The only thing he participated in was when I tried on the main gown. He managed to spare five minutes, checking his watch the entire time. It turns out his lack of love was always traceable. My heart tightened painfully. I tilted my head back and blinked rapidly. I had cried too much today. At least on my birthday, I wanted to keep a shred of dignity. While I was sleeping, my phone buzzed. I groggily answered. Preston’s voice roared through the speaker. “Harper! Get to the hospital right now! Something happened to Bella!” I woke up instantly. Was her text serious? Without even changing, wearing pajamas and slippers, I rushed out. When I got to the ward, I saw Bella leaning against the headboard, perfectly fine. Preston was gently peeling an apple for her. They looked like a peaceful painting. Meanwhile, I had one foot slipping out of my shoe, looking like a clown. Seeing me, Preston suddenly exploded. He dragged me to the bedside. “Kneel and apologize to Bella!” I looked up in shock. Before I could react, he kicked the back of my knee hard. My knees slammed onto the floor. The piercing pain paralyzed me for a moment. “Preston! Are you crazy?” I glared at him. His eyes were churning with terrifying rage. “Bella slit her wrist! It was almost two lives lost! Don’t call me crazy—I want to kill you right now!” Bella started sobbing on cue. “Preston, I texted Harper to apologize, but she blocked me. She must hate me to death. She doesn’t want to see me again. What’s the point of living…” I despised her, but I didn’t want blood on my hands. I looked at her closely. There was a half-centimeter cut on her wrist. It had iodine on it and was already scabbing over. This was slitting her wrist? A wave of sorrow washed over me. I twitched my lips. “Preston, if I came tomorrow, would her wound have healed already?” He blew up instantly. “Harper! How can you be so vicious? If I hadn’t found her in time… do you know what happens when a pregnant woman loses too much blood?” This must be what they call ‘concern breeds chaos.’ A tiny scratch made him lose his mind, yet he was blind to the blood drying on my forehead from earlier. He must really love Bella. My heart felt like it was weighed down by stones, sinking straight to the bottom. I frowned and said nothing. This seemed to completely enrage him. He threw the fruit knife at me, snarling. “Since you think it’s no big deal, cut yourself with the same wound. Taste the pain yourself. This is what you owe Bella!” I looked at him in disbelief. This was the man I had loved wholeheartedly for five years. In this instant, my heart turned to ice. Just one cut, right? I’ll pay her back. Lowering my eyes to hide the tears, I picked up the knife and lightly sliced my wrist. Bella screamed. I struggled to stand up and held my hand in front of Preston’s face. “Is that enough?” Blood dripped down steadily. His eyelashes trembled rapidly. He glanced at it with disgust. Then he turned to comfort the frightened Bella, muttering a curse under his breath. “Who told you to cut so deep? You’re hopelessly stupid.” I smiled silently and stumbled to the door. He suddenly threw out a sentence: “Harper, reflect on your actions at home! I’ll pick you up in three days.” I laughed until tears fell. Preston, we will never meet again.

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Six years. That’s how long I’d been with Sean. So when I felt the velvet box of an engagement ring in his trench coat pocket, I thought, finally. On my birthday, I was full of anticipation. I checked my socials, expecting a sweet post. Instead, I saw a photo on his best friend’s Instagram story. It was Sean. He was walking into L’Amour, the most exclusive French restaurant in the city, with another girl on his arm. I grabbed an Uber and raced there. I stood in the entryway and watched through the glass. I watched him drop to one knee. I watched him propose to her. The entire restaurant erupted in cheers, chanting for them to kiss. After saving up disappointment for so long, I didn’t scream. I didn’t storm in and make a scene. I just quietly pulled out my phone and dialed my dad. “Dad,” I said, my voice steady. “I accept the merger marriage with the Sterling family. Let’s start planning the wedding.” 1 Dad paused for a second, then his voice practically vibrated with joy. “My sweet girl, you finally came to your senses! Marriage is about matching backgrounds, sweetheart. Tasting the simple life is fine for a while, but you can’t eat plain oatmeal forever. You deserve the feast.” “Mmhmm,” I hummed, standing alone in the lobby of the restaurant. Inside, Sean was embracing the girl amidst the applause. I felt like a wooden puppet, stiff and lifeless. Dad heard the noise in the background. “When are you coming home? You need to meet the Sterling heir. Their side has been pushing for an engagement for ages.” “In three days,” I said, watching Sean’s hands shake as he slid the ring onto her finger. “Let me wrap things up here. Then I’m coming home.” I hung up. Maybe I looked too out of place, standing there like a ghost while everyone celebrated. Sean stood up, turned, and saw me. We locked eyes across the room. He looked surprised. He frowned, just for a second, then turned back to the girl and led her to their table. Roses, vintage champagne, a live pianist playing a love song, candlelight… In six years, he had never taken me anywhere like this. I turned and walked away. I knew the guys cheering him on. They were his “boys.” The photo I saw was on his frat brother’s story. They all knew me. They knew I was his girlfriend. But clearly, they all knew about her, too. As I left, I heard them whistling. “Finally! A match made in heaven. True love wins in the end!” I smiled bitterly. To his friends, I was the placeholder. She was the main character. A sour taste filled my mouth. Earlier today, discovering that ring felt like sugar. Now, it felt like swallowing glass. I took a cab back to our apartment. There was a delivery box on the doorstep. A birthday cake. The note on top was in Sean’s handwriting: Happy Birthday to my baby. Wishing you the best. The delivery guy smiled at me, looking envious. “Miss, your boyfriend must really love you. That’s the most expensive cake on our menu. He even hand-wrote the card!” I pushed the door open and dumped the cake on the table. So, he remembered it was my birthday. He just chose to spend it proposing to someone else. I collapsed onto the sofa, staring at the empty room. My eyes started to burn. This apartment was full of us. But my boyfriend bought a ring and gave it to another woman. Looking at that cake now just made me nauseous. I sat there until the room went dark. Then, the door clicked open. 2 Sean walked in, looking windblown but triumphant. He was holding a bouquet. He walked over to me, zero guilt on his face. “Sarah, I brought you Lisianthus. Your favorite.” Lisianthus. It symbolizes unchanging, loyal love. Held in his hands right now, it looked like a punchline. I took the flowers. He thought I was fine, so he started his explanation. “Wendy… she has bone cancer. Her dying wish is to marry me. We grew up together, Sarah. She’s my childhood friend. I couldn’t let her die with regrets, so I’m getting engaged to her in three days.” He looked at me with those puppy-dog eyes. “You’ve always been so understanding. You get it, right?” It wasn’t an explanation. It was a notification. Engaged in three days? That worked out perfectly. I was leaving in three days anyway. I nodded quietly. In the past, Sean hated my “princess tantrums.” He said I was needy, always asking if he loved me. Over the years, I learned to be quiet. I learned to endure. Now, I wasn’t screaming. I wasn’t asking if he still loved me. He looked a little surprised by my calm. “I have to move out tomorrow to live with Wendy,” he added, pushing his luck. “You might have to be on your own for a few months. She’s sick, Sarah. She needs me more than you do right now.” I smiled and set the flowers down. Seeing that I wasn’t fighting back, he leaned in to kiss my cheek. I dodged him, smooth and subtle. There was a bright red lipstick stain on his collar. The sickly-sweet smell of another woman’s perfume assaulted my nose. I almost gagged. Rejected, Sean got annoyed. He didn’t say anything else, just grabbed a bag and left the apartment again. The second the door closed, I threw the flowers and the cake into the trash. Then, I started packing. I didn’t want the flowers. I didn’t want Sean. And I didn’t want anything to do with this apartment anymore. 3 The next day at work, I sat at my desk and printed my resignation letter. We met in college. When he got a job at this tech company, I followed him. I turned down my parents’ connections to start as an entry-level clerk, just to be with him. I used to hint at marriage. Sean always said he was too busy, that he needed to “make something of himself” before he could face my parents. “Career first, family later,” was his motto. I never told him about my family’s wealth because I didn’t want to pressure him. I just quietly managed my parents’ expectations. Now he was the VP. When I found the ring, I thought he was finally ready. Turns out, I was just delusional. Lisa, a coworker, walked by and saw my screen. “Sarah? You’re up for the Director promotion. Why are you quitting?” I smiled. “I’m getting married soon. I might switch industries.” Lisa beamed. “Oh my god, congrats! Love is in the air around here. Did you see VP Sean’s post? He’s getting engaged too!” “They look so good together. I heard they’re childhood sweethearts. Literal soulmates.” My smile faltered. I checked my phone. Sean had blocked me on all his personal socials. His main account was private. His work account? We only had professional exchanges there. Just then, Sean walked into the open-plan office. Wendy was with him. They were standing close. Wendy’s cheeks were rosy, her smile bright. She didn’t look like a dying cancer patient to me. Sean clapped his hands. “Everyone, listen up. This is our new Technical Director. Let’s make her feel welcome.” Lisa’s jaw dropped. She looked from me to Wendy. That was my promotion. Lisa awkwardly bowed. “Welcome, Director Wendy.” I stayed silent, gripping my resignation letter. Sean glared at me. “Sarah, everyone else greeted the new Director. What’s your problem?” Wendy chuckled softly and extended a hand toward me. “We’ll be working together closely. Please take care of me.” I reached out, but Sean snatched her hand back before we touched. “She’s a Director, babe. You don’t need to lower yourself for some entry-level employees. Come on, I’ll show you your office.” They walked off. I was left standing there with my hand extended, looking like a total clown. 4 Lisa pulled me down into my chair, whispering furiously. “Sarah, did you see that? That’s the fiancée!” “That diamond necklace she’s wearing? Sean gave it to her yesterday. It’s worth like a hundred grand!” “But seriously… parachuting her in? You’ve been busting your ass for five years. Everyone knows that Director spot was yours. That is so messed up.” I nodded absently. I was quitting anyway. Wendy taking my job just made it easier to see exactly where I stood in Sean’s life. Nowhere. I grabbed my resignation and a box of personal files and knocked on Sean’s office door. “Enter,” he said coldly. I put everything on his desk, including the handover files. He flipped through them, his face getting darker by the second. Finally, he looked up with a sneer. “Sarah, I thought you grew up yesterday. I guess I was wrong. You’re throwing a tantrum again?” He grabbed the stack of files and threw them at me. Papers flew everywhere. I dodged the heavy binder. Then, silently, I bent down and picked them up, one by one. “Just because she took the promotion?” he scoffed. “Wendy has the same degree as me. I trust her skills. What right do you have to be mad?” I stacked the papers neatly on his desk. “I’m not mad,” I said calmly. “I’m just resigning.” So, he trusts her skills because they have the same major? I majored in Jewelry Design. I got a double degree in Computer Science for him. I spent years burning the midnight oil to keep up with him. And to him, my effort was worthless. Sean looked down his nose at me. “You know you’re mediocre, right? I put you on Wendy’s team so you could learn from her. You should be grateful.” I laughed. “My time is expensive, Sean. I’m done learning things I hate.” “Fine!” he shouted, standing up. He looked like he wanted to hit me. “Get out! Good luck finding another company that will hire you!” I turned and walked out. Six years wasted on a dog. I wasn’t going to orbit him anymore, and I certainly wasn’t going to orbit Wendy. 5 At lunch, I was packing my cubicle. There was a little asteroid figurine on my desk. Sean gave it to me when we graduated. He told me I was his “whole universe.” I smirked. I almost left it, but decided to toss it in the box. As I was heading for the elevator, Wendy rushed out of her office, looking frantic. “Excuse me, everyone! My necklace… I think I lost it. Can everyone please stay put for a quick search?” The office started buzzing. “That huge diamond one?” “She’s being polite saying ‘lost.’ Someone probably stole it.” “Omg, do we have a thief? My snacks have been disappearing lately…” Sean was right by Wendy’s side. He ordered security to block the doors. They started searching everyone. When they got to me, I put my box down. Sean saw the asteroid figurine right on top. He paused for a second, then signaled the guard to dump the entire box out. Crash. My stuff scattered across the floor. The figurine shattered into a million pieces. Just like us. Security kicked through my things. Suddenly, Wendy gasped. “My necklace!” It was tangled in my charging cables. The whole office went silent, then the whispers started. “Oh my god, Sarah stole it?” “I knew she was jealous about the promotion, but this is low.” “She’s a thief? Thank god she quit. That’s scary.” My blood ran cold. I hadn’t touched her necklace. Someone must have planted it while I was in Sean’s office resigning. Sean picked up the necklace, his face thunderous. He looked at me with pure disgust. “Sarah…” He stepped on the shards of the figurine he once gave me, grinding them into dust. I looked up, and slap. He hit me across the face. Hard. “Apologize to Wendy! Why did you steal her gift?” My heart shattered completely. Being misunderstood by colleagues was one thing. But the man I loved for six years? He didn’t even ask. He just hit me. He held the necklace worth six figures in his hand, while crushing the cheap sentimental gift under his shoe. Tears welled up. “I didn’t…” He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward Wendy like I was trash. “Apologize! Explain yourself!” Wendy smirked for a split second before putting on a worried frown. She tried to help me up. I slapped her hand away and stood up on my own. Through my tears, I stood tall. “I didn’t take it. Check the cameras. I want the footage.” I looked Wendy dead in the eye. “And frankly, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a diamond that cheap.”

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