Author: Momo Chan

We were filming a variety show, and the challenge was to write a “Three-Line Last Will and Testament.” I wrote: [Finally. I kicked the bucket. LOL.] Then it was the Movie King’s turn. He thought for a moment, then penned: [Chloe. I’m in Hell. And I miss you.] I froze. Because I am Chloe. The internet exploded. That night, the hashtag #LiamConfessesViaDeathNote nuked the trending topics on Twitter. Netizens commented: [He’s real for that. I’m sobbing. Loving her even from the afterlife? Is this romance or a horror movie?] 1 I am the entertainment industry’s most notorious “Solo Queen.” Single since birth. Never dated. Not once. Once, the paparazzi camped out for twenty-four hours straight, hoping for dirt. All they got was footage of me solo-polishing off an entire extra-large pizza. My agent, Max, sighed deeply. “Trying to get you a ship for clout is harder than climbing Everest. You don’t even have male mosquitoes buzzing around you.” So, he signed me up for a dating reality show—Love on the Line. The stakes were high. The guests were all A-listers, including the current box-office god, Liam. Before filming, Max grabbed my shoulders: “If you really hate men, go flirt with a pretty girl, I don’t care! Just get some screen time!” 2 I went in, shaking in my boots. For the first episode, the producers came up with a “unique” icebreaker. [Dear Guests: Assume you are about to die. Please write a three-line Last Will.] Guest #1, the Pop Princess, sighed and wrote: [Earth sucks. 1 Star. Never visiting again.] Guest #2 was the new Top Idol guy. He laughed at the Princess’s answer, said “Same,” and wrote: [Natural causes. Burn some cash for me. And for the love of god, wipe my browser history.] Guest #4, the Serious Actress: [Scan the QR code on my grave for my nudes. Oops, you’re late. File expired.] Guest #5, the R&B Singer: [This user is too lazy to write a will. He left nothing but these three lines.] Then, it was my turn. My honest thought was: [I’m dead. Please burn money, a mansion, and a hot guy for me in the afterlife.] But then I remembered the cameras were rolling. I should keep a shred of dignity. So I twirled my pen and wrote my masterpiece, showing the whiteboard to the camera: [Finally. I kicked the bucket. LOL.] The Pop Princess looked at my board and leaned in. “It’s supposed to be three lines. You only used one line for the content.” I nodded sagely. “Listen, this is a will. I’ve followed rules my whole life. If I’m dying, I’m done with formatting guidelines.” “My death, my rules!” The Princess looked speechless but impressed. “Valid point.” 3 The other guests finished their wills. [Alive, I beat 100% of dead people. Dead, I beat 100% of living people. I’m the G.O.A.T.] [One last time: Pineapple does not belong on pizza.] [Dad, send money. I’m broke in Hell too.] [Sleep is just a free trial of death. This time I’m buying the full version.] [Mom, don’t cook for me anymore.] [I have 3 million dollars hidden. I won’t tell you where. Good luck, kids.] [No alcohol at the funeral. And don’t visit on weekends, I’m off the clock.] [Type 1 in the chat on my grave, and I’ll haunt someone you hate.] [Preselling my next life. Certified authentic. No refunds.] Finally, it was Liam’s turn. He was the biggest star among us. The Movie King. A lot of industry insiders and netizens were confused. Why would someone with Liam’s status join a trashy dating show? He hadn’t spoken much all recording. If prompted, he’d give a short answer. He was like a high-functioning robot programmed only to execute basic commands. Zero variety show sense. Now, everyone’s eyes were glued to him. The Top Idol sitting next to me was practically drooling on Liam’s pen tip. Seeing him hesitate, he whispered, “Bro, hurry up. Time to leave your legacy.” Liam paused. For some reason, he glanced at me. Then he lowered his eyes and slowly wrote a few words. I was curious, too. I pretended to be nonchalant, but I was practically straining my eyes out of their sockets. But when he turned the board to the camera, I wanted to gouge my own eyes out. He wrote: [Chloe. I’m in Hell. And I miss you.] Everyone on set looked like they’d been struck by lightning. Their heads snapped toward me in perfect unison. I panicked and let out the driest laugh of my life. “Hahahaha…” Talk about bad luck. It’s like tripping over a stone and falling into a sewer. Because I am Chloe. 4 God help me. Sometimes, being alone on a variety show is a helpless experience. If the police handled awkwardness, I would have had Liam arrested immediately for disturbing the peace. Even though everyone here was a seasoned veteran of the entertainment deep fryer, Liam’s single sentence fried our brains. Even the host needed a minute to reboot. This definitely wasn’t in the script. Liam, however, remained as calm as a chrysanthemum. He slowly capped his marker, looked up with faux confusion, and chuckled softly. “What’s wrong? Why is everyone frozen?” “Is there a problem with my will?” The Pop Princess looked at me, then at him, and spoke first. “Yeah, big problem.” “This is a dating show, but aren’t you moving a little fast? Confessing in the first episode? My mother is shook.” The Top Idol nodded vigorously. “Yeah, bro, WTF? And confessing in a will? What kind of vibe is this? ‘Till death do us part’ taken literally?” The Serious Actress narrowed her eyes. “Bold move, bro. Dropping a nuke right at the start. That’s why you’re top tier.” Looking around, the only person with a rosy complexion was the Producer. His eyes were glowing with a frantic, eerie light. “Holy sh*t. We got our viral moment.” 5 For the next few days after filming, I avoided Liam like the plague. Even after we exchanged WeChat contacts, I sent a polite greeting and then never looked at his messages again. I just felt the guy wasn’t right in the head. A few days later, the first episode of Love on the Line aired. Liam’s three-line will containing my full government name caused a tsunami online. #LiamDeathNoteConfession stayed at #1 on the trending list for 24 hours straight. The heat refused to die down. The forums were more active than when that one idol got arrested. Netizens: [LMAO I can’t breathe. ‘I’m in Hell and I miss you.’ What in the gothic romance is this?] [He’s real for that. I’m crying. Imagine Chloe seeing that. Is she touched or terrified?] [If there wasn’t a three-line limit, I swear he would have added ‘The wind of my longing blows all the way to the Underworld.’] [Suggestion for Liam: Put a QR code on your tombstone. If she says yes, it links to your chat history. If she says no, it links to your heartbreak playlist. Ruthless! Hahahaha!] Me: “…” Sorry, this corpse is feeling a bit unwell. Signing off to go jump off a building to calm down.

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After Gavin York went bankrupt, I got downgraded from a high-flying sugar baby to a broke girlfriend on a $500 monthly allowance. The girls in the group chat told me to bail and find a new whale. I didn’t listen. No matter how hard it got, I stuck by him. Ride or die, baby. Eventually, Gavin staged a legendary comeback. His net worth didn’t just recover; it tripled. On the day I was packing up to leave, the tall, imposing man sat in my tiny apartment, looking surprisingly cheerful. “Our contract might be up, June, but I’m granting you one wish. Anything you want, I’ll make it happen.” I was shocked and thrilled. “Okay, I want a 3,000-square-foot penthouse in downtown Manhattan.” “And?” “That’s it.” Gavin’s smile vanished. He hid the velvet ring box behind his back, his face darkening by the second. “…That’s it?” 1 “W-well, what else should there be?” I felt a chill. Gavin looked pissed. I shrank back into the sofa, putting some distance between us. “Um… maybe you could prepay fifty years of HOA fees?” Gavin took a deep breath, his thick brows knitting together in a scowl. “June Carter, are you trying to insult me?” Fair point. He was loaded now. Asking for a mere luxury condo was probably like asking for pocket change. It was insulting to his net worth. I decided to be honest. “Sorry, look, I don’t plan on getting married. Ever. So, it’s just going to be me and maybe a dog in the future. That much space is plenty.” Gavin choked. The hand he’d been hiding behind his back suddenly jammed into his pocket, leaving his Patek Philippe watch exposed and gleaming. His voice dropped to sub-zero temperatures. “Coincidence. I don’t plan on getting married either.” “I agree to your terms. The contract is terminated. I’ll wire an extra 2.5 million to your account as a severance package. Thanks for your… service.” So generous! I beamed, completely missing the sarcasm in his first sentence. “Thanks, Gavin! You’re the best!” He pressed his lips into a thin line, not saying a word. When he stormed out, he slammed the door so hard the trash can in the hallway rattled. 2 I happily shared the news in the group chat. I didn’t have many real friends. The “girls” were just the plus-ones of Gavin’s elite circle. [Richie’s Brat: June, are you dumb? That was your chance to lock down the wife title! You fumbled the bag hard.] [Fake Heiress: Next time you want to brag about fumbling a billionaire, keep it to yourself. You’re stressing me out.] [Crypto Queen: Wait, so you secured the bag with zero side effects? Teach me.] Only [Leo’s Mom (Sugar Daddy Edition)] was reading between the lines: [The Vance family has been trying to merge with Gavin’s empire for ages. I heard they had dinner last week. An engagement is probably imminent.] [Also, Gavin is ruthless. He drove his own brother to bankruptcy. June wouldn’t dare ask for too much. She’d end up in jail.] Me: [Exactly! He looked so scary when he left! T_T] They all knew Gavin York was impossible to handle. Handsome, rich, but with a temper from hell and more rules than the military. And his stamina… let’s just say he used to leave me walking funny for days. It was grueling. But back then, I was a professional sugar baby. I endured it for the money. Then came the news of his bankruptcy. “June, you should go. I’m broke,” he’d said, standing in the rain in a wrinkled suit, looking like a kicked puppy abandoned by the world. I really did want to leave. But my brain did a quick ROI calculation. A guy like Gavin doesn’t stay down. If I helped him when he was at rock bottom, he’d owe me for life when he bounced back. Plus, with his brain, he’d be rich again in no time. It was a better bet than going back to waiting tables. So, I pulled my foot back from the door. I tested the waters. “…Actually, I sold some of the Hermès bags you gave me and bought a small studio apartment.” “Gavin, do you want to come home with me?” He nodded slowly. So, I dragged him back to my 600-square-foot shoe box. We made three new rules, appended to our old contract: While broke, Gavin doesn’t eat for free. Manual labor covers rent. No temper tantrums. My house, my rules. If he pissed me off, he slept in the bathtub. That first night, Gavin devoured a bowl of mac and cheese like it was Michelin-star dining. He even licked the spoon. Then, miracle of miracles, he did the dishes. Quiet as a mouse. In the middle of the night, however, he pressed me into the flimsy mattress until the springs screamed for mercy. I protested this abuse of power. “Easy! If the bed breaks, we can’t afford a new one!” I tried to kick him, but he caught my ankle. He kissed his way up my leg, his breath hot, his voice trembling with a vulnerability I’d never heard before. “June… thank you for still loving me.” “I swear, I won’t let you live this life for long.” My dream had always been simple: a place of my own, hot food, and safety. I didn’t think this life was hard. But Gavin seemed to misunderstand. Whatever. At least he looked motivated again. The fire was back in his eyes. 3 Gavin kicked the trash can on his way out and dented it. I carried the sad, crumpled metal downstairs. There was an old man on the first floor with mild dementia who collected scraps. He eyed the trash can like it was gold. Feeling generous, I gave it to him. Just then, my phone buzzed. Notification from the bank. Gavin had wired me money. But his hand must have slipped, because instead of 2.5 million, he sent $5,200,000. I froze. I remembered reading legal advice online: large, unexplained transfers could be recalled or used to sue for extortion. I kept what was promised and immediately wired back the extra $2,700,000. He didn’t accept the transfer. I texted him: [Gavin, you sent too much. I sent the difference back.] [Message Not Delivered. You have been blocked by this user.] I stared at the red exclamation mark. The petty man blocked me. Fine. He got moody like this sometimes. I decided to leave him alone. Several days passed. Gavin didn’t show up. I enjoyed the peace. I deep-cleaned the apartment. I scrolled through Zillow looking at interior designs for my future penthouse. But a week went by, and still nothing. Phone went to voicemail. WeChat still blocked. This was out of character. He usually paid his debts immediately. Where was my penthouse? I started to panic. I called his secretary’s line. “I’m sorry, Mr. York has a private schedule today. May I ask who is calling?” I stammered, realizing I didn’t have a title anymore. Gavin wasn’t the broke guy on my couch anymore. He had a new team. They didn’t know me. And our contract was over. I wasn’t a sugar baby with VIP privileges anymore. “Nobody. Just… an old friend.” I hung up, feeling awkward as hell. 4 For the sake of my penthouse, I decided to stalk him. I waited outside his corporate HQ for hours until a sleek black Maybach pulled up. The door opened. I saw Gavin’s sharp profile. Then, a woman in a stunning white Chanel suit stepped out. “Gavin, I’m very satisfied with you.” Her voice was crisp and commanding. “You meet all my standards—looks, pedigree, assets. I don’t mind building feelings after the wedding.” Damn. Direct. That had to be Veronica Vance. The heiress. “I’m leaving now. Give me an answer in three days.” Gavin’s back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face. This was huge tea. I had to tell the group chat. I ducked behind a pillar, dimmed my screen, and started typing. June: [@everyone Emergency! Veronica Vance just proposed to Gavin York!] [Image attached: Blurry photo from behind a bush] The chat exploded. [Crypto Queen: Be honest, June. In three years, did you never catch feelings for him?] [Fake Heiress: Doesn’t it hurt to hear that?] My thumb hovered over the screen. I didn’t know how to answer. Suddenly, a deep voice rumbled directly above my head reading my group chat name. “The Diamond Cage Homeowners Association?” Gavin was standing right behind me. I panicked and locked my phone. He had one hand in his pocket, the other loosening his tie. He smelled of expensive scotch and agitation. His eyes were red-rimmed. “June, when did you pick up stalking as a hobby?” My heart hammered against my ribs. I took a step back. “I came to find you.” Gavin’s eyes lit up instantly. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “To find me?” “Yeah. You left this at my place.” I held out a cheap plastic lighter. “You forgot it. I brought it back.” Gavin let out a short, bitter laugh. “You really are… efficient. Is my stuff that repulsive to you?” “It’s just clutter. The apartment feels bigger without it.” Gavin’s breathing hitched. He turned away, taking a moment to compose himself. When he looked back, his face was a mask of indifference. “You heard what Veronica said?” I nodded. His gaze burned into me. “Any thoughts?” I buried my chin in my scarf and fiddled with my fingers. “Yes.” “Well?” He leaned in, hope flickering in his eyes. The wind rustled the decorative trees, sounding like whispers. I took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “I wish you happiness, a hundred years of marriage, and lots of babies.” “Also… that 3,000-square-foot penthouse you promised? When do I get the deed?”

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I was the rainmaker. The golden goose. The guy bringing in millions in revenue every single month. But because I didn’t kiss the ring—or more accurately, because I didn’t spam the company group chat calling her “gorgeous”—she fired me without blinking. She replaced me with her clueless cousin. Fast forward a month: the company’s sales flatlined. Zero. Zilch. That’s when she showed up at my door, sobbing. “Please, Liam, you have to come back. My boyfriend says if you don’t return, he’s dumping me.” 1 The boss, David, was away on a business trip for a month. He left his shiny new girlfriend in charge as the “interim manager.” I never expected her power trip to start with me. It was 10:00 AM when I strolled into the office with my iced coffee. My coworker, shivering with anxiety, pointed toward the main office. “Tiffany is here. She wants to see you. Now.” Tiffany. David’s new flavor of the month. She was arrogant, loud, and impossible to please. If she didn’t like you, she’d make your life hell. She once bullied a female intern into quitting just because the girl spent “too much time” reporting to David. Tiffany spread rumors that the girl was sleeping her way to the top. David usually turned a blind eye because Tiffany was sweet to him, but now she had the reins. I walked in. Before I could even say “Good morning,” a heavy binder came flying at my head. Smack. It clipped my forehead, leaving a stinging scratch. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Tiffany shrieked from behind the executive desk. “Office hours start at 8:00 AM. It’s 10:00! Who do you think you are?” I wiped my forehead, staring at her contorted, heavily made-up face. Everyone knew the unwritten rule: The top sales dogs come in at 10. When David’s company was on the brink of bankruptcy years ago, I came onboard. In my first month, I closed five million in sales and pulled the company back from the ledge. Since then, David treated me like royalty. I had flexible hours. Tiffany slammed her hand on the desk. “Look at your punch card! You’ve been late every day this month. You clearly don’t respect company policy.” “According to the handbook, three consecutive tardies means termination.” “So get out. You’re fired!” I looked at her in disbelief. “You’re firing me? Did you run this by David?” I brought in 80% of the company’s profit. Tiffany scoffed, looking at me like I was something she scraped off her shoe. “You’re just a salesman. A glorified peddler. Why wouldn’t I fire you?” “This is my boyfriend’s company. I’m the future owner. I can fire whoever the hell I want.” I sat down on the leather sofa, crossing my legs. “I suggest you call David first.” She rolled her eyes. “Who do you think you are?” She dialed David immediately on speaker. David sounded exhausted. “What is it, babe?” Her voice instantly changed from a screech to a sickeningly sweet purr. “Baby, I miss you~” David sighed. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” She smirked at me triumphantly. “There’s a salesman who refuses to follow the rules. He’s always late. I want him gone.” “Do whatever you want,” David muttered, clearly half-asleep. “I need to rest.” Click. Tiffany looked at me, gloating. “Heard that? I fire who I want. Now get the hell out!” 2 I let out a cold laugh. “Are you sure about this?” “When David comes back and realizes you fired me, he’s not going to be happy.” I was giving her a genuine warning. Headhunters had been blowing up my phone for years with offers double my salary, but I stayed out of loyalty to David. If I left, I’d be fine. Tiffany? Not so much. Tiffany glared at me, her face twisting with malice. “You really think you’re special? You’re an employee. I am his future wife. The lady of the house. You think he’s going to choose you over me?” I shook my head. Fine. If that’s how you want to play it. I walked out of the office. The bullpen was silent. Everyone had heard the screaming. “Liam, what happened?” a coworker whispered. I started packing my personal items into a box. “What happened? I got fired.” They gasped. “Fired? Is she insane? Everyone knows you’re the rainmaker. Isn’t she afraid David will dump her?” I chuckled. “Not my problem anymore. It’s her decision; she can deal with the fallout.” “Honestly, I’ve been grinding for years. I have enough saved to retire if I want. I could use a vacation.” “But why?” asked Jerry, a junior rep. “Did you offend her?” I thought about it. “Probably because I defended Jenny when Tiffany slut-shamed her.” Or maybe because yesterday, Tiffany posted a heavily filtered thirst trap in the company Slack channel, and everyone spammed “You’re a goddess!” except me. I left her on read. That was probably the nail in the coffin. “I should call David,” Jerry said, reaching for his phone. “Don’t,” I stopped him. “Even if I come back, it won’t be while she’s here. I can’t deal with her toxicity.” I took my box and went to Finance to settle my final paycheck. I’d only worked ten days this month, but my commissions alone were over a hundred grand. I told the payroll girl I was fired and to wire the money. Suddenly, Tiffany stormed into the finance office. “Liam! I told you to get out! What are you doing here?” I glanced at her. She looked so smug, banking on her boyfriend’s success. It was disgusting. When I ignored her, she grabbed my arm. “Are you deaf? Why are you touching company documents? Get out before I call the cops!” I shook her hand off. Hard. “Let go.” “I’m getting my paycheck. I’m not even asking for a severance package, which is generous of me.” Tiffany glared at the payroll girl. “How much is he owed?” The girl stuttered, “One hundred thousand and five thousand dollars.” Tiffany’s jaw dropped. “How much?” After the girl repeated it, Tiffany pointed a manicured finger at me. “He violated company policy. He was late. Deduct it all.” I laughed. “The penalty for being late is $200. Did you fail math in elementary school?” Tiffany puffed up her chest. “I made a new rule. Three strikes and you forfeit your entire salary. Now get out!” 3 “Who gave you the authority to make up labor laws?” Tiffany crossed her arms. “I own a piece of this future. My word is law.” I didn’t have the energy to argue with stupid. “Fine. See you in court.” I walked out, box in hand. I drove home, unpacked, and checked my phone. I hadn’t left the company group chat yet. Tiffany had posted a new announcement: From now on, everyone must reply to my messages on Slack and WhatsApp within 5 minutes. Anyone who ignores me will end up like Liam. So that was the reason. David really had the worst taste in women. The chat filled with “Yes, ma’am!” and “Understood!” messages. I rolled my eyes and hit “Leave Group.” Peace at last. But Tiffany wasn’t letting me take my hard-earned money. So, I decided to teach her a lesson. All the VIP clients were saved in my personal phone. I had cultivated these relationships for years. I sent out a mass broadcast message. To my valued clients: Effective immediately, I have resigned from [Company Name]. I will no longer be handling your accounts there. Most of these people only bought from the company because they trusted me. Within two minutes, my phone blew up. Clients were asking where I was going, promising to move their contracts to my new firm. I replied to everyone honestly: I haven’t landed anywhere yet. Taking a break. But I will let you know as soon as I’m back in the game. I spent the entire day replying to messages until I fell asleep. The next morning, Jerry texted me: Bro, it’s chaos. A ton of vendors called to cancel contracts. They said they won’t renew without you. Did you do this? I smirked. I didn’t do anything. I just told them the truth—I don’t work there anymore. Jerry: You’re a legend. Tiffany screamed at three sales reps this morning, asking why they couldn’t retain the clients. People are writing resignation letters right now. Good. Let’s see how she handles the fire. I was preparing to contact a lawyer for my unpaid wages when Tiffany called me herself. I picked up. “Hello?” “Liam, you piece of trash!” she screamed into the receiver. “Where are the client contacts? The files are empty! Those are company property! Send me the numbers right now or I’ll sue you!” I laughed. She was panicking. “You are disgusting! Give me the list! Or I’ll ruin you!” 4 “Those clients? I found them. I wined and dined them. I closed them. They only answer to me. Why should I give them to you?” Tiffany sounded like she was hyperventilating. “The company paid you! That’s your job! You ungrateful dog! My husband paid you millions and you stab us in the back?” “You want the numbers? Fine. I’ll give them to you. Let’s see if you can actually close a deal.” I hung up and emailed the spreadsheet to Jerry to print out for her. A phone number is useless if you don’t have the skill. The next day, Jerry sent me a video. It was taken secretly from his desk. Tiffany was on the phone with a major client. “Did Liam tell you to say that? How much is he paying you to lie to me?” she shrieked. “If you don’t buy from us, get lost! Good luck finding another supplier!” She slammed the phone down, smashing the screen. “I don’t believe this company will die without that traitor!” she yelled at the silent office. “Everyone, get out there! I want five new clients from each of you by the end of the day!” “Five? Today?” Jerry muttered in the video. “We sell heavy industrial machinery. Getting one lead a month is hard.” Tiffany’s eyes bulged. “What? You want to mutiny?” Old Man Zheng, a sales veteran, stood up. “Maybe we should wait for David to come back. You don’t understand the sales cycle…” “You’re incompetent!” Tiffany cut him off. “The company doesn’t need dead weight. If you can’t do it, get out!” Zheng’s face turned red. He took off his badge and threw it on the desk. “I can’t do it. Find someone who can.” He walked out. Then another rep stood up. Then Jerry. “We quit.” “Fine! Go! All of you!” Tiffany screamed. “You think the world stops spinning without you? You’re all useless!” The video ended. Jerry texted: Boss is going to come back to a graveyard. That afternoon, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find Zheng, Jerry, and the entire sales team standing in my hallway. 5 I ushered them in and poured tea. “What are you guys doing here?” Zheng looked at me, looking tired. “I led them here. Tiffany went too far. She actually blacklisted us within the industry group chat, saying we were fired for cause. Now nobody will interview us.” I slammed my cup down. “That woman is toxic.” “We have mortgages, Liam. Kids. If we can’t work…” Zheng hesitated. “We want to follow you. If you start something, we’re in.” “Yeah, Liam,” Jerry added. “We only trust you. David is a good guy, but his taste in women destroyed the company.” I looked at their desperate faces. I felt a fire light up in my chest. “Okay. I’ll handle it.” “From today on, we work for ourselves. We start our own agency. When Tiffany runs that place into the ground, we’ll be the ones standing.” They cheered. I immediately organized them. The veterans went to find suppliers. I contacted my client list. We offered the same product, but cheaper, because we had lower overhead. The suppliers knew me. They knew I moved volume. They signed with us immediately. Within a week, we had poached almost every major contract. The commissions we were making were insane compared to our old salaries. More ex-colleagues heard about our success and quit to join us. Jerry gave me the latest intel: “After the sales team left, Tiffany hired her cousin, her uncle, and her aunt to fill the seats. They just sit in the office acting like royalty, ordering the admin staff around.” “They haven’t closed a single deal since you left.” I laughed. “David is going to have a stroke.” “David video calls her every day,” Jerry said. “And she lies to his face. Says everything is booming.” “I heard her talking to her uncle before I left,” another guy chimed in. “She asked if they were going too far. Her uncle said, ‘If he gets mad, accuse him of assault. You think we gave him our innocent niece for free?’”

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At the party, I dragged my drunk best friend back to her hotel room. But my childhood sweetheart—the man I’d loved my entire life—grabbed me, mistaking me for her. It was a messy, chaotic night. Everyone said I did it on purpose. They said I was a homewrecker trying to drive a wedge between him and his “true love.” Even after we were forced to marry, nothing I did could melt his heart of ice. I thought I could endure it. Until I overheard him on the phone, his voice dripping with malice. “I’ll drag Luna along for the rest of her miserable life if it means getting revenge for Chloe. Who else would want her anyway?” “She wants a baby? I’ll make sure she never gets one. I’d rather die.” A piercing car horn cut his tirade short. He turned, saw me standing on the corner, and panic flooded his face. He started running toward me. But it was too late. The impact was brutal. I was sent flying into the air. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at that party. Back to the night it all went wrong. And this time? I decided to let him and my “best friend” have their happily ever after. 1 Only Chloe knew I was in love with Asher. When I saw Asher stumbling drunk in the hallway, eyes glazed over, pinning me against the wall, I didn’t lean in. My eyes went cold. I grabbed his arm and dragged him straight to Chloe’s room. I pounded on the door. When Chloe opened it, I shoved Asher right into her arms. “He needs you. Now.” Chloe looked stunned for a split second. Then, as she wrapped her arms around him, her face twisted into a sneer. “Finally got some self-awareness, Luna?” “Took you long enough. Asher has always wanted me. Why do you keep humiliating yourself?” “He rejected you so hard last time, and you’re still acting like a simp? Do you have no dignity?” My fingernails dug into my palms. Even a lifetime later, her words still stung. In my past life, Chloe had played the “bestie” card, dragging me on this beach trip only to treat me like a glorified maid while she flirted with the guy I loved. That night, in my first life, Asher was too drunk to know who was who. I took him to his room, and things happened. We got engaged out of obligation, but on our wedding day, Chloe killed herself in our bridal suite. That guilt destroyed my marriage before it began. But this time? I wasn’t playing. “You’re right,” I said, my voice flat. “He’s always wanted you. I’m done chasing.” I turned on my heel and walked out of the hotel. Tears streamed down my face the second I hit the fresh air. I cried for the wasted years, for the pain of two lifetimes. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed my aunt. “Aunt Sarah? I’ll take the offer. I’m moving to Canada.” “And that arranged marriage you mentioned? I’ll do it.” Aunt Sarah sounded thrilled. “Oh, thank God, Luna! You finally came to your senses. I’ll make the arrangements…” She paused. “Does Asher know?” “No.” “Good,” she sighed. “Honey, I know you grew up with the guy, but he’s not your guardian. You’re an adult. You can’t keep orbiting him, especially when his heart is taken. I’ve been so worried about you staying there…” I let out a bitter laugh. “I know, Auntie. That’s why I’m never going to love him again.” 2 I didn’t go back to the hotel that night. I stayed at a cheap motel nearby, catching a fever from the drafty window. When I returned the next morning, groggy and burning up, I walked straight into the news of their engagement. Asher was lounging on the sofa in a wrinkled silk robe, his neck covered in hickeys. Chloe was wrapped in a towel, looking like the cat who ate the canary. They were feeding each other breakfast, putting on a show. “Oh, look who’s back,” Chloe chirped. “Asher cooked breakfast. It’s delicious. But I guess you’re sick of his cooking by now, right Luna?” My heart gave a painful throb. Sick of it? Asher had never cooked for me. Not once. Well, except for that one time when we were kids and I was sick, crying for my mom’s soup. He made a bowl of undercooked rice sludge with sugar instead of salt. I cherished the memory of that terrible porridge for years. But for Chloe? He took culinary classes. He made gourmet meals. Asher wiped a crumb from Chloe’s lip, his expression cold as he looked at me. “Chloe likes the villa on the South Side. We’re going to renovate it for the wedding. As for you…” I looked down. I knew what was coming. That villa had been my home for ten years. Now, I was being evicted. “I’ll move out ASAP,” I said, my voice raspy. “Brother.” Asher froze. His pupils dilated. I hadn’t called him “Brother” since I confessed my love at eighteen. He used to scream at me to stop having “disgusting thoughts” about him. “What did you call me?” he stammered. Chloe cut in, draping herself over him. “I mean, we’re getting married. She’s practically family.” She smirked at me. “So, what are you going to call me?” Asher didn’t answer. He was staring at me, looking conflicted. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Sister-in-law.” Chloe’s smug smile faltered. I walked past them to my room and collapsed on the bed, the fever taking over. Later, Asher blocked my doorway. “I don’t care what game you’re playing,” he snarled. “I’m marrying Chloe. Don’t try to sabotage this.” “If you do, I won’t let you off easy.” Not let me off easy? What else could he do? In my past life, Chloe spilled hot soup on me, and he made me kneel in the rain to apologize. She pushed me down the stairs, and he locked me in the basement until I admitted I fell. My love for him was a poison I drank willingly. Not anymore. “Understood,” I whispered. Asher seemed thrown off by my lack of fight. “Look, we have a few days left of vacation. You can come with us tomorrow…” “No thanks,” I cut him off. “You guys enjoy your honeymoon preview. I have stuff to handle back home. I’m leaving.” I packed my bag and left. 3 They turned the rest of the trip into a pre-wedding honeymoon. Chloe made sure I knew every detail. She bombarded my phone with photos. Picture: Asher cutting steak for her. “He’s so attentive. I must have saved a country in my past life to deserve him.” Picture: Asher washing her feet. “Your dream guy is serving me like a queen. Did he ever do this for you?” Chloe knew exactly where to stick the knife. But she didn’t know he used to be good to me, too. Before she came along. If I had a nightmare, he’d fly back from business trips. If I got bullied, he’d show up at school, pale-faced from his heart condition, to defend me. That all ended the day I told him I loved him. I scrolled through his Instagram. It was a shrine to Chloe. In every photo, he looked like a boy in love. I stared at the screen until my tears blurred his face. Then, my phone buzzed. Asher. “What are you doing?” his voice was icy. I looked around my room at the Fu mansion. He had given me a mountain of gifts over the years, but I was taking almost nothing. I looked at the shelf of photo albums. I used to document his life because he was vain about getting old. He used to love it. After my confession, he burned half of them in a drunken rage, calling my obsession “sick.” I left them there. Under the bed was a box of a thousand letters I never sent. He told me once, “If you ever can’t find me, write it down.” He never knew they existed. I left those, too. I took one suitcase of clothes and a photo of my late parents. “Nothing,” I said into the phone. “What do you want?” “Can you stop harassing Chloe?” he shouted. “How many times do I have to tell you I love her? Give it up!” I stayed silent. The accusation was baseless, as usual. “You leave early to play the victim, then you blow up her phone asking for photos? Are you psycho?” Chloe sent them to me. To gloat. He knew that. Or maybe he didn’t care. “I didn’t ask for them,” I said tiredly. “Stop lying! Just stop!” he yelled. “I’m sick of you. When will you get it through your head? Your obsession is disgusting.” Tears rolled down my cheeks, but my voice was steady. “It won’t happen again.” “Good,” he huffed. “I was going to send you to the branch office for an internship, but I don’t want you messing up my wedding. I’m sending you out of state.” “No need,” I said. “I found a job. It’s far away. I won’t be living at the house anymore.” Silence on the other end. “When did you find a job? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me arrange it?” He was doing it again. Pushing me away, then panicking when I actually left. “I’m an adult,” I said. “I can take care of myself. Brother.” I emphasized the last word. He hung up on me. Minutes later, a text popped up. Tonight. Engagement party on the yacht. You have to come. Chloe insists she wants her ‘best friend’ there to witness her happiness. 4 The yacht party was extravagant. Millions of dollars in fireworks, the elite of the city, champagne flowing like water. In my last life, our wedding was a shotgun affair he tried to keep secret. He wouldn’t even take wedding photos. For Chloe? He bought the world. “Luna! Over here!” Chloe shoved a camera into my hands. “Asher is going to propose officially. Record it for us.” As she handed me the camera, she flashed her wrist. My eyes burned. She was wearing the prayer beads. 108 wooden beads. I had climbed a mountain, kneeling at every step, to pray for them when Asher was in critical condition with his heart. My blood was still stained into the wood grain. “Asher gave them to me,” she giggled. “I tripped the other day, and he said these would keep me safe. He’s so superstitious.” She smirked. “He said you ruined your knees begging for these? That’s crazy.” I still had chronic pain in my legs when it rained. He knew that. After the proposal photos, Chloe grabbed the camera back and “accidentally” bumped into me. The beads flew off her wrist and into the dark ocean. “Oh no!” Chloe wailed. “Luna! I know you didn’t want me to have them, but did you have to throw them away? They represent Asher’s safety!” She looked at Asher with big, teary eyes. “Does this mean… something bad will happen?” “Don’t talk like that,” Asher snapped. He turned his glare on me. “You break it, you buy it. Or in this case, you retrieve it. I taught you that, didn’t I?” Just like when Chloe broke her own project and blamed me, and he gave her my award-winning design as compensation. Just like when she threw away her cheap jade pendant and he forced me to give her my mother’s heirloom. I looked at the dark water. Then I looked at him. “Fine. As you wish.” I jumped. The water was freezing. It felt like a thousand needles stabbing my skin. I dove down, again and again, lungs burning, until I found the beads snagged on a ladder rung below the surface. When they hauled me up, shivering and blue, Asher just scowled. “Still trying to play the hero? You think this makes me pity you?” I handed the beads to Chloe. “Sorry.” Chloe snatched them. “Thanks, Luna. Oh, by the way, Asher said since you’re moving out, I can use your room for my collectibles?” My room. The one she had already forced me out of three times, pushing me from the master suite to the guest room to the attic and finally the storage closet. “Sure,” I said through chattering teeth. “It was just a closet anyway.” “And those clay dolls under your pillow? Can I have them for inspiration?” My head snapped up. Those dolls. Asher made them for me years ago. He said they were us, together forever. They were the only thing that kept me sane. Asher looked at me, his expression unreadable. I smiled, a broken, hollow thing. “Take them. They’re in his room now anyway.” “Take whatever you want,” I said softly. “I’m leaving everything behind. Including the person who used to mean the most to me.” Asher’s face darkened. “I’m leaving now. Congrats.” I turned to walk away. Suddenly, the giant LED screen on the deck flickered to life. A video started playing. It was the night at the hotel. But the video was edited. It didn’t show me handing Asher to Chloe. It only showed Asher drunk and stumbling, and me wrapping my arms around his neck to support him, looking intimate. Gasps rippled through the crowd. “Luna!” Asher roared, his face draining of color. “You… you actually filmed it?” “It’s a misunderstanding!” he frantically told Chloe. Chloe looked at him with sad, betrayed eyes. “I trust you, honey. But… who else would release this but her?” Asher marched over and slapped me across the face. Crack. “You disgust me! You released a sex tape to ruin my engagement?” I tasted blood. The crowd was jeering. “Ungrateful wolf,” someone muttered. “She wants to force him to marry her.” “I didn’t do it!” I screamed. Slap. He hit me again. “Liar! Only you and I were there!” I looked at Chloe. She was the only other person who knew. “Asher,” Chloe sobbed. “She hates us. She wants to ruin the family reputation because she can’t have you.” “Luna,” Asher said, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. “I gave you a chance. You blew it.” He signaled his bodyguards. “Bring the whip.” They beat me in front of everyone. When I was barely conscious, they tied a rope around my waist and threw me back into the ocean. “Maybe the sharks will teach you a lesson,” Asher spat. The scent of my blood drew them in. I thrashed in the water, feeling the rough skin of sharks bumping against me. I felt teeth graze my leg. I screamed until my throat tore. Asher stood on the deck, arm around Chloe, watching me drown. When they finally pulled me up, I was bleeding from multiple bites. As the police arrived—called by Asher to arrest me for defamation and blackmail—he announced to the crowd: “Let me be clear. I have no relationship with Luna anymore. Chloe is the only woman I will ever love.” I was dragged away in handcuffs, listening to the applause.

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I saw my boyfriend kissing another girl from a distance. I ran home, crying my eyes out, and texted him that we were breaking up. He called me immediately, scoffing. “If you have the guts, say that to my face.” 1 “Let’s break up, Caleb.” I sniffled. After typing those few words, I wiped a tear off my phone screen. The moment I hit send, I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I curled up into a ball, hugging my knees, and sobbed. I saw him kissing another girl outside his dorm today, but I didn’t have the courage to confront him. I was scared Caleb would get mad. He’s 6’2″. He could probably toss me like a frisbee if he wanted to. Okay, he’s never hit me, but haven’t you seen those Lifetime movies? Why do I always attract the scum of the earth? Thinking about it just made me cry harder. Suddenly, my phone rang. I wiped my eyes and checked. Caleb didn’t text back. He called. I cleared my throat before answering. “What do you mean?” His voice was emotionless. I tried to sound tough, channeling my inner righteous fury. “You cheated. We’re done.” “I did what?” He sounded genuinely confused. That gave me a little confidence. “I saw everything. Outside your dorm. You kissed someone else.” “What kind of nonsense are you talking about?” “You’re denying it?” My anger spiked. “We’re over, you jerk!” Caleb let out a cold laugh. It sent a chill down my spine. “If you have the guts, come say that to my face.” 2 Before I could react, he hung up. Even though his tone was flat, I could hear the icy edge to it. Sure enough, less than half an hour later, my apartment door beeped and opened. It was Caleb. Right. He knows my keypad code. He stared at me expressionlessly, walking over slowly. I instinctively shrank back, hugging a throw pillow in the corner of the sofa. “What… what are you doing here?” My voice sounded so weak. “I’m here to hear why I’m getting dumped.” He sat down on the sofa opposite me, looking relaxed but intense. I buried the lower half of my face in the pillow and mumbled, “I already told you.” Caleb looked at me for two seconds. “When did you see me kissing someone?” I was forced to recall the scene from this afternoon, feeling my heart sink again. “Around 4 PM.” He scoffed and tossed his phone onto the coffee table. It was playing a video of a bunch of guys playing basketball. The timestamp was clearly visible. “At 4 PM, I was on the court. Are you hallucinating, Joy?” I pressed my lips together and described exactly what I saw this afternoon. I only saw the guy from the back, but the build and height were identical. He was even wearing the exact same jacket. “That was my roommate, Zach. He borrowed my jacket for a date today.” As I listened to Caleb’s calm explanation, the storm clouds in my head instantly cleared. But I was still stubborn. I muttered, “Well, the back view was super similar. You can’t blame me for mistaking him.” Caleb didn’t say anything. He stood up and walked over to me, looming over the sofa. A shiver ran down my spine. I looked up at him with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” The next second, he scooped me up and stood me on the sofa cushions. My arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. “He’s half a head shorter than me. You couldn’t tell?” “Is he?” I looked down at Caleb, tilting my head. “You asking for a spanking?” He smirked. I blurted out, “Domestic violence?” He gave a lazy hum of agreement. Then, he swatted my lower back—right above my butt—firmly but not painfully. My face instantly burned. I glared at him. Pervert!! He seemed to be in a much better mood. He spun around and sat on the sofa with me still in his arms. He positioned me so I was straddling his lap, facing him. “Still breaking up?” He looked at me, amused. I felt awkward, so I buried my face in the crook of his neck and stayed silent. A low, magnetic chuckle vibrated against my ear. Then, he lightly bit my earlobe. “You only act this dramatic with me.” 3 Mark is back in the country. By the time I found out, he was already standing in front of me. “Joy, long time no see.” The guy in front of me still looked clean-cut and sunny. Who would have guessed I broke up with Mark because he cheated on me with a freshman? I caught them red-handed in a hotel room. He had the girl wrapped in the duvet while he sat on the edge of the bed, lighting a cigarette. He looked me dead in the eye, zero guilt. “What did you expect, Joy?” “You wouldn’t let me touch you. A guy has needs.” After we broke up, he openly dated the girl. He’s a senior now. Whenever he didn’t have classes, he’d take his new girlfriend traveling around the world. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him in six months. “Do you need something?” Hearing him call my name so casually sparked a wave of repulsion in my gut. “Are you free for lunch? Let’s grab a bite.” I took a step back and shook my head. “No.” “Are you still mad at me, Joy?” His eyes dimmed. “I know I messed up back then, but I’ve always only liked you.” Excuse me???? I was struggling to maintain my politeness. Mark continued, “So, Joy, can you forgive me?” He moved to hug me. Before I could dodge, a familiar voice rang out from behind me. “Buddy, I think you’re confessing to the wrong person.” Caleb strolled over, glancing at Mark’s outstretched hand. “Watch the hands.” Mark awkwardly pulled back, sounding annoyed. “Who are you?” I finally found my opening. I looked at Mark. “My boyfriend.” Mark gritted his teeth. After a moment, he sneered. “Joy, it hasn’t been that long. You’re already with someone else?” “Lonely much?” 4 Instantly, I felt a dark aura radiate from Caleb. I grabbed his hand, afraid he might throw a punch. I remembered when some rich, brainless trust-fund kid provoked Caleb, the “Prince.” Caleb drove his supercar straight at the guy. He slammed the brakes less than two feet away. The guy fell to his knees in terror and literally wet his pants. “It’s okay, Caleb.” I shook his arm, looking up at him. Caleb glanced at me and decided not to engage. I stood in front of Caleb and looked calmly at Mark. “I’m really curious, Mark,” I said, articulating every word. “When you were acting like a dog in heat, screaming about your ‘physiological needs,’ did this double standard cross your mind?” Mark’s face flushed red with anger. He took a step forward. Caleb immediately pulled me behind him, looking down at Mark. “I’m only going to say this once.” “Don’t try to mess with Joy again.” Mark knew he was in the wrong. Finally, he huffed and walked away. 5 “Scared I’d hurt him?” Caleb pinned me against a tree, his dark eyes fixed on me. “Still care about him, huh? Just because he was your first love?” I felt helpless. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “What does he have that’s worth caring about? He’s not as tall as you, not as handsome as you, and definitely not as rich as you.” The boy who was radiating hostility a second ago was instantly pacified. He raised an eyebrow. “Pretty shallow, Joy.” I admitted it openly. Caleb spoke slowly, deliberately. “Later, I’ll let you experience something deeper.” “What?” I paused, looking at him in confusion. His breath tickled my ear as he laughed. “Once we get married, I’ll show you what you’ve been missing. Then you’ll know.” I realized what he meant and pinched his arm, glaring at him. Bastard, get your mind out of the gutter! I tried to kick him and break free. But he pinned me against the tree effortlessly. Caleb cupped my face with one hand, leaned down, and kissed me. I clenched my teeth, refusing to open up on purpose. He wasn’t in a rush. After teasing my lips for a bit, the hand on the back of my neck moved to my earlobe and gave it a pinch. I shuddered, my jaw relaxing instinctively. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Just when I thought I was going to suffocate, he pulled back slightly, unhurriedly. He pecked the corner of my mouth. “We’ve been together for a while. How have you not learned to breathe yet?” I wanted to ask myself the same thing. Why do I still blush every time Caleb kisses me?

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The fresh grad I’d been mentoring for three months suddenly looked up from her phone and asked, “Sarah, is the company withholding your paycheck or something?” “What do you mean?” I asked, pausing my typing. “I just saw my pay stub. I’m making $140k base, but the internal sheet says you’re at $110k. That has to be a payroll glitch, right?” She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes, completely unaware that she had just committed a murder. Starting that day, I began quietly messaging every veteran employee in my department. One month later, when twenty-three of us handed in our resignation letters simultaneously… The CEO finally realized who was actually keeping his ship afloat. Chapter 1 “Sarah, you must be pulling in, what, like $160k? My $140k barely covers rent in the Bay Area these days.” The straw in my iced oat milk latte froze halfway to my mouth. The boba pearls clinked softly against the plastic cup. Across from me, Brittany, the new hire, blinked her doe eyes, waiting for validation. $140k? My salary was $110k. I had been grinding at this “Internet Giant” for three years. $110k. “You… how much did you say?” I tried to keep my voice steady. “140,” Brittany said, nodding matter-of-factly as she chewed on a pearl. “HR told me that for someone with an overseas Master’s, that’s just the starting market rate.” She sighed, a humble-brag dripping from her lips. “Ugh, but San Francisco is so expensive. My studio apartment in SoMa alone eats up nearly four grand a month.” I set my drink down. Suddenly, the sugar rush felt like acid reflux. Three years ago, I graduated from a top state university with honors and fought tooth and nail to get into this company. Starting salary: $85k. I was the first one in, the last one out. I put out fires. I trained newbies. My direct supervisor, Director Miller, always praised me as “reliable” and “the backbone of the team.” Whenever colleagues hit a wall, their first instinct was always: “Ask Sarah.” Three years of blood, sweat, and tears for a $25k bump. And sitting across from me was Brittany. She’d been here a week. She barely knew how to log into the VPN. And she was making $30k more than me. “Sarah, you okay?” Brittany asked, feigning concern. “Is the latte bad? We can try that viral spot next time.” I shook my head, forcing a smile. “No, it’s fine. I just remembered I have a sync meeting later.” “Oh, you work too hard,” Brittany waved her hand dismissively. “It’s just a job. With our degrees, we could go anywhere. No need to burn out.” Degrees. I thought about Brittany’s resume. A one-year Master’s program in the UK. Her practical skills were non-existent. Yesterday, I asked her to organize a user research report. She literally Googled an article, changed the title, and emailed it to me. Chapter 2 Meanwhile, I had three years of frontline product experience and held half the department’s core user data in my head. And I was the discount labor. “By the way,” Brittany leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. “I heard comp reviews are next month. With your experience, you’ll probably bump up to $180k, right?” I almost choked. Last year, my raise was $5k. The year before? $8k. The excuse was always: “Sarah, you’re young. Look at the long game. The company takes care of its own.” “Actually,” Brittany continued, oblivious to my internal screaming, “I don’t think $180k is even that high. My friend just started at a competitor for $175k base.” I took a deep breath and stood up. “Brittany, let’s head back. I need to prep for the afternoon meeting.” “Aww, but my croissant isn’t here yet,” she whined. “Get it to go,” I said, pulling out my phone to pay the bill. I didn’t tell her that this “afternoon tea” cost me two days of my grocery budget. Shutterstock Back at the office, I walked straight to the HR Director’s glass office. Linda was sipping her artisanal pour-over coffee. Seeing me enter, she put on her corporate mask. “Sarah! What can I do for you?” I cut the small talk. “Linda, I want to review my compensation package. And I’d like to understand the pay bands for the new graduate hires.” Linda’s smile faltered for a microsecond before resetting. She pulled a file from her drawer. “Sarah, your compensation is aligned with company standards for your current level.” She paused, her voice taking on that patronizing, ‘HR-splaining’ tone. “Regarding the new hires… the market is volatile. Top-tier talent commands a premium right now. It’s just supply and demand.” “We veterans need to look at the big picture. Don’t fixate on the number. The company offers a platform for growth and comprehensive benefits. Those are ‘hidden paychecks.’” I flipped open the file on her desk. It was right there. Brittany, Product Specialist, $140,000/yr. Kevin (another new grad), $135,000/yr. And next to my name? That stinging $110,000. Even the intern next door who just converted to full-time was rumored to be at $115k. I closed the folder and looked Linda in the eye. “I understand, Linda.” My voice was calm. Too calm. Linda exhaled, clearly relieved. “I knew you were sensible, Sarah. Don’t sweat the short-term stuff. We value your loyalty and dedication. Future looks bright.” I nodded and walked out. Loyalty? Dedication? I was done eating the pie in the sky. I sat at my desk and opened a new, password-protected document. Filename: Project_Exodus.docx. I documented everything. Brittany’s salary confession, Linda’s gaslighting, the pay bands. Then, I opened the internal directory. I found the veterans. The ones like me, who had been grinding for years while inflation ate their paychecks. I sent a blind message to their personal numbers: Do you feel like your paycheck matches your output? Then I updated my LinkedIn and started teaching Brittany everything I knew. I was going to train her to replace me. I wanted to see if she was worth that $140k price tag. Chapter 3 Linda’s “loyalty” speech didn’t pacify me; it radicalized me. I started watching Brittany like a hawk. Monday morning. Weekly sync to discuss the Q4 product launch. I was presenting my strategy—a plan I’d spent three all-nighters perfecting, backed by hard data. Mid-sentence, a hand shot up. “Sarah, sorry to interrupt,” Brittany said, adjusting her designer glasses. “But isn’t this approach a little… dated?” The room went silent. “When I was studying in London,” she continued, voice dripping with unearned confidence, “we used a ‘Viral Loop Growth Model.’ It’s way more effective than this traditional funnel stuff.” Before I could respond, Director Miller’s eyes lit up. “Oh? Tell us more, Brittany! We need fresh blood and bold ideas!” He actually waved me off. “Sarah, hold on. Let Brittany speak.” I shut my laptop. Brittany strutted to the screen. Her slide deck was pretty—full of buzzwords and flashy graphics. She talked about a viral marketing case study from a dating app in Europe. It sounded impressive to the ignorant. But anyone who actually knew our user base knew this was suicide. The demographics were completely different. Her data was three years old. “Brilliant! Innovative!” Miller clapped like a seal. He beamed at Brittany like she was Elon Musk. “This is the global vision we need!” He turned to me, his face stern. “Sarah, scrap your plan. We’re going with Brittany’s strategy. Learn from the younger generation. Don’t be a dinosaur.” I looked at Miller’s excited face and felt nothing but cold detachment. He didn’t care if it worked. He just wanted to put “AI-driven Viral Loop” on his quarterly report to the VP. Chapter 4 After the meeting, Brittany stopped by my desk. “Sarah, don’t take it personally,” she smiled, a shark baring teeth. “I just think if you learn new things abroad, you should share them. Your experience is cute, but you need to update your database.” She handed me a flash drive. “Here are some case studies and papers from my professor. You should read them.” The audacity. It was breathtaking. I took the drive. “Thanks, Brittany. I’ll study hard.” I plugged it in. Garbage. It was a folder of blog posts and generic white papers she’d likely pirated or downloaded from LinkedIn influencers. I saved everything. Folder name: Brittany’s_Sources. Then, I opened her “Viral Loop” proposal. I began to “refine” it. Where her logic was flawed, I made the flaw bigger. Where her data was shaky, I leaned into it. I crafted a perfect disaster. A plan so beautiful and so fundamentally broken that it would implode on launch day. My phone buzzed. Kelly, a headhunter I’d known for years. Kelly: Sarah, two companies bit. An EdTech unicorn needs a Product Lead. $180k + equity. And an E-commerce giant wants a Growth Manager. $190k base. I stared at the numbers. Me: Set up the interviews. ASAP. Kelly: Fast! You finally ready to jump ship? Me: Oh, I’m already packing my bags. Chapter 5 Brittany’s project became the department’s golden child. I was assigned to “assist” her. Which meant I did the work, and she took the credit. I watched her present my sabotaged plan in meetings, Miller nodding along like a bobblehead. December rolled around. Bonus season. The email hit everyone’s inbox. Bonus Structure Update: 1. “Rising Star Award”: New hires (<1 year) with excellent performance get an extra 1-2 months salary bonus. 2. "Future Leader Award": New hires who contribute to key projects get 2-3 months bonus and fast-track promotion. I read it three times. Nothing for veterans. Just the standard "N-multiplier," based on our already stagnant salaries. Next to me, Mike, a senior dev who’d been here six years, slammed his laptop shut. "Are they actually joking?" Brittany popped her head up like a gopher. "Guys! Did you see? I think I qualify for the Rising Star and the Future Leader! That’s like... an extra $30k! Yay!" Mike looked like he was about to flip a table. "That's great," he deadpanned. That night, the department dinner. "Pre-Holiday Celebration." Director Miller raised a glass of wine. "This year was tough, but we made it! Especially thanks to..." He pointed at Brittany and the other fresh grads. "...Our new blood! The future is in your hands!" "To the youth!" Brittany and her crew stood up, beaming. We, the "Old Guard," sat there holding our water glasses, smiling stiffly. Miller turned to us. "And to our veterans... keep being the ladder. Support the youth. Your sacrifice paves the road for their success!" Mike kicked me under the table. I took a sip of orange juice. Be the ladder? You want to step on our faces to climb up? Fine. But ladders can collapse.

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I’m what you’d call a “try-hard.” While everyone else gets cats or dogs, I got a snake just to prove I’m different. Some people question my life choices. “I can cuddle my cat anytime I want. Can you say the same about your snake?” I leaned down and planted a big, fat kiss right on my snake’s head. Mwah! “Not only can I cuddle him, I can kiss him too.” “My dog is super friendly; you can pet him all you want, and he won’t bite.” I ran my hands all over my snake’s body, even playfully tying him into a loose knot. “Mine’s a softie. Easier to handle than a dog.” [Girl, stop playing! Can’t you see the male lead has already fainted from happiness?] [Usually, he only dares to sneak a kiss when she’s asleep. How is he supposed to handle this kind of affection?] [He’s already passed out twice today. She gives him a little sugar, and he’s like: “She’s got moves.”] 1 I’ve been a try-hard since I was a kid. To show how unique I was, while other kids played in the mud, I sat on the sidelines reading books and doing homework. A little girl with a butterfly bow in her hair blinked at me and ran over, extending a warm invitation. “Fiona, come play with us! It’s so much fun.” I lifted my chin arrogantly. “No thanks. I think reading is more fun.” The little munchkins all gasped in unison, their round eyes widening. One kid dropped his jaw in awe. “She’s amazing. She loves studying so much.” I secretly puffed out my chest. From that moment on, I fell in love with the feeling of being different. In middle school, my classmates were immature and bullied a transfer student from a poor rural family. To show how different I was, I swooped in like an anime protagonist. Not only did I chase away the bullies, but I also became his best friend. In high school, everyone started taking things seriously, burning the midnight oil to improve their grades. But me? I sat comfortably at the top of the class, leaving right when the bell rang. I was all about that effortless vibe. My desk mate, sporting dark circles under her eyes, was green with envy. “Fiona, how do you get grades like yours?” I looked up at the sky, feigning distress. “Maybe it’s just talent. I don’t really study.” I successfully elicited a gasp of envy from her. By college, a pet craze swept through campus. Cats and dogs were everywhere. To show how different I was, I decided to get something unique. 2 But what to get was the problem. After a lap around the pet store yielded nothing, I walked down the street, feeling defeated. I spotted a bench and sat down to rest. My gaze wandered to a nearby bush. A creepy-crawly sensation spread over my body, and my legs turned to jelly. There was a snake in the grass, sunbathing. I stood up shakily, ready to bolt. I moved carefully, terrified of disturbing Mr. Snake’s sunbathing session. Two steps later, it hit me. Cats, dogs, hamsters—too common. What if I kept a snake? And not just any pet store snake. A wild one. The moment the thought crossed my mind, I couldn’t move. I turned back, pulled out my phone, and used an app to identify it. The result: Rat Snake. Non-venomous. The little black snake was still blissfully soaking up the sun, looking incredibly relaxed. He had no idea danger was approaching. In a flash, I pinched him by his “seventh inch”—the spot behind the head where you’re supposed to grab a snake. The little black snake finally reacted, thrashing wildly. Startled, I almost let go. He whipped his head around, ready to bite, but then froze. We stared at each other. The snake tilted his head. He retracted his fangs, flicked his tongue, and licked my hand. I swear I saw a hint of ingratiation in his actions. Was he also captivated by my unique aura? I didn’t dare move. If the enemy doesn’t move, I won’t move. The snake seemed to calm down. He hung there obediently, widening his eyes as if trying to look cute. I tentatively patted his head. “From today on, you’re not a stray snake anymore.” He nudged my palm. Why did the little black snake look shy? I must be seeing things. Snakes can’t be shy. 3 Since he was wild caught, I decided to quarantine him for a few days. I didn’t have a cage, so I found a cardboard box and lined it with a small blanket. The snake was well-behaved the whole time, letting me place him in the box. His tail tip brushed against my wrist occasionally. Afraid he might escape and scare the neighbors, I put the box in my bedroom and blocked any gaps. Now he couldn’t get out. Exhausted from the day, I washed up and fell asleep. I slept deeply but felt something heavy pressing on my chest, like I was being strangled. Morning came. I opened my eyes and found the culprit weighing me down. The little snake was curled up in a ball, sleeping soundly on my chest. I pinched his head and tossed him aside. He woke up, slapping the bed with his tail in protest, and slithered back onto me. I tossed him again. He crawled back. After a few rounds, realizing he had no intention of attacking, I let him be. School was starting in a few days, and I definitely wanted to take him out for a walk. Before that, I decided to train him. I would turn him into a snake more obedient than a dog and cuter than a cat. If I took him out and he misbehaved or bit someone, I’d be a laughingstock. 4 “First things first.” I looked sternly at the snake. He coiled himself into a mosquito coil shape, sitting up straight. “I need to give you a name. Something low-key but meaningful, fitting my status.” “Your name is—Inky.” The little guy, head held high, slumped down. A look of speechlessness seemed to cross his dark face. The audacity! Questioning me? I went through the entire dictionary to pick that name! I coughed loudly to remind him of his attitude. “Next, learning how to be a good pet. For example…” “Inky, sit.” The snake straightened his head, pointing his tail at himself as if asking, Who? Me? I looked at his long body. Asking him to sit might be a bit tough. So I changed the command. “Inky, shake hands.” He slithered forward and placed the tip of his tail in my palm. I gave it a squeeze. Smooth. Nice texture. “Good boy! That’s my Inky.” The moment I squeezed his tail, he flopped over, his whole body going limp. Confused, I poked him. “Inky, what’s wrong?” He remained limp, lying powerless on the floor. Worried, I picked him up. “Snakey, are you okay?” His body temperature was low, so I instinctively pressed him against my chest to warm him up. He came to, took one look, and thud—fainted cold. I quickly put him in my bag and rushed to the vet. The vet examined him while I waited outside. When he came out, I surrounded him anxiously. “Doctor, what’s wrong with my snake? Why did he suddenly faint?” The vet put down his instruments, sat back in his chair, and said concisely: “Overstimulation.” I thought hard. Nothing stimulating had happened. It must be the new environment. And I was too eager to train him. Sumimasen, Inky.

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I found out my brother is the “villainous white moonlight” in a romance novel—the manipulative ex-boyfriend who tries to ruin the female lead’s life—while he was lying in the bathtub, about to hurt himself. I kicked the bathroom door open. “Go downstairs and buy me a pack of spicy Takis, a bag of Lay’s, and a Gatorade.” My brother froze. “But…” “I’m counting to three!” My brother shot up from the water like a rocket. “Sis, do you want the Fuego or the Blue Heat?” Just then, a row of bullet comments floated across my vision. [LMAO, isn’t the villain supposed to be ruthless, paranoid, and depressed? Why is he such a sis-con?] [This is the terrifying power of sibling suppression!] [Hahaha, this villain actually knows the difference between Takis flavors. He must buy them often!] 1 The bathroom door wobbled on its hinges from my kick. My brother frantically hid a fruit knife behind his back. I gave him a deadpan look, pulled a fifty out of my pocket, and gritted my teeth. “Five bucks for gas, not a cent more.” “Can’t we just DoorDash it?” My brother pouted, looking aggrieved. “Delivery is unhealthy!” He paused, clearly confused by my logic, but grabbed a towel off the rack and headed out, muttering, “Like Takis are any healthier.” After he left, I glanced at the fruit knife hidden by the tub. It was clean. I thought back to the floating text I saw earlier while binge-watching TV on the couch. [Sister is still watching TV! Go control your brother, he’s secretly plotting again!] [But the sister probably doesn’t know yet. Her brother is the villainous white moonlight in a ‘chasing husband’ novel. He blackens completely because he can’t stand the female lead using the male lead as his substitute!] [But the villain’s sister never seemed to like her ungrateful brother anyway…] [Forget it, sis, just run. Your villain brother is going to self-destruct soon, and he’ll even get you killed!] Me: “??” Why did this sound exactly like the trashy novel plots I’ve been reading? But wait. My brother is going to self-destruct soon? And I’m going to die too?? Hell no! The fortune teller said I’m destined for great wealth. I work out every day, put collagen in my coffee, and even say a little prayer before eating to bless the souls of the… rice grains I consume! How could I end up dying young? Absolutely not! My brother came back with the Takis, chips, and yogurt drink. He placed them by my hand. “Sis, they didn’t have Gatorade, so I got you a yogurt drink.” Then he started tip-toeing back toward the bathroom. “Cook dinner,” I said, munching on a chip without looking up. “I want sweet and sour pork ribs and crispy beef.” My brother froze, then resignedly turned toward the kitchen. 2 Half an hour later, the table was filled with my favorite dishes. My brother looked at me cautiously. “Dinner’s ready.” “Coming.” I nodded, putting down my snacks. My brother seemed anxious. He ate two bites and put down his chopsticks. He sat opposite me, lips pressed together, watching me gnaw on a rib while eyeing the crispy beef. Rule of the house: Kids don’t leave the table until the elders are done. I ate slowly. My brain was spinning, trying to figure out how to stop him from slitting his wrists and framing the male and female leads. The bullet comments were confused by my behavior. [Sister has a great appetite today. She ate five dishes by herself!] [Yeah, didn’t she used to say her brother’s cooking sucks? Why is she eating so much?] [Is it just me, or is the sister acting weird…] I frowned and blurted out, “Who said my brother’s cooking sucks? It’s delicious!” As soon as I said it, a burning gaze fixed on me. When I looked up, he immediately looked away. My brother pushed a dish closer to me, his voice a little hoarse. “As long as you like it.” I stared at his evasive eyes and red ears, my eyes stinging. Busy with work, I hadn’t properly looked at this brother of mine—who I’ve relied on since we were kids—in a long time. 3 I blinked. I shoved a few more mouthfuls of rice in. After eating, my brother skillfully started washing dishes. Once everything was cleaned up, he headed for the bathroom again. And locked the door. I walked over and knocked. “Bro, go walk Buster. It’s dark out and I’m scared to be alone. Chop chop.” Silence from inside. I turned to the balcony and nudged the sleeping Samoyed with my foot. He picked Buster up from a dumpster when he was twelve. Afraid I’d be mad, he didn’t dare bring him home, feeding him with his own lunch money. From a tiny pup, he grew into this big, goofy lug. Buster, annoyed at the forced reboot, barked at me twice. The bathroom door opened. My brother looked emotionless, just looking for the leash. “Buster, come!” The bullet comments exploded. [This isn’t a villain, this is the sister’s loyal puppy!] [Framing the male lead can wait. If Sister wants ribs, she gets ribs. Walking Buster is more important than being evil…] [But why do I feel like the sister is trying to stop the villain from framing the male lead?] [+1. In the book, the suicide happens today. Does this mean if today passes, the male lead won’t be framed?] True or false, I had to try! 4 We went out. My brother walked Buster, picking up his poop. I followed behind. Sipping fresh-squeezed orange juice, eyeing the kebab stand… By the time I bought a kebab, the dog was gone, and so was my brother. My heart sank. An image of my brother holding up a bloody wrist, accusing the female lead, flashed in my mind. Just as I was about to call him… “Sis.” Under a broken streetlamp in the park stood a boy and a dog. My brother waved his phone. “Been waiting for ages. Let’s go home.” My heart felt wrapped in warmth, but I put on a grumpy face. “What’s the rush? Can’t you walk slower?” “Okay.” My brother shortened the leash, his tone careful. “Sorry, Sis. Buster ran too fast.” He slowed down. His phone flashlight was pointed entirely at me, silently lighting my path. Walking through the dark patch, I could feel his arm stiffen. He seemed afraid of me. Under the warm yellow streetlights… My brother held the dog in one hand, and my half-drunk juice and unfinished kebab in the other. I walked calmly, lightly tugging his sleeve. Two hours later. I dragged my brother around the park loop after loop until Buster couldn’t walk anymore and played dead on the pavement… Only then did I stop. As soon as we got home, I pointed at Buster. “Give him a bath. He stinks.”

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My new roommate, Becky, asked me for a thousand bucks the moment we met. She pointed at my bed and said, “It took me three hours to clean that. A grand should cover it.” I was dumbfounded. “I didn’t ask you to clean it. Why should I pay you?” She put her hands on her hips, her voice rising. “Doesn’t matter if you asked or not. I put in the labor, you pay the cash! If you don’t, you’re exploiting the poor!” I refused. So she bullied me. She isolated me. She turned the whole dorm against me. I fell into a deep depression and, in the end, took my own life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on move-in day. Becky was standing there, hand out, asking for money. Chapter 1 “You must be Lily.” As soon as I rolled my suitcase into the dorm room, a girl came up to greet me. It was just the two of us. Only one bed had sheets on it. I glanced at the nametag on that bed: Becky Wilson. “Hi, I’m Lily.” Becky gestured around the room. “Pretty clean, right?” I looked around. It was spotless. Top to bottom, inside and out. It looked freshly scrubbed. “Yeah, it’s really clean.” She grinned. “Of course it is. I just finished cleaning. You have no idea how much dust was in here when I arrived! Especially on your bed.” My heart skipped a beat. “You cleaned my bed too?” She nodded. “Duh. We’re roommates. No big deal. You don’t have to give me much, just a thousand dollars.” Before I could process that, she shoved a QR code in my face. I froze. “What? A thousand?” She squinted at me. “From your tone, sounds like you don’t want to pay.” I was caught between a rock and a hard place. “My family isn’t well-off. Every cent my parents gave me is budgeted. I really can’t spare a thousand dollars for a cleaning fee. Besides, I didn’t ask you to clean. I could have done it myself.” Before I could finish, she started yelling. “Are you serious? You’re really not going to pay? What kind of person are you? Exploiting my labor like that!” Her voice was so loud it attracted students from the hallway. Just then, our other two roommates walked in. She grabbed them, playing the victim. “Guys, come look at this! Someone’s trying to scam me out of my hard work! I spent three hours scrubbing this place so she could walk into a nice, clean room. And now? She flips out and won’t even give me a little tip for my effort.” I was frantic. “You’re twisting everything! I never asked you to clean for me. If you’re so mad, put the dust back! I’ll clean it myself. Or next time it’s your turn for chores, I’ll do it for you.” Becky sneered. “Next time? You just don’t want to pay!” The tension was thick. Then, one of the new roommates spoke up. “Alright, chill out. I thought it was something serious. It’s just money? I’ll pay.” She dropped her designer bag onto the bed labeled “Sophie”. She pulled out her phone and scanned Becky’s QR code. “Honestly, people should get paid for their work. It’s basic decency.” She was dressed head-to-toe in luxury brands I’d only seen on TV. The fourth roommate, Chloe, followed suit. “It is pretty clean. Thanks, Becky.” “A thousand isn’t much. My family pays our cleaning lady three grand a visit.” “Here, I’ll send you two thousand. Consider the extra a welcome gift.” “Oh my god, thank you guys! You are so sweet. I’m so lucky to meet you!” Becky gushed. The three of them exchanged smiles. Then, they all turned to look at me. Their eyes were full of silent pressure. Waiting for me to pay up. Chapter 2 Staring into those familiar, judging eyes, the fog in my brain finally cleared. I realized I was living this nightmare for the second time. In my past life, I caved under the pressure and sent Becky 150 bucks. She didn’t accept it. Instead, she went around telling everyone I was a cheapskate who exploited her labor. Sophie and Chloe were rich kids; money meant nothing to them. They couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t just cough up a thousand dollars. They decided I was ruining the dorm vibe and started freezing me out. The other students followed their lead. If the rich girls didn’t like me, there must be something wrong with me. I was excluded from group projects, leading to failed classes. No one wanted to room with me on trips. I finally snapped and applied to move off-campus. The counselor called me in. Her opening line was brutal. “Becky comes from a similar background as you, yet she’s helpful and optimistic. Look at yourself—antisocial, selfish, running away at the first sign of trouble.” “The world doesn’t revolve around you! If you keep acting like this, maybe you should just drop out.” Those words haunted me. I spiraled into self-doubt and severe depression. I became a ghost in my own dorm room. The final push came from Becky. She found my diagnosis papers. She laughed. “A parasitic leech getting depressed? How dramatic. What kind of parents raise such a disgusting person?” At that moment, all I could see were my parents’ faces as they sent me off to college. Their hair graying from overwork just to pay my tuition. And I was failing them. In a moment of heat, I jumped from the seventh floor. I regretted it before I hit the ground. Seeing this scene again, my heart pounded. This time, I was going to give Becky back everything she gave me, with interest. Chapter 3 I whipped out my phone and scanned Becky’s code. I sent her three thousand dollars—every cent my parents gave me for the semester. “I just came from the countryside, I didn’t know the rules. Don’t take what I said to heart. Thanks to Sophie and Chloe for showing me the way!” “This is all the money my parents gave me. Take it all. I realized money isn’t important, our friendship is. I can always earn more money, but I can’t let your hard work go unrewarded.” Becky was stunned. Sophie smirked, satisfied. She liked being the leader. Becky was overjoyed, her finger hovering over the “Accept” button. Then Sophie spoke up. “Wait, you’re actually going to take it?” Becky paused. “Huh? Well, she sent it to me.” Sophie laughed, a weird, high-pitched sound. “Wow. Some people really have no shame. Taking a poor farmer’s blood money.” Chloe, Sophie’s loyal sidekick, chimed in. “Even my maid donates 800 a month to charity.” Becky’s face turned red. “Fine, I’ll send back two thousand then.” Sophie cut her off. “Are you that desperate for cash? We gave you four grand already. Isn’t that enough? You think I don’t know the dorms are professionally cleaned before we move in?” Becky turned purple. Her face darkened. “Fine! I’ll send it all back! Why are you yelling at me?” The money bounced back to my account. I asked innocently, “Are you sure? But you cleaned my bed.” Becky rolled her eyes at me and went to unpack her stuff without a word. Sophie wasn’t done. “Don’t be so petty. Giving us attitude just because we called you out? I hate people who hold grudges. If you don’t want to live here, move out.” Becky snapped. “Why should I move? You move! I was here first!” Maybe she got too worked up, but she suddenly collapsed to the floor. She laid there for a few seconds, eyes fluttering, then snapped them open. She looked around, confused. Finally, her gaze landed on me. She smirked. Then she climbed up, put on her headphones, and started crying loudly. “I even prepared gifts for you guys! My kindness is wasted!” Sophie loved being the center of attention. Hearing about gifts piqued her interest. “Really? You got us gifts? What are they?” Becky sobbed. “Nothing! You guys don’t see me as a friend, so I won’t bother you!” It sounded like she was cutting ties, but her tone was soft, inviting comfort. Sophie walked over. She didn’t apologize, but she tossed Becky a tissue. “Stop being dramatic. Show me the gifts.” Becky sniffled. “My family are farmers too, so it’s nothing expensive. Just some clay figurines I made over the summer.” “Oh, handmade? That’s cool,” Sophie said, eyes lighting up. She had a thing for “authentic” crafts. Becky quickly steered the conversation toward me. “My little gift is nothing compared to Lily’s. She said she was going to treat us all to a meal at the biggest restaurant near campus.” Becky shot me a challenging look. If I guessed right, she was reborn too. She used this trick in my past life. I immediately denied it and argued with her. It saved my wallet, but it deepened the misunderstanding. Sophie and Chloe thought I was a liar and a flake. She was trying to do it again. If I refused, I’d repeat the past. If I agreed, she’d order the most expensive items on the menu and stick me with the bill. I’d be broke and humiliated. But she forgot option three. Facing Sophie’s skeptical look, I denied half of it. “You must have misheard. I’m a farm girl, I can’t afford a fancy restaurant. I said I’m a pretty good cook. If we had a kitchen, I’d make you guys a home-cooked meal. Too bad I can’t afford to rent a place with a kitchen.” Sophie and Chloe exchanged smiles. The doubt vanished, replaced by their natural, breezy arrogance. They believed me over Becky. “A kitchen? That’s easy. My parents bought me a condo in the complex next door. I’m sick of takeout anyway. Let’s do it tonight.” Chloe nodded enthusiastically. Becky bit her lip, forcing a sinister smile. “That’s great! I can’t wait.” I knew she was plotting something. Buying expensive ingredients behind my back and making me pay. Or tampering with the food. She wanted to drive a wedge between me and the others. Sure enough, she “accidentally” sent me a text, deleting it two seconds later. But I saw it. [You think you can win just because you came back? I’ll make everyone hate you again! You’re too stupid to beat me. Kneel and apologize, and maybe I’ll go easy on you. Heehee!] I mentally gave her the finger. This time, I’m not losing. Chapter 4 After unpacking, we all went our separate ways. At 5 PM, Becky tagged me in the group chat. [@Lily, babe, where are you? Everyone’s here! We’re just waiting for the chef!] [So sorry, the guys from the class next door heard you were treating us and insisted on coming. I tried to say no, but they just wanted to join the fun. They said they won’t eat if there’s not enough food.] [Don’t worry, I bought them some snacks. They won’t touch your cooking.] She spammed a few photos. Sophie’s luxurious apartment was packed with people. Our entire department seemed to be there. And on the counter sat piles of premium seafood. [The seafood you asked me to order arrived! Come prep it before it goes bad!] Jesus. That was at least seven or eight grand worth of food. She claimed the extra guests wouldn’t eat, but could we really let them stand there watching us feast? She was setting me up to fail. I didn’t panic. I sent a “shocked rabbit” emoji and went silent. Because my Chopped Chili Fish Head was ready. I walked out of the kitchen with the dish. I heard Sophie screaming into her phone. “Becky! Why did you bring a crowd to my apartment? Did I say you could?” “Do you know how many germs that many people carry? I am speechless!” “And Lily changed the location at 2 PM! Why are you still at my place?” “The food is on the table, we’re not waiting for you. Don’t come! Since you brought everyone there, you host them. Don’t make me look cheap!” “You and Lily are both farm girls, you must know how to cook. Make them something! Don’t let them starve!” “What? You can order it but you can’t pay for it? You took four grand from us! Stop acting poor.” I placed the last dish on the table. Sophie hung up, following the scent to the table. Her eyes lit up. “It smells amazing! Is that wild mushroom soup?”

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I was the Upper East Side’s most notorious “ugly shrew.” But with parents who worshipped the ground I walked on, the city’s socialites and trust-fund babies had no choice but to kiss my ring. Until a “real” heiress appeared—resilient, unyielding, and unafraid of power. When my blood sugar crashed and I asked my fiancé, Preston, to grab me a piece of cake, she publicly denounced me: “Miss Vanderbilt, you have hands and feet. Why do you order people around? Slavery is over. There are no masters here!” When I sprained my wrist and asked my brother to open a water bottle, she sneered: “A parasite who only knows how to rely on others. You’re a disgrace to modern women!” Later, I gave her a taste of her own medicine. When she broke her foot and was being helped by someone, I threw shade: “Oh~ looks like the resilient modern woman needs to rely on others too~” Unexpectedly, the protagonist didn’t snap. My fiancé did. “Zoe Vanderbilt! You’re so toxic every day. No wonder everyone in our circle is disgusted by you!” 1 The crowd gasped. “Whoa, is Preston crazy? Is he not afraid Zoe will tattle and his dad will cut him off?” “I said it ages ago, those two are gonna break up. Zoe is ugly and has a terrible temper. Standing next to her, Preston looks like a kept man.” “Honestly, I’m more curious if Preston throws up when he has to kiss her…” The snickering around me was relentless. My face darkened, inch by inch. Preston’s expression was tight. He had spoken without thinking, and now regret was creeping onto his face. “You…” “Preston!” Before he could explain, Chloe—the Sterling family’s long-lost daughter who was switched at birth—interjected with emotion: “I thought everyone in this circle was a mindless follower, praising certain useless people who just leech off their parents.” “Now I realize, you’re different.” Her face was full of admiration, her eyes tender. Her sweet, innocent look made Preston’s softening expression harden again. He looked at me coldly, his tone commanding: “Zoe, apologize to Chloe.” I was so confused I almost laughed. “You worthy?” Preston was stunned for a second. “What do you mean?” “I mean, who do you think you are to order me around?” “Who gave you this confidence? Kanye or me?” My mouth was like poison. “Did I give you too much face lately, making you think you’re actually somebody?” “Ugly and dramatic. If you have nothing better to do, go back to the farm and shovel manure.” “I hear the pig farm is hiring!” I attacked indiscriminately. Preston’s face turned a beautiful array of colors. He took a deep breath and blurted out his true feelings: “I’m ugly? Have you looked in a mirror? Your face looks like a baboon’s ass, and your temper is worse than a rabid raccoon.” “I’ve tolerated you since we were kids. Did you really think I didn’t have a temper?!” Preston and I were childhood sweethearts. He knew exactly what to say to hurt me. I was born with a red birthmark on my face. It covered the right half of my cheek, irregular and hideous. But if you ignored the birthmark, the other half of my face was actually stunning. Honestly, this kind of birthmark could have been removed with surgery at birth, leaving negligible scars. Unfortunately, when I was born, my family was dirt poor. No money, no connections to find a surgeon. To save up for me, my parents worked odd jobs and looked for business opportunities. Since they had no time to take care of me, they sent me to the countryside to live with my grandma. I was six years old. Within days, I learned that Grandma was affectionately known as the “Village Karen”—but the hardcore version. If a single cucumber went missing from her garden, she’d curse from one end of the village to the other. Her vocabulary included colorful descriptions of various organs. She once raged so hard a thief confessed on the spot and got into a screaming match with her. The result? Grandma won. The thief even paid her fifty bucks for emotional distress. From then on, Grandma’s heroic figure was branded in my mind. Even her nickname felt like a badge of honor. I practiced daily. When classmates called me “Baboon Ass” again, I mimicked Grandma, hacking up a loogie and spitting right in their faces. Hands on hips, I’d scream: “You little punk! If you didn’t talk, I’d think a [beep] came to life! With that long face and thick neck, you must have been a [beep] in your past life!” “And your parents! How did they produce such a waste of space? Aren’t you embarrassed to be alive? Let me tell you, your parents didn’t want you anyway. Go home and check, they’re probably making a new kid right now!” I stole these insults from Grandma. I didn’t know what they meant, but they felt powerful. After successfully cursing them away, I turned around like a victorious general, only to see my parents standing there, eyes red. Mom was crying a river, hugging me tight. “I’m taking my daughter. If she stays here any longer, she’ll be ruined!” At the time, I didn’t understand why they were so sad. Despite my protests, they took me away. They had made some money and wanted to fix my face. But I refused. The doctor said they’d have to cut off the skin with the birthmark and stitch two pieces together. Thinking about it hurt. So I rolled on the floor, throwing a tantrum, refusing to agree. I even mimicked Grandma’s wise tone: “If someone won’t play with me because of my face, they don’t deserve to be my friend.” “My birthmark is a friendship filter! I’m not going to the hospital. Use the money for your business!” I had overheard them earlier. There was a great investment opportunity, but they didn’t have enough money for both the surgery and the investment. I said it because I was scared of pain. But my parents misunderstood. They hugged me, sobbing: “Zoe, you’re so sensible. Mom and Dad will work hard to give you a good life.” From then on, they worked like crazy. In a few years, I was living in a mansion, being driven to school, and eating meals prepared by a top chef. That year, I met Preston next door. He was the middle child, sandwiched between an older sister and a younger brother. He was invisible. Unloved at home, bullied at school. My sense of justice exploded. Channeling Grandma, I spit on half the class and cursed the other half until they cried for their mommies. Since then, Preston and I became best friends. When he was bullied, I rushed in to protect him. And when people called me “Baboon Ass,” he’d fight them. My parents thought he was sincere, so they arranged our engagement. They even gave the Sterling family business benefits, turning Preston from the ignored middle child into the family favorite. From twelve to twenty-two. I became the hot-tempered “ugly shrew” no one dared to mess with. He grew up handsome, becoming the circle’s Prince Charming. Everyone praised his good temper and gentle nature. I was proud. A man is a woman’s face—his praise was my glory! So for ten years, I thought our bond was unbreakable. Who knew he’d become the one calling me “Baboon Ass”? I stared deeply at the handsome man still demanding an apology. Suddenly, I let out a soft laugh. Under his confused gaze, I grabbed the cake next to me and smashed it right into his face. “Preston Sterling, we are done!” 2 I roared, lunging forward to grab his hair. I slapped his face, kicked his legs. “You finally said it! You always thought I looked like a baboon’s ass, didn’t you?!” “Have you been lying to me all these years? Using me?!” I was furious. The thought that he used me made me want to eat him alive! So, I did. I opened my mouth and bit his face hard. “Ahhh!” A blood-curdling scream echoed through the banquet hall. Chaos erupted. People tried to pull us apart, others filmed. I took the opportunity to scratch the people who badmouthed me earlier. In the end, we all went to the police station. Twenty people, all squatting in the precinct. I was bailed out first. My dad held my red hands, heartbroken. “Baby, does it hurt? Next time, Dad will get you gloves.” “That way, your hands won’t hurt when you hit people.” The police officer’s face darkened, but he couldn’t interfere in family matters. He coughed, reminding us: “…Please educate your child to be civilized.” Dad chose selective hearing and continued babying me. I pursed my lips, still angry. My sharp gaze swept over the people hanging their heads in shame. Finally, it landed on the two guys who insulted me. I articulated each word: “This isn’t over!” Dad backed me up, glaring at them. “This isn’t over!” Back home, I immediately posted on all social media platforms that I was breaking off the engagement with Preston. Mom sat beside me, hugging my shoulders. “Baby, don’t be sad over a Preston. Mom will introduce you to guys who are tall, handsome, and have abs.” “And tell me, who insulted you today? Mom will terminate all cooperation with their families immediately!” It’s always been like this. If I get bullied, my parents find a way to get justice and crush the other party. That’s why the socialites and rich kids never dared to insult me to my face. Facing my mom’s angry gaze, I shook my head. “Mom, I don’t want your help this time.” “I want to handle it myself.” Dad agreed immediately. “Good! Zoe is grown up. But if you need anything, tell us. Mom and Dad are always your backup.” I lowered my head, eyes tearing up. But just as I was feeling touched, my brother, Lucas, rolled his eyes. “Sis, honestly, with looks like yours, marrying Preston was a miracle.” “You didn’t cherish it, and now you’re breaking it off? Look in the mirror, you ugly freak.” He whispered the last part. But we all heard it. We aren’t deaf. Ever since he met Chloe, his attitude toward me changed completely. He became exactly like Chloe. If I asked him for water, he’d say sarcastically: “Right, some people rely on their deformity to get spoiled by parents and order others around like their hands are broken.” “Treating people like slaves. You think you’re an emperor, huh?” Even though I stopped asking him for anything, he still mocked my looks. I put down my phone, rolling up my sleeves to fight. But Dad beat me to it, slapping him across the face. His voice was cold and commanding: “Apologize to your sister!” I sat back down, smiling smugly at him. Lucas turned red with rage, screaming hysterically: “Dad! You hit me! You hit me for this ugly monster?!” “I’m leaving! I’m running away!” He turned to leave. Mom didn’t care. She said lightly, “If you leave, don’t come back.” Lucas didn’t stop, but he turned a corner and went upstairs. Dad was furious and wanted to follow him, but I stopped him. “Dad, forget it.” I wasn’t letting him off easy. I added, “Educate him later.” “Help me contact a hospital first. I want to get laser surgery for my birthmark.” Actually, with medical advancements, I had thought about removing it before. But over the years, I didn’t really care about it. Plus, the excuse I used years ago about “testing true love” made it hard to back down. And my parents, either brainwashed by me or protecting my ego, never brought it up again. With their money and power, no one could bully me anyway. But after this incident, I realized something. Testing true love with a birthmark is bullshit! People are shallow! Otherwise, why did Preston, who “passed the test,” change his heart so easily? 3 Hearing I wanted to remove the birthmark, my parents froze, then teared up. “Daughter, you finally figured it out.” Mom hugged me, relieved. “I’ll contact the hospital!” Dad whipped out his phone, afraid I’d change my mind. For a moment, I was embarrassed. As expected, they were just protecting my ego. Dad was efficient. That night, he contacted the best hospital in the US. Tickets booked. Before boarding, Mom hugged me reluctantly. “Baby, are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” “Are you scared alone? Maybe I should come.” Recently, the family business was expanding exports, and they were working until 11 PM. I shook my head. “No, I want to go alone. When I come back beautiful, I’ll surprise you.” Dad was crying buckets. “Zoe, you hate pain. I just put 15 million dollars in your account. Do not save money for me.” Then, he pushed our Michelin-star chef toward me. “Daughter, you won’t like the food there. Take our chef. Let him take care of you, okay?” Me: “…” “Fine. Don’t cry. I’m leaving.” Mom waved. “Go.” Dad covered his mouth, sobbing. “Don’t save money!” Me: “…Okay!” The flight from Shanghai to the US took eleven and a half hours. As soon as I landed, I got a call from Preston. He was furious. “Why didn’t you answer? Do you know how many times I called?!” “I went to your house and you weren’t there. Where did you go?” I picked my ear, asking casually: “You care about me?” He paused, sounding unnatural. “Of course. You’re my fiancée. Who else would I care about?” “And what’s with the breakup post? I didn’t even get mad that you bit me. Are you going to keep being a brat?” Me, a brat? Aside from cursing, I’ve always been a law-abiding citizen. I gave him a taste of his own medicine, and now I have to apologize? Ordered to apologize by my ex-fiancé? I laughed. “Preston, what are you pretending for?” “Your acting was so good you almost moved yourself, didn’t you? Do you need an Oscar?” “Also, do you think I’m joking? You think you say a few nice words and I’ll come running back to protect you?” I cursed him out: “Little punk, go shovel manure!” I spat at the phone, blocked him, and deleted him. Then, the chef and I checked into a $10,000-a-night luxury suite. I slept in the next day, then went for my checkup. Because the birthmark was large and dark, I needed multiple laser treatments. Honestly, it hurt. And every time, my face swelled up, looking even more like a butt. I could only laugh through the pain, recording my recovery. Six months later. Lucas sent another sarcastic message. [Text: Sis, I told you not to break up with Preston. Now look, he’s with Chloe. You have nowhere to cry now.] Attached was a video. Preston and Chloe kissing passionately under a Ferris wheel. I tutted. “Wasted talent. Should do porn.” Seeing no reply, Lucas forwarded another video. [Text: Hahaha, Sis, you’re famous.] [Text: I knew your temper would get you canceled! Look, Evil Heiress abuses friends and hits people. Calling you Ugly Betty is a compliment.] I clicked the video. It was me beating up Preston six months ago. Edited heavily. With a passionate voiceover: “Rich people think they’re gods. Breaking up a couple wasn’t enough, she bit the boyfriend! Is this monster a dog?!” The comments were all cursing me. The top comment claimed to be an insider: [Insider: The video is true. Zoe relies on her rich dad to bully us. Once I bought her water a minute late, and she screamed at me, calling me a cripple and a retard! As for Preston and Chloe, I can’t say much, but they are truly in love.] Replies: [I knew Baboon Face was the mistress. Unless Preston is blind, he wouldn’t date that ugly freak.] [Exactly! Our Chloe is beautiful. Look at Preston’s eyes in the video, so much love.] I raised an eyebrow, almost laughing at the stupidity. Preston and Chloe, a golden couple? They met less than a year ago, and I went from fiancée to mistress? “Zoe, everything is packed. Let’s go to the airport.” The chef uncle pulled the luggage, excited to go home. I rubbed my fingers, deciding to delete my drafted explanation post. Revenge is sweeter face-to-face. 4 I didn’t tell anyone I was coming back. Not even my parents. Just like when I decided to leave. Decisive departure, surprise return. My villa was lit up, luxury cars parked outside. Before I even entered, I heard loud chatter. “Hey, Lucas, I bet your ugly sister isn’t traveling. She’s probably hiding somewhere crying because she’s so hideous!” That was Liam, the guy who called me ugly at the banquet. He was a scholarship student who sucked up to me to get into my high school. His dad was an alcoholic abuser, his stepmom wanted to crush him. Once, his dad came to school to make him drop out. He cried so hard I felt bad and helped him. He knew how to act. He became my lackey, doing everything without complaint. I gave him errands. Minimum $300 a pop, never further than 200 meters. Over the years, he made a fortune off me. And the result? Another ungrateful wolf. “Who cares if she’s dead or alive.” Lucas looked gloomy. “The old man and mom always favored that monster. They won’t even tell me where she is.” A gentle voice spoke up: “Lucas, don’t be angry. You’re the boy. Even if they favor Zoe, the inheritance will be yours.” “If you don’t like her…” Chloe smiled playfully yet seriously. “Just kick her out later. Give her nothing. Out of sight, out of mind.” Lucas’s eyes lit up. “Right! Why didn’t I think of that?” “I’ll suck up to the old biased couple now. When the company is mine, I can do whatever I want with Zoe.” He downed his red wine, imagining his bright future. I scoffed, walking into the living room. “Mom and Dad aren’t even dead yet, and you’re planning to take the company and kick me out?” Lucas’s eyes darkened. He glared at me. “Who are you? Who let you in?!” His cold gaze showed he didn’t recognize me. I didn’t waste words. I rushed forward, grabbed his hair, and slapped him. “You little sh*t! Six months and you grew some balls, huh? Plotting against me? Trying to take the company?” “Dream on, you idiot!” “The family business would go to a turtle before it goes to you!” Hearing my trademark insults, everyone realized who I was. “Zoe? Holy sh*t, did she get plastic surgery? How is she so hot?! Where did she go? No scars at all!” “Doesn’t look like surgery… it’s so natural. If it is surgery, I need the doctor’s number!” Unlike six months ago, no one tried to stop me. In three minutes, I beat Lucas black and blue. His eyes were unfocused, but he kept cursing: “You ugly freak, you dare hit me? I’ll tell Mom and Dad to kick you out!” The last sentence was weak, barely a whisper. I laughed. I grabbed his collar and flipped him over my shoulder, slamming him onto the floor. “Don’t bother telling them. I’m announcing it now: You are disowned!” “You played brother for a few years and thought you were the heir?” “I picked up a stray dog, and it turned into a wolf. Pfft!” “Get out!”

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