Author: Momo Chan

When my crush’s family went bankrupt, I didn’t abandon him. I practically bought Liam Vanderbilt. But his heart belonged to his “white moonlight,” the girl who got away. He didn’t like me. No touching, no looking, and definitely no dessert. Every time I said the wrong thing, he’d threaten to leave my mansion. After he stormed out again, I did what I always did: sent an apology gift to his dingy rental apartment. But ten days passed, and he didn’t come back. Just as I was starting to panic, a wall of floating text—bullet comments—appeared before my eyes. “OMG, the female lead still doesn’t realize she sent the package to the wrong guy?” “She mistyped one digit on the apartment number and sent it straight to the poor scholarship student!” “This is the first time the gloomy villain has ever received a gift in his life, isn’t it?” “There’s a black card with $200k inside! I’m crying. Silas was about to drop out of school… now he can pay tuition.” … “The male lead is kinda pathetic though.” “Waiting for his sugar mama in that rental, eyes red from crying, and she never came.” “He thinks he’s been abandoned!” Chapter 1 Liam Vanderbilt ran away from home again. All because I accidentally knocked over the watch Clara gave him. In a fit of rage, he packed his bags and took the bus back to his old family home in the suburbs. It was the only thing his father left him before committing suicide after the Vanderbilt empire collapsed. A tiny, 500-square-foot studio. The location was terrible—basically the slums. Surrounded by thugs and drifters. Liam couldn’t stand living there, but he’d been a prince too long. He was stubborn and never bowed his head. Every time, I was the one who caved, begging him to come back to my villa. This time was no exception. I looked at my phone. My number was blocked. I opened the shopping app and started ordering gifts. Sneakers, gaming keyboard, mouse, headphones… all the things Liam liked. I also ordered a bouquet of sunflowers, his favorite. Inside, I tucked a bank card and a confession note from the florist. Usually, when I apologized this hard, Liam would unblock me within a week. Then he’d begrudgingly let me pick him up. But this time… It had been over ten days since I sent the package. Silence. Not a peep. It was like he decided to freeze me out completely. Not a single text. Chapter 2 I was confused. What was going on? Did Liam really decide to cut ties with me? I couldn’t sit still anymore. I drove out to the suburbs. It was a cluster of dilapidated apartment buildings. I parked and followed the address old Mr. Vanderbilt left me, searching door to door. I turned the corner to Building 5. Suddenly, I saw a boy walking out, holding a bouquet of sunflowers. It was the exact brand I ordered. And he was wearing the T-shirt I mailed to Liam a few days ago. …What the hell? Did I run into a thief? Or did Liam throw away my gifts, and this guy picked them up? I got out of the car and marched over. I was about to yell, but before I could open my mouth, a barrage of text floated across my vision. “Holy crap, the female lead still doesn’t know she sent the gifts to the wrong person!” “It’s because her phone glitch wiped her address book! She mistyped a digit and sent it straight to the villain’s house!” “Ugh, does the villain really live this poorly? His place looks even worse than Liam’s!” “It’s like 200 square feet. He shares a kitchen with the neighbors…” “Yeah, didn’t you know? The villain is dirt poor, an orphan, bullied since childhood. This is literally the first gift he’s ever received.” “There’s a black card with $200k in there. I’m sobbing. Silas was about to drop out, but now he can pay tuition.” … Wait a minute. What? Silas? Silas Thorne from my school? The super genius who’s always top of the class? How is he the villain? Chapter 3 I froze. I kept reading the comments. According to the original storyline, Silas was supposed to drop out. He was brilliant but destitute. Even with scholarships, he had a sick grandmother and a younger sister to support. He gave up his guaranteed admission to an Ivy League school to work in a factory. Then a fire broke out. A beam fell and crushed his leg. He used half his compensation money for his family and the other half to start a business. He was capable and hardworking. Within a few years, he became a tech tycoon. His future was bright until a competitor framed him, causing him massive losses. That competitor? Liam Vanderbilt. After Silas dropped out, Liam took his spot at the Ivy League. As the “male lead,” Liam’s life was smooth sailing. He made rich friends and got investments from industry bigwigs. Even though his products weren’t as good as Silas’, his connections crushed him. Eventually, Silas snapped. He thought about how Liam had everything only because he, Silas, had to drop out. He went “black.” He became a villain. He started stealing Liam’s projects, contracts, employees, investments… He became a terrifying, unhinged tycoon. I took a deep breath, trying to process this. Just as my brain was melting, another comment popped up. “Lol, look at the female lead’s innocent face.” “She doesn’t know that after the villain turns evil, he not only steals the male lead’s money but also his girl!” “He’s gonna lock her up in a dark room and go crazy. The censors won’t even let us see what happens next!” … EXCUSE ME? Steal me? What did I ever do to him?! The comments seemed to sense my breakdown. “It’s because she was too good to the male lead and ignored the villain. Silas started getting jealous of Liam back then…” “Sigh. If our Spring had been nicer to the villain, maybe she wouldn’t end up in the dark room later. Boohoo.” … I turned my head mechanically. I looked at Silas Thorne, who was hugging my gifts and walking toward his rundown building. A group of neighbors, boys his age with dyed hair who looked like troublemakers, surrounded him. They whistled and teased him. “Ooh, look at Silas! Getting gifts again?” “Who sent it? I’m dying to know!” “Must be a secret admirer. Tsk.” “Isn’t there a card in the flowers? Lemme see!” One of them grabbed Silas by the shoulder and snatched the sunflowers. He ripped out the card. And read it out loud— “I’ve sent you so many things. When will you realize how I feel?” “Can you just…” “Like me back a little bit?” “- Spring.” Chapter 4 “It’s a confession!!!” The gang of punks screamed. They pushed and shoved, acting like they’d seen a ghost. Everyone wanted to see the card. “Who is Spring?” “Is she a nerd like Silas? Some boring good girl?” Immediately— Silas kicked the guy hard. He snatched the card back. The crowd erupted in jeers. A blonde kid whistled. “You don’t know Spring? Spring Vance! The heiress!” “Super rich! Her family does real estate, right? Worth billions!” “I saw her driving an Aston Martin last time. So cool!” “Really? What does it look like?” “Like… hey, isn’t that one right there?” …Silence. Everyone turned to look at me. I didn’t have time to hide. Our eyes met. Silas was still holding the sunflowers. When he saw me, his face turned bright red. The punks exploded. “Spring Vance!” “That’s the heiress!” “Holy sh*t, she actually came here to find Silas!” “Silas, why are you standing there like a log? Go over there, you nerd!” “Don’t keep the lady waiting!” “Go!”

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My family’s gas line exploded. Just as I was about to rush into the inferno to save my sister, weird text started scrolling across the smoky sky: [Classic “Pick Me” heroine move. To get rid of her sister, she risked it all and turned on the gas herself to start the fire!] [Her sacrifice will pay off though. In her past life, her sister saved her but ended up with 80% burns and an amputation. This time, the fire is bigger. The sister is toast.] [Can’t be helped. There’s only so much inheritance to go around. The sister is the heroine’s only rival! Like she said, survival of the fittest.] [When the parents ask questions, all she has to say is “Sis was playing with fire,” and she’s off the hook.] [Calculating, ruthless, and cruel. Truly worthy of being the future heiress. So satisfying!] Really? I took two steps back, looked at my sister whose legs were pinned under the debris, and grinned. “Sis, in this life, let’s see who runs faster.” 1 A deafening explosion ripped through the air. The emptiness of death was instantly replaced by roaring flames. My sister’s voice made the nightmare all too familiar. “Help! Sister, help me! The gas exploded, the door fell on me! I’m trapped!” So, I really was reborn. Before I could even process it, dense bullet comments flashed before my eyes: [Personally started the fire… survival of the fittest… sister was playing with fire…] My mind went blank. Just because we were the “Real vs. Fake” daughters, Chloe wanted me dead? In my past life, I charged into the fire without hesitation and dragged her out. I wasn’t fast enough. I ended up with burns over 80% of my body. I spent the rest of my miserable life bedridden, eating, drinking, and shitting in the same spot, stripped of all dignity. Even as I died of depression and pain, I comforted myself thinking I traded my life for hers. It was laughable. It was all her plot. My rage was interrupted by Chloe’s pathetic plea. “Sister, save me!” Save her? I turned to run, but not before looking back with an innocent smile. “Sis, the fire is huge. How can I save you?” “When disaster strikes, it’s every woman for herself!” Her eyes changed instantly. The malicious glint vanished, replaced by big, crocodile tears. “Sister, did you forget? After you came back, our brother targeted you constantly. I was the one who helped you!” “I gave you everything you wanted. I always spoke up for you in front of Mom and Dad.” “Fine, sister, run. It’s my fault for taking your place and stealing your life. Consider this my atonement!” If this were the old me, my heart would have melted. Even though every time she “spoke up” for me, Mom and Dad hated me more, and my brother wanted to kick me out faster. I used to be so grateful to Chloe. I thought she tried her best, and I was just unlovable. Now I know. It was all part of her game. I laughed coldly. “Sis, your ‘kindness’ truly weighs a ton.” “Don’t worry. After you die, I’ll use the money Mom and Dad give me to buy you a massive plot in the cemetery!” “Sigh, what can I do? I’m the biological daughter. I have to stay alive. Who else will inherit the family fortune? An outsider?” The fire was raging. I didn’t have time to chat. I turned and ran. Suddenly, a noise behind me. I looked back. She had easily pushed the heavy door off her legs. Gritting her teeth, face cold as ice, she sprinted toward me. The heat was cooking me alive. I could smell my hair singing. I ran for my life. Suddenly, a hand clamped onto my arm. I was yanked backward. “Sister, since you don’t appreciate my kindness, don’t blame me!” “What’s wrong with being an orphan? Why did you have to come back and make me the fake daughter?!” “It’s you or me. Only when you’re dead will everything truly be mine!” She smiled, a venomous, triumphant grin, eager to watch me fall into the sea of fire. But I was ready. I grabbed a burning plastic vase and smashed it into her face. “Ahhh!” She screamed, squeezing her eyes shut in pain. I kicked her in the stomach and bolted. At that moment, maybe God decided to intervene. A beam collapsed with a crash, blocking her only exit. Her face was a bloody mess. Her eyes opened in pure terror. She tried to crawl, but the heat forced her to roll on the ground. “Sister! Please, sister, save me!” “No! I don’t want to die here!” I smiled brightly, dusting off my slightly singed hands. “Sis, you were right. It’s you or me. You have to die so I can have Mom and Dad’s love all to myself.” “Don’t worry, the fire department is on the way. If you’re lucky, they might find a whole corpse!” Amidst her screams and curses, I walked away lightly. 2 Just like in my past life, the fire was put out in twenty minutes. My parents and brother, who arrived late, followed the ambulance. Two hours later, we were in the hospital room, staring at the charcoal-like figure on the bed. The doctor looked grim. “The patient’s condition is critical. 90% of her body is burned. Her eyes are severely damaged.” “Luckily, she was wearing fire-resistant clothing, or it would be worse…” “We are doing our best to keep her alive, but you need to prepare yourselves. Paralysis, blindness… very likely.” “And with current medical technology, we can’t perform skin grafts on this scale. Her skin may never recover…” “Unless she’s transferred to the Sterling private hospital. That’s her only hope…” I sighed inwardly. She didn’t die? I guess evil really does live longer. A jarring voice broke my thoughts. My brother, eyes red, screamed at the doctor. “Impossible! My sister is lucky! She can’t be hurt like this! Is this some scam to get more money?” “I order you to cure her! Or I’ll smash this hospital to pieces!” My brother, Lucas, had been spoiled rotten. He had no filter. When the doctor ignored him, he turned his rage on me. “How did the gas explode? The house was fine!” “Zoey, you’ve always been jealous of Chloe! Did you cause this accident?!” “You already stole the marriage arrangement with the Shen family from her! Are you not satisfied?! Why did you hurt my sister?!” I was used to his outbursts. I lowered my eyes and pinched myself hard. Tears welled up instantly. “Mom, Dad, it’s all my fault. I was born unlucky. That’s why I was switched at birth and had to beg for food in the orphanage.” “If… if only I was stronger, healthier… maybe I could have saved my sister…” I wiped my tears, “accidentally” revealing the burns on my palms. Sure enough, my parents ate it up. Their cold, accusatory glares instantly warmed. “Alright, alright. No one wanted this to happen.” “Chloe’s accident has nothing to do with Zoey. It’s just bad luck.” They sighed, looking heartbroken. But not thirty minutes later, Dad sent someone to assess the property damage. Learning the house was burned to a crisp, their faces darkened. Worse than when they were looking at their dying daughter. Soon, they got restless. Mom and Dad left one by one. Lucas stayed a bit longer. But after a call from his frat bros about a street race, he left too. I stayed by the door. I needed the quiet to parse the floating text. [The heroine is so pitiful. Not a patch of good skin left… Even if she kills the rival, the Shen family won’t want her anymore…] [If she wants to compete, she needs a stronger backer.] [In Ocean City, besides the Shen family, there’s only the Sterlings.] [But would the Sterlings even look at her? Besides, you think the Sterlings are simply…] The Sterlings? Combined with what the doctor said… I suddenly thought, for someone as vain as Chloe, the Sterling family would be a perfect destination. 3 Nourished by our plastic family love, Chloe finally woke up three days later. “Mom, Dad, what’s wrong with my eyes?” “It hurts… everything hurts…” “Sister, you lit the gas on purpose! I was one step away from escaping, why did you push me back into the fire…” “I know I took a lot from you. But I was willing to give it all back! Why did you have to plan this fire and try to kill me?” I had to admire her. Just woke up, in excruciating pain, and still gaslighting like a pro. Luckily, I was prepared. Seeing the suspicion in my parents’ eyes, I spoke before my furious brother could. “Sister, what are you saying? How could I plan a fire?” “Mom, Dad, look. She said she wasn’t feeling well and asked me to come home to take care of her. She was the one home all day. How could I light the house on fire from outside?” I cried harder, mimicking her tone. “Sister, I know you hate that I came back and took some of Mom and Dad’s love… but I didn’t mean to. I’ll go back to the orphanage! I won’t be an eyesore anymore.” I pulled out screenshots of the texts Chloe sent me. They were fake, of course. But her phone was ashes. Dead men tell no tales. Sure enough, my parents looked at Chloe with doubt. Chloe shook with rage, her ruined face twisting into a monster’s mask. I didn’t give her a chance to defend herself. I wailed louder. “Mom, Dad, I get it! Sister thinks I’m not good enough for the Shen family marriage! She wants to stomp me down…” “I’ll go tell the Shen family right now. I’ll let Sister marry him.” “Young Master Shen is kind. If he knows she’s hurt, he’ll take good care of her.” I subtly reminded them of my value. Reminded them that I was the one marrying into the Shen family. I was the one who could elevate our family status. My parents snapped out of it. “Alright, I believe neither Chloe nor Zoey would start a fire. There must be a misunderstanding.” “Chloe, don’t worry. Once you recover, we’ll contact the Sterlings for help. We’ll make you beautiful again.” I nodded eagerly. “Yes, Sister, just rest.” “Actually, I don’t even like Young Master Shen that much. And I have a way to contact the Sterlings. Did you know? The Sterlings are royalty in the capital. They moved to Ocean City last month… Their only son was my classmate. He used to chase me…” “I think marrying into the Sterling family is a great option. They can help fix your skin.” “I’ll give Young Master Shen to you, Sister.” “Don’t worry, he won’t reject you.” I flashed a photo on my phone of me and Julian Sterling, the heir. Chloe stared at Julian’s face, her eyes dark and unreadable. I leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Sis, what goes around comes around. Just like a few days ago. Whoever lights the fire gets burned.” “Is Julian Sterling as stupid as Young Master Shen? Will he fall for your act?” “Don’t end up like your last life. Married into the Shen family only to rot alone while your husband keeps a harem outside.” 4 I was referring to her “glory” in her past life. Her face turned a shade darker. Through gritted teeth, she hissed, “We’ll see.” She wasn’t surprised when I mentioned rebirth. She knew. I left with my parents. Since the house was toast, we moved into a new villa. As soon as we got home, my parents pounced. “Zoey, is it true? You and Julian Sterling were classmates? He chased you?” Seeing the greed in their eyes, I held back my nausea and nodded. “Of course. Didn’t you see the photo?” “We were hugging. Isn’t that obvious?” “If we weren’t worried about school, we might have been together already.” It was a lie. Just a photoshopped pic from an award ceremony. Julian was famous in school, paparazzi followed him everywhere. Rumors were easy to manufacture. I found the photo online. It didn’t matter. These two looked at me like I was a walking ATM. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” “The Shens are nice, but they’re nothing compared to the Sterlings! Julian is the sole heir! No scandals! Marrying him is hitting the jackpot!” I put on a touched smile. “Mom, Dad, you really think so? You gave me life, so I’ll listen to you.” “But… it’s been years. We haven’t talked much. I don’t know if he still likes me.” “And even if he does… our family can’t afford a dowry fitting for the Sterlings.” Mom waved her hand dismissively. “That’s easy. If you marry Julian, we’ll bankrupt the family to get your dowry ready!” They calculated fast. Whatever they spent, they’d earn back tenfold once I was Mrs. Sterling. I smiled. “Thanks, Mom and Dad.” I sent the recording of this conversation to Chloe. With a text: [Sis, if I really marry into the Sterling family, you’ll have nothing left.] Chloe was competitive. She wouldn’t sit still. The bullet comments confirmed it: [Heroine, don’t be stupid! It’s a trap!] [The Sterling family is a dragon’s den! You’ll be eaten alive!] [That idiot brother is helping her contact the Sterlings? He’s sending his sister to her death!] Good. Wait, not entirely good. Our family was small potatoes compared to the Sterlings. Could Lucas even reach Julian? Looks like I have to step in.

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On the first day of freshman year, news broke that I’d won a million dollars in a national gaming tournament. Suddenly, a girl I barely knew—Vanessa, the so-called “campus beauty” who played the poverty card like a pro—rushed the stage and fell to her knees, begging me to pay her mother’s medical bills. “This money might be nothing to you, but to me, it’s my mother’s life!” she sobbed. “I promise, I’ll pay you back in the future!” The crowd went wild. Everyone started chanting for me to be a hero, saying getting the campus beauty’s favor for a million bucks was a steal. I almost caved. My finger hovered over the transfer button. But then, rows of glowing text—like bullet comments on a livestream—floated across my vision: [Here it comes. After the moral kidnapping succeeds, the campus beauty and her family treat the MC like a walking blood bag. Can’t shake them off.] [Later, when the MC’s dad falls and needs emergency surgery, she won’t pay him back. Instead, she guilt-trips him, saying he’s forcing her and her mom to die!] [After that, she frames the MC for sexual assault, ruining his life. His dad dies because of it.] My hand shook. I canceled the transfer. I looked down at the teary-eyed beauty looking up at me with expectation. “Sorry,” I said. “I spent it all.” 1 The whole class gasped. Vanessa looked at me, shocked and outraged. “How could you spend it all so fast?” Hilarious. What right did she have to question my finances? I ignored her and walked back to my seat. But Vanessa scrambled up and chased after me. She asked if I was worried she couldn’t pay it back, offering to write an IOU. The floating text returned: [Don’t believe her! She uses disappearing ink for IOUs. When you ask for the money later, it’ll be a blank piece of paper!] [Later, when your dad is dying and you beg her on your knees, this manipulative witch will wave that blank paper around and accuse you of harassment!] [Also, her mom doesn’t have uremia. She’s alive and kicking. She just wants to scam money!] I let out a cold laugh. “Spent means spent. Why are you still asking?” Vanessa collapsed on the floor again, hugging my leg like a koala, sobbing uncontrollably. “I really, really need your help! Otherwise, my mom will die!” “My dad died early. My mom raised me all by herself. Seeing her like this while I can’t do anything… I should just die!” [Not just her, they both deserve it!] [Yeah, in their village, they’re notorious. They beat up disabled people, steal food from the elderly, and smashed someone’s pot when they got caught!] [You’re screwed if you help. Once the moral kidnapping works, they’ll bleed you dry. If you dare say ‘no,’ they’ll spread rumors you’re a creep.] [Everyone will think: why would he give a random classmate a million bucks if he didn’t have ulterior motives?] [Exactly. When she accuses you of assault later, the keyboard warriors will believe her instantly! Don’t give her a dime!] 2 I remained unmoved by Vanessa’s performance. Suddenly, the class president, Tyler, stood up. “Ethan, you’re in the wrong here. We’re all classmates. Why can’t you help? Are you really going to watch her mom die?” [This guy is a massive simp. He likes Vanessa, so of course he’s white-knighting for her!] Tyler’s crush on Vanessa was an open secret. Vanessa shot Tyler a grateful look, then continued her wailing. “You made that money so easily. Use it to do something good. I’ll be grateful to you for the rest of my life.” “Alright, alright, get up. Ethan isn’t the type to leave someone to die. I’m sure he’ll pay.” Tyler rushed over to help Vanessa up, even dusting off her clothes like a dutiful servant. Then he told her to pull up her Venmo QR code. Vanessa already had it ready. She unlocked her phone, and there it was. [She relies on her looks to cry poor and beg for money everywhere! If you don’t give, she claims you’re looking down on her!] I smirked. A real “princess.” I reached out and locked her phone screen. Tyler frowned instantly. “Ethan, what do you mean?” I shrugged. “Nothing. Why flash a QR code right off the bat? People might think she’s begging on the street.” Tyler got agitated. “She needs you to transfer money to save a life!” “Did I say I was transferring money? You’ve been talking to yourself this whole time. Interesting how eager you are to spend other people’s money.” “I don’t have that much money. I can only help organize. Is that a problem?” I scoffed. “Jeff Bezos has more money. Go organize him.” “You’re so generous. Maybe you can’t drop a million, but 100k or 200k should be easy for you, right? Doing good deeds shouldn’t be about the amount.” “…I don’t have 200k either! I’m a poor student!” “Borrow it. Take out a loan. Rob a bank. That’s how you show true love for Vanessa! It’s 2024, you think you can get the girl with just talk?” Tyler’s face turned the color of a pig’s liver. [Nice! Throw that hot potato right back at him!] [He likes Vanessa so much? Let him take out a loan!] Vanessa looked at Tyler with hopeful, teary eyes. “There’s strength in numbers… actually, my mom’s medical fees… a million might not be enough… President Tyler, maybe you could…” Tyler froze. He avoided Vanessa’s gaze. Maybe out of panic, or to deflect, he turned back to me and yelled: “I am the Class President! I order you to transfer the money to her right now!” The whole class stared, jaws dropped. Class President? What a massive power trip! One sentence, and he expects me to cough up a million? Even scammers put in more effort than this. Hearing the snickers around him, Tyler got even more agitated. “So what if I’m the Class President? I’m telling you to do a good deed! What’s wrong with that?” I laughed in his face. “A few days ago, there was a donation drive for alumni. Who donated five bucks and bragged about it like a saint? Oh right, you.” “And who do you think you are to order me around? Bossing me about my money? You worthy?” Students covered their mouths, giggling. Tyler’s face got redder. “You just have no heart!” “Yep, you’re right. I have no heart. You have a heart, so hurry up and donate a few hundred grand to Vanessa.” I shook off Vanessa’s grip on my leg. Pointing at Tyler, I said, “The President is a great guy. Campus loans are easy to get. Go hug his thigh instead!” Vanessa looked at Tyler expectantly. Tyler looked like a startled rat looking for a hole. 3 A few days later, the school organized a charity auction for underprivileged kids. I donated a valuable limited-edition figure without hesitation. It drew a lot of attention. A sophomore bought it for $3,000. I stuffed the cash into the donation box. But the moment the auction ended, Vanessa rushed up and hugged the donation box. Teachers ran over, asking what she was doing. Vanessa started weeping. “I’m the one who needs help the most! My mom has uremia and needs money to live!” “I tried begging my classmate Ethan, but he won’t help. Begging is useless. I have to do this.” “I can testify!” Tyler popped up like a whack-a-mole. “Ethan won a million in a gaming tournament. But seeing his classmate’s mother dying, he ignored her and lied about spending the money! I’m ashamed to be his classmate!” Everyone looked at me. No way was I taking this rap. I confronted Tyler immediately. “Who made the rule that I have to help a classmate in trouble? Do you know how much a million dollars is? She’s not my mom. Why should I help?” People nodded. Helping is voluntary, and it should be within one’s means. What kind of idiot drops a million to save a “classmate’s” mom? While Tyler stuttered, I continued. “Kindness isn’t just lip service. If you’re so charitable, why did you auction off a broken water bottle today? Then you turn around and demand I donate a million. Tyler, don’t be such a hypocrite.” “A million is nothing to you!” Tyler argued weakly. I looked at him with disdain. “Whether it’s nothing or everything is none of your business. Can you stop being generous with my money to chase girls? Using such dirty tactics, sacrificing others to make yourself look good—it’s disgusting.” The teachers and students got it. Their looks turned judgmental. While Tyler stood there embarrassed, Vanessa tried to run off with the donation box. Luckily, teachers and students stopped her. Vanessa wailed loudly. “A person in need is standing right here! Are you all as heartless as Ethan? Is your charity just for show?” “Vanessa, watch your mouth. Stop dragging my name into this!” I warned her, pointing a finger. Vanessa claimed I was threatening her and sat on the ground, throwing a tantrum. [She wants to blow this up. She’s an expert at playing the victim and using public opinion to pressure people!] [Watch out for Tyler. In your past life, he’s the one who edited the videos to frame you for assault!] I sneered internally. Fine. Two can play at that game. I crouched down and asked Vanessa. “Your mom really has uremia? Can you prove it?” Vanessa’s eyes darted around. She couldn’t look me in the eye. Tyler chimed in. “Who would curse their own family with something like that? Would you, Ethan?” I was sick of him. I glared sideways. Tyler instinctively stepped back but kept running his mouth. “If he doesn’t believe it, Vanessa, bring the medical diagnosis tomorrow. Let’s see if he pays up then!” Vanessa was silent for a moment, then nodded vigorously, promising to bring the papers. [Don’t believe her. It’s fake! She’s going to forge it!] Forged? Even better. 4 The next day, when Vanessa handed me the diagnosis, Tyler filmed the whole thing. He provided commentary, saying I didn’t believe a classmate’s tragedy, and that I promised to donate my million if the papers were real. I grabbed him, snatched his phone, and smashed it on the floor. Tyler was stunned. I grabbed his collar, fist tight. “You are so damn annoying. Stay away from me. Do you hear me?” “You broke my phone!” “I’ll buy you a new one. Scram!” I shoved him away. He frantically pulled out his SIM card and ran. I turned back and snatched the diagnosis from Vanessa. I looked closely. Pretty good forgery. I started to walk away with it. Vanessa blocked me. “Why aren’t you giving me the money? What are you doing with the papers?” Guilty conscience. I didn’t say a word, just tried to leave. Suddenly, Vanessa reached out to snatch the papers back, screaming that I was breaking my promise, and ripped them in half. I sneered. “Doing that… proves these are fake, doesn’t it?” “N-No!” “Then why are you so agitated?” “I’m afraid you’ll use them for something bad! If you won’t help, fine, but don’t spread my business around to laugh at me!” [She’s going to use public opinion to pressure you! Careful!] [That bastard Tyler didn’t go far. He’s recording with a burner phone!] I turned around. Tyler sprinted away. That night, a post appeared on the school forum.

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I meticulously cultivated my Princess Sissy Roses, only to have a popular B-list celebrity tear them all up for her reality show. Her tone was sickeningly innocent. “These flowers are so pretty, they should be made into crowns. Their owner really doesn’t know how to use them.” “Let me help them fulfill their true purpose.” In the variety show, she flashed a bright smile, showing off her new flower crown to her fans. Afterward, she refused to apologize and even led her fans in cyberbullying me. Looking at my chaotic, trampled garden, I smiled too. “This garden is insured for $15 million.” “According to the contract, you owe me $150 million!” Chapter 1 I was woken up by the blaring alarm of my security cameras. I threw on a robe and groggily walked outside. My cottage is secluded. I rarely get visitors, and with a locked gate, who would be trespassing at the crack of dawn? The yard was swarming with people. At least a dozen strangers had surrounded my little sanctuary. My front gate, which I had beautifully woven with flowering vines, had been ripped open. Vines were torn and discarded on the ground. The wooden gate hung crookedly off its hinges. My meticulously arranged flower beds had been trampled, a muddy path stomped right through the middle. Burly cameramen were pointing their lenses at a girl standing in the center of my ruined garden. She was undeniably pretty, basking in the spotlight. She casually plucked a few more blooms, weaving a flower crown. “Babies, look at this crown! Doesn’t it suit me perfectly?” “It’s a shame there’s only one type of flower. If there were others to mix in, it would be even prettier.” She smiled brightly, dimples showing. I recognized her. It was Bella Rose, the current “It Girl” of reality TV. I was actually watching her latest drama. Online, she had a reputation for being gentle, kind, and down-to-earth. A real-life fairy. I used to like her. I never expected my first real-life encounter with her to look like this. Looking at the crown on her head and my devastated garden, my anger flared. “Who are you people? Who gave you permission to come in here?” The production crew seemed surprised someone actually lived here. The director stepped forward, explaining, “We’re with the production team. Just shooting a quick segment.” “Can’t you see this is private property? You broke my gate to get in!” Bella took off her flower crown. “It’s just some flowers. Here, take them back.” She held the crown out to me. I didn’t move. Seeing my refusal, Bella threw the crown on the ground in a huff. She looked me up and down with disdain. “Here’s five hundred bucks. That should cover what a country bumpkin’s flowers are worth.” Her assistant pulled out five hundred dollars and threw it at my feet. “Take the money and leave. Don’t disturb Bella’s shoot.” The crew moved to shoo me away, assistants forming a wall with blockers. Country bumpkin? I almost laughed. Sure, I ran out in my pajamas with bedhead, but I am far from a “country bumpkin.” Trespassing, vandalism, and now trying to pay me off like I’m a beggar? The audacity is truly breathtaking. Chapter 2 Honestly, I just wanted a sincere apology. If they had been decent, I might have let it slide. But with this attitude? The gloves are off. “What show is this?” The director, thinking I was backing down, softened his tone. “Miss, we’re filming Country Bliss. We saw how beautiful this cottage was and just wanted to capture some shots.” I sneered. “Just wanted to capture some shots? So that gives you the right to break and enter?” The director looked around, realizing they were in the wrong. “Look, how much compensation do you think is appropriate?” I chuckled. “How much? I’m afraid you can’t afford it.” These weren’t just any roses. They were the world-renowned Juliet Roses, often called the “£3 million rose.” Juliet Roses are notoriously difficult to grow. I spent a fortune and countless hours cultivating them. And, I insured the garden for $15 million. Bella, resting on the sidelines, cut in impatiently. “Director, why waste breath on a villager? She just thinks five hundred isn’t enough. Give her two grand and be done with it.” I walked up to Bella and slapped her across the face. “Villager? Aren’t your ancestors from the countryside too?” My move was so sudden, even her assistant didn’t react in time. Five red fingerprints bloomed on her cheek. Bella clutched her face, tears springing to her eyes. “You dare hit me?! I’ll kill you!” She lunged at me. I side-stepped. Momentum carried her forward, and she face-planted into the dirt. Her assistants finally snapped out of it and rushed to help her up. “What are you standing there for?! Beat her up!” Bella, hands on hips, screeched at her staff like a banshee. “Useless idiots! Get her!” I shook my head. This shrew behavior… where did the “human fairy” go? The assistants charged. I didn’t flinch. Taekwondo and kickboxing lessons weren’t for show. A few goons? Please. “Stop!” The director suddenly shouted, halting the assistants. He whispered something in Bella’s ear. The crew started packing up to leave. Before going, Bella glared at me venomously. “You bitch, just you wait!” I glared back. We’ll see who’s waiting. 3 That afternoon, while I was sipping coffee, my assistant called. “Boss, you’re trending!” “Send it over.” My assistant, Leo, sent a link. It was a video posted by the show’s official account. Heavily edited. It only showed me storming out, the director explaining politely, Bella offering the crown, her assistant offering money, and finally, me refusing the cash and slapping Bella. The video ended with a freeze-frame of Bella clutching her face, a single tear rolling down. Twenty minutes in, it was the #1 trending topic. Hundreds of thousands of comments. [Who is this Karen? How dare she hit our Bella! Dox her!] [Look at that handprint. My heart is breaking for Bella.] [Bella is so pitiful. Why didn’t the staff stop her?] [Useless crew! Protect our queen!] [Hit her back! Beat her ass!] [Someone find her address. I’m going to teach this bitch a lesson for Bella!] [Wait, isn’t the crew in the wrong here? That’s private property.] [Yeah, the yard looks trashed. The owner probably got mad because they wrecked her stuff.] [Bella’s comment was kinda passive-aggressive though…] [To the person above, our Bella using those country flowers is doing them a favor!] [Off topic, but the crazy lady is actually kinda hot even with messy hair.] […] There were a few sensible comments, but they were quickly drowned out by the fan mob. Bella posted a selfie on Weibo: [Thanks for the concern, babies. I’m okay.] The photo showed a faint red mark on her face. The comments were a flood of sympathy for her and vitriol for me. I closed the app. Edited videos are boring. The raw footage is where the fun is. The crew didn’t know my cottage is rigged with hidden cameras. Their little break-in was recorded in 4K. 4 That night, I uploaded the unedited footage. I had Leo put $15,000 into promoting it to ensure it hit the prime-time feed. Marketing accounts picked it up instantly. By the time Bella’s PR team realized what was happening, it was too late. The comments section did a 180. [Plot twist! Bella is actually like this in private? Unfollowing.] [The production team is trash. Breaking and entering and acting like they own the place?] [They ruined such a beautiful garden. I’d be pissed too.] [Team Crazy Lady. The crew and Bella are shameless.] [That slap was satisfying. Queen behavior.] [But there was no “No Trespassing” sign. They probably didn’t know.] [Exactly. Using the location is free publicity. She should be paying Bella for the exposure!] [Bella even gave her $500. That’s more than enough for some wild flowers. She’s just greedy.] I scoffed at the comments. Publicity? Exposure? The dog really does take after its master. Shameless. Suddenly, shouting erupted outside. “Bitch! Come out!” “Come out here! How dare you set me up and post that video!” I walked to the gate. Three people stood there: Bella, the assistant who threw money at me, and a man I assumed was her manager. Bella was kicking my gate. Seeing me, she screamed, “You cheap bitch!” “Miss Rose, there are cameras here too. Want another viral video?” “You…” Bella glared but stopped kicking. “Miss, Bella was impulsive today. Can we come in and talk?” The manager asked. “No need. Say it here.” “We want to discuss compensation and deleting the video.” The manager slid a contract through the gate. “Take a look.” I flipped through it. They offered $15,000. In exchange, I delete the video and issue a statement saying I’m not the owner, just a friend watching the house, and that the owner had actually given permission. “This $15,000 is for your trouble. If you’re not satisfied, we can offer you a job on the crew,” the manager said, holding out a stack of cash. “I can delete the video, but I won’t lie. And Bella needs to apologize to me.” I tapped the cash against my palm. “Why should I apologize to you?!” Bella shrieked. “So you’re not sorry? Then no deal.” I threw the cash back at Bella. The bills fluttered around her furious face. “Bye.” “Bella, apologize!” The manager barked. “Wait. I don’t want an apology anymore. We’re done here.” I cut her off. “Don’t be ungrateful! Do you know who my backer is? My boyfriend is the heir to the Lin Group!” “Lin Chen?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. Thinking I was scared, Bella smirked. “Yeah. Scared now? Kneel and apologize, then delete the video, or I’ll make sure you never work in this town again!” “I’m shaking. Let’s see who ends up jobless.” I turned and walked back inside, ignoring her screaming. Lin Chen’s girlfriend? She probably doesn’t know Lin Chen is my…

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In the middle of the executive meeting, Liam’s new assistant dumped an entire venti boba tea on my head in front of everyone. “You’re just a slacker who hides in her office playing video games all day. How dare you question my proposal?” “I’m firing you. Get out!” I stood up calmly, wiped the sticky mess off my face, and looked at Liam. He frowned, deliberately avoiding my gaze, and chose silence. I smiled and pulled out my phone. “Dad, did you hear that?” “They told me to get lost.” Chapter 1 Monday. I was in the zone, about to clutch a 1v5 in my game, when someone knocked on my office door. “Manager Shen, Tiffany said all managers need to be in the main conference room in ten minutes.” It was Jenny from Admin, sounding frantic. I didn’t look up. My fingers flew across the keyboard. “Not going. Busy.” In the six months I’d worked here, I’d never attended a single meeting. Not because I didn’t have to, but because I didn’t want to. “But…” Jenny hesitated. “Tiffany emphasized that no one can be absent today. She said it’s Mr. Liam’s order.” My fingers paused. My character got one-shotted by the boss. Seeing the grey screen, I cursed internally and slammed my laptop shut. When I arrived at the conference room, it was already packed. Seeing me, many people whispered, shooting me weird looks. “Why is Manager Shen here?” “Doesn’t she skip every meeting?” “Who knows? Probably Tiffany making a power move.” “Tiffany’s been gunning for her. Today’s gonna be a show.” … I ignored the gossip, took the furthest seat in the corner, and pulled out my phone to restart my game. Half an hour later, Liam and Tiffany finally strutted in. Tiffany held a stack of files, beaming like she just won the lottery. “Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedules.” Liam scanned the room. His gaze lingered on me for less than a second before moving on. “Tiffany has an important proposal to announce today.” Tiffany cleared her throat and launched into her “revolutionary” marketing plan. I played my game, listening with one ear. The more I heard, the more ridiculous it got. The budget was astronomical, and it completely missed our market positioning. “…So I believe we should immediately invest 12 million dollars to capture the high-end market within three months!” Tiffany concluded passionately. Scattered applause echoed in the room. I couldn’t help it. Without looking up, I said, “Spending 12 million on useless exposure? You might as well throw the cash off the roof. At least that would go viral.” The room went dead silent. Liam frowned slightly. “What did you say?” Tiffany’s voice spiked. I finally looked up, speaking slowly. “I said, your plan is full of holes.” “First, your target demographic is wrong.” “Second, your channel selection is trash.” “Finally, your ROI calculation is basically a fantasy.” “Spending that 12 million is like throwing it into the ocean.” “Actually, no. At least throwing it in the ocean makes a splash.” Tiffany’s face turned crimson. She grabbed the boba tea on the table and stormed over to me. “You’re just a slacker who hides in her office playing video games all day. How dare you question my proposal?” She practically screamed it. Then— Splash! The entire cup of tea hit my face. Sticky liquid dripped down my cheeks, staining my white dress brown. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Everyone held their breath. “Sarah Shen, as the CEO’s assistant, I’m firing you. Get out!” Chapter 2 Tiffany looked down at me, triumphant. I stood up slowly, took a handkerchief from my pocket, and wiped my face. Then I looked at Liam. He frowned, avoided my eyes, and stayed silent. I laughed. I spoke into my phone, which was on speaker. “Dad, did you hear that?” “They told me to get lost.” Silence for two seconds. Then a deep, powerful voice replied. “Understood. I’ll handle it.” I only took this job because of an arranged marriage my grandfather set up. Liam was my fiancé. I hated arranged marriages, but my dad guilt-tripped me with the “filial piety” card until I caved. To “bond,” Dad made me join Liam’s company, the Fu Group. For six months, I played the slacker gamer. But behind the scenes, I pulled strings to make the company’s stock soar. We even went public. The Fu Group became a star enterprise, and Liam made the Forbes list. Despite my help, we barely talked. In our few dates, I realized he only knew me as his fiancée, not my true background. … I sat back down in the corner and resumed my game. My character respawned. My fingers danced, ignoring the tension in the room. Tiffany turned green. She didn’t expect me to ignore her authority. She slammed the table. “Sarah Shen! Where do you think you are?” “Everyone is focused on the meeting, and you’re playing games?” I sneered. “I hit my annual KPI. What’s wrong with playing a game?” “If you don’t get out, I’m calling security!” I didn’t look up. “Suit yourself.” The executives looked at each other. Some pretended to read files; others peeked at Liam, waiting for his move. Liam finally stood up. He wore a sharp black suit, his expression cold. He looked at me with impatience and indifference. “Sarah, your performance numbers are good.” His voice was calm but authoritative. “But this is a workplace, not your living room.” “Leave the conference room immediately. Don’t disrupt the meeting.” My fingers paused. My character died again. I looked up, meeting his gaze with a smirk. “CEO Fu, are you sure you want to kick me out?” Liam frowned, his tone icier. “I won’t repeat myself. If you have any professionalism, you should know your place.” “And if I don’t want to leave?” “Then don’t blame me for being ruthless.” Seeing Liam take her side, Tiffany got bold. She rushed over and slapped the phone out of my hand. Smack! The phone hit the floor, screen shattering into a spiderweb. “Sarah Shen, don’t be shameless!” She grabbed my collar and yanked me up. “Mr. Liam spoke. Why are you still here? Get out!” From day one, Tiffany hated me. Once, passing Liam’s office, I heard her loud complaining: “Liam, we aren’t a charity. Paying a slacker to play games all day is unfair to the other employees.” Loud enough for the whole floor to hear. Liam didn’t respond. But through the window, I saw him pause while reading documents. Since then, Tiffany got worse. She’d “accidentally” mention my “achievements” in meetings. “Some people take a high salary but don’t even show up to meetings. Are they working or on vacation?” Rumors spread. People said I was a nepotism hire, a rich girl coasting, taking bets on when I’d get fired. I knew it all. I just didn’t care. Chapter 3 But my indifference only emboldened her. Now, she was crossing the line. I wasn’t having it. I grabbed her wrist and twisted. “Ah!” Tiffany screamed, letting go of my collar. She stumbled back, her arm hitting the edge of the conference table. Her watch made a loud crack against the wood. She looked down, face paling. The face of her expensive Patek Philippe had a distinct scratch, glaring under the lights. “You… you…” She trembled, rage exploding in her eyes. “Sarah Shen, do you know how much this watch costs?” “It was a birthday gift from Mr. Liam! It’s worth $120,000!” I straightened my collar slowly. “You can’t stand steady on your own feet. Who’s to blame?” “Sarah!” Liam finally snapped. “That’s enough!” “You disrupted the meeting, and now you damaged personal property.” “As CEO, I’m officially firing you.” “Pack your things and leave. Now!” Tiffany screeched, “Liam, don’t let her go! She has to pay for the watch!” The room was dead silent. Everyone looked at me with pity or glee, waiting for the show. “Fine. I’ll pay.” “$120,000, right?” I picked up my shattered phone. Screen cracked, but it worked. I dialed a number. Before I could speak, Tiffany sneered, “Not 120k. 1.2 million!” I paused and looked at her. “You sure?” “Of course!” Tiffany was arrogant. “A gift from Liam is priceless!” “Charging you 1.2 million is letting you off easy!” “Everyone, am I right?” Tiffany wouldn’t let go. She knew my salary. I couldn’t afford it. She wanted to humiliate me. The other executives chimed in. “Yeah, you can’t put a price on a gift from the CEO,” the CFO said, adjusting his glasses. “Manager Shen, just accept it.” “We aren’t a charity. You break it, you buy it,” the Marketing Director scoffed. “But with your salary, you’ll be paying it off until retirement.” Laughter erupted. They hated the “slacker.” They loved kicking me while I was down. Liam stood there, frowning, but didn’t stop them. I didn’t get angry. I looked at Tiffany. “1.2 million. Final offer?” Tiffany blinked, then laughed. “Sarah, stop acting. You make peanuts. 1.2 million? You’d have to sell a kidney.” I ignored her and spoke into the phone. “Get me 1.2 million in cash. Delivered to the Fu Group conference room. ASAP.” Tiffany scoffed. “Pfft. Who are you trying to scare with a phone call?” I waited silently. Ten minutes later, the door opened. A man in a sharp suit walked in. Behind him were three bank staff carrying metal briefcases. He walked straight to me and bowed. “Miss Shen, here is the 1.2 million you requested.” I nodded. “Thanks. Put it there.” The cases opened. Stacks of hundred-dollar bills gleamed under the lights. The room went silent. Eyes were glued to the cash. The air felt thin. Tiffany looked sick. She stared at the money, then at the man in the suit. Suddenly, the CFO turned pale. “Mr… Mr. Lu? The Bank President?!” Chapter 4 Lu Mingyuan. President of the City Bank. A big shot even Liam’s grandfather struggled to meet. Yet here he was, bowing to me, calling me “Miss Shen.” Liam hesitated, then stepped forward, extending a hand. “President Lu, what brings you here personally?” “My grandfather talks about you often. He’d love to see you.” Lu didn’t even look at him. He just nodded slightly. Then he turned to me. “Miss Shen, let me know if you need anything else.” He left immediately. Efficient. Like staying a second longer was a waste of time. Liam’s hand froze in mid-air. His face turned red, then white. Tiffany’s arrogance evaporated. Her legs went weak. Sweat beaded on her forehead. I casually pulled a stack of bills from a case and patted her face with it. “Assistant Tiffany. 1.2 million. Not a penny less.” “Now, the watch is mine.” I ripped the Patek Philippe off her wrist and tossed it into the trash can. “You!” Tiffany looked like she wanted to kill me. I turned to Liam and smiled. “CEO Fu. I paid for the watch.” “Now, let’s talk about compensation for my phone.” Tiffany paused, then laughed scornfully. She crossed her arms. “How much can a Huawei be worth?” I held up one finger. “Not much. Just 15 million dollars.” The room exploded. Laughter everywhere. The Marketing Director slammed the table. “15 million? Did the boba tea fry your brain?” The CFO smirked. “Company policy says market value compensation. Your phone isn’t even worth a fraction of that.” Tiffany gloated. She walked up to me. “Here, I’ll be generous. I’ll call the psych ward for you.” “Delusions need treatment.” Liam frowned but stayed silent. I remained calm. “You’re right. A normal Huawei isn’t worth much.” Tiffany snorted. “Glad you know. Stop embarrassing yourself!” “Too bad this isn’t a normal Huawei.” The door opened again. A middle-aged man in a grey jacket walked in, flanked by eight bodyguards. Howard Huo. Senior VP of Huawei Group. A man who only appeared at global press conferences. Liam’s face changed. He rushed over. “Mr. Huo? Why are you here?”

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After my parents kicked me out, I overheard the school’s notorious bad boy and the straight-A genius making a bet: whoever got a nude photo of me would win ten grand. I stormed into the bad boy’s house and started stripping. “Fifty-fifty split! I want five grand!” Later, they made another bet: whoever dated me first would get the coveted spot at the corporate partnership summit. I immediately found the genius. “Tutor me for a semester, and I’ll say ‘I love you’!” The bets ended. I got into Stanford. But then, they cornered me at the campus gate, demanding I pay up. Looking at the new cute guy I just added on Snapchat, I tilted my head, confused. “A bet’s a bet. Why are you guys being sore losers?” 1 My mom always called me a leech. Said I drank her milk and ate her rice but was useless because I couldn’t carry on the family name. When my little brother was born, her milk dried up. She blamed me for sucking it all dry and tried to force me to drop out of high school to work and buy formula for him. I refused. So she cut me off completely. “If you’re so tough, don’t spend a dime of my money! I feed you, clothe you, and raise an ingrate!” Fueled by spite, I stayed in school. But being broke is brutal. I slept through morning hunger pangs. At lunch, I scanned the cafeteria like a hawk, ready to swoop on leftovers. Dinner was the free bone broth soup. Standing in front of the soup pot, I held my breath and scooped deep. My eyes watered. It was a huge bone! Thicker than my leg! Jackpot. “Put that down! That’s for the manager!” a staff member yelled. I skulked away with a bowl of radish water. But hey, radish is food. As I sat down, I heard two guys whispering behind me. “Wanna bet? Ten grand to whoever gets a nude of Scarlett Shen.” I almost choked on my radish. Me? Scarlett Shen? My mom says I’m worthless, that I wouldn’t even fetch a $3,000 dowry. But my nudes are worth ten grand?! Is this divine intervention? I was about to turn around and ask where to sign up when the other guy spoke. “Not interested. Play by yourself. But how did Scarlett piss off Princess Chloe?” Chloe? I scanned my memory. Chloe Xie. The richest girl in school. Her family donated two buildings so the school would open an international program just for her. I’ve never even spoken to her. Why is she interested in my body? Is she… into girls? Just as I was considering taking one for the team, a familiar voice answered. “Bad luck. She wore the same outfit as Chloe. But Chloe is too high-class to talk to trash like Scarlett, so she hired us to handle it.” Ah. So that’s it. When they left, I turned around. It was Jax Huo, the school bad boy, and Ethan Gu, the top scholar. 2 For seven days, I slept with my window open. Neither of them showed up. Fine. I’ll do it myself. After evening study hall, I tailed Jax. He spent thirty minutes eating a late-night snack, two hours playing basketball, and took a three-mile detour before finally entering a rundown bungalow in the city’s slums. Before the door could close, I rushed up and shoved it open. Under Jax’s shocked gaze, I started stripping. “Quick! Take the pic! Fifty-fifty, give me five grand!” Jax froze for three seconds, then scrambled to pick up my clothes and throw them back on me. “Holy sh*t! Lady, who are you?! Why are you stripping in my house in the middle of the night? I’m a minor!” I paused, shirt half-on. “What does your age have to do with anything? Aren’t you trying to get my nudes?” Jax looked even more shocked. Moonlight hit my face. He finally recognized me. “Scarlett Shen?” Just then, the lights flicked on. A couple walked out of the bedroom, rubbing their eyes. They saw us and their eyes bugged out. “Jax! Why are you undressing a girl?!” Me and Jax stared at each other. Yeah, it looked bad. Before we could explain, the man grabbed a belt and started whipping Jax. “I’ll beat you to death, you animal! Bullying girls!” Jax jumped around like a monkey. “Dad! Listen! It’s a misunderstanding!” Jax’s mom stood behind, wiping tears and signing frantically with her hands. It took thirty minutes to calm them down. I lied to his mute mom that I was here for tutoring. Jax used sign language to explain to his deaf dad that he was innocent. His dad didn’t believe him until his mom explained it again. Then he glared at his son, embarrassed. 3 After sending his parents back to bed, Jax dragged me into his room. Clean concrete floor, two boxes for clothes, half the window taped up with newspaper. The only intact furniture was the bed. The desk looked like it came from a dumpster, missing a leg. Jax sprawled on a chair, returning to his usual bad-boy vibe. “Didn’t know you were this wild. delivering yourself to my door? Aren’t you afraid your photos will be plastered everywhere?” I didn’t answer. I just started taking my shirt off again. Jax panicked. He jumped up and grabbed my arm. “Sister, I’m begging you! Stop stripping! Do you want my dad to kill me?” I looked him dead in the eye. “Ten grand. Five each.” “F*ck!” Jax cursed, rubbing his temples. He looked down and saw the burn scars on my arms and shoulders. “What happened?” “Are you blind? Burns.” “I mean who did it?! Did you call the cops?” I shrugged, adjusting my tank top strap. “My dad. When he drinks, he smokes. When he smokes, I’m the ashtray.” I grinned. “But every time he burned me, Mom gave me an extra bowl of rice! Count ’em up, that’s a lot of full meals! Pretty smart, huh?” Jax looked at me, eyes complicated. His Adam’s apple bobbed, veins popping on his forehead. He sucked in a breath. “F*ck his life.” The window was broken, and the wind was freezing. I shivered. “Are you gonna take the picture or not? Hurry up. Money doesn’t wait.” “Even if I was a bastard, I couldn’t take that picture!” He paced around the room like an ant on a hot pan. Finally, he opened a drawer, threw $200 at me. “Get out!” Two hundred vs five thousand? No deal. “Can I borrow your phone? I’ll take it myself. You can claim the reward from Princess Chloe.” Jax sat down, head in hands, slamming the table. “How many times do I have to say it? I can’t do it!” 4 “Why?” I genuinely didn’t get it. “It’s ten grand! Don’t you want it? You agreed in the cafeteria!” Jax shook off my hand. “I changed my mind.” “No! Nobody stops me from making money!” We were at a stalemate for hours. I wouldn’t leave; he wouldn’t shoot. In the middle of the night, a pained groan came from next door, then silence. I frowned. “Shouldn’t you check on them? Your dad sounds bad.” Jax turned pale. “Old problem. He hates me seeing him weak. It embarrasses him.” He looked even more conflicted. Finally, he gritted his teeth. “Fine! Shoot!” I stood up straight, ready for my close-up. But he threw my clothes at me. “Shoot me!” “What?” I thought I misheard. Jax’s ears turned red. He looked mortified. “You’re flat anyway. My chest is bigger than yours! I’ll pose! Keep the face out of frame, who can tell the difference?!” Before I could process the insult, Jax took his shirt off. He handed me his phone. “Make it look good… artistic…” He groaned, covering his face. “My reputation is ruined…” I poked his arm. “How do we split the money?” “Fifty-fifty. Five grand each.” With that promise, I put my clothes back on. Money without nudity? I’d be an idiot to say no. I went to the bathroom, took off my bra, and handed it to him. “Wear this. Girls wear these.” Jax looked at the ceiling like he wanted to die. He picked it up with two fingers like it was radioactive waste. I rolled my eyes, snatched it back, went behind him, and hooked it on. The fabric touched his skin, and he shuddered like he’d been electrocuted. “My reputation… my reputation…” he whimpered. Everything ready. I opened the camera app. I frowned at the screen. “Squeeze them together. Cleavage.” “Huh?” Jax looked confused, squeezing his legs together. “Not that! Your chest!” Whatever! I reached out with my cold hands and shoved his pecs together. Jax shrieked, then clamped a hand over his mouth. Much better. I took like fifty shots. I handed the phone back. “Good enough?” Jax’s eyes were red with shame. “Yeah.” Mission accomplished. I dusted myself off to head home. High school was busy, but Mom wouldn’t let me live in the dorms. It cost $300 a semester. I walked two hours home every night after study hall ended at 9:50 PM. And I couldn’t sleep when I got home. I had to chop wood, wash clothes, and mix pig feed for the next day. After getting kicked out, I lived in my uncle’s warehouse in town. Rent was tutoring his daughter in math. It was 4 AM. Might as well go back to school for morning study. As I stepped out, Jax called out. “Eat breakfast before you go.” I froze and turned around. He was dressed, lying on his desk. “I can sleep for an hour here. You take the bed.” He closed his eyes, looking exhausted. I hesitated for a minute, then tiptoed past him to the window. I lay down on the bed. “Thanks.”

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My oldest friend, a guy I’d practically grown up with, had done nothing to earn his stripes, yet he was trying to leverage his relationship with my wife to climb the corporate ladder. I refused, point blank. The consequences were swift and total. While I was gone on a year-long international venture—the kind of project that demands your entire focus—my wife, Seraphina, unilaterally promoted him to Executive Vice President, tripling his already generous salary. When I finally returned, jet-lagged and ready to reclaim my seat, my former friend, Brock Aston, acted like the company was his—his arrogance fueled by the certainty of Sera’s protection. Even the way he spoke to me was a calculated insult. “Don’t think for a second that just because you founded this company, you can push me around,” Brock sneered, his eyes hard and challenging. “As long as Sera’s in my corner, I could demand the chair you’re sitting in, and you’d have to hand over the keys.” Before I could process the audacity, he reached for a glass of water on the conference table and splashed it straight into my face. The cold shock was a sudden, violent wake-up call. I didn’t hesitate. I slapped him—hard enough to snap his head back—and fired him on the spot. What happened next was a choreographed coup. When Sera heard the news, she didn’t just object; she incited every employee in the room to hand in their termination notices. “Rhys Maxwell,” her voice cut through the stillness, cold and resolute. “Reinstate Brock immediately, or we all walk.” 1 The cavernous boardroom of Apex Dynamics was eerily silent. Every single person was waiting for Sera’s next command. They were all her hires, recruited while I was gone, replacing my loyal, long-term employees who had been quietly phased out during my absence. Brock, seeing his army assembled, let his mask of false camaraderie drop completely. He propped his expensive leather boots on the table, leaning back with a look of pure, unadulterated provocation aimed straight at me. “See that?” he drawled. “You want to fire me? Good luck with that. As long as Sera is here, you’d need her permission just to take a piss.” He took a slow, deliberate breath, the self-satisfied smirk widening. “Let’s be real. This company belongs to Sera now. You’re just the face, the rubber stamp—the puppet. You have zero actual power.” He let out a short, harsh laugh—a sound full of cheap victory. Then he pulled a cigarette out and lodged it between his lips. A crony immediately leaped forward to light it for him. Brock inhaled deeply, blowing the plume of smoke directly toward my end of the table. The haze of smoke did nothing to soften his brazen posture. “How’s that feel?” he asked, a venomous edge to his voice. “You hate me right now, don’t you? But what are you going to do? Nothing. You’ll just have to choke on it. Ha!” The “No Smoking” sign discreetly mounted on the wall meant nothing to him. My silence only fed his ego. “Though, I gotta say,” he mused, glancing at the nameplate on my desk. “EVP still feels a little low. That chair you’re in, Rhys? That’s the real prize.” The implication was clear: he intended to replace me. The audacity of this man—this incompetent, entitled leech—was staggering. I dragged my eyes away from him, letting them fall onto the mountain of stacked resignation letters. Then I slowly scanned the faces of the employees lined up against me. “You’re really going to commit corporate suicide for him?” I asked, my voice dangerously level. “For him? This man is dead weight. Is he worth throwing away your careers?” I leaned back, a bitter, weary amusement rising in my chest. I genuinely couldn’t fathom the depth of this misplaced loyalty—or idiocy. “You’re mistaken, Rhys,” a voice cut in from the doorway. “They aren’t doing this for him. They’re doing this because of me.” Every head snapped toward the door. In unison, their hostility evaporated, replaced by a sickening, deferential respect as they chorused, “Ms. Wells.” That honorific, Ms. Wells, was a direct strike. Apex Dynamics was my company, founded and built by me. Yet, they offered only cold disdain for me and utter reverence for her. “Thank you, all of you,” Sera said, gliding into the room. She reveled in their acknowledgment, standing taller, her usual composure now tinged with a smug superiority. When our eyes met, she offered me a cold, triumphant smile. “You see? If you insist on firing Brock, they walk. All of them. And when they walk, you won’t be able to replace this many people overnight. The damage to the company’s valuation? Think airplane crash fast.” 2 Her threat was a sharp, cold jab. My hands clenched into fists beneath the table, the knuckles white with strain. I couldn’t fathom her hostility. We were husband and wife. “Seraphina,” I ground out, my voice trembling with suppressed fury. “What the hell is wrong with you? Threatening me—your husband—over an outsider?” The sheer volume of my anger made my body shake. If I didn’t still love some phantom version of her, I wouldn’t have been this incandescently enraged. I knew the damage—a collective walk-out would be catastrophic. “Outsider?” Sera scoffed, crossing her arms. “He’s my chosen family, Rhys. My little brother. I watched him grow up. You think I’ll just stand by while you bully him?” She leaned forward, her expression hardening. “All he got was a promotion. Why do you need to fire him and publicly humiliate me?” Humiliate her? The irony was blinding. She was handing me charges of phantom crimes. “What exactly has Brock Aston accomplished for this company that warrants an instant promotion and three times the salary?” I demanded, laying out the facts. “As I recall, he hasn’t just failed to deliver—he’s personally bungled three major client pitches, costing us millions in projected revenue.” I should have let him go the second he proved to be a liability. The fact that I kept him on was a testament to my past loyalty, not my business sense. But to demand that I ignore his failure and reward him? They had both lost their minds. Facing my concrete accusations, Brock’s swagger slowly deflated. He turned quickly to Sera, his face a mask of wounded innocence. “Sera, see? He’s impossible,” he whined. “He blames me for his own failed projects. He purposefully sends me after dead-end clients just to make sure I don’t succeed! He’s trying to sabotage me!” His fabricated distress was the cue for the chorus of employees. “He’s a nightmare of a boss!” one yelled. “He deliberately kneecaps his employees to keep them down! It’s pathetic!” “Yeah! If we have to work for a self-serving tyrant like you, we’ll stick together and fight for a little justice for Brock!” “We stand against the corporate aristocracy!” Suddenly, the room was a cacophony of insults, a coordinated defense of Brock. I watched them all, these unfamiliar faces. They were all hers—a replacement guard brought in while I was focused on the bottom line overseas. The realization chilled me to the bone. She wasn’t just unfaithful; she was staging a total takeover. I thought back to her past. The struggling intern I’d found years ago, the one who barely knew how to draft a memo, who’d saved my life when I’d had a near-fatal cardiac event. I’d mentored her, taught her the business, elevated her, and ultimately fallen in love with her. Now, her ambition had consumed her. But I had faced down far greater threats than a handful of disgruntled payroll fillers. I picked up one of the resignation letters, a dismissive smile curling my lips. I tossed it onto the table in front of Sera. “Trying to spook me?” I scoffed. “I don’t scare easily. If you all want to quit and walk out, be my guest. The door is right there.” The entire room froze. My refusal to play their game—my willingness to call their bluff—threw them into a tailspin. Seraphina’s face instantly darkened, and the air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. “Are you serious?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. 3 “One hundred percent,” I affirmed. “Isn’t this what you wanted? You came here to bully me into promoting him. I don’t respond to threats. Anyone who wants to leave, go. The world won’t stop spinning without you.” Brock, panicked, started to stammer, looking desperately at Sera. “S-Sera, what about…?” “Relax,” she interrupted, her eyes never leaving mine. “As long as I’m here, he can’t touch you.” She stood up, her high heels clicking as she rounded the table, stopping right in front of my chair. She placed a hand on my shoulder, a gesture that felt sickeningly intimate and menacing all at once. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this, Rhys,” she purred, her breath sweet against my ear. “I wanted to keep you around as a figurehead, my puppet CEO, because, after all, you did give me a start. I was trying to be gracious. But you won’t play ball. You insisted on tearing up the contract.” I looked up at her, my eyes chips of ice. “What are you talking about?” She squeezed my shoulder, a light, mocking tap. “The company is mine, Rhys. I’m the one calling the shots. I used to be the one you called to fetch your coffee, but now I’ve acquired the shareholders. I am Apex Dynamics. I decide who gets promoted, and who sits in this chair. Do you understand?” Brock bolted to his feet, ecstatic. “Sera… Seraphina! Is it true?” She turned to him, her expression softening into pure adoration. She nodded. Brock let out a whoop, grabbed her, pulled her into his arms, and kissed her—a long, vulgar embrace right in front of me. The other employees merely looked away, relieved for their own futures. Rage, pure and undiluted, consumed me. In the year I was gone, Seraphina hadn’t just betrayed our marriage; she had stolen my empire. “Ha ha ha! Are you mad, you pathetic joke?” Brock yelled, breaking the kiss to look at me. “Good! I’m not scared to tell you, I’ve been sleeping with Seraphina the entire time! All 365 days you were gone, we were in your bed, drunk and satisfied. What are you going to do about it, you spineless bastard?” The employees snickered. They all believed Sera. They believed I was already defeated. I kept my face deliberately calm, but internally, the ocean had been whipped into a monstrous, churning storm. I had truly underestimated her. My good wife had orchestrated this entire thing, and given this fool his false sense of power. They all thought I was a finished man. I swept up the pile of resignation letters, scattering them to the floor at my feet. I stared at the pair of them, my fists clenched hard enough to draw blood. “The empire I built from nothing is not something you can just seize,” I said, my voice quiet but carrying the force of a threat. “I am still the registered CEO. I have not signed any stock transfer agreements. So tell me, how exactly did my company become yours?” Seraphina didn’t flinch. She simply laughed, long and cold. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and leaned back into Brock’s embrace, regarding me with a patronizing smile. “I knew you’d ask that,” she said. “And I have a little surprise for you.” She clapped her hands. “Gentlemen, please come in.” The door opened again, and a group of men—the company’s shareholders—walked in. Every single one of them bypassed me and directed their attention to Seraphina. “What… what is the meaning of this?” A cold, awful certainty solidified in my gut. “I’ll answer that for you,” Brock chirped, kissing Sera’s cheek. “They are here to help Seraphina take back Apex Dynamics—and kick you out.” 4 Sera rewarded Brock’s declaration with a deep, lingering kiss. “You are truly mine, darling. Your confidence is getting so strong, just like mine.” Brock glared at me, his face alight with avarice. “When you fully take over, let me have the CEO chair, okay? I’ve never played the part of the big-shot boss before.” The thought of that buffoon sitting in my chair was ludicrous. He was barely qualified to stock the water cooler. Sera stood tall, surveying the shareholders. She wanted a public declaration, to maximize my humiliation. “Gentlemen, in front of Rhys, please state your allegiance,” she commanded. “I wouldn’t want rumors spreading that I’m some kind of backstabbing traitor.” Instantly, the shareholders replied in a booming, unified voice: “We stand with Ms. Wells!” The sound was like a volley of bullets. These were men who had been with me for decades, who I had worked with to build this company from a tiny start-up into a publicly traded empire. We weren’t just partners; we were brothers. I’d been gone for only a year, and Seraphina had bought their loyalty and orchestrated a total betrayal. The blow was physically painful. “Why?” I demanded, the word raw. “I want to know why.” They didn’t look away. Their answers were chillingly clinical. “Ms. Wells offered us a better deal,” one stated, shrugging. “We are capitalists, Rhys. We go where the return is greatest.” I actually laughed. Better deal? I had always taken the smaller cut, ensuring they were rewarded generously for every major deal. I’d prioritized their financial security over my own. And this was the thanks I got. Brock, emboldened by the shareholders’ affirmation, was positively glowing. “Hear that, Rhys Maxwell? You’re finished! Not only do the employees disrespect you, but the shareholders don’t respect you either. You’re a failure in life! You worked yourself to death, and now we reap the rewards.” He gestured dismissively toward my chair. “What are you waiting for? Get out of that seat. You don’t deserve it. It’s mine now.” I completely ignored Brock. My focus remained entirely on Sera and the men who had betrayed me. I was surrounded, cornered, and entirely alone. Sera stepped closer, her tone dripping with false pity. “Look at your situation. If you’d just done what I asked and promoted Brock, none of this would be happening. I made you CEO, Rhys. I can just as easily turn you into a nobody.” My fists tightened, then loosened, then tightened again. Brock, too impatient to wait, motioned for the security team he thought he commanded. “Rhys Maxwell, two options,” he spat. “Walk out with what little dignity you have left, or be dragged out like a dog. Pick one.” I was Rhys Maxwell. I chose neither. “Foolish,” I said, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my face. “Without my signature on a transfer of stock, none of you have a damn thing. You can’t take what isn’t yours.” “Oh, really?” Sera’s smile was the most confident I’d ever seen it. She pulled a thick Manila envelope from her briefcase. “Then take a look at this.” She slapped the document onto the table. “You did sign it. Last month, when I flew out to see you. I used my ‘pining wife’ act—my Honey Trap—to confuse you while you were tired and emotional. I disguised this as a standard project proposal and had you sign where the critical signature lines were. How about that, Rhys? Did the student surpass the teacher?” As the blood drained from my face, Brock leaned in, a cruel whisper of a confession. “I went with her that night. And after you left, I came back in. Turns out my shot was stronger than yours. Seraphina’s carrying my baby, you loser.” The finality of the betrayal was a physical blow. Without conscious thought, I swung my fist, connecting solidly with Brock’s jaw. “You slimy bastard!” “You hit me?! Guards, take him! Strip him naked and throw him onto the street! Let the world see how the great Rhys Maxwell became a stray dog!” He screamed the orders, but the security guards remained utterly still. This infuriated Sera. “What are you waiting for? Are you deaf?” she shrieked. “I told you, seize Rhys Maxwell—” SLAP! My open palm met her face with a thunderous crack, the sound echoing in the silent boardroom. “You got it backwards, Seraphina,” I said, my voice a low, terrifying growl. “I’m the one who elevated you from nothing, and I’m the one who can send you right back to being a penniless intern.”

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Picking up a few extra bucks driving rideshare after work, I’d asked my passenger to scan a quick twenty-five dollars for the fare. She’d transferred half a million. I was still staring, wide-eyed, at the string of zeros on my banking app when she pulled the door open. Her voice was flat, detached, as she spoke the words that would change everything. “Thank you for the ride, driver. Consider that a thank-you gift. Don’t be a stranger.” The memo on the transfer even read: Voluntary Gift. I pinched my thigh, the sudden jolt of pain confirming this was not a dream, and scrambled to catch up to her. That’s when I saw it. She was already past the safety barrier of the massive suspension bridge spanning the river, her slight frame swaying precariously in the evening wind. I pleaded, using every calming technique I knew, but she was already miles away. “I left school to be with him when I was eighteen,” she said, her voice barely audible over the rush of traffic. “He wouldn’t let me finish my degree. He wouldn’t let me work. He kept me like some fragile bird in a golden cage.” A tear tracked a path through the dust on her cheek. “Every time I mentioned leaving, he’d hit me. He said he loved me too much, and I believed him. But today, I watched him walk into the Riverwalk Hotel with another woman. Tell me, driver, where did I fall short?” I fell silent for a moment, then reached into my glove box. I pulled out my professional license and a framed gold medal from the National Debate Finals, placing them on the railing in front of her. “Forget love. Forget self-reflection,” I instructed. “Blame the bastard. That’s always the better move.” I met her eyes. “I know a guy who does ‘Curse-Out-Your-Ex’ campaigns. Guaranteed public humiliation, or your money back. What do you say?” 1 When we pulled up to the Riverwalk Hotel, Grace Carver suddenly got cold feet. “Maybe we should just… forget it,” she mumbled, pulling her hand away. “Grayson Blackwood isn’t someone we can afford to cross.” I gave Grace a cool look. “Floor number?” I needed to see what kind of man not only cheated and lied but was also a physical abuser. She hesitated, then provided the details: “The top floor, 2501. It’s his exclusive penthouse suite here. But you need a key card for the elevator. We won’t be able to get up.” As if on cue, I pulled a sleek, un-branded master access card from my wallet and punched the button for the 25th floor. When Grace looked at me, her eyes wide with confusion, I simply offered an easy explanation: “I have a lot of side gigs. Used to work contract security for this hotel.” At the suite door, I didn’t hesitate. I knocked three times, sharp and firm. “Who is it? I told you, no interruptions!” A deep, distinctly annoyed male voice, already laced with fury, boomed through the solid wood. Grace flinched, instinctively retreating to the far wall. I pressed my mouth close to the peephole. “Open up,” I said, my voice calm and official. “We’re sweeping for illegal activities.” There was a beat of absolute silence inside—the sound of a man freezing in surprise. Then, the deadbolt clicked. Grayson Blackwood stood in the doorway, draped loosely in a silk robe, his chest sporting a faint, un-wiped smudge of red lipstick. His hair was still damp from a shower. His gaze raked over me, and the corner of his mouth curled into an unmistakable sneer of derision. “Illegal activities, huh? You’re an interesting one. Why don’t you come on in and join the party?” He clearly thought I was some ambitious, opportunistic woman trying to climb her way into his bed. Given his immediate, dismissive invitation, this couldn’t have been his first time. I shoved his hand away as he reached out to hook my arm. “You’ve got a healthy appetite, Mr. Blackwood.” A woman emerged from the suite’s interior. She was wrapped in an even skimpier robe, her figure lithe and practiced. She assessed me with a glance—the kind of look a wealthy person gives to a cheap piece of furniture. “Grayson, who are you talking to?” Grayson’s eyes were flat, his laugh humorless. “Just some pretentious little… tease, trying a bit of reverse psychology…” I didn’t let him finish. I pushed past him and stepped directly into the penthouse suite. I let my eyes linger on the restraint cuffs and the soft leather whip scattered near the couch. I raised an eyebrow in a perfect arc. “Surface-level gentleman, utter garbage underneath. Good to know.” Grayson followed me in, crossing his arms over his chest, looking entirely at ease. “What? You knocked on my door. Isn’t this what you were after?” He fixed a greasy look on me. “I see your type all the time. No standards, no bottom line, all for the right price. What do you think you’re worth?” His gaze slid over my body. He reached out to snatch the whip from the coffee table, clearly seeing me as a new, disposable toy. 2 The second his fingers were inches from the whip’s handle, I moved. Before he could process the shift, I had efficiently twisted his arm behind his back and used one of the leather restraints to secure his wrist to his own back. Grayson’s initial shock quickly morphed into a look of intrigued excitement. “Huh… Didn’t think you were into this kind of play?” The words hadn’t even fully left his mouth when I snatched the whip he’d just been reaching for. With no hesitation, I snapped my wrist, and the leather coiled, striking him squarely across the thin silk of his robe. A sharp red welt immediately bloomed on his back. Grayson yelped—a genuine, surprised sound of pain—and the smarmy excitement on his face curdled into pure, incandescent rage. “You actually hit me, you bitch?!” I calmly pulled a stack of crumpled twenty-dollar bills from my bag and tossed them onto his face. “You tell me, Blackwood. What do you think you’re worth?” The other woman, Sierra Ellis, was now pale with shock and fury. “Who the hell are you, you common tramp? How dare you put your hands on Grayson?” I turned to her, my expression unreadable. “And who are you? Didn’t you know Grayson Blackwood is married? Or are you the type who knowingly sleeps with married men?” Sierra let out a sharp, mocking laugh, her eyes narrowing in contempt. “And who are you? You can’t possibly be… the pathetic little small-town idiot he conned with a twenty-dollar online marriage certificate? The one who actually believes she’s Mrs. Blackwood?” Grace, who had finally worked up the courage to step inside, heard Sierra’s words. Her body wobbled imperceptibly. She looked at the man I had restrained, her eyes filling with disbelief. “Grayson, is that true? Our certificate… it was fake?” Grayson, apparently not expecting Grace to appear, paused. But he didn’t answer her. Instead, his eyes, dark and menacing, turned on Grace. “Grace, who said you could be here? Didn’t I teach you that you need to obey?” Grace’s body spasmed, years of conditioning and fear making her instinctively recoil, pulling back toward the shadows. I reached out and firmly grasped her icy cold hand. The motion pulled up her sleeve just enough. Her slender forearm was a shocking mosaic of overlapping blue, purple, and yellow bruises. Some were fresh; others were scabbed over and sickeningly old. She’d told me he hit her, but seeing the extent of the violence made my blood run cold. “Grayson Blackwood, are you even human? Scamming her with a fake marriage and beating her relentlessly?” Grayson simply flicked a dismissive look at me, his eyes full of superior scorn. “And who the hell are you to lecture me on my private affairs? You don’t know who I am.” He allowed a cold, vicious smile to stretch across his face. “Keep sticking your nose in where it doesn’t belong, and you’ll find yourself in a much worse situation.” I didn’t flinch. In fact, I smiled—though the mirth didn’t reach my eyes. “You don’t even know who I am? You must not be much of a Blackwood, then. Your family’s taste in people, it seems, is truly substandard.” 3 Grayson rubbed his wrist, which was beginning to turn red, his dark gaze scrutinizing me. Sierra, now recovered, sneered. “Another wannabe socialite, I see. Not a single designer label on you. Don’t even try the fake-rich girl act.” “Sierra Ellis, stop wasting time and untie me.” Grayson commanded, his patience clearly spent. I watched Sierra dutifully undo the restraint and smirked. “Ms. Ellis, you haven’t even been properly introduced to the Blackwood family, but you’ve already mastered the posture of the future Mrs. Blackwood.” “Of course,” Sierra declared, tossing her chin up, an undeniable pride shining in her eyes. “Grayson’s wife is going to be me. Period.” She glanced dismissively at Grace. “As for this useless little mouse, if she’s quiet and follows the rules, I might let her crawl off. If not…” She turned her attention back to Grayson. “Once Grayson and I are married, we have every right to reclaim every penny he spent on this little home-wrecker!” “Home-wrecker?” Grace laughed, the sound hollow and heartbreaking, tears streaming down her face. Her raw, red eyes fixed on Grayson. “When you did everything you could to keep me isolated, what did you call me then? That twenty-dollar fake certificate must be the cheapest thing you, Grayson Blackwood, have ever bought, wasn’t it?” Grayson flexed his wrist, his tone flat and emotionless. “Grace, be reasonable. Everything can go back to how it was. After Sierra and I marry, I’ll still take care of you. You won’t lose anything.” “We’re done.” Grace’s voice was soft, yet startlingly firm. A sudden, sharp flicker of rage crossed Grayson’s eyes. “That’s not an option. You know how possessive I am. Even if I tire of a woman, no one else is allowed to have her.” Grace’s face instantly paled. I stepped in, my voice laced with mockery. “You think you’re some medieval monarch? Even royal mistresses get to marry for love sometimes.” Grayson just sneered, his eyes still locked on Grace. “You heard Sierra. I can reclaim every dollar I spent on you. Leave me, and you’ll be buried under mountains of debt.” His tone shifted, a venomous edge entering his voice. “Do you really want to go back to your deadbeat father? The one who’d marry you off to the local town drunk for three thousand bucks?” Grace hadn’t shared much about her family, but the picture he painted—a family that would force their daughter out of school and into a fake marriage—was dark enough. Without haste, I pulled a business card from my purse and handed it to Grayson. “In that case, sue her. By all means. But while you’re at it, I’d love to discuss emotional fraud, economic coercion, and long-term physical and mental abuse. All further inquiries should be directed to my legal team.” Grayson looked down at the card and let out a bark of derisive laughter. “Thorne & Associates? Try to look the part if you’re going to play the lawyer. You really expect me to believe you’re associated with the Thorne Group? Don’t you know they own half the city? What the hell does a low-class girl like you have to do with the Thorne family?” 4 Grayson tore the business card in half. He didn’t bother looking at me again. He simply pulled out his phone and made a short, curt call. “Bring them up. Tell them Grace Carver wants to break up with me.” It took barely ten minutes for the sound of shuffling feet and the loud, abrasive voices of a middle-aged couple to echo in the hallway. “Where is my daughter? Where is that useless girl?” A rail-thin man with a sallow, cigarette-stained face—Grace’s father—burst into the suite first. He reeked of cheap beer and stale tobacco, his eyes darting around with a mixture of confusion and greed. “You damn waste of space! You think you’ve got the guts to piss off Mr. Blackwood?” Close behind him was Grace’s mother, her sharp cheekbones and pinched mouth suggesting a deeply unpleasant nature. Grace’s mother seized her daughter’s hair, yanking her head back, while her other hand brutally dug her nails into the cluster of fresh bruises on Grace’s exposed arm. Grace cried out, tears of pain and humiliation instantly welling up. “I told you to behave! I told you to stop making trouble! Mr. Blackwood gives you a good life—designer clothes, nice things, no worries—and you’re not grateful? You ungrateful bitch!” Grace’s mother spat her words out, jabbing a forceful, red-tipped finger into Grace’s forehead, leaving a clear indent. Grace’s father stepped up, pointing a trembling finger in her face. “I wasted so much money raising you! If Mr. Blackwood hadn’t taken you in and paid off our debts, I would have married you off to the town butcher for the dowry years ago!” He raised his foot, ready to deliver a savage kick. “You’re talking about a breakup? I’ll teach you a lesson!” “Stop it!” I yelled, taking a forceful step forward to halt the grotesque display. My intervention instantly shifted their focus. Grace’s mother whipped her head around, her small, triangular eyes focusing on me like poisoned needles. “Is this the bitch who put ideas in her head?” Sierra saw her opportunity. “Looks like it, Mrs. Carver. She must be a low-class friend. She’s encouraging Grace to betray Mr. Blackwood.” Hearing this, Grace’s mother released her daughter and charged at me, her face contorted with outrage. “I know what you are! You’re just jealous! Jealous that our Grace got to marry into the Blackwoods, wearing fancy jewelry and living comfortably!” “Who are you, you common trash? A dirty little peasant, telling us what to do? You don’t have the right to interfere in our family’s business!” Grace’s father chimed in, spouting vulgarities. “Ugh! Looks like a whore to me! What, you think Grayson is rich, and you want to push our daughter out and take her place? Go look in a mirror, you pathetic scrubber!” Grace’s mother grew hysterical, suddenly lunging at me, her calloused, dry hand shooting out and grabbing a fistful of my hair. “I’ll teach you to corrupt my daughter! You little parasite! I’ll tear your mouth off!” 5 A sharp pain radiated across my scalp. I hadn’t expected the woman to be so aggressively physical, with absolutely no warning. Grayson and Sierra stood nearby, watching the spectacle with cold, amused smiles. It was clear they were enjoying the show. Grace tried to break free to stop her mother. “Mom, let her go! It’s not her fault! I’m the one who wants to leave! Grayson cheated on me, and our marriage certificate is fake!” Grace’s parents, however, didn’t look surprised by the news. Grace’s father savagely dragged her back. “Shut your mouth! I’ll deal with you later!” My head was pounding from the force of the pull. I contained my anger, instead choosing to grab the mother’s bony wrist in a firm grip. “Let. Go.” “Let go? You dare command me? You’re just a cheap slut who couldn’t hook a rich man! I’ll kill you!” The mother refused to release my hair, raising her other hand to slap me across the face. The instant her hand started its downward arc, I tightened my grip on her wrist and swiftly sidestepped her clumsy attack. The mother cried out in pain and instinctively released her grip on my hair. I disentangled myself, smoothing down the few strands that had escaped my low, professional bun. My eyes were now completely cold. “Jealous?” I looked at the couple—a pair of leeches, parasites—and felt a profound sense of irony. “The ‘good life’ you keep talking about? It was built on her dignity, her freedom, and her physical pain. All for money. You’re willing to sacrifice your own daughter, regardless of her safety, for a few bucks. You don’t deserve to be called parents.” Grace’s father sputtered, his face turning an angry shade of red. “You’re talking nonsense! We were looking out for her! Following Mr. Blackwood is a blessing!” “Enough. There’s no point in arguing with this trash.” Grayson glared at me, his eyes full of contemptuous pity. He picked up the hotel phone and called the front desk, his tone arrogant. “This is 2501. I have a disruption. Send security up immediately to clear these people out.” I raised an eyebrow. “Clearing me out?” Grayson was obviously trying to isolate Grace, knowing he could control her easily without my interference. Sierra laughed delicately, leaning into Grayson. She toyed with her hair. “I wonder how this one snuck up to the top floor. Grayson, since when is your private suite so easily accessed? I bet the price of one night here is more than her entire life is worth.” Grace’s mother, hearing this, puffed up with renewed confidence. “See? She is trash! Now get out!” Within moments, a team of tall men in crisp security uniforms strode into the suite. The security captain bowed respectfully toward Grayson. “Mr. Blackwood, my apologies for the inconvenience. We’ll handle this immediately.” He then turned to me, his tone hardening. “Ma’am, I need you to leave the premises right now.” Sierra quickly stepped forward. “Check how she got up here. She probably stole a key card from a staff member. That’s grounds for arrest.” “People from the lower class will do anything to climb the ladder.” The security captain’s expression grew serious. He took a step toward me. “Ma’am, cooperate with us. Otherwise, we will be forced to use necessary measures.” I looked at the entire scene—Grayson, Sierra, the security team—and started to smile. Just as the captain reached out to take my arm, I slid my hand into my pocket and pulled out a single, un-branded black metal card. I flashed the card in front of the captain’s face. My voice remained perfectly level. “Necessary measures? Are you sure about that?”

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It had been eight years since I cut ties with my mother, and of course, we ran into each other in the one place I thought I was safe: The Butter & Bloom Bakery on the west side. She was there to pick up a cake for my sister, Willa. I was the one behind the counter, an employee. After a long, brittle silence, she spoke first. Her voice was layered with a complexity I didn’t care to decode. “Eight years away from your father and me, and this is how you’ve ended up?” Her eyes were red-rimmed, but the emotion behind them—pity, guilt, disapproval—was deliberately unreadable to me. I didn’t answer. I just kept my head down, finished packaging the Lemon Raspberry layer cake, and pushed it across the counter. She stared at the box, her fingers hovering over it as if it might be poisoned. I eventually just pressed the box into her hands and turned away to call the next customer. But she wasn’t finished. She moved closer, dropping her voice, though the edge of accusation was sharp enough to carry. “Don’t you have anything to say to me? I am your mother, Audrey.” I stopped ringing up a dozen macaroons and looked at her, genuinely confused. What was there to say? She was the one who, years ago, had formally forbidden me from using that word—Mom. I hadn’t been that desperate little girl craving her affection for a long, long time. 1 The tension was thick, an awkward, sour contrast to the sweet, buttery smell of the shop. Other patrons were beginning to watch. The silence was broken by my father, Arthur. He walked in, looking flustered. “Is Willa’s cake ready yet?” He spotted me, and the reaction was immediate: his eyes went wide, and this fifty-something-year-old man, a renowned expert in human behavior, teared up right there in public. He reached for my hand. “Audrey, why haven’t you reached out to us all these years? Do you have any idea how much your mother and I have missed you?” I shifted back, avoiding his touch. My voice was level, almost unnervingly calm. “If you don’t have business here, please don’t interrupt my work. I have other customers waiting.” Something in my composure must have enraged my mother. Her face went dark. Just as she was about to launch into a full-scale public dressing-down, her phone rang. I saw Willa’s name flash on the screen. Vivian immediately turned her back to me, adopting a completely different, syrupy tone. “Mom, where’s my cake?” Willa whined. “Almost there, sweetie. Just wait a minute for Mommy.” She hung up and instinctively started her usual monologue, the one I’d heard a thousand times. “You know how your sister is, she loves sweets, still a child at heart, even at her age. Not like you, who was always so…” I cut her off. “Enough.” She froze, the rest of her sentence dying in her throat. The shock on her face was satisfying. The old Audrey—the desperate girl—would have never interrupted. She would have hung on every word, even the insults, just for the chance of prolonging the interaction, the hope of a crumb of attention. “I genuinely have work to do,” I stated, meeting her astonished gaze head-on. “I don’t have time for a reunion. So, could you please leave? You’re disrupting my business.” Vivian started to object, but my father pulled her back. He pasted a practiced, warm smile on his face. “You go ahead and work, sweetie. We’ll come back later.” “Don’t bother,” I rejected instantly. Then I added the one line that would always work: “And please, make sure Willa doesn’t find out you came to see me. We wouldn’t want her anxiety to flare up again, would we?” The color drained from both their faces. Willa called again, her impatient voice audible even from where I stood. Finally, my parents retreated. They walked backward more than they walked forward, taking multiple backward glances, a faint, almost invisible flicker of something—regret? desperation?—crossing their eyes before they finally disappeared. Once they were gone, the professional calm shattered. My fingers were white where they gripped the edge of the counter, and the cloying sweetness of the surrounding cakes was suddenly sickening, almost like acid. It wasn’t until noon that Regina, my boss, returned from her supply run, her arms overflowing with bulk bags of flour and specialty cocoa. I started to move to help her, but she waved me away. “You’ve been on your feet all morning, sweetie. Go take a break. Besides, I know about your back. I can handle a few sacks of sugar.” I froze. Only then did the dull ache in my lower back register. I’d been running on pure adrenaline all morning, but now the pain was a sharp, clear presence. It was an old injury, a souvenir from a night years ago. I’d lived with the constant throb for so long, I usually forgot it was even there. Regina finished unpacking and noticed me sitting in the corner, staring at the floor. She walked over, smiling warmly. “What is it, kiddo? What’s going on?” I snapped out of it, offering her a practiced, easy smile. “Nothing. Just tired.” Skylar, my co-worker and friend, immediately came over, wiping flour dust off her apron. “Tired? Please. Were those two a hassle earlier? I was in the back, but I saw your face shift.” Regina immediately tensed. “What couple? Who was it?” Skylar shrugged. “I don’t know, but they looked vaguely familiar.” Regina, her curiosity piqued, pulled out her phone and rewound the security footage. The moment she got a clear look at Vivian, she gasped, loudly. “Oh my God, that’s Vivian Shaw! The Georgetown professor? I’ve seen her interviews; she’s huge in educational theory. And her husband is Arthur Shaw, the renowned family psychologist. They’re a power couple!” “They’re famous for how devoted they are to their daughters,” Regina went on. “They raised the perfect younger daughter.” “Younger daughter?” Skylar prompted. “What about the older one?” Regina shook her head, unable to recall. She then looked back at me, her eyes wide with confusion. “Audrey, do you know them? That whole scene looked personal.” I looked at both of them, my voice flat and completely devoid of emotion. “I am their older daughter.” The sentence hung there. The one they saw as a disgrace—the aggressor who supposedly preyed on her fragile sister, the villain who tried to kidnap the golden child. Regina and Skylar were speechless, their jaws actually slack. Eventually, their shock morphed into an urgent, quiet curiosity. They pressed me for the story, and I found myself—for the first time—reciting my childhood as if it were a detached piece of fiction. Once, I had the kind of parents everyone envied. They treated me like a princess in a fairytale. I mentioned wanting to see the Northern Lights, and they canceled meetings to take me to Iceland. My father gave up a huge opportunity at a high-ranking private university to stay close to home, just so he could be more present. Even after Willa was born—the sweet, sickly younger sister who cried through the night with fevers—their attention never completely wavered. They’d rock her, then sneak into my room, pulling me into their arms. I was an easy kid, always trying to help. I carried Willa’s backpack, defended her from playground bullies, and split my candy haul with her. For years, they managed to keep the balance. We had two of everything: identical rooms, clothes, toys. Everyone praised them for their enlightened, balanced approach to parenting. The happiness ended when Willa turned eight. They took her for a full medical workup, and when they came back, their faces were grave. My mother, eyes red, pulled me close. “Audrey,” she murmured, stroking my hair, “Willa is fragile. From now on, you have to let her have her way, alright?” My father nodded seriously. “She can’t handle stress. You’re the older sister; you have to take care of her.” I didn’t understand what “fragile” truly meant, but I knew what it meant to be a good sister. I nodded enthusiastically. “I will.” I didn’t know that those two words—I will—were the beginning of my total erasure. My sunny bedroom was converted into Willa’s “solarium” because she needed more light. My beloved upright piano was hauled into a dusty storage unit because the sound “disturbed” Willa’s rest. For my next birthday, when I asked for college prep books, they brushed me off, saying they needed to prioritize Willa’s imported health supplements. “We’ll get yours later,” they promised. But later never came. Skylar and Regina were listening with furious intensity. “Even if she was fragile, they shouldn’t have done that to you!” Skylar hissed. “What happened to the balanced parenting? And what about your sister? How did she treat you?” With my parents’ new attitude as permission, Willa became bolder. She’d deliberately spill milk on my research papers, then sob to my parents that I had pushed her. She’d sneak spicy food, get sick, and claim I had given it to her. At first, they’d ask for my side, but soon, they stopped asking altogether. It was easier to assume the narrative: I was the insensitive, difficult sister who bullied the poor, fragile Willa. “Audrey, she’s fragile. Can’t you just be the bigger person?” my father would lecture. “Willa is sick, you need to be mature and stop provoking her.” I’d try to explain, but my words would inevitably be drowned out by Willa’s immediate, hysterical tears. My parents would just frown, tell me to shut up, and pull her into their arms, leaving me standing there—irrelevant, an obstruction. I became the ghost in my own house. “Be the bigger person” became the family motto. Then came Willa’s ninth birthday. I’d bought her a graphic novel with my allowance, and she’d been thrilled. She suggested a game of hide-and-seek. I agreed, delighted that she finally wanted to play with me. But she vanished. I searched for her all day—nothing. When my parents realized she was gone, they went hysterical. My mother—Vivian—grabbed my shoulders, squeezing so hard I was crying, but she didn’t let go. “Audrey Shaw! Where is Willa?!” she shrieked. I told her the truth, that Willa wanted to play a game, but she didn’t believe me. She slapped me, hard, full force, until my ears rang, and then dragged me into a spare room, throwing me down. I landed hard. I heard a sickening crack from my lower back, and the pain stole my breath. Vivian locked the door. “You ungrateful child! You must be jealous! You hid her! If she isn’t back by morning, you won’t get food or water, you hear me?” My father stood by the door, watching the entire thing with cold, detached eyes. As night fell, I lay paralyzed on the floor. The pain was so intense it eclipsed the hunger. Just as my consciousness began to fade, I heard Willa’s voice from outside the door. Her voice was weak, terrified. “Mommy, Audrey said she was going to abandon me so you could only love her! I was so scared, but I ran back as fast as I could!” I heard my mother hugging her, calling her “sweet angel,” promising to “handle your sister.” My father’s voice was filled with relief and manufactured outrage. They shut the front door, leaving me in the cold, locked room. I don’t know when I passed out. I woke to my parents’ screaming. They rushed me to the ER. The doctor was furious, holding up my X-rays. “A fractured lumbar vertebra, severe hypothermia, high fever. What did you people do to this child? Any later, and the damage would have been irreversible.” My parents didn’t hear him. They had barely settled me when Willa started wailing from the hallway: “Daddy, Mommy, I was suffocating in that closet! Thinking Audrey would leave me made me tremble!” They abandoned my bedside instantly, running to comfort her. They put Willa through a full battery of tests, eventually coming back with a “mild anxiety disorder” diagnosis, which they immediately upgraded to “Severe Clinical Depression.” My mother stormed into my hospital room, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Audrey Shaw! Are you satisfied now? You scared your sister so badly she developed a serious mental illness! How could you be so wicked?” Lying there, battered and broken, listening to their self-righteous accusation, my heart didn’t just break; it froze solid. When I was discharged, my parents took Willa and moved across the state, claiming Willa’s “safety” required it. They left me in the empty house. My mother tossed a few hundred dollars on the table. “Don’t contact us, and don’t ever try to hurt Willa again. We’ll pay your tuition directly, nothing else. Figure the rest out.” They left without a backward glance. This became my life. Working nights to survive, studying during the day, all while managing the constant ache in my back. After graduation, I had respectable scores. I felt a surge of hope—I could escape them now. I applied to a college that fit my interests. But shortly after, my parents called, the first time in months. “You applied to the State University? Who gave you permission?” My mother snapped. “Change it immediately. Willa is here, and you know she can’t handle stress. You’ll just be an unnecessary disruption.” My father cut in, his voice all business. “We’ve already called your counselor. We are your parents; we have the right to make decisions for your future.” I was forced to change my application to a random, unresearched major. I missed the cutoff entirely. No college acceptance. Meanwhile, Willa was being sent to a prestigious European university, money no object, all to “stabilize her emotional state.” I took my meager savings and bought a bus ticket. I needed to know why. I found them in an exclusive downtown bistro I could never afford to walk past. They were celebrating Willa’s acceptance letter, cutting a ridiculously expensive cake. She was wearing a designer dress; they were radiating pride and adoration. Every suppressed feeling exploded. I ran to their table. “What did I do to deserve this? Why did you ruin my life?” The moment Willa saw me, her face turned paper white. She squeezed her eyes shut, did a dramatic, slow collapse against my mother, whispering, “I’m so scared… don’t come near me…” My parents went into full panic mode. Vivian shoved me backward. Arthur’s hand connected hard with my cheek. “Get out! Get the hell out of here, Audrey!” Vivian clung to Willa, her eyes burning with pure hatred. “We don’t have a daughter like you! You’ve always tormented her! From this moment on, we cut you off. We are done. Don’t ever contact us again!” A crowd gathered, their eyes full of judgment. Look at that girl, assaulting her sister. She looks thin, but her heart is wicked. The stares were needles. I watched them rush Willa out, frantic, towards the hospital. No one spared me a second glance. Back in the bakery, the silence was deafening. Skylar and Regina were openly weeping. I smiled faintly. “It’s over now. I don’t have a family anymore. After that, they sold the house, drained whatever money I had left, and cut off contact. I had no degree, no home, and a bad back. Regina hired me. That’s how I survived.” Skylar was stomping her foot, furious. “They’re phonies! That renowned psychologist and professor are absolute frauds!” “If they ever show their faces here again, I’ll handle them,” Regina vowed. “I’ll bake them a special cake—one so sweet it makes them sick!” Just as the words left her mouth, the bell above the glass door chimed. I looked up. My parents stood there, holding a thermal container. And right between them, linked to Vivian’s arm, was Willa.

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The night I went to the ER with stabbing stomach pains, my boyfriend, Owen, was right beside me. But before I could even finish describing the symptoms, the on-call physician cut me off with a dismissive wave. “I told you last time, you can’t push ten abortions!” the doctor snapped. “You insisted it wasn’t the father’s baby, that you had to go through with it—I can’t do anything for you now!” I started to deny it, then, realizing the slander, I grew angry and demanded to speak to her supervisor. Owen, however, put a hand on my arm, pulling me toward the cubicle next door. “I know you’re not that kind of person, honey. But right now, we need to focus on your pain. We’ll come back and file a complaint later.” But we never filed that complaint. That encounter went viral online. My reputation was destroyed. Swallowed by the public’s scorn and vicious mockery, I fell into a crushing depression and eventually took my own life. After I died, the doctor offered a tearful apology. “I just saw how much pain she was in and wanted to distract her. How was I supposed to know she was that fragile?” Owen, meanwhile, was heartbroken. “She probably had a guilty conscience,” he’d said. “Don’t blame yourself for a thing.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back. I jerked my hand free from Owen’s grip and dialed the non-emergency line. “Hello, I’m at St. Jude’s ER. I’ve just been told I’ve had ten abortions without my knowledge, and I suspect I’ve been systematically drugged.” 1 “Pain is exactly what you deserve.” The doctor, Sasha Reed, looked at me with open contempt. “An abortion is common, but it’s not ‘zero-harm.’ This stomach pain is just the start—there’s worse waiting down the line.” She offered a cruel smile. “But you probably don’t care about that. Aside from your hair, you’re a mess from head to toe. You’ve probably already gotten used to it, right?” Yet, when Sasha turned to my boyfriend, Owen Garrett, the change was instantaneous. Her expression softened, becoming a sickening blend of warmth and obvious flirtation. It took less than a second for me to realize: I was back. I had been reborn. In my last life, it had gone exactly like this. My gastroenteritis flared up, leaving me twisted with pain, and Sasha—without running a single test, just scanning my insurance card—launched into her fabricated rant. It had nearly killed me then, just from the shock. I’d been so desperate for relief that I hadn’t erupted in the moment. The next day, Sasha had posted a heavily edited, subtly coded video of my admission online. “It is so hard being a doctor these days. Ten abortions and you come to me asking why your stomach hurts? You’re lucky it’s just your stomach,” she’d written. “You weren’t there, but the way she looked at me—you’d think I was one of the scumbags who got her pregnant, not the doctor trying to help.” Though Sasha had tried to obscure my identity, the internet had “recognized” me, and the hate had been immediate. I had tried to explain my innocence, that I was careful, that the rumors were insane. But no one had believed me. “If you didn’t do it, why did you run? A normal person would fight, scream, and file a complaint.” “The doctor was just trying to help, and you just up and left. You’re clearly guilty.” “Thank god the doctor released the video first, otherwise the psycho patient would have blamed her for medical malpractice!” The spiral of online hatred had led to my depression, and finally, to my ridiculous, messy death. 2 The memory of that final, crushing despair had strangely dulled the physical pain this time around. I didn’t panic. I pushed Owen’s hand away and looked at Sasha, my voice calm and even. “Dr. Reed, is this a joke, or are you being serious?” My composure caught Sasha off guard. She froze for a beat. But a woman who can brazenly lie to a patient’s face has formidable nerve. She quickly regained her poise. “Of course, I’m serious. I’m a doctor. Why would I lie?” “I used to work in Obstetrics and Gynecology. I’m just rotating through the ER right now. We’re old friends, Audrey. Don’t pretend you don’t know me.” Sasha then turned her attention to Owen. “Which boyfriend are you, exactly? Number three? Number five? I don’t think I’ve seen you before. She usually has a rotating cast of characters that accompany her.” Owen didn’t answer. He was clenching his jaw, his thigh muscles twitching as he desperately tried to suppress a laugh. Last time, he had simply pulled me away, assuring me of his trust. Back then, I found his loyalty touching. Now, I found it nauseatingly funny. Of course, he believed me. He and Sasha knew better than anyone how truly innocent I was. My expression remained placid. “This is my boyfriend, Owen Garrett. I have never had an abortion, and I have certainly never visited the OB/GYN with any ‘other men.’” Sasha feigned a dramatic understanding. “Ah, I see. This must be the main squeeze, then?” She nodded sagely. “That explains why you’re trying to play the victim, pretending I’m joking. Okay, fine. Audrey Hollis is right. I was just joking. It’s not ten abortions, it’s… appendicitis. Or maybe bad takeout. We’ll get you scanned right away. Go.” Though her words seemed to be a retraction, her tone was laced with condescending sarcasm, a clear attempt to signal that she was only “giving in” because she was forced to. 3 Sasha handed me the requisition forms for the lab work and scans. I didn’t move. I fixed my eyes on hers. “An apology isn’t going to be enough. Since you claim I’ve had ten abortions, I’m going to need you to print out my medical records. The full history.” I raised my phone slightly. “If you can’t produce them…” “…I won’t be dropping this.” Sasha’s face darkened. She slammed her palm down on the desktop. “What are you doing? Are you trying to threaten me? Blackmail me into silence?” “I admit, I violated policy by discussing your private health matters. But I was trying to save you from yourself! Your attitude makes it sound like I’m the villain here.” I ignored her histrionics and simply repeated the request. The records. Seeing Sasha’s anger, Owen finally stepped in, abandoning his stifled laughter. “Audrey, stop making a scene. It’s obviously a mix-up. Someone who looks like you, or has a similar name. The doctor made an honest mistake.” He lowered his voice, trying to be soothing. “I trust you, honey. I know the kind of person you are. We don’t need to waste time here. Your stomach is killing you. Let’s go get checked out, and we can file a formal complaint later.” I didn’t hesitate. I slapped him across the face. Hard. “Are you seriously this spineless? A woman just slandered me in front of you, and your only solution is to run and hide?” The force of the blow stunned Owen into silence. Sasha’s face twisted between pity for Owen and pure venom for me. “You did something to betray your boyfriend, and now you have the gall to lash out at him?” “I was going to let you walk away with some shred of dignity, maybe even keep this perfect man. But since you want to push it, have a look!” She spun the computer monitor around with a furious swipe. My mind went blank. The screen was a dense forest of entries, every single one listing a consultation or a procedure in the OB/GYN department. Based on this evidence, Sasha wasn’t the liar. I was.

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