Author: Momo Chan

My cousin, Chloe, wants to go to France to study ballet. My mom asked me for $15,000. I sent her a screenshot of my bank account balance—$15,000.20, not a penny more. Five seconds later, her reply popped up: “Keep $500 for living expenses, send the rest over.” 1 Before my finger even touched the screen, another message from Mom popped up: “By the way, when are you coming back? I’ll make that coconut chicken soup you like.” “My CD matures next month, I’ll pay you back every cent then.” Go home? Actually, I went home yesterday. A classmate got married and had the reception in our hometown. I specifically mentioned this to my mom last week, saying I’d stay the night after the wedding and head back to D.C. the next morning. She agreed enthusiastically on the phone, promising to leave the door unlocked. But when I got to the door, I found it deadbolted from the inside. Just as I was about to knock, Mom’s voice drifted out: “I’ll ask your sister for the money tonight when she gets off work. You just go ahead and sign up for that ballet program, don’t worry.” “Auntie, will Nina agree? It’s $15,000 after all. And you haven’t paid back the other money you borrowed.” “Why wouldn’t she? She’s soft-hearted.” Mom chuckled lightly, a hint of disdain in her voice. “I mean, she’s average-looking and has a bad temper. If she wasn’t making $60k a year now, do you think I’d bother coddling her?” Chloe asked in a cutesy, spoiled voice, “Is that why you bought her an iPhone right after graduation and gave her money?” Mom’s voice suddenly rose: “Silly girl! If I hadn’t waited on her hand and foot after graduation, coaxing her, do you think she would have majored in Computer Science? Remember Mrs. Miller’s son? He went to a state school and only makes $40k. Have you calculated how much all your expenses since graduation add up to?” Mom’s tone was filled with indulgence: “You! My retirement savings are almost gone because of you. If I hadn’t had the foresight to make Nina subsidize the bulk of it, what kind of good life would you have?” Chloe cheered, “Auntie, I knew you loved me more than my own mom! Come with me to New York this time, I’ll take you out for fun!” “You got it! My little sweetie is the best!” The wine I drank at the wedding churned in my stomach. I wanted to throw up but couldn’t. My first reaction was actually to thank myself for never paying to fix this thin, non-soundproof door. I drove back to D.C. overnight. 2 Mom kept texting nonstop, so I just turned off my phone and slept. I went to the office early the next morning. In this world, the only person who won’t betray you is yourself. When it rains, it pours. Around 10:30 AM, my stomach started hurting again. My phone vibrated. Mom’s WeChat messages were like a death warrant. “Why aren’t you replying? What are you doing?” “When can you send that $15,000 we talked about yesterday?” … I replied: “Stomach hurts, talk later.” “Why does your stomach hurt again? I tell you to cook at home, but you insist on eating takeout. Of course your stomach hurts!” I didn’t bother replying. I work overtime every day, where would I find time to cook??? Her fake concern, requiring zero effort while earning her the reputation of a caring mother, was honestly laughable. I can only blame my past self for being too stupid to see through these tricks. “Why are you so pale?” Sarah brought over a coffee and handed it to me. “Did you eat something bad?” I opened my mouth but was in too much pain to speak, so I just waved my hand. She grabbed me: “Don’t be a hero. I’m taking you to the hospital.” The lights in the ER were blinding. When the nurse handed me the test results, her eyes held a trace of pity: “Considering potential malignancy, we recommend further pathological examination.” Staring at those words on the report, life suddenly felt absurd. Just last night I was calculating that a few more years at this company would give me enough for a down payment to move out of my cramped rental. I wouldn’t give my mom another cent. I was going to travel abroad, eat delicious food, buy clothes I liked. For the rest of my life, I would only love myself. But now, fate had blindsided me with a sledgehammer. 3 It was late at night when I got home. Sarah comforted me the whole time and helped me apply for a day of sick leave, telling me to rest well before discussing next steps. My mind was a mess, and of course, Mom called again. I declined it: “Busy.” “Busy with what? Did you take what I said seriously? Your sister has to pay tuition the day after tomorrow. Any later and it’ll be too late.” “Don’t worry, I’ll definitely pay you back.” Ha. I’d sooner believe the sun rises in the west than believe she’d pay me back. Over the years, the empty promises she’s made could fill the entire living room. “I’ll buy you a new backpack when your dad gets paid.” “After Chloe’s recital, I’ll buy you a dress with the leftover money.” “Mom will keep your red envelope money safe, and add a little more when I give it back.” … In the end, it all turned into nothing. 4 I took a deep breath and called her: “Mom, I really want to ask you, do you genuinely see me as your daughter? I’ve always been curious, why have you disliked me since I was little?” Mom sounded confused: “Why ask that all of a sudden? You’re overthinking things again. Stop talking nonsense, when will the money…” Tears streamed down my face. I took a picture of the medical report and sent it: “I’m sick. I need this money for treatment. You guys figure something else out. If you have any money, lend me some too.” Mom immediately sent a voice message: “Don’t joke around, Nina. Don’t copy those trashy pranks online, joking about being sick is bad luck. Your sister is so close, just one last step. After this advanced course, she’ll definitely become a principal dancer! When she makes money, she won’t forget you…” I suddenly couldn’t hold it in anymore. I grabbed the phone and said weakly: “Do I owe you anything? If she wants money, tell her to sell her blood or a kidney!! Don’t come to me!” After sending that, I turned off my phone. I hid under the covers and cried my heart out. Then I told myself silently, that’s it. That was the last time I’d shed tears for people who aren’t worth it. 5 Chloe is my aunt’s daughter. My aunt and my mom were both small-town overachievers who tested into a university in Shanghai together. But their fates diverged wildly. After graduation, Mom went back to our hometown and married my dad, living a small-town life. Auntie stayed in Shanghai and married a construction boss. Around the millennium, my uncle’s monthly income was more than my parents could save in years. Every time Mom saw Auntie’s glamorous life, her eyes revealed her unwillingness to accept her lot. Auntie was well-off and willing to spend money on Chloe. Chloe excelled at piano, dance, and calligraphy from a young age, praised by adults wherever she went. During New Year’s, Mom would only buy me new clothes if I got straight A’s. But Chloe was already wearing Burberry. If not for the accident that happened to her family later, I probably would have remained just a distant relative to her, with little interaction.

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The System ordered me to seduce the male lead. Halfway through the conquest, he killed the guy. “My hand slipped,” he said, his tone completely indifferent. Me: … Later, he took over the male lead’s body. He unbuttoned his shirt, guiding me to sit on his lap. “Come on. Use everything I taught you. Tease me. Conquer me…” 1 The System has been acting weird lately. He stopped teaching me how to seduce the male lead. My affection score with Sebastian Sterling was stuck at 60. It wouldn’t budge. With Sebastian’s “one that got away,” Sophia, returning from abroad tomorrow, I had to take drastic measures. Plan A: Seduction. That afternoon, I went to Sebastian’s penthouse. I ditched my usual look for the “innocent flower” vibe—a tactic the System taught me years ago. I wore a sexy red slip dress and nestled into Sebastian’s arms. On the sofa, I twirled his tie around my finger, looking at him with dewy eyes. “Sebastian, forget about Sophia. Be with me, okay?” Sophia was his first love. Even though he liked me now, the power of a returning first love is unpredictable. I had to lock this down before she landed. Sebastian stared at me, his gaze darkening. After a long silence, a husky voice filled the air. “I could.” “But… if you want me to forget her, in what capacity are you asking?” His eyes lingered on my chest for a few seconds. His Adam’s apple bobbed. I blushed. “As your girlfriend?” I hooked my arms around his neck and whispered in his ear. “Be my boyfriend, okay?” Sebastian chuckled low in his throat. Clearly, I’d pressed the right buttons. “Beg me.” “Beg me, and I’ll say yes.” His eyes were dark as he gripped my waist. Tighter. It hurt so much I teared up. I bit my lip, crying prettily, just like I practiced. “Please.” A woman’s tears are an aphrodisiac. The harder you cry, the more excited they get. The System taught me that, too. Sure enough, the fire in Sebastian’s eyes roared to life. He threw me onto the bed, his voice rough. “You asked for this.” As he started stripping, I panic-messaged the System in my head. [Hey! Don’t you dare look!] A cold scoff echoed in my brain. What did that mean? He didn’t care to look? Good. They say the first time you sleep together boosts the score massively. I watched a half-naked Sebastian, calculating how many points I’d get tomorrow. Suddenly—THUD. Sebastian hit the floor. Dead. Me: ? I stared in disbelief. I scrambled backward, my voice trembling. [Sys… System?] [What happened to him?!] A beat of silence. Then, a lazy voice in my head: [My hand slipped.] 2 The System’s name is Chase. He spent years teaching me how to bag the hero, step by step. Because of one “slip of the hand,” he took over the male lead’s position, wearing Sebastian’s face. His explanation? “The hero is gone. Someone has to fill the role.” So, he filled it. And now, I have to seduce him. I sat in the corner of the CEO’s office, clutching my skirt so hard it wrinkled. I didn’t dare speak. Why? I was terrified. Yesterday, he waved his hand and Sebastian’s corpse turned into pixels and dissolved into thin air. If I annoyed him, would he delete me too? … Chase finished his work quickly. He tossed the file onto the desk and looked up lazily, looking bored. “Begin.” It was obvious what I had to begin. There are many ways to raise affection scores, but physical intimacy is the most efficient. I hesitated for two seconds, staring at his perfectly shaped lips, and made up my mind. I put my hands on his shoulders, closed my eyes, and kissed him. He didn’t push me away, but he didn’t kiss back either. His lips were cold. I kissed him clumsily, putting in way too much effort. After what felt like half an hour, I still hadn’t heard the notification sound for increased affection. Confused, I opened my eyes—and looked straight into Chase’s. Dark, mocking, amused. Like a hunter watching prey struggle. He hadn’t closed his eyes the entire time. My blood ran cold. We stared at each other, and I froze, unsure if I should stop or keep going. He pushed me away, wiping a smudge of blood from his lip where I’d accidentally bitten him. His tone was loose, careless. “Ivy, I’m not Sebastian.” “The tricks you used on him won’t work on me.” “Go home. Think of a better strategy, then come back.” 3 I spent days thinking. Chase doesn’t like aggressive girls. So, he must like the pure, innocent type. I put on a modest white knee-length dress and went to the gala to find him. The hall was packed, glasses clinking, people chatting. I didn’t need to search. He was a natural protagonist. Standing in the center of the crowd, his aura was elegant and imposing. Impossible to ignore. I started walking toward him, but someone blocked my path. Sophia. She swirled a glass of wine in her right hand. She stepped up beside me, her lips curling into a vicious sneer. “Ivy, Sebastian is mine.” I didn’t care who the male lead belonged to. But when I saw her loosening her grip on the wine glass and grabbing my hand to pull herself backward… I knew she was framing me. It was a blind spot for the cameras. It would be her word against mine. In a crisis, I instinctively looked for Chase. He used to help me with everything. Luckily, he looked over right at that moment. Unluckily, he looked amused. He watched me with a smile that screamed I don’t care. My heart sank. I remembered what Chase told me. When he took over the body, he inherited Sebastian’s affection scores. Sebastian’s score for Sophia was 65. For me, it was 60. Chase is a System. He exists to execute rules. Rules are everything. So, he wouldn’t help me. … I had to save myself. In a split second, before Sophia’s glass hit the floor, I grabbed her arm and yanked. I used the momentum to throw myself down. Glass shattered. Shards pierced my calf. Cutting skin, embedding into flesh. It hurt like hell. “Ah!” People gasped. Heads turned. 4 I hit the floor hard, landing right in the debris. Red wine mixed with blood, staining my white dress. The shards felt like razor blades scraping my skin. Burning, stinging pain. Blood trickled down to my ankle and dripped onto the floor. The crowd gathered. These were heavy hitters—titans of industry, new money elites. I saw shock, disgust, and condemnation on their faces… directed at Sophia. Good. If I hadn’t pulled that move, they would be looking at me like that. After all, Sophia is the heiress of the Su Group. I couldn’t afford to be accused of hurting her. Chase walked over. His voice was cold. “What happened?” I had to admit, his acting was flawless. If I didn’t know he wasn’t Sebastian, I’d never have guessed. People rushed to explain the situation to him. Accusing eyes, sharp as knives, fell on Sophia. She panicked, stepping back. “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it! “It was her! She framed me! She did it on purpose! “Sebastian, you have to believe me, I didn’t push her!” She grabbed Chase’s sleeve, tears welling up in her eyes. Pitiful. Chase looked at me calmly. I don’t know why—maybe intuition—but I sensed he wasn’t happy. His eyes were deep, like a freezing pool of water. Afraid he might side with Sophia, I bit my pale lip, letting my eyes turn red and misty. I looked at him with pure grievance. “Sebastian, don’t blame Sophia. She didn’t mean to. “I… I just lost my balance. Don’t worry about me. “I… I can get up.” I frowned in pain and tried to stand, but my leg gave out. I collapsed back onto the glass. Shards dug deeper. Blood flowed faster. The pain forced actual tears from my eyes. Chase let out a scoff. A mocking smile played on his lips. His voice was unhurried. “Ivy.” “You’re quite clever, aren’t you?” He shook off Sophia’s hand and picked me up. ? I froze. He called me clever? And he’s holding me? Is his affection for me higher than Sophia’s now? I felt a surge of joy. But the next second, my face froze. [Chase’s Affection: -5.] 5 The score was only 60. Now it’s 55. My heart went cold. The score is literally my lifeline. I need 100 to leave this world. The only good news is that scores fluctuate with emotions. The sooner I act, the easier it is to fix. There’s still a chance! … Chase once told me that if the target’s score is over 50 and drops, the most effective remedy is a kiss. The more intense, the faster the recovery. I looked at him desperately. “Can you lower your head?” “No,” Chase said, turning the corner toward the exit. Denied. I didn’t care about the pain anymore. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him frantically. I pried his lips open, demanding a response. I was so rough I tasted iron. Chase’s eyes were cold. He didn’t resist. He even stopped walking to let me do it. I stared into his eyes, kissing him for a full minute. No notification sound. The longer I kissed, the colder I felt. I bit his lip hard. Eventually, the kissing turned into sobbing against his mouth. It’s not working. I can’t seduce him. He lied. “Ahhh! Ivy Shen—” “You slut!” “Get your dirty mouth off him! Don’t touch my Sebastian! Let him go!” Sophia was screaming in the distance, shaking with rage. Everyone was watching us. I didn’t care about them. I only cared about the points. And it was obvious. The points weren’t coming back. I stopped struggling. I let go of Chase, limp with despair. The pain in my leg came rushing back like a tide, burning and throbbing. If I can’t seduce Chase, I can’t leave. If I can’t leave, what’s the point? Maybe I should just buy some pills and end it all. I thought numbly. But the moment the thought formed, it was interrupted. [Chase’s Affection: +5.]

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My older sister, Ava, has autism. My younger brother, Leo, has Paranoid Personality Disorder. Because of this, Mom devoted her life to Ava, and Dad spent all his time taking Leo to specialists. No one remembered me. I was the one left behind. Even when I called once a month, begging for my overdue allowance, they only had harsh words for me. “Your sister is sick! Can’t you stop spending money like water?” “Your brother finally had a good day, and here you are trying to steal the spotlight. You selfish brat!” None of them ever listened long enough for me to finish my sentence. So, naturally, none of them knew— I have stage four stomach cancer. And barring a miracle, I’m going to leave this world before any of them. 1 My whole family is sick. Mentally sick. As the only “normal” child in the house, I was also the most disposable. From the moment I could understand words, Mom drilled one thing into my head: “Mia, you have to remember, you were born to take care of Ava.” “If it weren’t for your sister’s condition, we wouldn’t have had you. You need to be grateful. You need to be sensible. Ava always comes first.” “When we get old, you take over. You’ll look after her for the rest of her life.” Back then, I didn’t understand what autism was. I just knew Ava never talked to me. She never talked to anyone. She sat in her room, repeating the same motion over and over—lining up her toys by color, knocking them down, and lining them up again. Before my brother Leo was born, Dad was the only light in my childhood. He used to lift me high above his head, his eyes burning with hope. “My Mia is amazing! So healthy, so smart! This proves there’s nothing wrong with my genes!” He would count on his fingers, planning the future. “Once I give you a little brother, our family line will be secure!” Dad’s large hand would ruffle my hair, his rough palm warm against my head. “Your brother is going to be just like you—healthy and bright!” That period of being “the hope of the family” is the only warmth I remember. He bought me the prettiest dolls. He let me win at checkers. He even taught me how to paint. Until Leo was born. The diagnosis—Paranoid Personality Disorder—hit Dad like a sledgehammer. It shattered his dreams. And it shattered me. Dad’s hope turned into despair. And that despair needed a target. I became that target. One day, I ran up to him, holding a painting I’d just finished, eager for praise. “Daddy, look! My teacher gave me a gold star!” On the paper, I had painted a sunrise with the words: Reach for the Stars. He didn’t take it. He didn’t even look down. He stared straight ahead, his gaze fixed on me with a look I’d never seen before. It wasn’t disappointment. It was hatred. He snatched the paper and ripped it to shreds. Rip. Rip. “Reach for the stars? What use is a girl reaching for the stars?” His eyes were bloodshot, his voice sounding like a broken bellows. “Why you? Why do you get the luck? Why do you get the healthy body? Why couldn’t it be your brother? You stole his luck! You useless waste of space!” I looked at the confetti on the floor. “Daddy, I didn’t steal…” “Shut up!” he roared. “From now on, stay out of my sight! Just looking at you makes me sick!” I never saw my father smile again. That was the day my childhood lost its color. 2 Leo’s birth was the final straw that broke our already fragile home. Autism and Paranoid Personality Disorder are like oil and water. Under one roof, they were a recipe for constant chaos. Ava’s world was a straight line. Everything had to be in its exact place. Schedules had to be precise to the second. She would scream for hours if Leo moved her water cup. She would refuse to eat if there was an extra spoon on the table. Leo’s world was a web of conspiracies. Any deviation from his expectations was a personal attack. He was convinced Ava placed things in his “safe zone” just to provoke him. He believed someone had planted listening devices in his room to watch him sleep. One screamed. One raged. Day after day, year after year, the house was a war zone. Dad and Mom became like guard dogs, each protecting their chosen broken child. And me? The “normal” one? I was trapped between two hysterical patients. A speck of dust no one cared about. Even breathing too loud felt like a crime. I learned to turn my headphones up to max volume, burying my head in my homework amidst the screaming and crying. But even that peace was a luxury. Sometimes Leo would burst into my room, tearing through my backpack, accusing me of hiding recording devices. Ava would stand in front of me, asking the same question in a flat monotone. Once, twice, ten times. If I zoned out and didn’t answer immediately, she would start banging her head against the wall. Thud. Thud. Thud. I was terrified. But whenever I begged Mom and Dad for help, they gave me the same line: “Mia, you’re the only normal one. You have to be the bigger person. You have to understand them.” Every. Single. Time. It was as if being “normal” was my sin, and suffering was my penance. When I was twelve, the family finally fell apart. After a particularly violent episode, the house went dead silent. Mom calmly packed a suitcase with her and Ava’s clothes. She patted Ava’s head, then turned to me. Her voice sounded exhausted. “Mia, I’m taking Ava to Grandma’s countryside house. It’s quiet there.” She paused. I looked at her with wide, hopeful eyes, waiting for the words: You’re coming with us. But she looked away. Dad’s voice came from behind me. “I’m taking Leo to see specialists. We’ll travel the country. I don’t believe he can’t be cured.” I asked in a small voice, “What about me?” “You’re big enough now. As the only healthy kid, you need to learn to be independent. You need to understand how hard this is for us.” And just like that. One went left. One went right. They left me alone in the empty house. Dad sent a monthly allowance to his mother—my Nana—who lived nearby. In theory, she was supposed to take care of me. In reality, Nana’s world revolved around her poker games. She rarely came over. When she did, she would tear herself away from the card table just long enough to throw a few crumpled bills at me like I was a beggar. The money wasn’t enough for real food. So, my three meals a day became instant oatmeal and stale saltine crackers. Late at night, when my stomach growled with hunger, I would curl up at my desk. I’d grip my pen with trembling hands, tears soaking my homework. The hunger made it hard to focus. The ink would run where my tears fell. I rewrote the assignments over and over until they were perfect. Because I stubbornly believed one thing: If I was excellent enough, if I was obedient enough, Mom and Dad would love me. Just a little bit. But when I called them, excited to say I got straight A’s again, the receiver only delivered impatience. “What now? You need money again? Mia, we gave you a healthy body, that’s the greatest gift of all! Why can’t you be considerate of our struggles?” “Your sister had an episode yesterday, I don’t have the energy for this!” I don’t remember when I stopped calling. I knew the script. They never had time. They never cared. It’s okay, I told myself. Get into college. Get out of this town. Escape. Then came the acceptance letter from my dream university. I thought my life was finally about to start. I thought the suffering was over. Then came the diagnosis. Stomach cancer. Stage IV. Turns out, I wasn’t the only “normal” child after all. I was just the one who got sick last. 3 The doctor said I might only have three months. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold the paper. After the panic and the cold dread settled, my first thought was: I need to tell Mom and Dad. Surely, now they would care? Just like they cared about Ava’s autism and Leo’s paranoia. I was a “sick child” now, too. With trembling fingers, I took a photo of the diagnosis. I opened the family group chat named “Family Forever.” I hit send. Almost instantly, a stream of gibberish flooded the screen. [#$%%…&))&…%#@!] [sdg87s6d8g76s] [#%@&LittleBunnyFooFoo&%#] It was Ava. She had Mom’s phone again. The nonsense symbols pushed my diagnosis off the screen. Then, the chat went silent. No one responded. Maybe… maybe they missed it? I comforted myself and sent it again. This time, the reply came fast. It was Mom. My heart leaped. Tears welled up. Finally. Finally, someone was going to care about me. But the text that came through felt like an icicle stabbed through my chest. Mom: [Mia, are you annoying or what? Posting the same photo twice. What’s there to look at?] They didn’t miss it. They just ignored it. My stomach cramped violently. I tried to type, tried to explain that it wasn’t just a picture, it was a death sentence. But my hands wouldn’t cooperate. Before I could type a word, Mom’s second message popped up. Mom: [Did you Photoshop this?] Mom: [I’m telling you, don’t be like my coworker’s daughter who faked depression just to get out of freshman orientation. Don’t think you can fool everyone.] Mom: [You’re young. Stop thinking of crooked ways to get attention. It’s bad luck to curse yourself with sickness.] Mom: [Your Nana cooks for you three times a day. You live like a queen. How could you possibly have stomach cancer?] Three times a day? When did Nana ever cook for me? Mom didn’t know that my meals were cold instant soup and pickles I made last a week. She didn’t know how thin I’d become. I looked at my wrist. The bone protruded sharply; the veins were visible under translucent skin. Does an eighteen-year-old girl look like this? She only knew how to care for Ava. If Ava got a papercut, Mom would cry and examine it with a magnifying glass. But for me? Nothing. My fingers shook as I typed: [Mom, it’s true. I’m not lying.] As soon as I hit send, Dad’s profile picture popped up. He sent a voice note. His tone dripped with mockery and disgust. “I just wired your tuition money. You want a new iPhone already? Or is it a laptop this time? Mia, I didn’t know you were this manipulative. Using illness to scam money from your family?” I didn’t want money. I just wanted to tell them I was dying. I just wanted a tiny crumb of love in my last three months. [It’s not a scam! It’s real! I’m not lying to you!!] [Mom, Dad, can you please come home and see me?] [Please. The doctor says I have three months at most.] I typed frantically, tears blurring my vision. Then Leo chimed in. Leo: [Sis, your acting is getting better.] Leo: [Nice script. Stage IV Stomach Cancer. Tragic. Much more creative than the depression angle you tried last time.] His words were like needles. I remembered now. Before finals, during the darkest days, I gathered the courage to tell them I thought I was mentally ill. They screamed at me. Said I was lazy. Said I couldn’t handle the pressure of school. Said if I didn’t want to study, I should go work in a factory. It ended with me apologizing to them. I bit my lip until I tasted rust. Dad jumped in again. Dad: [Leo is right! Mia, are you done? Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing! Leo analyzed it perfectly. You’re jealous of the money we spend on his treatments, so you’re throwing a tantrum!] Mom joined the pile-on. Mom: [Can you stop acting crazy? Your sister is getting upset because of the noise on my phone! She won’t eat dinner now!] Mom: [Why can’t you be sensible? We didn’t raise you to be a burden!] Dad: [I’m sending your Nana over to check on you. We’ll see if you’re actually sick!] Dad: [Stop these childish games. You’re an embarrassment.] The group went silent again. I waited all afternoon. From noon until sunset. Nana never came. The pain in my stomach grew vicious. At first, it was a dull ache, but now it felt like hot pliers twisting my insides. I curled up on the sofa, every breath burning. Cold sweat soaked my hairline. I remembered the doctor’s words: The pain will get more frequent and more intense. Eventually, painkillers won’t touch it. 4 It was pitch black outside when my phone finally dinged. It was a screenshot from Dad. It showed a text conversation between him and Nana. Nana had sent Dad a photo. In the picture, I was wearing a long-sleeved hoodie, sitting at my desk, profile to the camera. Outside the window, the leaves were fresh green. The sunlight was soft. I recognized it instantly. It was taken this past spring. Right now, it was the height of summer. It was sweltering hot. Nana: [Son, Mia is fine. She eats, she sleeps, she’s full of energy.] Nana: [Don’t listen to her nonsense. I take good care of her. You just focus on Leo’s treatment.] Then, Dad’s messages to me started popping up. Dad: [I saw the photo Nana took. You look perfectly healthy. Still trying to scam us?] Dad: [Mia, what is wrong with you? Do you know how much your brother’s bills are? Why do you have to cause trouble now?] Dad: [I raised a liar. You are nothing but stress!] Cause trouble. So, dying is just causing trouble. I started to laugh. I laughed at my father, who would rather believe a blatantly old photo than his own daughter’s begging. I laughed at my grandmother, who would dig up an old picture to save herself a trip so she could get back to her card game. I laughed until I cried. Buzz. A text from the bank: [Your savings account ending in 8848 has been frozen. Please contact your branch.] I froze. That account held my tuition money. Before I could process it, Dad messaged again. Dad: [Since you claim you have stomach cancer, I’m moving your tuition money to pay for Leo’s treatment. You won’t be going to college anyway.] The last shred of fantasy I held about my family—about love—was shredded. Let it freeze. I wasn’t going to school anyway. What does a dying girl need a degree for? I don’t want this family anymore. 5 I turned off my phone and lay paralyzed on the sofa. The room was terrifyingly quiet. Only the tick-tock of the clock on the wall. A countdown. Every second reminded me: My time is running out. I wanted to see the ocean. The thought came out of nowhere. I had never left this small, landlocked town. Mom and Dad took Ava and Leo everywhere for treatments, but they never asked where I wanted to go. I’d only seen the blue sea on TV. I checked the cash I had left. Just enough for the cheapest train ticket to Sea City. It was the closest coastal town on the map. Before leaving, I opened the “Family Forever” chat one last time. Mom was posting about what Ava ate. Dad was updating on Leo’s therapy. I stared at the screen for a long time. I didn’t type anything. Forget it. Let it end like this. On the train, I curled into the corner of the hard seat. Waves of pain made me sweat through my clothes. But the thought of the ocean kept me upright. After three bumpy hours, I arrived. Stepping out of the station, the salty wind hit my face. It was cool and wet. The real ocean was nothing like TV. It was vast. Deep. Overwhelming. Waves rolled in, carrying an endless power. I found a quiet spot on some rocks and sat down. I listened to the water crashing against the stone. The pain hit again. Worse than ever before. I couldn’t stand up. I hugged my knees, gasping. “Miss? Are you okay?” An aged, rough voice sounded near my ear. I looked up to see an old fisherman with white hair looking at me with concern. His eyes were gentle. They looked like Dad’s eyes used to look. “I’m fine,” I forced a smile. “You look terrible. Should I take you to the clinic?” I shook my head. “No need. Thank you.” It was pointless. I just wanted to be quiet. To feel the last bit of beauty the world had to offer. The old man seemed to understand. He didn’t push. He just quietly mended his nets nearby, glancing at me every now and then. Sunset dyed the water gold. I used my finger to write my name in the sand—Mia Li. A wave rushed in and washed it away instantly. Just like my life. Here, but leaving no trace. But in that moment, I didn’t feel sad. I felt released. Maybe this was the ending I wanted. A quiet goodbye by the blue sea.

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My sister fell in love with the Crown Prince of New York’s elite circle at first sight. To create an “opportunity,” she didn’t hesitate to spike his drink at the gala. This time, I didn’t stop her. Instead, I personally delivered the drink for her. I even thoughtfully booked her the presidential suite. In my past life, I saw her drugging the drink and kindly tried to stop her. I warned her that the Sterling family had deep connections in both the legal and underground worlds—we couldn’t afford to offend them. That night, Julian Sterling found another woman to relieve the effects, and the next day, he announced a whirlwind engagement. My sister didn’t say anything to my face, but on the drive home, she shoved me off the overpass. I died instantly, crushed into a pulp by a speeding truck. Before I took my last breath, she screamed that I had ruined her only chance to marry into a billionaire family. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the gala. This time, I’m going to sit back and watch her destroy herself. 1 I watched as Julian Sterling downed the spiked wine. My sister, Bella, stood in the distance, her eyes gleaming with calculation. Two minutes later, the drug kicked in. A flushed, unnatural red crept up Julian’s neck. His private bodyguards immediately stepped in, supporting him as they moved toward the elevators. I flashed Bella an “OK” hand sign and slipped her the room key card. I tried to slip away, but she grabbed my arm in a vice grip. She lowered her voice, threatening me: “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking! You aren’t going anywhere until this is a done deal!” “Stay at the door and be my lookout! If Julian’s people see you, you know what to say and what not to say!” She thought I was going to lecture her like before. instead, I shook her hand off. I glanced at the bodyguards who had already clocked her suspicious behavior and smiled. “Relax. You’re my sister. If I don’t help you, who will?” “Just don’t forget your dear little sister when you marry into the Sterling family.” In my last life, she was convinced I blocked her path to riches and killed me for it. This time, I won’t just step aside; I’ll give her a push. Let’s see just how deep of a grave she can dig. Bella didn’t think twice. She lifted her chin, smug as hell. “Glad you finally know your place. When I’m Mrs. Sterling, I’ll find you a driver or a secretary to marry. It’ll be enough to keep you fed for life.” “Now shut up and follow me. If anyone asks, you’re a waitress waiting for Mr. Sterling’s orders. If you ruin this for me, you know the consequences!” She glared at me, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me upstairs. The bodyguards were stationed at the door. Bella used the excuse of delivering water to get inside. Moments later, I heard the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor. I hid at the end of the corridor, watching. Not long after, Bella was dragged out, unconscious. Five bodyguards, wearing nasty grins, dragged her into the adjacent room. Seeing this, I let out a breath of relief, dusted off my hands, and turned to leave. But the next second, a sharp pain exploded at the back of my head. Everything went black. 2 When I woke up, my wrists and ankles were tied to the headboard with silk ribbons. Hovering over me was Julian Sterling’s face, dripping with sweat. My eyes widened. I tried to scream for help. He sealed my lips with his own. “Don’t think I don’t know there was something in that drink.” “Since you delivered it, you can solve the problem…” My screams were drowned out by heavy breathing. I struggled until I had no strength left. Whatever drug Bella used was potent. Julian didn’t stop until dawn. Fighting through the aches in my entire body, I waited until he fell asleep to untie the ribbons and change back into my clothes. Julian Sterling was known for being ruthless. I wasn’t stupid like Bella. I wasn’t going to stick around for his morning wrath. I wiped down any traces of myself in the room and fled. Before I left the floor, I glanced at the room Bella had been dragged into. The door was cracked open. Five sets of men’s clothes were scattered on the floor. She was lying on the bed, passed out cold. I stayed silent and slipped away. 3 As soon as I got home, my parents rushed me. When they didn’t see Bella, their faces dropped in unison. “Chloe, where’s your sister? Why did you come back alone?” Remembering how they blamed me for “ruining” Bella’s chance in my past life—how they didn’t even collect my body—my expression turned cold. “Maybe she used too much of the drug. Mr. Sterling might still be… busy.” My mom’s angry face instantly bloomed into a smile. “I knew Bella was capable! Unlike some people—useless waste of space. Raised you for twenty years and you’re still a losing investment!” My dad didn’t even look at me. He rushed Mom to the kitchen. “Go make the herbal soup! We need to make sure she conceives a son!” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I sat on the couch to rest. Just as the soup started boiling, Bella walked in. She was limping. Her neck was covered in purple bruises. She clearly had no idea who she had actually spent the night with. The moment she saw me, she started listing my crimes to our parents. She screamed that I didn’t keep watch and didn’t help her with the aftermath. Mom snapped immediately. She slapped me across the face, screaming: “I knew I couldn’t count on you! Useless trash! Why did I raise such a burden?” “Your sister finally found an opportunity, and you didn’t help? You just ran away? Money falls from the sky and you don’t even know how to pick it up. You’re destined to be a wage slave for life!” I held my stinging cheek and laughed at her shamelessness. “I work for my money. I have dignity. I can’t bring myself to sell my body like that.” Dad flew into a rage. He grabbed a heavy glass ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it at my head. Blood instantly soaked my shirt. He ignored it, continuing his tirade: “Work, work, all you know is work! If we relied on your salary, your mother and I would starve before our ashes even cooled!” “You’re useless, and you dare insult your sister? Look at yourself! You’re worth nothing!” “If I knew it would be like this, I should have just sold you off years ago! It would’ve been less hassle!” “Marrying you off to some poor guy for a few grand in dowry? Do you think I’m running a charity?” I pressed a tissue to the gash on my forehead, but the blood wouldn’t stop. Disappointment in this family washed over me. I couldn’t help but yell back: “I am your daughter! Not a piece of meat in a butcher shop! If you want a daughter who sells herself, why didn’t you just open a brothel?” “Every cent I earn is clean. What is wrong with feeding myself with my own skills?” “If you hate me this much, why did you even give birth to me?” A flicker of panic crossed their eyes. Before they could explode again, Bella started gloating: “Don’t listen to her. When I have this baby and marry into the Sterling family, she’ll be on her knees begging me.” Hearing this, Mom and Dad stopped cursing me and swarmed her, asking about the night. Bella put on a shy act. “You have no idea. Julian isn’t as cold as the rumors say. He was wild all night… I’m still sore.” “When I woke up, he was gone. He just left a bank card in the room.” “We did it so many times. I’m definitely pregnant. The position of Mrs. Sterling is practically mine!” My parents laughed hysterically, seemingly already visualizing themselves as billionaire in-laws. They had no clue about the Sterling family’s background. They didn’t know what the name “Sterling” actually meant in this city. Scheming against Julian Sterling? They wouldn’t even know how they died. I needed to cut ties with them immediately. Right now, they were worshipping Bella, praising her for being “ambitious.” They brought out tonics and herbal soups, wishing Bella could pop out a baby right this second. I took the chance to call out their greedy, gold-digging faces. Predictably, it triggered them. Dad kicked me off the sofa, tore my page out of the family registry (Hukou), and threw it at me. “Get out! Get out now! I don’t have such a useless daughter!” Mom looked at me with pure disgust. Bella rubbed her legs, smirking. “I was going to find you a driver or secretary to marry so you could live comfortably. Since you love earning your own money so much, get out. Don’t come crying back to me when you get fired!” Goal achieved. I smiled, picking up my registration papers from the floor. “One day, you’ll realize the Sterling family isn’t as simple as they look.” “You schemed against Julian Sterling. We’ll see who ends up kneeling and begging.” 4 I stayed at a cheap hotel that night. I bought some antiseptic and bandages for my forehead. The next day at work, the office was buzzing with gossip. “Did you hear? Someone drugged Julian Sterling last night! Slept with him and ran. He’s tearing the city apart looking for the culprit!” “Is that person insane? Messing with Julian? The last person who tried to drug him is literally fertilizer now.” “Doesn’t he have an engagement with the Lu family? Even though the Lu heiress went missing years ago, the contract is still active.” Suddenly, Liam Lu appeared behind us. His voice was ice cold. “Are you all bored? Is your work done? Gossiping about Mr. Sterling… do you want to disappear?” The colleagues scattered like rats. Liam looked me up and down, a faint smile playing in his eyes. He grew up with Julian; their families were close allies. Given his reputation in the business world, I knew Julian wasn’t someone to be trifled with. Bella was doomed. Thinking about my colleagues’ words, I typed up a resignation letter immediately. If I can’t fight them, I can hide. My boss didn’t ask why. He approved it instantly. Terrified of being found by Julian, I rented a tiny apartment and didn’t leave for a week. Bella did the opposite. She loitered around the Sterling Group headquarters every day. She was desperate for Julian to recognize her as the woman from that night. Unfortunately, Julian’s bodyguards walked past her countless times without a glance. Bella got desperate. She registered a social media account under her real name and posted constantly about the gala. After ten posts with no response from Julian, she took a photo of the bank card he allegedly left and posted a “Lost and Found” notice. This time, she got a bite. Julian publicly replied to one of the comments: “The card is mine. Please provide your contact information. I will retrieve it personally. Much appreciated.” His reply broke the internet. Screenshots hit the trending page instantly. The cold CEO’s rare gentleness was interpreted as a flirtatious exchange. Everyone guessed that my sister, the “kind soul” who found the card, was about to become Cinderella. Netizens doxxed Bella’s address immediately. They linked her to the drugging incident rumors. Before Julian even showed up, people trying to curry favor were lining up at my parents’ door. Talent scouts offered Bella contracts, claiming she had “star quality.” Businessmen invited her to fancy dinners, begging her to put in a good word with Mr. Sterling. Rumors flew. People were placing bets that Julian would cancel his engagement with the Lu family. In one day, Bella gained millions of followers. She became an influencer. Riding the wave, she put on a fake act, telling people not to spread rumors. Her “innocent and reserved” image won over a ton of fans. Meanwhile, the scandal spread everywhere. I couldn’t sit still. I went out and officially transferred my household registration away from my parents. When I went back to pack my things, my parents were practically floating. They were glued to their phones, reading comments and laughing. It was like they were already envisioning the wedding. I stayed silent and went to my room. Mom scoffed. “Doesn’t know how to enjoy life. Born to be a servant. Useless.” Dad sighed, disappointed. “If you had half your sister’s ambition, we’d be living next door to the Sterlings by now!” Bella walked out of her room, a $200 face mask plastered on her skin. She gloated: “You don’t know, do you? Julian messaged me. He wants to meet.” “He definitely figured out I was the one who ‘helped’ him that night. He’s not mad. He probably liked it!” “I just tested. Two lines. Pregnant.” “If you suck up to me now, it’s not too late.” “You’re my sister, after all. Once I’m Mrs. Sterling, getting you a job as a maid won’t be hard.” Hearing “two lines,” my heart skipped a beat. I subconsciously touched my own flat stomach. “You started the rumors online, didn’t you? Do you know how powerful the Sterling legal team is? You aren’t helping Mom and Dad; you’re dragging the whole family into an abyss.” As if on cue, Mom saw a notification. The Sterling Group had issued an official statement. It said that anyone continuing to spread rumors would face legal action. The comment section, which had been on fire, was instantly locked. All of Bella’s posts were taken down. Her account was banned. She panicked. But sticking to her “reserved” act, she opened her chat with Julian but didn’t dare message him. While my parents crowded around her in panic, Julian finally messaged. “I’m sending someone to pick you up. Be downstairs in five minutes.” Bella’s frown instantly turned into a smirk. She waved the phone in my face. “See? The Sterling Group is a big company; they have to be low-key publicly. My husband couldn’t wait to explain it to me in person!” “With your cowardly attitude, you aren’t even fit to carry my shoes! Move!” She shoved me aside and went to change. My parents chimed in. “You have none of your sister’s skills, yet you try to bring her down. What is the point of you?” “Get out! Stop being an eyesore!” Mom was tearing up with joy. “This risky move paid off! We might be moving into a mansion tonight!” Dad laughed, holding Bella’s positive pregnancy test like a trophy. “I never dared to dream… The Sterling family! We’re upper class now!” “Honey, look at this suit. Is it good for the wedding? I don’t want to embarrass our daughter!” “What should we get for the grandkid? We can’t let the in-laws look down on us!” Watching their excitement, I silently packed my bags. When I left, I trailed behind them from a distance. Downstairs, they were surrounded by neighbors. Envious chatter filled the air. “You are so blessed to have such a daughter! I saw the news online. If my daughter married into the Sterling family, I’d wake up laughing!” “Look at you two, glowing! You look ten years younger!” “I should have told my daughter to try. I thought Mr. Sterling was untouchable, but he’s just a man after all. Can’t resist temptation.” I felt a wave of nausea and almost retched. My parents were grinning ear to ear, promising to invite everyone to the wedding. In the middle of the laughter, police sirens wailed. Several cruisers pulled up. An officer stepped forward, flashing his badge. “Which one of you is Jiang Wan? She is suspected of spreading rumors and using controlled substances. Please come with us.”

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I brought breakfast for my childhood best friend—ten steaming, juicy pork buns I’d packed with love. He frowned, looking at the grease stain on the bag. “Can you stop embarrassing me? I’m not a construction worker. Who eats this heavy stuff in the morning?” Chloe, the class queen bee, tapped his shoulder and handed him a beautifully wrapped artisan sandwich. She glanced at my buns and gasped, “My god, that’s enough calories to last me three days!” I felt a sting of tears in my eyes. Suddenly, a stream of floating text—like a livestream chat—scrolled across my vision. [LMAO. Did you see the poor scholarship kid, Xavier, staring at those buns? He just swallowed a gallon of saliva.] [No wonder Xavier becomes a tech billionaire later. In every interview, he says his favorite food is pork buns.] [His stomach is literally growling. If someone gave him those buns right now, they’d probably become the love of his life.] I blinked, then immediately turned to my deskmate, the class genius and resident loner. “Do you want these? They’re still hot.” Unexpectedly, Xavier replied in a flat, cold voice: “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.” 1 Me: ? Are they all conspiring to ruin my day? I wasn’t giving up. I untied the bag. The savory smell of pork, fluffy dough, and sesame oil wafted into the air. Even though I’d already eaten, my mouth watered. “I literally heard your stomach growl. Are you sure? These are amazing. My dad woke up at 4 AM to stand in line for them.” I have a fatal flaw. When I eat something good, I have a desperate need to share it. It’s that satisfaction of helping someone discover a hidden gem. Under my relentless sales pitch, Xavier finally stopped writing. He looked up. His bangs were a bit long, hanging down to cover his eyebrows. His gaze was indifferent. High nose bridge, sharp jawline, prominent Adam’s apple. He wore the blue and white school uniform hoodie, zipped all the way up. The cuffs were frayed and washed out. He looked thin, but his shoulders were broad. I suddenly realized he looked a bit like an anime protagonist. The brooding type. He’d been my deskmate for a month, but this was the first time I’d really looked at him. My cheeks heated up. Xavier’s gaze dropped to my hands. His thin lips parted. “Thanks, but I don’t need your pity.” Then he lowered his head and went back to drowning in calculus. I sat there, awkward and frozen. What the hell? This temper is just like an anime character, too. Who’s pitying him? I’m just trying to share the gospel of carbs! The floating text popped up again, mocking me this time. [Hahaha, does she have no brain? Trying to give charity to the future genius right in the open?] [She probably saw the comments and wants to be his ‘One That Got Away.’ Dream on.] [Xavier’s heart belongs to someone else. Don’t bother.] My face burned brighter. Because I felt called out. I admit, I had a tiny thought about hugging a future billionaire’s thigh. He’s going to be rich, right? Trying to get on his good side seemed like a solid investment strategy… I was fuming when I heard a distinct gurgle. Xavier’s stomach. I turned my head. Xavier’s pen paused for a fraction of a second, then he continued writing as if nothing happened. But I saw the tips of his ears turn bright pink. I sighed. Whatever. Why hold a grudge against a hungry person? I tugged his sleeve, using the same whining tone I used on my dad. “Help me out, Xavier. I can’t eat all this. Wasting food is a crime. Just help me finish them.” Xavier didn’t make a sound. I slid the bag of buns onto his side of the desk. He didn’t push it back. Tsk. So stubborn. “Remember to eat them while they’re hot. I gotta run to the bathroom.” Homeroom was starting in ten minutes. If I didn’t go now, I’d be holding it through first period! 2 When I got back to my seat, the bag was gone. I sniffed the air. No smell of meat. Huh? Did he toss them? Before I could ask, “Mrs. Terror,” our math teacher, marched in. “Get out the practice sheets from yesterday. If you didn’t finish, go stand in the back. Don’t make me say it twice.” I immediately lowered my head, terrified to breathe. Senior year was brutal. Every teacher acted like the grim reaper. By the time I stumbled home after school, brain fried, my dad was already busy in the kitchen. Four dishes were already on the table. “Whoa, sweet and sour ribs!” I happily reached out to steal a piece, but my mom flicked my forehead. “Wash your hands, you little gremlin.” I grinned, dropped my bag, and ran to the sink. When I sat down, Dad brought out a massive bowl of meatball soup. “Dig in!” I put my palms together. “Thank you for your hard work! I will devour everything!” The three of us ate and chatted happily. Dad smiled, “Do you want pork buns again tomorrow? Did Brad like them this morning?” Brad. My childhood friend, Lu Zeyuan. The thought of him made the ribs taste like cardboard. I mumbled, “They were fine.” My dad, like me, loved feeding people. “Brad hasn’t come over for dinner in a while. Senior year must be tough. Bella, you eat more.” Brad and I grew up together. We used to be two chubby kids rolling around the neighborhood. He loved my dad’s ribs; I loved his mom’s pot roast. Then, overnight, Brad hit puberty. He shot up to six feet. The chubby belly turned into a six-pack. The buzzcut became a trendy fade. And the person standing next to him changed from me, “Chubby Bella,” to the class beauty, Chloe. Brad went to eat steaks and salads with Chloe now. He didn’t come for ribs. I tried eating that stuff once. Medium-rare steak? It had nothing on my dad’s braised brisket or spicy chicken. What made me angrier was this morning. He ate Chloe’s sandwich and called my buns “construction worker food.” And Chloe said ten buns would last her three days. So what if you’re a size zero? I’m 5’3″, a solid 120 pounds. I’m soft, sure, but I’m sturdy and healthy! I shoved a huge spoonful of rice into my mouth. I was done feeding Brad. I was done chasing that ungrateful jerk! 3 I was eating angrily when the floating text—the “Chat”—started scrolling again. [Wait, this chubby girl is the villainess, Bella? Her family is so wholesome. How does she end up like that?] [Probably because she ends up at a community college and gets mixed up with the wrong crowd.] [It’s for the plot. The villainess’s death is the catalyst for the main couple getting back together. Shame her parents die of grief two years later…] The meatball in my mouth fell back into the bowl with a plop. Excuse me? Chat, explain yourself! I pushed my bowl away. “I’m full.” I ran to my room, locked the door, and studied the floating text. According to the Chat, I was the malicious villainess in this world. My childhood friend, Brad, was the Protagonist. Chloe was the Heroine. After finals, I would confess to Brad and get rejected. Brad would tell me he and Chloe planned to go to the same Ivy League school and marry after graduation. In a rage, I would hack his account and change his college application, sending him and Chloe to opposite ends of the country. Because of my bad grades (and obsession with Brad), I’d stay local at a third-rate college. I would constantly sabotage them, causing misunderstandings. Eventually, to make Brad jealous, I’d date a local thug. Brad wouldn’t care. He’d just study harder to transfer to Chloe’s grad school. I’d stay entangled with the thug until senior year, when he’d accidentally strangle me to death in a motel room. Then he’d flee. My parents would collapse from the news. Brad, out of childhood loyalty, would help handle my funeral. Chloe, now a journalism major, would come to interview my parents about the “Scandalous Death of a College Girl.” And thus, over my dead body, the main couple would reunite. They would become better people, love freely without my interference, and live happily ever after. I was furious before I even finished reading. The Chat said my parents would die within two years of my death? They were sacrificing my whole family for their romance? Are they insane?! I admit, I had a crush on Brad. We grew up together, and he got hot. It happens. But hacking college apps? Dating thugs? I would never! Even if Brad rejected me, two hotpot dinners and a BBQ night would cure me. A foodie’s world is simple! Screw the plot. If I don’t participate, the story breaks, right? Having figured this out, I threw open my door and yelled, “Mom! Don’t put the food away! I’m hungry again!” 4 The only freedom in senior year was Gym class. Boys played 3-on-3 basketball; girls played badminton or sat on the bleachers pretending to have cramps so they could watch the boys. Even the messiest boys washed their hair the night before Gym. Brad sank a three-pointer, lifting his jersey to wipe his sweat. The flash of abs caused a ripple of squeals. He flashed a sunny grin and looked over. I followed his gaze. He was looking at Chloe. They exchanged a sweet look. My heart twinged. It felt sour. Like an emotion that didn’t belong to me was forcing its way in. I suppressed it. The girl next to me pinched my arm. “Bella, you and Brad haven’t been talking much lately.” I mumbled, “It’s whatever.” “Watch out, or Chloe will snatch him. That girl knows what she’s doing.” I thought for a moment. “I’ll bless them. They look good together.” They are the main characters, after all. “No way. Brad is so hot now, you’re willing to give him up?” I didn’t want to talk about Brad. It felt like inviting the Grim Reaper. Just then, I saw Xavier. I pointed. “Actually, don’t you think Xavier is kind of hot?” Unlike the others, Xavier was still in his full uniform. Zipped up to the collarbone, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Sweat matted his bangs to his forehead. His lips were pressed into a thin line. The girl scoffed. “Xavier? He has a nice face, I guess, but he’s so gloomy. He never talks. And he’s barely average at basketball.” “Also, smart people are weird. Who wears a uniform to play ball?” The Chat exploded. [What are they gossiping about? The villain is poor! He barely eats enough, where would he get the energy to be an athlete?] [That uniform is the only decent outfit he owns. He washes it every night. Buying a jersey means skipping meals.] [These girls are annoying. No wonder only the Heroine becomes his ‘First Love.’] [Just wait until he becomes a Tech Mogul. His aura will be ten feet tall. So handsome.] [Why doesn’t the Heroine just take both the Hero and the Villain? It’s just two guys!] Huh? I froze. Xavier is the Villain? Chloe is his First Love? But I never see them talking… The Chat confused me. Just then, Brad’s game ended. The girl next to me shoved a water bottle into my hand and pushed me. “Go give Brad water! Go!” I stumbled forward, landing right in front of Brad. Brad saw the water and his eyes lit up. “Yo, finally caved? Ignoring me just because I didn’t want your buns? You didn’t even wait for me this morning. Petty.” Since learning I was the villainess, I’d been avoiding him to avoid my tragic death. But now, I stood there blankly holding the water. “I didn’t mean to…” I looked back. Who was that girl who pushed me? I couldn’t remember her face! Was she even in our class? Cold sweat trickled down my back. The Plot was forcing me into position. Brad looked impatient. “Alright, stop explaining. You’re so stubborn. As long as you know you were wrong. I’m thirsty.” Just as Brad reached for my cheap water bottle, a slender, pale hand extended from the side. “Brad, drink this. It has electrolytes.”

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I was buying groceries. At checkout, the owner suddenly said to me: “It was you and your boyfriend who walked out without paying yesterday, right?” I told him I wasn’t even here yesterday. But the owner insisted it was me and my boyfriend. Helpless, I called my boyfriend over. The owner just smirked: “Not this one. It was the other one. The old man.” I sneered: “Boss, actually, I saw you in a video once.” “You were carrying a bottle of cooking oil and half a watermelon.” Several girls standing nearby nodded in unison. “Yeah! We saw it too!” 1 “Check out, please.” I put the vegetables on the counter. The middle-aged owner stared at the Mahjong game on his phone, fingers swiping furiously, not even looking up. I raised my voice: “Boss, check out!” “Don’t rush, little girl!” He looked up impatiently, his eyes locking onto my face. “It was you, right?” I was baffled. “What was me?” He slapped his phone face down on the counter, a scornful smile plastered on his face. “Hey, don’t be so quick to deny it!” “Yesterday, around this time, just as the sun was setting! You were wearing a white dress. And you were with a guy, right? Glasses, tall and skinny!” “You two were picking and choosing, filled a whole basket! Even took a box of the most expensive strawberries! Then, while I was in the back moving stock, you snuck out!” 2 I took a step back. Subconsciously, I recalled what I did after work yesterday. No. Yesterday after work, I went to the movies with my best friend. I wasn’t here at all. I quickly explained: “I didn’t come to your supermarket yesterday, and I wasn’t wearing a white dress!” “Boss, you must have mistaken me for someone else.” “Mistaken you?” The owner let out a weird laugh. “I’ve been doing business in this neighborhood for seven or eight years. I never forget a face!” “Fine,” he waved his hand, acting magnanimous. “You’re young, thin-skinned, embarrassed to admit it. I understand.” “How about this? Yesterday’s stuff plus what you’re buying today, let’s call it an even three hundred bucks. Pay up, leave, and I’ll pretend nothing happened. Save you some face, how about it?” 3 Hearing this. I was ready to call the police. But then I remembered my mom mentioning recently that last month’s flood destroyed a lot of valuable stock in this supermarket. He lost tens of thousands. His wife was in poor health and needed surgery soon. So he was desperate to find the person who skipped the bill. I suppressed my anger and took out my phone. I pulled up the movie ticket order from last night. “Yesterday after work, I went to see a movie with my best friend. That theater is like six miles from here.” “So it’s impossible for me to have been in your store at that time.” The owner’s eyes swept over the screen, flickering for a second. But just for a second. He crossed his arms. “Who knows who watched the movie? Maybe you bought tickets for someone else?” “Anyway, I saw it with my own eyes yesterday. You and your boyfriend didn’t pay!!” 4 “There’s no point arguing like this.” I pointed to the surveillance camera on the wall. “Check the tapes!” “If I really stole from you yesterday, I’ll pay you triple!” “But if you’re wrongly accusing me, I want a handwritten apology posted on your front door for three days!” The owner waved his hand dismissively. “Forget it.” “Regulars know my cameras are trash. Can’t see a nose from an eye.” “Even if I check, you won’t admit it! Pointless!” Just then. A middle-aged man smoking in the corner put out his cigarette and spoke slowly. “Little girl, I live in the complex behind here. I’ve known Old Zhang for years! His memory is good! How many people in this neighborhood? He remembers them all after one look! He even remembers who buys what vegetables! If he says it’s you, he definitely remembers.” Several customers browsing nearby were drawn by the commotion. Two of them were aunties from my building. My mom even square danced with them! If I didn’t clear this up today. Tomorrow, I’d be infamous in the neighborhood. I stared coldly at the owner: “You just said my boyfriend was tall, skinny, and wore glasses, right?” The owner nodded firmly: “That’s right! I remember clearly!” “Wait right here! I already texted him to come over!” “In a minute, use those ‘unforgettable’ eyes of yours and take a good look!” 5 It didn’t take long. The plastic curtain was pushed aside. My boyfriend, Mark, rushed in, reaching my side in a few strides. He was wearing sportswear, built like an ox, muscles clearly defined. “Jen, what’s wrong? What happened?” I stepped aside, letting Mark stand fully in front of the owner. “Boss, look closely! This is my boyfriend!” “Yesterday afternoon, was he the one skipping the bill with me? Is this the tall, skinny guy with glasses?” Actually. The owner’s face had frozen the moment Mark rushed in. Mark doesn’t wear glasses. He’s jacked. Clearly someone who works out constantly. Completely different from the person he described. 6 The owner’s eyes darted around, then he feigned casualness: “Not… not this one… it was another one.” “That one was older! A bit balding too!” Although he didn’t fully understand the situation, hearing this, Mark’s face darkened instantly. “What do you mean?” The owner glanced at Mark’s clenched fist and immediately switched to a ‘heart-to-heart’ expression: “Young man, don’t be impulsive! Lots of people here. Let Uncle tell you something.” Saying this, he half-pushed, half-pulled Mark a few steps outside the supermarket door. “Yesterday it was your girlfriend! Wearing a white dress! Following a guy in his fifties. They were close while shopping, he even fixed her hair!” He clicked his tongue. “You could tell they weren’t just friends! Young man, go home and ask her! Don’t let yourself be used!” Mark’s fist was still clenched, but his frown deepened. He looked at the owner, then shot a messy glance at me standing in the doorway. Seeing he didn’t argue, the owner felt he succeeded. He patted Mark’s arm: “Think about it!” He turned and went back into the supermarket. 7 Only Mark and I were left at the door. I walked over and looked him in the eye: “You believe him?” “I don’t!” Mark retorted immediately, voice raised, but the urgency felt hollow. “Jen, I want to believe you!” His tone struggled, and finally, he threw out the doubt: “You said you went to the movies with Lily after work yesterday… but I ran into Lily at the gym this afternoon. She said she was working overtime at the office last night until almost ten!” I froze. Overtime? Impossible! Lily watched the movie with me after work yesterday. There must be a misunderstanding! I pulled out my phone immediately: “I’ll call and ask her right now!” 8 To prove my innocence. I put it on speaker. The call connected quickly. “Hello? Jen?” Lily’s voice came through, sounding normal, even a bit relaxed. “Lily!” I didn’t bother with pleasantries, my voice tight. “Mark just told me… he saw you at the gym today, and you said you were working overtime last night? Until ten?” Silence on the other end. Dead silence. My heart sank bit by bit. “Uh?” Lily’s voice finally sounded, clearly hesitant. “Over… overtime?” “Did Mark mishear? Yesterday after work, I watched the movie with you!” Mark grew even more suspicious at her ambiguous attitude. “Lily, what movie did you watch yesterday?” Another suffocating silence on the other end. “Oh, uh, I didn’t really pay attention to the movie yesterday…” Lily stammered. “So I don’t remember clearly!” I interrupted her incoherent excuses. “Lily, why are you doing this?” “We discussed the plot after dinner yesterday. Now you say you don’t remember?” I told her exactly what situation I was facing. “Lily, I need you to tell the truth right now!” Lily’s voice rose sharply, sounding guilty: “Jen, can you keep me out of your issues with Mark? Solve it yourself!” Then. Click. She hung up.

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Uncle Rick had racked up a massive gambling debt. My mom put three crumpled balls of paper on the table and told us, her three children, to draw lots. “To be fair, whoever draws the paper with ink on it takes on all of Uncle Rick’s debt.” “Big sister goes first, little brother goes last. Don’t blame anyone if you pick it. It’s just fate.” At that exact moment, I saw a stream of text scrolling across the sky, like comments on a livestream: [Girl, don’t do it! Every single paper in that box has ink on it! Whoever draws first is doomed!] [Your mom is secretly livestreaming this from the corner to make sure you can’t back out later! There are already hundreds of thousands of people watching!] [She knows you can’t pay it back. She’s already called the black market organ harvesters. They’re waiting outside. Whoever draws is dead meat!] Whoever draws, dies? I smiled. I stopped my little sister, Penny, who was reaching out out of curiosity, and shoved the box directly in front of my brother, Tyler. “Tyler’s the boy. He should go first.” Then, I grabbed my mom’s arm and pulled her closer. “Mom, why don’t you draw one, too?” 1 The loan sharks had just left, and Mom immediately whipped out the paper balls for the draw. My brother Tyler’s chubby hand reached out first. “I wanna go first!” Mom, who usually spoiled him rotten, actually slapped his hand away. Hard. “No rules! We go by age. Oldest to youngest. It’s all about luck, stop grabbing!” I sneered internally. Then, more text floated across my vision. [She never thinks of her daughter when there are good things, but the second there’s debt, she pushes her to the front!] [She’s dying to sell her daughter for cash. She probably plans to use the leftovers to buy a house for her precious son.] [This isn’t just about money. It’s murder.] “Nora, you’re the oldest. You draw,” Mom commanded. Uncle Rick and Aunt Pam, who had been wailing moments ago, stopped crying. They stared at me with hungry eyes. “Hurry up! Or those thugs will come back! Niece, do you want to see your uncle beaten to death?” “Stop stalling. You’re a pretty girl; money comes faster for you than for a boy.” Penny reached her hand out, curious. I blocked her, hiding the cold look in my eyes, and forcibly shoved Tyler’s hand into the box. “Tyler is the man of the house one day. He should go first!” Before Mom could react, I shoved the box into her arms. “Mom, you grab one too. Uncle Rick is your brother. You have more life experience; surely you have more ways to make money than us.” The box seemed to burn her skin. She threw it away without thinking. Then, she snatched the paper Tyler had grabbed, tore it to shreds, and screamed at me. “You little ungrateful wretch! Playing games with me? Don’t want to draw? Fine! If you won’t draw, then it’s you! You’re paying your uncle’s debt!” [It’s over. Is she really going to sell her daughter just like that?] [Those organ harvesters are brutal. They’ll strip her for parts until there’s nothing left.] Sell me? I subtly scanned the room, looking for the hidden phone. Once I spotted the camera lens peeking out from a pile of clutter, I stood up, threw open the window, and started wailing at the top of my lungs. If hundreds of thousands of people were watching, surely they wouldn’t beat me to death on camera. “Mom! What do I do?! I want to help Uncle Rick, but I’m a fresh college grad! I barely make $2,500 a month! Uncle gambled away $200,000! How am I supposed to pay that?!” “Uncle Rick, it’s not that I don’t want to help, I literally can’t!” Mom sneered from the side. “Crying is useless. This is your fate.” But Uncle Rick rushed over to cover my mouth. “Shut up! Are you trying to call the debt collectors back?!” I glanced at the yard. The thugs were already turning back. I smiled. Too late, Uncle. Here they come. 2 The lead thug kicked the door open. Our flimsy front door, already hanging by a thread, crashed to the floor. “Are you playing games with us? Trying to fool us?” “You want a little girl to pay the debt? On $2,500 a month? I’d be waiting until the next century!” “Figure it out now, or I break your legs! Let’s see if you can gamble in a wheelchair! You don’t have money? Then stop acting like a big shot!” Uncle Rick’s knees buckled. Most people have a backbone. My uncle was a jellyfish. He dropped to his knees. “Big bro, please! Just give me a little more time. I’ll find the money, I swear!” The thug kicked him square in the shoulder. Aunt Pam screamed. Rick rolled over, scrambling back up with a face full of snot and tears. “Bro, listen, I’m working on it! I don’t have cash, but I have people! Look, my sister has three kids!” [Wow. Shameless.] I pinched my thigh hard, forcing tears to stream down my face. I wailed, “I’ll work hard to pay it back! If I don’t eat or drink for the next 27 years, I can pay off the principal! Please, just wait!” “What?!” The thug was furious. “27 years? Are you mocking me? I’m not waiting that long. Pay up now!” Uncle Rick started cursing at me. Aunt Pam joined in, sobbing, “Sister, control your kid! Is she trying to get my husband killed?” Mom was frantic. She took off her slipper and raised it to hit me. Penny threw herself over me. “Mommy, don’t hit Nora! Please!” I looked at my little sister, my heart aching. Other kids get love. We were born to be blood bags. I pushed Penny aside and threw myself at Mom’s legs, hugging them tight. “Mom! It’s my fault I’m useless! But we can’t let Uncle Rick die!” “He’s your baby brother! You have to help him!” Uncle Rick and Aunt Pam’s heads snapped toward us. They saw a new lifeline. “Sis! Nora is right. She’s too young to make real money, but you can!” “You guys own this house, you must have savings! Please, help us first!” Now, it was Mom’s turn to panic. 3 Uncle and Auntie played the family card hard, and I piled on the moral blackmail. “Mom, you always told us that we have to support our family no matter what. You said siblings are our backbone.” “Isn’t Uncle Rick your backbone? Are you just going to watch him die?” “If something happens to him, how will you face Grandma and Grandpa in the afterlife?” Mom’s face turned from green to purple. “Shut your mouth!” With a massive debt looming over her head, she forgot about the livestream. She raised her arm and smacked my back twice, hard. Years of farm work gave her a heavy hand; my back burned with pain. Penny cried and tried to stop her, but Mom shoved her to the ground. I clenched my fists and endured it. Born into this hellhole, I had no choice. I had to save myself. And I was going to take Penny with me. “I’m sorry, Mom! I won’t say anything else!” I sobbed. Then I looked at Uncle Rick. “I’m sorry, Uncle. We really can’t help. Mom has her own family to feed. She can’t save you.” Rick exploded. “Wang Xiuhua! I am your brother!” Mom’s face was red, but she stayed silent. The thugs saw that Rick wasn’t going to pay up anytime soon. The leader walked into the kitchen and came back with a meat cleaver. “No money today? I take a hand. Next week? I take a leg!!” I grabbed Penny, burying her face in my chest. “Penny, close your eyes. Don’t look.” Mom didn’t want the debt, but seeing the knife, she panicked and rushed forward to stop them. Aunt Pam grew a spine and joined the fray. The room erupted into chaos. Our furniture was smashed to pieces. In the scuffle, Mom got shoved hard and hit the back of her head on the floor. The floating comments rejoiced: [So satisfying! Karma comes fast!] [But the girl isn’t safe yet. The organ traffickers are still waiting outside!] I looked at Tyler, the family’s “Golden Child.” The person who loved him most was groaning on the floor in pain, but he was standing on a chair, cheering, “Yeah! Get him! Fight!” I silently pitied my mother for raising such a monster. But I grabbed his arm. [Go outside and find Dad! Now!] He curled his lip. “No way. Let them fight. If one dies, the rest go to jail. Cool.” [Wow. Just wow.] [Open your eyes, Mom! This is your precious son!] I suppressed the chill in my eyes. “This house is your inheritance, Tyler. If someone dies in here, the property value drops to zero! Go get Dad, now!” Only when his future assets were threatened did his expression change. Mom was still in the middle of the brawl, totally unaware. I watched the door intently. A few minutes later, the comments updated. [Oh snap.] [The Golden Child just got snatched.] [Mom dug her own grave. Her precious baby boy got taken by the traffickers she hired. Good luck explaining that to her husband!] I took a deep breath and called my dad. 4 By the time Dad got back, the thugs had trashed the place. Uncle and Auntie tried to beg for money again, but Dad chased them out with the meat cleaver. When I picked up the phone that was still livestreaming, the comments were going wild. [That man looks terrifying. Is he going to hit the kids? Someone call the cops!] [This woman is awful, but she doesn’t deserve to die. This family is a horror show. We don’t even know the address to send help!] I ended the stream. Mom and Dad? They fight, they break things, they make up. It wasn’t worth the police yet. Dad’s cursing filled the room. “Wang Xiuhua! You lost my son for that piece of trash brother of yours?!” “What? My son? Where is he?” Mom’s wailing and Dad’s screaming echoed. Penny shrank into my arms, looking at me with terrified eyes. “Sister, is Daddy going to hit us?” Seeing the bruises on her arm, I hugged her tighter. In this house, beatings were as common as dinner. “No. I’ll protect you.” The noise next door died down. Then, Dad kicked our door open. Bam! “You two useless girls! Why are you just sitting there? Go find your brother!” We scrambled out like we’d been granted amnesty. I took Penny to the river in the next village and we sat there all afternoon. We didn’t head back until it was pitch black. “Sister, if we don’t find him, will Mom and Dad be mad?” They would be furious. But right now, Dad had someone he hated more than us. He wouldn’t have time for us.

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During an interview, the host kept grilling me on why I broke up with my ex. I put on a pained expression and said, “I just couldn’t handle a long-distance relationship.” At that very moment, my ex was filming a farming reality show. He came back from the fields at midnight, saw the interview, and immediately raged on Twitter: “Bullsh*t. The walk between our dorms was five minutes. Five. Minutes. And you’re telling me you couldn’t handle the distance?” Consequently, the entire internet demanded I be shipped off to the farm. If we’re ranking toxicity, the host of a divorce variety show comes in second. No one dares to claim first place. They are ruthless. I get it. No sane celebrity wants to go on these shows. So when they finally caught a sucker like me, they had to dig for gold. She practically shoved the microphone down my throat. “So, Zoe, why exactly did you and your ex break up? We’re all dying to know.” I looked miserable on the outside, but inside, I was recycling every sad memory of my life just to keep from laughing. “I… I couldn’t handle the long distance.” She wouldn’t let it go. Thankfully, I was quick-witted and diverted the topic to another guest. But the unexpected happened. My chaotic ex responded. “Bullsh*t. The walk between our dorms was five minutes. Five. Minutes. And you’re telling me you couldn’t handle the distance?” The internet exploded. After all, Chase Sterling is a top-tier A-lister. I’m just a C-list actress. There’s no comparison. He came from a boy band, the most popular member by far. Now that his three-year contract is up and the group disbanded, his popularity has only skyrocketed. Every actress in Hollywood wants a scandal with him. It’s a faster way to get famous than actually acting. So when my agent slapped the contract for “Harvest Hearts”—a farming reality show—on my desk, I was stunned. I thought she and Chase had both lost their minds. “It’s because you have no filter,” she said. “Plus, Chase responded. You’re trending #1 worldwide. The internet is crowdfunding to send you to the farm.” I wanted to cry. Going on a reality show with my ex? That’s basically a death sentence. Especially with his fan base. I really can’t afford to offend him. I asked if I could skip it. My agent said no. She’d already signed the contract. So, she packed my bags overnight and shipped me off to the countryside. Before I left, she added, “I know it’s not appropriate for a girl to go alone, so I found you a companion.” I didn’t pay attention to her words. I was too busy panicking about seeing Chase again. It had been three years. The dirt roads in the countryside were unforgiving. My suitcase wouldn’t roll; I was basically dragging a dead body. I was dying of anxiety, but the camera crew just watched, refusing to help. Suddenly, a familiar, piercing voice rang in my ear. “Oh look, Princess Zoe can’t even walk. How precious.” My eyes widened. I looked up. Sienna?! Holy crap, why is she here? The whole industry knows we hate each other. She looked me up and down with disdain, then grabbed the handbag sitting on top of my suitcase. “Walk faster, short legs.” I opened my mouth to retort but couldn’t. Nobody can look at her 5’9″ model frame and argue about leg length. It didn’t matter. The rural dirt road punishes everyone equally. Soon, the wheels on both our suitcases were stuck in the mud. We were both ready to smash our luggage to pieces. Just as we were about to give up, a hand appeared in my field of vision, naturally taking the handle of my suitcase. I followed the hand up the arm. He was wearing a simple white T-shirt, thin lips pressed together, expression indifferent. “I got it.” I froze, letting him take it. My heart was trying to hammer its way out of my chest. It was Chase Sterling. Another guy took Sienna’s luggage, grinning at me. I recognized him. Jax. The youngest member of Chase’s old boy band. Following behind them, I heard Jax mumble, “Chase is such a dog. I ran over to help Zoe first, but he cut me off.” My footsteps faltered. But Chase didn’t say a word, just led me to the house. The live comments were scrolling across the screen: [My farming boy band has manners! Helping the girls with luggage!] [Chase took Zoe’s luggage!!] [Relax, guys. Zoe was in front, Chase was in front. It’s just geography. Don’t be delusional.] I realized the livestream had already started. The production team put us in the old accountant’s office. It hadn’t been renovated. Peeling paint, flying bugs, no cameras installed yet. Chase frowned and started cleaning. Sienna had already run off somewhere, too disgusted to stay. I started to help him in silence, but the moment I moved, he stopped me. “I never let you do this kind of work growing up, why start now? Go sit over there. I wiped the chair.” So I sat obediently and watched him clean. For a moment, it felt like the old Chase. Growing up, as long as Chase was around, I never had to lift a finger. He was a guy who couldn’t even take care of himself, yet he took care of me with meticulous precision. My nose stung, a wave of bitterness washing over me. If that incident hadn’t happened… Maybe I could have been with Chase forever. After cleaning, Chase pulled out his phone, looking a bit unnatural. “Add me back on WeChat.” I tilted my head, looking at him. He coughed lightly. “We spend most of our time in the fields. If you need something, just message.” I looked at him suspiciously. “Don’t you guys just yell across the field?” Chase touched his neck. “You’re a girl. You don’t have a loud voice.” I narrowed my eyes. Since we were kids, whenever he lied, he touched his neck. Uncomfortable under my gaze, he glared at me, raising a fist playfully. “Add me or I’ll beat you up.” I immediately scanned his QR code. A wise woman knows when to fold. Before leaving, Chase dropped a sentence: “Don’t overthink it. It’s just for work.” I shrugged, feigning indifference. “Oh. I didn’t.” The smile on his face instantly vanished. I was confused. Men. Who understands them? I sat on the bed and started unpacking. Sienna came back from wandering around, complaining the moment she stepped in. “What is this dump? I must have had bad karma in a past life to be stuck here with you.” She complained while making her bed, getting angrier by the second. “Ugh, this is annoying! Zoe, make my bed!” I realized then that Chase had only made my bed. I blinked, looking sincere. “I don’t know how.” Her eyes bugged out. Her expression was a masterpiece. I lowered my head. Boohoo, she’s cursing me out in her head, I just know it. In the end, she had to ask a production assistant for help. When the assistant left, she complimented my sheets. “Those blue fish sheets are cute.” I realized something. The sheets had a blue fish pattern. But I didn’t bring sheets. Chase brought them. Day two of farming. I was woken up at 5:30 AM. My brain was empty, and so was my stomach. I had heard them leave for the fields in my sleep, so I figured there was no breakfast left. I went to the kitchen. I planned to scavenge, but I found a bowl of soup covered in the corner. There was a sticky note: “Breakfast. Don’t die of hunger and blame us.” I knew that handwriting anywhere. Chase. I secretly pocketed the note and sat down to eat the wontons. Unfortunately, Sienna woke up. Chase had only left one bowl. Panicked, I pushed the remaining half-bowl toward Sienna. If I didn’t, she’d tear the roof off. She stared at the bowl, then at me. “Are these guys on a diet? They eat like birds?” I laughed awkwardly, secretly swallowing the wonton in my mouth. After breakfast, Sienna said she was going to balance the books. I had nothing to do, and going to the fields would just cause trouble. So I asked the director to take me to the market. I’d buy them some good food. “Boss, I’ll take all these fruits. And those vegetables.” I was a queen in the market. The livestream comments were flying. [Confirmed: Zoe is a 5-year Chase stan. These are all his favorites.] [OMG, she loves him so much. I’m crying. Get back together, please, do it for me.] [Wait, the director didn’t confiscate Zoe’s wallet? Did they finally grow a heart?] I clutched my wallet tightly. I had argued with the director for three hours to keep this money. On the way back, we passed a pharmacy. I snuck in when no one was looking. I bought a bunch of pain relief patches. Chase was visibly covered in bruises and scrapes. I was terrified he’d collapse in the field one day. Everyone had work to do. If he went down, his workload would fall on me and Sienna, the two idlers. I can’t handle hardship. So I had to buy him medicine. Yes, that’s exactly why. If Chase is healthy, I get to relax. “Harvest Hearts” operates on a model combining agriculture with a farm-to-table restaurant. But operations were tough in the beginning, so the restaurant guests were mostly celebrity friends. When I got back, I realized we had guests. “Zoe, how’s life treating you here?” Liam greeted me, and I snapped out of it. I ran over, surprised. “What are you doing here?” He smiled. “Heard you were farming. Came to see the spectacle.” I met Liam on a drama set. He took care of me during filming, and we stayed in touch. I checked the time and decided to start cooking. The girl who came with Liam was named Vanessa. I’d seen her on shows before, but we weren’t close. She eagerly came over to help. I was flattered. She seemed nice. “I see you bought celery. Chase loves celery. Let’s make a dish with it for lunch,” Vanessa said, waving a bunch of celery. My heart stuttered. I forced a smile. “You know Chase?” She nodded, looking nostalgic. “We filmed a web drama when he first debuted. I was his female lead. We were both idols then, knew nothing about acting. We spent every lunch break studying the script together.” It was a normal statement, but it stung. The comments added fuel to the fire: [Sobbing. I watched that drama! I shipped them so hard. I thought the ship sank, but it feels like they’ve been dating in secret!] [Chanessa is real! Rise, my ship!!] [They’re from the same agency, trained together before debut. Read between the lines, people!] I wanted to gouge my eyes out. Everyone started trickling back. Jax ran into the yard, shouting, “Zoe! Chase talked about you all morning!” I teased him. “Oh? What did he say?” He mimicked Chase’s deadpan face. “‘Zoe is an idiot. Can she even find breakfast? She’s dumb as a rock.’” Chase appeared behind him and smacked the back of his head. “Making up rumors about your brother? You want to die?” Jax shut up. Chase glanced at me. “He’s a kid. He talks nonsense.” I smiled and ignored him. “Zoe, want eggplant for lunch? I saw some ripe ones in the field,” Liam asked from behind. Before I could speak, Chase’s expression sharpened. “She’s allergic to eggplant.” Liam paused, looking at me for confirmation. I nodded, embarrassed. I hadn’t even reacted that fast myself. Vanessa smiled and took the eggplant. “Since Zoe is allergic, I’ll take these away.” I smiled at her and went to the stove. Just as I started to stir-fry, Chase snatched the spatula. “Go play outside. You don’t need to cook.” Wow, he’s looking down on me. I glared at him. “I can cook!” He glanced at me. “I know. But you don’t need to. The men in this house aren’t dead yet. This isn’t a place for you.” I blinked, my heart doing a little flip. Vanessa chimed in. “Chase is always like this, so considerate. Go play, Zoe. I’ll help here. I’ve done this before.” Chase was busy and didn’t seem to notice me, so I said “Oh” and backed out of the kitchen. As I passed him, I checked that no one was looking and shoved the pain patches into his pocket. “Payment for lunch.” I fled the kitchen. [Chase, you are too much!!] [Chanessa is so sweet, Mom & Dad energy! Zoe is like their kid, so cute!] [Zoe, what did you stuff in his pocket?! Mom does not approve!!] [Does anyone remember Zoe bought patches in town…] Watching the scrolling comments, I zoned out. This Chase x Vanessa ship came out of nowhere. I checked Twitter. They occupied three trending topics. Marketing accounts had released behind-the-scenes footage of them filming and training together over the last two days. It baited a lot of fans into shipping them. The hype was almost as big as when Chase responded to my interview… In the distance, Jax yelled, “Chase! We want spicy chicken today! Explosively spicy!” Chase nodded. Most of the ten guys on the show loved spicy food. I noticed almost every meal was spicy. Unfortunately, I can’t handle spice. So I snuck back to get my jar of chili-free mixing sauce. The comments asked what I was sneaking around for. I said I can’t eat spicy food, so I’m getting sauce for my rice. At lunch, Vanessa leaned toward Chase. “Chase, try the cucumber salad we made.” I pouted. “We” made? “I” is her. Who is “we”? Is saying my name embarrassing? Chase was talking to Jax. “I’m not eating…” I watched the refusal form on his lips, but when he saw the cucumber salad, he swallowed the words. “I’ll try it.” He reached out, took a bite, and paused. The atmosphere got weird. Vanessa asked with concern, “Is it bad? I didn’t taste it. Let me try.” She reached for her chopsticks, but Chase stopped her. “Don’t. The salt merchant must have died in this bowl.” Chase took another bite. “And there’s so much cilantro, just call it cilantro salad.” Another bite. “It takes talent to make cucumbers taste like this.”

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1 As the founder of my own small company, I was never stingy with my employees. When we cleared a million dollars in profit, I gave them $850,000 of it. I thought generosity would win their loyalty. Instead, they reported me to the Department of Labor. “We’ve received an anonymous complaint from an employee at your company,” the voice on the phone said, dripping with official boredom. “Allegations of arbitrary wage deductions and unfair profit distribution.” “Furthermore, claims of a chaotic work environment and forced overtime, in serious violation of labor laws. You are ordered to rectify these issues immediately.” “And you’re being fined fifty thousand dollars.” Fine. If they were so unhappy with my policies, then we would do things by the book. Just like every other company out there. And that million-dollar profit? They wouldn’t see a single cent of it. … I immediately called my assistant and had her draft a new set of company regulations. Then, I scheduled an all-hands meeting. The moment I stepped out of my office, I heard their whispers. “Hey, do you really think he’s going to give us 85% of the profits? Is that even possible?” “No way. It’s a no-brainer. What kind of boss is that nice? He’s just exaggerating for the press, trying to build a reputation. We’re just pawns in his PR game, you know?” “Exactly. All bosses are the same. I don’t buy this whole ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ act. Sure, he says we can be late or leave early, but we still have to make up the hours, don’t we?” “And letting us take salary advances whenever we want? He’s just trying to make us dependent on him so we can’t leave.” … Every carefully analyzed sentence was a blow. A cold weight settled in my stomach. I never imagined my kindness would be twisted into a manipulative tactic to buy loyalty. I had treated my employees with genuine respect, and in return, I got not loyalty, but suspicion. Betrayal. If that’s how they wanted it, then I was done being genuine. I quietly slipped back into my office. A few minutes later, my assistant came in with the newly printed company handbook. “Sir, the new company regulations are ready.” “Good. Announce the meeting.” “Yes, sir.” When I walked into the conference room, it was a cacophony of chatter. Before this, I’d never restricted their freedom, encouraging them to treat the office like a second home. The atmosphere had always been relaxed. “Hey, the boss said yesterday he was giving us that $850,000 bonus. You think today’s the day?” “Get ready for a payday!” I cleared my throat as I walked to the head of the table. “I’ve called this meeting to announce a major change,” I began, my voice ringing with a new authority. “The company has instituted a new set of rules and regulations.” “From this day forward, we will operate by these standards.” I had my assistant distribute a copy to everyone. Someone started reading it aloud. “Effective immediately, employees are not permitted to be late or leave early. All staff must adhere to the prescribed work hours. Violations will result in a fifty-dollar deduction from your paycheck. Furthermore, employees will be subject to monthly performance reviews. The lowest-performing employee each month will be terminated.” “No more salary advances?!” Shock rippled through the room. A woman named Lisa looked up at me. “Boss, is this some kind of joke?” “Yeah, sir, I thought we were getting our bonuses today.” “You’ve got a great sense of humor, boss, but it’s not April Fools’ Day.” … They were so sure. So certain I would never change a thing. The lively, casual atmosphere started to return. I slammed my hand on the table. The sharp crack silenced the room. “Quiet! In what company do employees chatter freely during a meeting?” After a beat of stunned silence, someone spoke up hesitantly. “But… we’ve always been like this, sir.” “That was then. The rules have changed.” “Starting today, everyone will strictly adhere to the new regulations, just like at any other company. No lateness, no leaving early.” “And that $850,000 profit share,” I said, letting the words hang in the air. “I’m canceling it.” A collective gasp went through the room. “What?!” One man shot to his feet. “Sir, you promised you would share that with us!” “Yeah, and what was wrong with the old system? Why change it?” One after another, they stood up, a united front of protest. My eyes scanned each of their faces. My probing had revealed the truth. It wasn’t just one person who had reported me. They had banded together. A conspiracy. And now they stood here, playing dumb, asking me why. How pathetic. “Are you the boss, or am I?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. “There will be no further discussion of unrelated matters in this meeting. Anyone who brings it up again will be docked fifty dollars.” That shut them up. I let out a cold, humorless laugh and turned to leave. They thought this was a shock? They had no idea what was coming. That same day, I had time clocks installed at the building entrance. The next morning, my assistant brought me the tardiness report. More than half the company was late. “Notify them. Fifty dollars deducted from their pay.” “And add a new rule. If anyone is late more than ten times in a month, they’re fired for gross negligence.” The moment my assistant relayed the message, my office door burst open. A dozen employees crowded inside. “Boss, we were only half an hour late. This is a bit extreme, don’t you think?” “Yeah, fifty bucks is my grocery money for a few days!” … I put down my pen and looked at them. “The new rules were made perfectly clear yesterday.” “Your failure to comply is not my problem.” “But—” They were stunned into silence. For the next few days, they were forced to wake up earlier, to cram onto buses and subways to get to work on time. The perks were gone. They couldn’t leave early and make up the time later. And now, the pressure of performance reviews loomed over them. The office, once a place of relaxed camaraderie, was now filled with grumbling and complaints. “Performance quotas? I’m screwed. I haven’t even hit my target for this month.” “You think he’s doing this on purpose? He made that grand promise about the $850,000, and now he’s trying to push us all out so he can keep it for himself.” “It’s possible. I’ve already been late six times. That’s three hundred bucks gone. Any more and I’ll be eating instant noodles for a month.” Suddenly, one of them slammed his fist on his desk. “Just you wait. If he’s going to make our lives hell, we’ll make his hell, too.” … I switched off the security feed. I’d seen enough. A few days later, I got another call from the Department of Labor. They had reported me again, this time for the new policies. I calmly submitted the new company handbook and the surveillance footage of employees clocking in and out. “Following your previous warning, we immediately revised our policies to be in line with industry standards,” I explained. “We now have performance reviews and mandatory clock-ins.” “All salaries are now calculated based on a fixed formula: base pay plus performance bonuses.” After confirming everything was in order, they ended the call. My employees, who had been eagerly awaiting my downfall, were gathered outside, gossiping. “Hey, you think he’s getting chewed out right now?” “Serves him right for docking our pay. He needs to learn he can’t just push us around.” “Damn right. And he pocketed our $850,000 bonus. I was counting on that for my mortgage payment.” Amid the chorus of agreement, one voice spoke up hesitantly. “I don’t know, guys. Reporting him behind his back seems kind of wrong. And the new rules are just like any other company’s. The old policies were actually great for us. Why did you guys have to report him?” The group immediately turned on him, calling him a corporate bootlicker. He fell silent and retreated to his desk. The others continued their chatter. Until I walked out of my office and stood before them. “It seems,” I said, my voice carrying across the suddenly silent office, “that everyone is quite displeased with me.” The chatter stopped. Eyes widened. They scrambled to their feet. “Boss! What are you doing out here?” “Hey, boss!” They plastered on fake smiles and crowded around me. Did they think I was deaf? I held up my phone and played the surveillance video of them bad-mouthing me. They froze. I was shocked. The one who was always kissing up to me, Leo Vance, was the one leading the charge. And the quietest one, David Chen, the one who always just did his work, was the only one who had defended me. “Boss, we were just joking around, and besides…” “You’re fired,” I said, looking directly at Leo. “Wh-what…?” He couldn’t believe it. I ignored him and walked over to David’s desk. “David, come with me.” I promoted David to Sales Manager. Leo’s position. When the news broke, Leo stormed into my office. “On what grounds are you giving my job to David? Just because I said a few things?” “Weren’t you the one who said we had freedom of speech in this company?” I looked at him coldly. “That was before.” “If you want to stay, then stay. If not, get out.” I had no mercy left for people like him. “You can’t fire me!” he roared. “I can,” I said flatly. “I’m the boss.” He slammed his fist on my desk and stormed out. His resignation was on my desk within the hour. The next morning, my name was all over the internet. My assistant frantically sent me the link. I clicked on it. The headline read: 【MY LIFE AS A CORPORATE SLAVE UNDER A PSYCHO BOSS】 In the video, Leo didn’t just attack my policies; he slandered my character, twisting the truth into a grotesque caricature. “You guys will not believe this,” he began, his voice thick with fake emotion. “I’ve worked at this company for five years. I’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into it. The company made millions, and the $850,000 bonus he promised us? Vanished into thin air. Not only that, but this psycho boss is using every dirty trick in the book to force us out.” “He’s pushed me to the brink. I had no choice but to resign.” In the video, Leo was a mess of tears and snot, painting a picture of a long-suffering martyr. It worked. The sympathy of fellow 9-to-5ers poured in. “OMG, that’s horrible! What company is this? Name and shame so we can avoid it!” “As a fellow worker, I feel this in my soul. These evil capitalists, what do they think we are, their slaves?” “Don’t worry, man. A company like that will go bankrupt soon enough.” … Tens of thousands of comments flooded the post. It went viral. Because of Leo’s video, my company was hit with a tidal wave of negative press. Our stock plummeted. Our reputation was in tatters. And Leo? He was thriving. He launched a live-streaming channel. He’d become an influencer. The viral video had gained him a massive following. He started selling products on his stream. “Sir, we tried contacting Leo,” my assistant reported. “He won’t pick up.” “He says you have to call him personally.” My patience was gone. “Sue him,” I told her. A few minutes later, Leo received the legal notice from the court. He immediately went live, crying to his audience again. “Guys, please, stop talking about my old boss and company in the comments. They’re going to sue me! I’m so scared! Oh no, please don’t come and get me!” Then his expression shifted into a smug, punchable grin. The comments section exploded. 【That’s right, stick it to him! Teach him not to mess with the working class!】 【Exactly! He thinks he can bully us?】 【Don’t be afraid, man. You already quit. What can he do to you?】 As the video’s popularity grew, and with Leo’s daily attacks, the company became a public enemy. The internet was flooded with posts trashing us. Some people even started protesting outside our office building. I finally called Leo myself. He let it ring for a long time before picking up with a lazy, “Yeah?” The fawning respect was completely gone. “Take down the post. Kill the trend. Issue a public clarification.” “Or you will regret this.” He just laughed. “Regret it? Mr. Sterling, I’m a huge influencer now. I could ruin your company with a few words. I think you’re the one who’s going to have regrets. Tell you what. You come to my studio right now, get on your knees, and apologize. Then maybe I’ll come back.” “Oh, and I’ll need triple my old salary. After all,” he said, his voice dripping with arrogance, “I’m a big deal now.” “Unbelievable!” I immediately instructed my assistant to have the PR department release a statement. But the moment it was posted, it was swarmed by Leo’s mindless fans. 【No performance reviews? Flexible hours? Who are you kidding? It’s obviously a soul-sucking sweatshop.】 【Yeah, right. You think we’re stupid? A capitalist is a capitalist.】 A moment later, my assistant came back. The post had been mass-reported and taken down. Worse, a mob of “righteous” netizens and reporters had surrounded our building. I gathered my remaining employees to go down and explain. The moment we stepped out of the lobby, we were swarmed. The air filled with insults. “Soulless boss! How do you sleep at night, getting rich off your employees’ sweat and blood?” “The company makes millions, but you can’t even spare a few hundred thousand for bonuses? You’re not human!” “Compensation! Compensate your employees now!” Reporters shoved cameras and microphones in my face. “Mr. Sterling, your former employee has claimed that you arbitrarily deduct wages and intentionally force employees out to avoid paying bonuses. Is this true?” “Mr. Sterling, we’ve heard that you demoted him and publicly humiliated him to avoid paying his salary. Can you comment?” “Mr. Sterling—” “None of that is true!” I roared. The crowd fell silent for a second. “Before this year, we paid out bonuses every single year. We’ve always shared 85% of the company’s profits with our employees, ever since we were founded. And our profits aren’t in the millions! This year, it was one million dollars.” “And I was going to give them $850,000 of it.” My words were met with jeers. “But you didn’t, did you? Stop with the fake charity!” “Yeah, talk is cheap!” “You dock pay for being a minute late, but you expect us to believe you’d give out bonuses? Only a fool would believe that.” “I didn’t dock their pay without reason! You can ask my employees!” I said, turning to the staff behind me. But they weren’t there. Leo had appeared at some point, and my employees were now standing with him. A reporter went over to them. “Is what your boss just said true?” Without a moment’s hesitation, they shook their heads. “They’ve used all sorts of excuses to dock my pay,” one said, playing the victim. “I’ve lost almost half my salary this month.” “Me too,” said another. Leo stepped forward, the picture of righteous indignation. “We are standing up today to fight for a better working environment for everyone! We shouldn’t have to live in fear of having our pay deducted, bound by all these ridiculous rules!” “Yeah! That’s right!” a cheer went up from the crowd. It was as if I was some irredeemable supervillain, and they were the heroes of justice. I laughed. “I admit it. I didn’t pay out the $850,000.” “See! See! What did I tell you?” “Still trying to act like a saint.” “But—” I paused, looking at the crowd. “There was a reason for it. If you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe this.” I took out my phone, pulled up the surveillance video from a few days ago, and hit play. The sound of their own voices filled the air. The crowd, which had been jeering moments before, fell silent.

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David returned from his business trip and slid a velvet box across the marble table. Inside nestled a pink diamond. My fingertips trembled slightly, but I kept my voice casual. “You’ve always only bid on top-tier Pigeon Blood rubies. Since when did you develop a taste for pink diamonds?” The hand loosening his tie froze. He snatched the box back, forcing a laugh. “Wrong one. That’s for Phillip. He asked me to pick up an engagement ring for his girlfriend.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead, his tone dripping with practiced tenderness. “Only the finest rubies are worthy of you, Evelyn. I’ll make it up to you next time.” A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. The next day, I bumped into Phillip’s girlfriend at a charity gala. Feigning casual conversation, I smiled. “Congratulations, I hear bells are ringing. You must save me a glass of champagne at the wedding.” She froze, her face draining of color. “Evelyn… Phillip and I broke up five months ago.” 1 The smile on my face stiffened into a mask. My heart missed a beat. I was reaching for my phone to demand an explanation from David when a girl in a simple white cotton dress walked into the high-end restaurant. She looked woefully out of place among the designer suits and silk gowns, her voice barely a whisper. “Hello, I’m here to pick up Mr. Sterling’s lunch order.” Mr. Sterling. David. I instinctively looked over. Our eyes met, and panic flashed through hers. She quickly averted her gaze and stammered to the waiter, “Actually, never mind. I’m the new intern at Sterling Corp. Mr. Sterling just messaged me with another task. Please deliver the lunch directly to the office tower.” Clutching her phone like a lifeline, she turned and hurried toward the exit. I stared at her retreating figure. She was quick on her feet, I’ll give her that. Claiming to be an intern. But she made a fatal mistake. David never hired female secretaries or personal assistants. And why would a regular intern be picking up his personal lunch? More importantly—why did she look at me with recognition? Realization hit me cold and hard. I grabbed my bag and followed her. She sensed me behind her, her pace quickening to a near run. Luck wasn’t on her side; not a single taxi was stopping. I stood right behind her, watching the sweat mat the baby hairs at her temples. finally, she couldn’t take the pressure. She spun around, biting her lip. “Excuse me, do you need a cab too? If you’re in a rush, you can take the first one.” She couldn’t even meet my eyes. I curved my lips into a faint smile, my gaze dropping to her hand. There it was. A top-tier Pigeon Blood ruby ring, a vintage design from the British Royal collection. It was exactly my taste. Back in university, David had sworn he would buy every ruby in the world for me. He said I was his sun, the most vibrant treasure in his life. And this girl? There was no way she could afford a piece like that on an intern’s salary. Noticing my stare, she hid her hand behind her back. “Staring is rude. If you don’t stop, I’ll call the police!” She was trying to muster anger to cover her fear. I laughed softly. “My apologies. I just have a weakness for rubies. Seeing a Royal collection piece in the wild… I got mesmerized.” I stepped closer. “I followed you because I recognized that ring from a recent London auction. Which family are you from? I don’t recall seeing you at the debutante balls.” She forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “I am… I…” She couldn’t get the words out. “I’m Evelyn Sterling. David Sterling’s wife. I’d love to make a new friend.” I extended my hand. Cornered, she had no choice. Her hand trembled as she took mine. “Daisy. Daisy Brooks.” Got her. I nodded politely, turned on my heel, and hailed the black town car that had just pulled up. The moment the heavy door clicked shut, my face dropped. I dialed my best friend, Harper. “I need a background check. Name is Daisy Brooks. Likely a fresh college grad.” “Also, pull David’s credit card statements from his trip to London. I want to know exactly what he bought at that charity auction.” Harper sounded groggy on the other end, woken from her beauty sleep. “Evie? What happened?” I pressed my lips together, tasting bitterness. “I think David is keeping a pet student on the side.” Two hours later, the dossier landed in my inbox. David’s paper trail was meticulous. Daisy Brooks was a scholarship student funded by my charity foundation. David had invested in a “startup studio” for her. Every penny went through corporate accounts, handled by the foundation’s staff. On paper, they had zero contact. Just a benevolent donor and a lucky recipient. And the ruby ring? The records showed it was won by a foreign buyer, not David. But my grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. The one thing she lied about was being a Sterling Corp intern. I texted Harper again: “Check the annual investment amount. And find out if she has any other sponsors.” I stared out the window at the concrete jungle of New York. There are no coincidences in this world. David, if I find out you’ve actually betrayed me… I will take fifteen years of history and five years of marriage and grind them into dust with my own hands. 2 That evening, David came home with my favorite strawberry tart from the French bakery downtown. He pulled me into a hug, burying his face in my neck. “Darling, staying up late working on designs again? You work too hard. Maybe you should skip the competition this year.” He sounded so genuinely concerned. But as he kissed my hair, I caught his eyes drifting toward my computer screen. My heart plummeted. “Why?” I looked up, feigning innocence, my finger tracing the innovative setting on the digital blueprint. “The ‘Solaris’ collection has been my baby for six months. You used to say I was radiant as the dawn. This collection is my fifth-anniversary gift to you.” David’s arm tightened around me. “I’m just worried about your health. You’ve been feeling under the weather lately. Awards don’t matter. You matter.” He kissed my forehead. His breath was warm, but beneath his expensive cologne, I caught it—the faint, cloying scent of gardenias. The same cheap perfume Daisy wore. Worried about my health? Bullshit. I gently pushed him away, picking up a spoon. The sweet cream tasted like ash in my mouth. “Well, if you’re that worried… I suppose I don’t have to enter under my own name…” He missed the sarcasm entirely. His eyes lit up with relief. “Exactly. Once you’re rested, we can try for a baby. Evelyn, we’ve been married five years. It’s time we had a family.” He glanced at my screen one last time before heading to the shower. I stared at the single bite taken out of the tart, a dull ache spreading through my chest. The next morning, Harper sent another file. “Daisy has no other backers. Sterling Corp gives her a stipend of $150k a year.” “But here’s the kicker: She’s registered for the ‘A-List Design Awards.’ Her studio doesn’t have the capital or resources to produce a full high-jewelry set. If something fishy is going on, David will make a move soon.” I put a tracker on David’s movements. Three days later, during his lunch break, he went to my private vault where I stored my raw gemstones. Then, he drove straight to Daisy’s shabby studio apartment. When I checked the vault later, a raw, uncut ruby the size of an infant’s fist was gone. Along with a set of rare yellow diamonds. He wasn’t just giving her the ring that was meant for me. He was tearing up the pavement of my road to pave hers. The last shred of hope in my heart withered and died. I sent the photos to Harper and told her to prep the lawyers. Harper was livid. “That little rat. She can’t design to save her life—I’ve seen her portfolio. It’s trash compared to yours. Evie, we are going to destroy her at the awards. We’ll make sure she never works in this town again.” A sudden, sickening thought struck me. I stood up so fast my chair tipped over. I grabbed my keys and raced home. The villa was silent. I crept toward my home office. The door was ajar. No one was there. My computer was cold, but the ergonomic chair was adjusted to a different height. I sat down and booted up the system. Ruby and yellow diamonds… Exact matches for the materials needed for the first piece in my “Solaris” collection. I frowned. Was I being paranoid? Then my eyes swept across the desk and locked onto something that made my blood freeze. The silver frame holding a photo of David and me had been knocked face down. And right there, on the polished mahogany desk where the frame used to stand, was a smudge. A handprint. Small. Delicate. Fingers curled inward, as if gripping the edge of the desk in… ecstasy. I stared at the mark. I scrubbed at it with my sleeve, but it felt like it was burned into the wood. They were here. On my desk. Stealing my designs, laughing at me, faking love, and fucking right on top of my work. My stomach violently rebelled. I stumbled into the en-suite bathroom, collapsing in front of the toilet, heaving until there was nothing left but bitter bile. I splashed freezing water on my face, staring at the ghost in the mirror, forcing myself to wake up.

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