Author: Momo Chan

I was pregnant with the devoted second male lead’s child. But when I was hemorrhaging during a difficult labor… He was by the female lead’s side, showering her with care and concern. I was in agony, my body slowly turning cold. The moment my soul left my body, I murmured a self-deprecating vow: “If I could do it all over again, I would never feel sorry for a man.” 1 I opened my eyes. I had been reborn, back to the beginning of the story. At that time, the male and female leads were at each other’s throats, looking like a classic bickering couple. And Liam Vance, the gentle second male lead, was the female lead, Chloe’s, childhood friend, always silently protecting her. In the book, he was the typical “beautiful, strong, and miserable” character. Raised by a single mother who was critically ill, he studied while working to support the family and pay for his mother’s medical bills. His life was a series of tragedies: his mother’s death, failing the college entrance exams, a failed startup… As the devoted second male lead, he was Chloe’s eternal safe harbor, her strongest shield. After the main couple got married, he went abroad, achieving the “forever alone” ending. He earned plenty of tears from the readers. I’ve always been a sucker for the gentle, devoted type. After finishing the novel, I couldn’t help but feel incredibly sorry for him. In my past life, after I died, I inexplicably transmigrated into the book as a beautiful background character. Reason told me not to get involved in their story, to just be a quiet extra. But feelings won over reason. Maybe out of pity, I couldn’t help but get close to Liam. I willingly protected him. I did everything I could to redeem him. I wanted to give him my whole heart. But everything I did couldn’t compare to Chloe’s tearful plea: “Liam, I miss you so much.” So Liam abandoned me in the hospital while I was waiting to give birth, rushing to comfort Chloe, who had run away after a fight with the male lead. Under the extreme emotional stress, my water broke prematurely. And then, I died on the cold operating table. 2 I actively distanced myself from the main cast. Liam quickly noticed something was wrong. After all, I had been the one thick-skinned enough to cling to him and force myself into their group. My sudden distance was obvious even to outsiders. My nerdy deskmate whispered to ask if I had fought with Liam and the others. I patted my workbook and smiled generously: “Of course not. I need to focus on my studies. Finals are coming up, and I don’t want to be at the bottom of the class again.” As soon as I said that, a piercing gaze shot at me from the front row. I didn’t need to guess to know it was Liam. He had been secretly watching me a lot these past few days, always looking like he wanted to say something but stopping himself. But he was clearly afraid Chloe would misunderstand something, so he didn’t dare approach me. In my past life, I was stupid and pathetic, thinking I could save him. I never expected to end up as such a joke. Now, I couldn’t even muster the energy for revenge. First, I didn’t want to have anything to do with the main characters anymore. Second, I really didn’t have the ambition or courage to be a villain. Current me just wanted to enjoy my wonderful life. After dying twice, I cherished being alive even more. Life is hard to come by. Whether in the real world or the book world, I had never truly lived freely. Before I transmigrated, I was my mom’s precious treasure. But back then, I had congenital leukemia. My dad ran away, and my mom had to work very, very hard to raise me alone. But later… I was only fifteen when I fell to my death. My mom must have been heartbroken. Thinking about it, my nose tingled, and I almost cried. Suddenly, Chloe’s sickly sweet voice sounded behind me: “Gwen, why haven’t you been hanging out with us lately? Did you fight with Liam?” I looked up and met Liam’s probing gaze not far away. The next second, I gave him the middle finger and mouthed: “Idiot.” His smile froze, staring at me in disbelief. 3 Looking at the female lead’s innocent expression, I smiled slightly. “Yeah, we fought. It was a huge fight.” “Huh? How did that happen?” She looked surprised, but there was a hint of secret joy in her eyes. She was young, after all; she hadn’t learned to hide her thoughts yet. “Because—” I acted very sad and angry, “I found out he likes you, so I don’t want to like him anymore.” Hearing this, Chloe’s face turned pale, and she nervously glanced around. After a while, she stammered a defense: “Ah, Gwen, w-what are you talking about!” “I’ve always seen Liam as a brother, and he definitely sees me as a sister too.” “We’re just very good friends, don’t talk nonsense…” As she spoke, she lost confidence, clearly guilty. It was kind of funny. Everyone could see Liam liked her. Did she really not notice at all? In the end, it was just using the “sibling” label to act like lovers. Not refusing, not initiating, not committing. As long as she didn’t break the window paper, she could unscrupulously enjoy Liam’s kindness. Too lazy to watch her face change colors, I grabbed my vocabulary book and went out to memorize words. I brushed past Liam, who was walking over. He tried to grab me. I spat out a pleasantry: “F*ck off!” The gentle smile on his face completely vanished, replaced by confusion in his slightly angry eyes. The male lead, Noah, came over to join the fun, wanting to mock Liam. Me: “You f*ck off too!” Useless idiot who can’t watch his own girl. I hated everyone in the main cast equally! Noah jumped, then resentfully turned back to Chloe. “Tigress! Did she eat dynamite?” I shoved past Liam, who was blocking my way, and quickly left the classroom. 4 For a few days, everyone stayed in their lanes. We were strangers. After school that day, I went to the alley as usual to feed Fatty. Fatty was a stray orange cat, very wary of humans. I planned to kidnap him home once he warmed up to me. In my past life, Chloe and I both wanted to adopt him. Fatty was about to go with me, but Liam intervened. After his repeated persuasion, I gave Fatty to Chloe. But because Noah didn’t like cats, she casually dumped the cat on Liam. So I took the chance to ask for him back. This time, I was definitely going to strike first. Just as I reached the alley entrance, I heard Chloe’s giggle. “Wow, Liam, this cat is so cute! I want to take it home…” I ran over and blocked her hand reaching for the cat. “Don’t touch! Fatty bites.” She withdrew her hand reluctantly and questioned me unhappily: “Oh, Gwen, is this your cat?” Funny, she changed her tune fast! Finally stopped calling me “Gwen-Gwen.” Sounded like a pigeon spirit. “Yes, my cat,” I answered expressionlessly, squatting down to put out cat food. Chloe bit her lip and said timidly, “But it looks like a stray. Why don’t you let me give it a home?” “No!” I refused flatly. “This is my cat. I’m taking him home.” I wouldn’t yield. And Chloe was dead set on having him. Liam looked at her with helplessness and affection. He said to me very politely: “Gwen, could you give this cat…” I couldn’t be bothered to waste words with them. I picked up Fatty and started walking. Strangely, Fatty didn’t struggle this time. He was unusually well-behaved. Seeing I was taking the cat, Chloe panicked. She whined, refusing to give up: “Liam, help me—” Liam sighed with a smile: “Tsk, I really can’t say no to you.” So he chased after me and blocked my way, putting on his usual gentle offensive. Looking at the boy with the warm smile in front of me, I hated him so much. It was this gentle and broken expression that made me fall for him again and again in my past life. I helped him through his mother’s death. I helped him through his failed exams. I gave him my heart and soul. It was clearly he who confessed to me first, making me have delusions I shouldn’t have had! It was clearly he who proposed to me, promising me forever. But why did he still have to be entangled with Chloe!? At this moment, the pain and sorrow of my past life surged into my heart. I couldn’t suppress the resentment anymore. Slap! I couldn’t control my hand and slapped him hard. “You spineless man!” “Ah! Gwen, how can you hit people!” Chloe screamed in anger. Liam’s head was knocked to the side. My nails scratched his chin, and beads of blood seeped out. I withdrew my hand, still unsatisfied. This slap was for your cold heart, for your fickleness. Chloe was heartbroken, righteously accusing me of being vicious, destroying what I couldn’t have. “Then call the police—” I retorted with a smile. “Also, what do you mean ‘destroy what I can’t have’? I don’t understand.” “Why don’t you explain the context to me, Chloe?” Ha, as if she could explain! If she explained, wouldn’t she be piercing the paper window right in front of him? How could she be “siblings” with Liam then! Sure enough, Chloe lost her momentum instantly, looking at me in panic, afraid I would say something I shouldn’t. Tsk tsk, she had a “guilty conscience.” But how could I possibly “remind” Liam? This was the fate he deserved! Remembering Nanny Wang was still waiting for me in the car, I took out a few hundred-dollar bills from my backpack. Because I didn’t want to get close to these two, the bills fluttered to the ground. “Liam, this is for medical expenses. Enough? If not, I’ll add more.” “Gwen, you’re going too far!” Chloe became angry out of shame again. “So what if you have money! Apologize to Liam right now!” I ignored her and sized up Liam. Even a clay figurine has some temper. The gentler and more amiable a person is, the more earth-shattering their anger. I knew him too well after being with him for so many years in my past life. What he hated most was having his dignity trampled on the ground. And now, I was doing exactly that. He was indeed angry, his face terrifyingly dark. Even though the anger in his eyes was about to burst out, he still smiled and comforted Chloe, saying it was okay. As expected of the devoted second male lead! I rolled my eyes and left with Fatty without looking back.

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Chapter 1 “Child, just stay. I’ll give you a hundred million dollars.” “No? Two hundred million then!” In the grand study of the Pierce Estate, Old Man Pierce sat in his mahogany chair, practically begging the young woman standing before him. I shook my head, sliding the astronomical check back across the desk. “Grandfather, I’m sorry. We agreed on six years. The time is up, my debt is paid, and it’s time for me to go.” My voice was soft, but there was steel in it. Seeing my resolve, the old man sighed heavily. “You’ve suffered these past years. Before you go, tell me what you want. Anything.” I was silent for a long time. Finally, I said, “I want you… to let Julian and Yara be together.” “You sent me to approach Julian to make him forget her. But six years later, you see the truth. Maybe true love really can’t be broken.” Old Man Pierce slumped, looking defeated. “Fine. I’m too old to fight them anymore. Let them ruin themselves if they want. As for the divorce… you’ll have to tell Julian yourself.” I nodded, bowed respectfully, and walked out the heavy oak doors. Sitting in my car, I took one last look at the estate. I first came here to repay a debt. I was an orphan, destined for a hard life, but the Pierce family sponsored my education. I skipped grades, worked myself to the bone, and earned my PhD from MIT by twenty-two. When I came to thank him, the old man made one request. “The Pierce family doesn’t need money. If you want to repay us, give me six years. Marry my heir, give him a child, and make him forget… his stepsister.” That’s when I learned Julian Pierce, the golden boy of New York business, was in love with his foster sister, Yara. He was willing to throw away his inheritance for her. The family had shipped Yara overseas to stop the scandal, leaving Julian a drunken wreck. To repay my debt, I agreed. I played the part of the devoted admirer. I married him. I gave him a son. For six years, I was the perfect wife. But the moment Yara returned from abroad, his buried love caught fire again. Even our son, Leo, who I’d raised with everything I had, started spending all his time with Yara, growing to despise me. The white moonlight never fades, I suppose. But it didn’t matter anymore. The contract was done. I was free. I pulled my gaze away from the rearview mirror just in time to see an out-of-control truck barreling toward me. CRASH. The world spun. Pain exploded in my skull. Then, darkness. When I woke up, the smell of disinfectant stung my nose. “You’re incredibly lucky,” a nurse said, checking my vitals. “Mild concussion. Everyone else in that pile-up on the highway didn’t make it. You’re the sole survivor.” I sat up, shaky. “Can I leave?” “Call your family to sign you out,” she said. I grabbed my phone and dialed Julian. It rang and rang. He didn’t pick up. Eventually, he started declining the calls. One, two, ten times. I switched to calling my son, Leo. Finally, a text popped up. [Stop annoying me! I’m busy. Make sure you have chicken soup ready when we get home.] The impatience was palpable. My five-year-old son, ordering me around like a servant. Outside the door, nurses were gossiping. “Mr. Pierce is so devoted. The woman barely had a scald from hot water—it would have healed if they waited five minutes—but he booked out the whole VIP floor. And his son is so cute, running around getting her water.” “You mean Mrs. Pierce?” “No, that’s his foster sister, Yara. Rumor has it they’re the real couple. He only married his current wife because she was sent away.” I smiled bitterly. So that’s what they were “busy” with. If I had died in that crash, would anyone have even come to identify the body? I looked at the nurse. “I don’t have any family. Can I sign for myself?” She looked at me with pity and handed me the clipboard. On my way out, I passed a VIP suite. Through the open door, I saw Julian and Leo sitting by a bed, peeling fruit, looking gentler than I had ever seen them. I watched for a moment, expressionless, then turned and walked away. Back at the villa, I pulled the divorce papers from a drawer. Julian had signed them years ago. “Stella,” he had said on our wedding night, cold and distant. “I know you’re obsessed with me, but I love someone else. If you ever want to leave, sign this.” I picked up a pen. Without hesitation, I signed my name: Stella Rourke. Chapter 2 Just as I finished, the front door opened. Julian walked in, holding Leo’s hand. They looked like a matched set in their bespoke suits—handsome, expensive, and cold. “Why did you call so many times?” Leo scowled. “Where’s the soup? Is that all you do all day, and you can’t even get that right?” “It’s on the stove,” I said calmly. Leo didn’t spare me another glance, running to the kitchen. Julian stepped forward, loosening his tie. “Leo is young. I’ll talk to him about his attitude.” I didn’t care anymore. Leo used to call me ‘Mommy.’ But since Yara returned, he treated me like the villain who kept his father and “Auntie Yara” apart. “No need,” I said. “Julian, I signed the papers. I don’t want the money, and I don’t want custody. Once the thirty-day cooling-off period is up, I’m gone.” Before Julian could respond, Leo came running back, hugging a thermos. “Daddy, let’s go! Auntie Yara must be scared all alone in the hospital!” Julian looked at me, distracted. “What did you say just now? I didn’t catch it.” He was looking right at me, but his mind was already back at the hospital. “Nothing,” I said. It didn’t matter if he heard. I was leaving anyway. I watched them rush out the door. They were gone for days. It gave me time. I submitted my resume to the National Research Institute. I was a prodigy once. My classmates were winning Nobel Prizes while I was playing house. It was time to go back. A few days later, my phone rang. “Stella! Is it true?” An old classmate’s voice buzzed with excitement. “The Professor hasn’t slept in days, he’s so happy you’re coming back! The academic world is going to shake!” I smiled, a genuine smile for the first time in years. “Yes. From now on, I’m dedicating my life to science. I don’t need anything else.” The front door opened. Julian and Leo walked in. “Don’t need what else?” Julian asked. Chapter 3 I hung up quickly. “Just old junk. I was cleaning out the closet.” Julian stared at me, suspicious, but I kept my face blank. “Why are you back?” I asked. “The food outside is terrible,” Leo complained, throwing his jacket on the sofa. “Go make me ribs. Now.” I looked at Julian. He said nothing, his silence endorsing his son’s demand. I went to the kitchen, feeling like a clown. Six years of being a wife and mother, and I had become nothing more than a live-in chef to them. During dinner, I spoke up. “You should hire the old staff back.” Julian frowned. He had fired the maids because he preferred my cooking and housekeeping. “Why?” “I’m leaving soon. You two need to get used to being taken care of by someone else.” “Leaving? To go where?” Julian scoffed. Leo rolled his eyes. “Are you throwing a tantrum because we took care of Auntie Yara? Where would you even go? You don’t have anywhere.” Julian looked at me. I had no family, no job history, no money of my own. In his eyes, I was helpless without him. He thought I was bluffing. “Stop talking nonsense,” Julian said, dismissing the topic. That night, lying in the same bed, he reached for me. His hand slid around my waist, his breath hot on my neck. “Yara…” he whispered in the dark. It wasn’t the first time. Every time we were intimate, he whispered her name. Disgust surged in my throat. I shoved him away hard. He looked at me, confused and annoyed. “What now?” “I’m sleeping in the guest room,” I said, grabbing a pillow and walking out. Chapter 4 The cold war lasted until Leo’s birthday. Julian threw a massive party. Yara was there, of course. I sat in the corner, watching my husband and son fawn over her. They looked like the perfect family. “Mr. Pierce, Mrs. Pierce,” a guest greeted Julian and Yara. Julian paused. This was the fiftieth time it had happened tonight. He glanced at me in the corner. I was looking down at my phone. “Yara isn’t my wife,” Julian corrected gently. “She’s my… sister.” Later, the guests gossiped. “That woman in the corner is the real wife? That’s pathetic.” I ignored them. When it was time for gifts, I handed Leo a key. “Your gift is in the safe. This is the key.” Inside were gifts for the next eighteen years. I wouldn’t be there to give them. Leo didn’t even look at it. He tossed the key onto a side table. “Whatever. I don’t have time for this.” “Leo, be polite,” Julian chided half-heartedly. “It’s fine,” I said. Leo ran to Yara. “Auntie Yara! What did you get me?” Yara produced a cheap storybook, unwrapped. Leo held it like it was gold. “I love it! Thank you!” Then came the cake. Leo closed his eyes to make a wish. “I wish Auntie Yara could be my mommy, and stay with Daddy forever!” The room went dead silent. “Leo!” Julian warned. “Why not?” Leo shouted. “I saw the letters in your study, Dad! You love her! Stella is just a glorified nanny! Why can’t you be with Auntie Yara?” Yara turned to Julian, eyes brimming with tears. “Julian… is it true? You never forgot me?” Julian looked at her, then at the silent crowd. Finally, he looked at me. I stood there, impassive. He turned back to Yara. “Yes. I never forgot you. Not for a second.” Chapter 5 Chaos erupted. Suddenly, a crash. Someone bumped the champagne tower. Yara was standing right under it. “Yara!” “Auntie!” Julian and Leo lunged forward. I was standing in their path. They shoved me. Hard. I lost my balance and fell backward, crashing into a table of glassware. Shards of glass sliced into my arms and legs. Champagne soaked my dress. Blood pooled around me. Across the room, Julian was holding Yara. A single champagne flute had grazed her arm. A tiny scratch. “Yara, you’re bleeding!” Julian panicked. “We need to get to the hospital!” Leo screamed. Julian picked her up and rushed out. Leo followed. They ran right past me. Julian glanced down for a split second, saw me lying in broken glass and blood, and hesitated. “I have to get Yara to the ER. You… call a cab.” Then he was gone. I lay there, bleeding, and laughed until I cried. Then I called 911. At the hospital, I was being wheeled into surgery when Julian and Leo appeared. “Yara needs blood!” Julian grabbed my arm. “She has a clotting disorder. The blood bank is low. You have the same type. Come with me.” The doctor tried to stop him. “Mr. Pierce, your wife has severe lacerations and significant blood loss. She can’t donate—” “It’s just a little blood!” Leo yelled. “Auntie Yara could die! How can she compare to Auntie Yara?” I looked at my son. The boy I birthed. The boy I loved. “She’s more important than my life?” I asked. “Yes!” Leo screamed. “Take it! Take all of it!” Julian didn’t speak. He just dragged me to the donation room. As the needle pierced my vein, I felt the last thread of attachment snap. I watched my blood fill the bag. “More,” Julian told the nurse. “Just to be safe.” The darkness took me.

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On my eighteenth birthday, all I wanted was a slice of cream cake. Instead, because I didn’t crack the top ten in my mock exams, my mother told me I might as well be dead. I sat on the rooftop, crying quietly. The firefighters spent ages trying to talk me down. But my mom? She slapped me across the face, shoving me while screaming, “Why don’t you jump? Go ahead, jump!” She pushed too hard. I fell. The firefighter broke down in tears. On my eighteenth birthday, the results of the second mock exam came out. I choked. I ranked eighteenth in my grade. The moment I saw the ranking, I started shaking. Nausea roiled in my stomach, spasms racking my body. I almost threw up. My mother’s voice crashed through my mind like a nightmare. “Lily, you are my pride. You must study hard. Don’t disappoint me!” “Lily, everyone laughs at me for not having a son. But I will prove to them that my daughter is ten thousand times better than their sons!” “Lily, if you dare slack off, I will die right in front of you. I will die with my eyes open!” … Cold sweat broke out on my skin. My face felt unnaturally hot, my breathing ragged. Eighteenth. If I didn’t make the top ten, Mom would go crazy. After school, I walked home in silence. Up ahead, I saw a girl throw herself into her mother’s arms, sobbing about how poorly she did on a test. Her mother hugged her tight, saying it didn’t matter, that she could just try harder next time. I clearly saw her mother wipe a tear from her eye. She was crying, too. My heart clenched. Why was it so easy for other mothers to cry for their daughters? Over the years, I had become obsessed with other mothers’ tears. The neighbor would tear up when her daughter scraped her knee. My desk mate’s mom would cry just seeing her daughter had lost a little weight. The single mom who ran the convenience store downstairs would often touch her daughter’s face with misty eyes. Why? Why was it so easy for them? Back home, the table was set with steaming dishes and my favorite cream cake. Mom had prepared it specially for me. She ran out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her weathered face was lit up with an expectant smile. “Lily, save the cake for later. How did you do? Did you make the top ten?” I kept my head down, my mind a chaotic mess, still thinking about other mothers’ tears. “Speak, Lily. What was your rank?” Mom stopped smiling. Her thin frame seemed to hunch over, her expression hardening instantly. “Eighteenth,” I whispered, my throat feeling like it was filled with lead. My fingers trembled. I added hurriedly, “Mom, I promise I’ll make the top ten next time!” I fantasized that she would comfort me. That she would urge me to eat the cake. That she would say it was okay, just do better next time. But she said nothing. She just stared at me, her eyes slowly turning red. Not from sadness. From rage. “Lily, good for you. You’re getting worse and worse. Are you studying with your ass?” Mom screamed, “Tell me, how are you studying? Do you know how hard I work for you? I get up before dawn to work. Look at my hands!” She thrust her hands out. They were covered in deep, jagged cracks—scars of years of hard labor, healing and splitting open again and again. “Look closely! All of this is for you! To pay rent, to buy food, to buy you clothes!” She pressed her palms right in front of my face, panting. Then she pointed at the door. “Do you know what people say about me? That I can’t have a son! All our relatives have sons, except me!” “My only hope is you. You must get into Harvard or Stanford! You must make something of yourself! Do you understand?!” This was the craziest she had ever been. Because the SATs were approaching, and she was more anxious than anyone. If I failed, her life would dim forever. She would lose the last bit of pride keeping her upright. I squatted on the floor and cried. The image of other mothers’ tears filled my mind again. Why was it so easy for them? “Mom… if I were a boy… would I not have to work this hard?” I finally asked the question I had buried deep in my heart. Since I was little, I wondered why I always had to be compared to other people’s sons. I was a girl. “You have the nerve to ask? If you were a son, would people look down on me?!” It was like I poked her rawest wound. She roared, “I’m the only one in the village without a son! The only one in the family! Do you know how people stab me in the back?!” “They say you’re a money-losing investment! If you don’t make me proud, who will?!” She spoke her truth. Tears streamed down my face. “I’m not a money-losing investment… I don’t want to be compared to boys anymore. I’m so tired…” “Tired? What work have you done? Do you know I work until I cough blood every day? What right do you have to be tired?” She raised her hand to slap me. I looked at her. “So tired… tired enough to die…” “Then go die! Go die!” The slap didn’t land, but her disappointment was crushing. She flipped the table. Dishes crashed. Food scattered everywhere. Mom stormed into her room and slammed the door. I stood there, lost. I stood for a long time, then turned and walked toward the roof. The sunset was beautiful. I stood on the roof, looking down at the traffic, listening to distant laughter. I felt dazed. So tired. Even standing was tiring. So I sat down. I sat on the edge of the low, old rooftop, my legs dangling over the seven-story drop. Down on the street, someone spotted me and screamed. “Look! Someone’s going to jump!” Gazes turned upward, shocked and chaotic. I snapped back to reality. Oh, they think I’m going to jump. “Little girl, don’t jump! You’re so young!” “Don’t move! Go back inside!” People shouted at me, concerned and anxious. My heart warmed slightly, then ached even more. Why did strangers care more than my own mother? I wasn’t going to jump. I just wanted to sit here. I wanted to wait for Mom’s concern. Ideally, her tears. I wanted her to cry for me just once. The firefighters came. They inflated a cushion below. Several firefighters came up to the roof. The neighbors were all alerted, peeking from the stairwell. I watched them silently. I watched the firefighters getting closer. “Little girl, don’t be impulsive. Calm down first…” A young firefighter raised his hand, greeting me gently. I sat silently. He kept talking to me, trying to soothe me, distract me. But I had no emotions left. His words spun around in my ears and floated away. He talked until his lips were dry. Then my mom came up. The firefighters brought her to talk me down. But she was shocked and furious. She pointed at me in disbelief. “Lily Lin, you want to jump? Are you crazy?” “Ma’am, please calm down. We need to stabilize your daughter’s emotions,” the firefighter signaled her to stop. Mom took a deep breath. Her eyes turned red again. She held out her hands once more, showing those gnarly scars. “Lily, look at my hands. Where have I failed you? You just have to study! How does that make you tired enough to die?” She questioned me, urgent and angry. My heart trembled. I didn’t want to see her hands. I didn’t want to see them at all. Those hands crushed me. They were her suffering, her sacrifice for me. Seeing them made me feel guilty and sad. I had failed her. “Little girl, your mom loves you very much. She was crying when she heard you were up here. That’s why we let her up,” another firefighter said, giving the first one a look. The young firefighter stepped closer tentatively, reaching out. “Is the study pressure too much? It’s okay. We’ll talk to your mom. She’s wrong, but she has a sharp tongue and a soft heart. Look how worried she is…” He turned to my mom. “Ma’am, you love your daughter very much, right?” Mom pursed her lips, took a deep breath. “Yes. Lily, come down.” Mom admitted she loved me. I finally got a shred of concern. My heart loosened, and tears poured out uncontrollably. The firefighter seized the moment, grabbed me, and pulled me down. He exhaled a long breath, patting my head. “Okay, okay. Don’t think silly thoughts.” I said ‘okay’ in my heart, looking at Mom through my tears. Even though she still hadn’t cried for me, I really wanted to hug her. She rushed over and slapped me across the face. Her face was tight with rage, eyes bulging, veins throbbing in her neck. “Lily, jump then! Why aren’t you jumping? You ungrateful thing, where do you get the nerve to act like this?” I was stunned. The firefighters were stunned. “How did I give birth to such an ignorant thing? Are you only happy when you’ve completely humiliated me?” Mom roared. She screamed at me, at the firefighters, then over the edge at the crowd below. “Come look, everyone! I don’t care about my face anymore! My daughter is so filial, jumping off a building!” A deep chill settled in my bones. I suddenly realized that saving face was what mattered most to her. I was a girl, so I was shameful. I wasn’t better than my relatives’ sons, so I was shameful. My suicide attempt caused a scene, so I was shameful. “Mom, so you want me to jump,” my tears stopped strangely. My voice was dry, my eyes dull. “Yes, jump! You’re an embarrassment!” She kept cursing, shoving me with both hands. “Jump! I raised you for nothing! Jump!” She was frantic, seemingly forgetting how low the parapet was on this cheap rental, forgetting I was right next to the edge. Her shove sent my body tilting backward. My center of gravity shifted over the abyss. In the next instant, I fell. The last thing I saw was Mom’s face morphing from rage to pure horror. Seven stories. Twenty-one meters. Two seconds of free fall. Maybe two seconds. One breath. Smack. I hit the ground. My eighteen years of life, smashed onto the pavement. Pushed by my own mother. Flesh tore, bones snapped, blood seeped from every pore… “Ah!” Screams erupted. The street was in chaos. People recoiled in horror. The firefighters manning the cushion rushed over—I hadn’t landed in the center. I clipped the edge and hit the ground, blood staining the side of the yellow plastic. I didn’t die immediately. I hit an awning on the way down, so my legs and hips took the impact. I was groggy. I didn’t feel much pain, just exhaustion. Bone-deep tiredness. Then, lightness. So light. My body and soul felt weightless, like a dandelion seed floating on the asphalt. “Little sister!” The young firefighter from the roof burst out of the stairwell. He was sweating profusely, face pale, eyes full of disbelief and confusion. “Don’t touch her! Ambulance!” another firefighter yelled, holding back the crowd. The young firefighter didn’t come close. He just stood there staring at me, shaking uncontrollably. He seemed to care about me. I felt a trace of joy. Someone cared. Maybe he was a rookie. Maybe I was the first person he tried to save. Too bad I failed him. “I saved her… I had her…” he stammered, trembling. His colleagues held him back, shielding his eyes. The ambulance arrived. I was lifted onto a stretcher in a daze. Or maybe scooped up. My lower body was shattered. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was Mom. Where was she? I wanted to see Mom. I wanted to see her cry. That was my only wish left. Mom, please cry. Finally, she appeared. She walked out holding the wall for support, her face blank and numb. People made way for her like she was a plague. She saw me on the stretcher and stood there, dazed. Was she in shock? “Why did you push your daughter?! Are you human?!” The young firefighter saw her and snapped. He screamed, eyes red, pointing a shaking finger at her. Mom flinched, like her soul slammed back into her body. Realization hit. Her face went paler than death, then flushed an unnatural waxy red. Her breathing hitched, like she couldn’t catch air. “I talked her down! Why did you push her?! Why?!” He was still screaming, tears streaming down his face. My weightless soul felt another flicker of joy. Someone was crying for me. But why wasn’t it Mom? Mom didn’t cry. She bit her lip until it bled, clenching her fists until the veins popped. She walked toward me, step by stiff step. Like a broken robot. “Drive! Family, get in!” the medic shouted. The ambulance was leaving. Mom took two quick steps, stumbling, almost falling. She was finally close enough. She could see me. I started hallucinating. Was I still alive? Were my eyes open? Was it me looking at her, or my soul? Mom was pushed into the ambulance by a firefighter. She squatted stiffly beside me, staring stiffly at me. Her lip was bitten through, bleeding. Her arms were rigid. But still, she didn’t cry.

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This was the seventh time I’d tried to save the tortured, self-loathing male lead. And for the seventh time, he jumped off the roof. Before he died, he arranged everything perfectly. He considered everyone, even his former bullies. Xavier even left a note absolving them of any guilt to prevent them from getting canceled on social media after his death. Just like the six times before, Xavier left gently. He tried to take care of everyone until the very end. So, at the funeral, everyone mourned him. They were regretful, heartbroken, devastated. Everyone except me. Because this time, I was pregnant. I had knelt on the ground, begging Xavier not to give up, begging him not to leave me and our child. But Xavier just gave me that sad, beautiful smile and said, “I’m sorry.” Then I lost my husband, and my child lost his father. I asked the System: Can I stop saving the male lead? I’m done. The System ignored me and booted up the eighth loop. I opened my eyes and found myself back in the high school classroom. I looked over at the corner. There was Xavier, the pathetic little outcast, drenched in dirty mop water thrown by the school bullies. I stood up. I saw the faint glimmer of hope in his eyes as he looked at me. Then, I walked right past him. I walked straight up to his stepbrother—the bully leading the pack—and looked into the boy’s malicious eyes. “Kill me.” I stared him down. “Or get me the hell out of here.” 1 Xander’s expression froze. Then, he let out an exaggerated, mocking laugh. “Gwen, did you sleep your brain away during lunch? ‘Kill you’? What are you, some kind of emo drama queen?” I didn’t say anything. I just watched him quietly. Gradually, Xander stopped laughing. He looked into my eyes, then abruptly looked away, unsettled. “…Shit. You’re freaking me out.” I kept staring at him stubbornly. Because I knew Xander could do it. In the future, Xavier’s stepbrother would become a murderer. Right now, though, High School Xander just kicked over the mop bucket his friend was holding. “This vibe is cursed. Show’s over. Everyone get lost!” Before leaving, Xander glanced back at me a few times. His brows furrowed, like he wanted to say something but held back. In the corner, that figure was curled up in a ball. High school Xavier was skinny. His skeletal frame looked even more fragile wrapped in the soaked uniform. Dirty water dripped from his black hair, sliding down his sharp brow bone and crashing onto the floor, drop by drop. He just looked up at me like that, his dark, wet eyes unblinking. His pupils constricted slightly, like he’d just seen a ghost. Memories hit me like a tidal wave. Every loop started with this scene. Usually, I would rush over immediately. I’d spread my arms and shield Xavier. I’d scream at Xander and his goons to back off. “Tch—Gwen, playing the saint again?” Xander would sneer. “Hey Xavier, look at you. Hiding behind a woman? Pathetic.” And when I finally chased them away and turned around… Xavier would always look up at me with those dark eyes. Like a puppy left out in the rain. It made my heart ache and swell at the same time. Then I would carefully help him up, whisper comforting words, and take him to the sink to clean up… But this time was different. My gaze lingered on Xavier’s dark eyes for half a second. I saw the expectation he hadn’t had time to hide, the confusion about why I wasn’t moving. And the lingering, shattered shimmer of tears. Then, I lifted my foot. And I stepped around him. I didn’t pause. I walked straight back to my desk and sat down. I took out the textbook for the next period and smoothed it out in front of me. I didn’t look back. Finally, the warning bell rang through the school. In the corner, the figure moved. Xavier’s upturned head slowly, inch by inch, dropped down. 2 Class started. Xavier returned to his seat in the back row. The wet uniform clung to his back, outlining his shoulder blades. From the teacher’s podium, you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. But the teacher said nothing. Because Xavier and Xander… they were technically family now. The homeroom teacher had tried calling the parents before—Xavier’s father, who was also Xander’s stepfather. The father’s attitude was to turn a blind eye, clearly favoring his stepson, Xander. The result? Xander’s bullying didn’t stop; it got worse. Since then, no teacher bothered. In the adult world, difficult problems are easily filed away as “family matters.” Right now, I was staring at my textbook, but I couldn’t read a word. Originally, I accepted the System’s contract on my hospital bed to come to this world. The System promised that if I completed the mission, my illness in the real world would be cured. I thought saving a gentle boy would be easy. For the first three loops, I stayed by Xavier’s side as a friend. I blocked the bullies, listened to his fears, and shared every bit of happiness I could find. I naively thought friendship was enough to pull Xavier out of the abyss. But at the end of every loop, all I got was a cold funeral invitation. And a handwritten letter: [Gwen, you were my best friend. Thank you. Please be happy.] So clean. So gentle. He thought of everyone else, but forgot to leave a way out for himself. In the fourth loop, I realized my feelings for Xavier weren’t just pity. I fell in love with the boy who would give me his only umbrella in the rain and run home soaking wet. The boy who remembered my period, carried spare pads, and silently carried my heavy books. I loved his kindness toward a cruel world. I even loved his bone-deep insecurity and sensitivity. From then on, I gave it everything. I used all my love, my optimism, my passion. I tried to light a bonfire in his dark world that would never go out. I confessed. We dated. We moved in together. Xavier would sit by the bed watching me sleep, kissing me gently when I woke up. He loved hugging me from behind, burying his face in my neck, whispering: “Gwen… meeting you was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me.” I thought he was healed. I thought this time, we could grow old together. But his death always came without warning. One day, Xavier would be wearing the bunny apron I chose, face flushed from the steam in the kitchen, asking, “Gwen, do you want steamed fish or braised fish tomorrow?” The next day, I’d find an empty bottle of sleeping pills beside his cold body. One night, we’d be cuddling, his warm breath on my neck. The next morning, the space beside me would be empty, and the smell of blood would drift from the bathroom. Beside his body, there was always a small wooden box. The first time I saw it, Xavier took out a yellowed piece of paper. One glance, and the color drained from his face. I asked him what it was. He immediately put the paper back, gave me a reassuring smile, and said it was nothing. The next day, he turned on the gas in a sealed room. Since then, I desperately tried to find that box. I wanted to know what was written on that paper, what words had the power to push him to death again and again. But I never found it. Until the seventh time. The last time. We had come so far. We were married. Xavier smiled genuinely more and more often. That afternoon, I came back from the hospital, hugging the ultrasound report, wanting to surprise him. And then I saw it. Xavier was standing by the window, holding that piece of paper I knew too well. The joy froze on my face. It took everything I had not to scream, rush over, snatch the paper, and tear it to shreds. “Xavier…” My voice trembled. “I’m… pregnant. Do you want to see our baby?” Xavier looked so pale by the window, like a flicker of light in the snow, ready to melt away. He turned, backlit by the sun, wearing that familiar, tragic smile. “Yeah. In a bit.” My world collapsed. “Xavier!!” I shook the report frantically, tears streaming down my face. “Isn’t this enough?! Don’t you look forward to our baby? What is on that paper? Even if it’s a curse, so what? I’m here! I’m here! We can start over!” In that moment, the fragile air around him shattered. He rushed over and hugged me, apologizing over and over. He held me so tight, as if trying to embed me into his bones. But the next day, he still jumped from the roof of that building. I loved him, saved him, pulled him out of the abyss time and time again. And every time, he chose to jump back in. My effort, my endurance… it was all for nothing. RIIING— The harsh bell snapped me out of my memories. SLAM! A hand slammed onto my desk, making my pencil case jump. A shadow fell over me. I looked up and saw Xander. One hand in his pocket, leaning forward, looking down at me. Two buttons of his uniform were undone, showing his collarbones. His hair was getting long, black strands falling into his eyes. “Hey, Gwen.” His voice was lazy, carrying a rogue-ish edge. “That stuff you said before class… ‘take me away’… what did that mean?” Xander paused, then smirked, revealing sharp canine teeth. “You don’t… have a crush on me, do you?” 3 Xander burst into loud, mocking laughter. “Trying to get my attention with that? Pretty unique. I almost bought it. But your acting is seriously—” “Yeah.” I said. Xander’s laughter choked off into a cough. He straightened up immediately. “Cough! You… you said ‘yeah’?” I didn’t look away. Yeah. I give up. I don’t want to save Xavier anymore. I just want to be free from this endless loop. “If I say I like you, will you kill me later?” “…” Xander froze. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. A few seconds later, a flush crept up his neck, burning his ears and spreading to his cheeks. The classroom went silent. Everyone was staring, eyes wide with gossip. Only from the back row came the screech of a chair being dragged. Xavier, who had been hanging his head, now buried his face completely in his arms. His uniform was half-dry, the muscles in his back tight and trembling. “You…” Xander took half a step back. He finally found his voice, but it was loud and cracked. “Are you f*cking crazy?! You’re just a kid, why—why are you always talking about death! You think it’s edgy? There’s a limit to being an emo teenager!” His friend next to him burst out laughing at Xander’s flustered state. Xander snapped like a cat whose tail got stepped on and kicked his friend in the shin. “Laugh at your mom! Shut up!” He was humiliated. I looked at this loud, blustering boy. But in my mind, I saw a different image. Years later. An afternoon. Adult Xander, being escorted out of an apartment building by two officers. Hands cuffed behind his back, stained with dark, drying blood. The onlookers whispered one word: Murderer. The last time I saw Xander, he smiled at me through the police car window. “…Hey! Why are you spacing out?” Present-day Xander poked my forehead. He looked fierce, but his touch was light. “What is your deal? Is this how people confess these days?” He pulled his hand back and ruffled his own hair aggressively, making it even messier. “Say something!” Suddenly, a harsh screech came from the back of the room. The sound of a chair hitting the floor. Everyone turned to look. Xavier was standing up, leaning forward, hand still pushing the desk. His chair was toppled over behind him. Meeting my eyes, Xavier froze, like a kicked dog. Then he panicked, bending down clumsily to pick up the chair. He kept his head down the whole time, hair hiding his face. Once the chair was upright, he didn’t look at anyone. He turned and rushed out of the classroom. “…” Seeing this, the blush on Xander’s face faded. He stared coldly at Xavier’s retreating back and spat out one word: “Freak.” 4 Lunchtime. The cafeteria was a chaotic din. Xander slammed his tray down on the table, jerking his chin at the student sitting next to me. “Move.” The student didn’t argue and scrambled away. Xander sat down heavily. “Hey, Emo Girl. You planning to keep that depressed face all day?” He stabbed at a green pepper on his tray but kept glancing at me. “I’m telling you, the gym rep from the other class? He gave one of our guys a bloody nose last week. Yesterday after school, I cornered him. Guess what? He peed his pants. Hilarious, right?” He kept talking, moving a spare rib from his tray to mine. “Eat. Lunch lady had a shaky hand today, gave me extra meat.” I didn’t touch the rib. I didn’t look at him. Xander tapped his tray with his chopsticks. “What’s with the face? Food sucks? Or do you lose your appetite looking at me?” Xander talked until his mouth was dry. My tray was empty. I wiped my mouth, stood up, and picked up my tray to leave. “Hey! You’re done already? That rib…” Xander tried to talk with his mouth full. I didn’t look back, walking toward the return window. Just as I got close, a figure stood up from a nearby table and followed me. Head down, back slightly hunched, shoulders drawn in. His uniform still had water stains. Xavier. I could feel him behind me. Not too close, not too far. Step for step. Suddenly, a sneaker shot out from the side, blocking Xavier’s path. Xavier was caught off guard. He pitched forward, about to face-plant onto the greasy floor. The students around him were already laughing. Subconsciously, I shot my arm out to catch him— It was pure muscle memory from seven lifetimes of protecting him. My hand hovered for a second. The exhaustion of futility washed over me, and I started to pull back. But a hand grabbed my wrist faster. It was cold, bony, and gripping tight. Xavier used my meager support to steady himself. The students waiting for the show booed in disappointment. I stared at the person in front of me. Xavier was still holding my wrist. He looked up. Those pitch-black eyes were terrifyingly bright. Like he was overwhelmed by an undeserved favor. Xavier’s lips moved. Very softly, very slowly, he choked out words that were almost drowned by the noise: “…Thank… you…” At that moment, Xander rushed over with his unfinished tray. “What the hell are you doing?” His eyes locked onto Xavier’s hand on my wrist. His face went black. “Let go!” Xavier didn’t let go. He stood his ground, unmoving, staring straight at me. The look in his eyes was heavy. “Gwen… Gwen.” He whispered my name. Raspy. Trembling. “I… I think I have… a lot of new memories.” “In the future… we have a baby, don’t we?”

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This year, I scored a 600 on the SATs. So, I took a knife and held my entire high school hostage. Why? Because this is my third time taking the test, and every single time, my score has been swapped. Over a thousand students and teachers are locked in the auditorium with me. The doors are sealed shut. I shouted my demands to the police outside: “You have 30 minutes to bring me the person who swapped my test. For every minute over the deadline, I kill one person.” Countless parents collapsed outside, kneeling on the pavement, screaming that I was taking my anger out on the innocent, begging me to let their children go. I didn’t blink. I pressed the blade against a student’s throat. “One minute has already passed. I only want the person who stole my score.” I know they’re here. The person who stole my future is in this school. 1 Three minutes ago, the principal was still looking down his nose at me, graciously offering to let me repeat my senior year for free—for the fourth time. I took out my knife and stabbed him in the arm. When I pulled it out, warm blood sprayed all over him. The principal screamed, clutching his wound and cursing me out. “Sarah, have you lost your mind? I told you, no one swapped your test! We showed you the exam booklet! It has your name and your student ID!” “I’ve already called the police! Unless you want to rot in prison, let us go!” I toyed with the knife, my expression cold. “When I walked in here today, I didn’t plan on walking out alive.” “Taking you all down with me? That’s a fair trade.” Outside the sealed doors, a voice boomed from a megaphone. I recognized it immediately—Officer Miller. “Sarah, don’t do anything rash! We’re already investigating your claim about the swapped test. Let the hostages go first, and we promise we’ll find the truth.” I scoffed. Did he really think I was that stupid? This year was my third time taking the SATs. I’ve always been a straight-A student. Top of my class since kindergarten. Everyone expected me to be valedictorian, to get a perfect score. But when the results came back the first time? 1000. I thought I choked. I chose to repeat the year without hesitation. Second time? 900. I wasn’t willing to accept that. I took it a third time. This time, I memorized every answer I put down. I checked them against the answer key released later. I calculated my score. It should have been near perfect. 1580 at least. But when the results came out? Six. Hundred. I couldn’t even get into community college with that. I couldn’t understand it. Until I demanded to see my exam booklet. The handwriting wasn’t mine. The answers weren’t mine. That wasn’t my test. I went to the police. But the investigation went nowhere. It just… disappeared. I yelled at the security camera, “I want to see the person who swapped my test. If I don’t see them in 30 minutes, I kill one person every minute after that.” Hearing the dead seriousness in my voice, Officer Miller’s tone darkened. “Sarah, I know you’re upset about failing. But this is a major accusation. We can’t solve it in a day.” “That’s a ‘you’ problem,” I said coldly. “I only care about results.” Miller choked. He tried a different angle. “These are your classmates and teachers in there. Do you really have the heart to hurt them?” I sneered. “Whether they live or die isn’t up to me. It’s up to you. You have 25 minutes left.” 2 News spread fast. Parents were gathering outside the school gates. Hearing my ultimatum over the megaphone, they were losing it. “Don’t do this! My kid didn’t do anything to you! Don’t hurt him!” “What are the police doing?! Why aren’t you storming in there?! If anything happens to my daughter, I’ll sue you all!” Officer Miller looked pained. He rushed toward the auditorium doors. But I’d prepared. The doors and windows were sealed with heavy steel plates. Not even a fly could get in. The only way in was if I opened the door myself. Seeing Miller wasting time banging on the steel, I reminded him, “23 minutes.” Miller’s face fell. He started barking orders into his radio, then turned back to try and talk me down. “Sarah. When you filed the report, we investigated. The handwriting on the test matched yours. No one can swap a test perfectly without a trace.” He hesitated. His implication was clear: That 600 score IS yours. Seeing I didn’t respond, he continued, “I know your family is struggling. I promise you, we will set up a scholarship fund for you. We’ll pay for your tutoring until you get into college.” Hearing this, the desperate parents outside started shouting too. “I’ll pay for your tuition! Just don’t hurt my kid!” “I’ll hire the best private tutors for you! You’ll get in next year for sure! Just let my son go!” “I run a prep school! I’ll give you free classes!” Hearing these offers, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted. But then I remembered—if I couldn’t find the person swapping the tests, it wouldn’t matter if I took the SATs a hundred times. They’d just swap it again. My heart turned to ice. I took a deep breath and shouted at the camera, “I don’t want your money! I want the person who stole my score!” Miller cursed under his breath. “There is no person! Who are we supposed to find?!” “Are you going to kill all these people over a delusion?” I laughed coldly. “The one killing them is you. Find the person, and I let them go.” SATs are secure. The chain of custody is tight. The person who could swap a test isn’t some random nobody. I couldn’t find them on my own. I needed the police. Miller was furious and helpless. I ignored him and turned my gaze back to the auditorium. My eyes landed on the principal. “Principal Henderson. If you tell me who swapped my test, I’ll let you walk out of here right now. Deal?” A flicker of temptation crossed Henderson’s face, but he shook his head quickly. “No one swapped your test, Sarah. Stop this madness.” I didn’t blink. I was just calculating where to cut him to make him talk. Just as I raised the knife, a voice came from outside. “Sarah… baby, please stop. It’s okay if you don’t go to college. Mom and Dad will take care of you forever.” It was my parents. My blood boiled. I couldn’t believe Miller dragged them here from the hospital. Five years ago, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Three years later, Mom got kidney failure. We sold everything we had to keep them alive. I needed to get into a top university. I needed a good job to pay their medical bills. My parents rambled on, crying and begging. When I didn’t answer, they looked nervously at Miller. Miller encouraged them, “Keep talking. You have to talk her out. If she kills someone, her life is over.” My parents nodded and opened their mouths again. But then they saw me dragging a half-conscious student to the door. Through the crack in the steel plates, Miller saw me press the knife against the girl’s neck. His pupils shrank. Fear washed over his face. “What are you doing?! Don’t!” I looked at him dead in the eye. “You have time to fetch my sick parents, but no time to find the culprit? Guess you don’t care about these hostages.” Before Miller could react, I plunged the knife into the student’s chest. 3 I twisted the blade in the wound. She screamed. Blood poured down her chest, pooling on the floor and seeping under the door to the outside. Seeing the blood, the crowd outside exploded. “She killed her! Oh my god, she’s crazy! Help!” “Dammit! What are the cops doing?! Go in there! She’s killing them!” “Break the door down! There’s hundreds of us and one of her!” I smiled a twisted smile, staring right at Miller. “I drugged the water supply hours ago. They can barely lift a finger. You want to bet who’s faster? Your breach team, or my knife?” Miller’s face was red with rage. “You dare threaten a police officer? You really are insane!” I didn’t flinch. I pulled the knife out and stabbed again. And again. Into her stomach. Her screams went from piercing to a gurgle, then silence. Miller turned pale. “Fuck!” “Stop! Don’t hurt her! We’ll find the person! We’ll find them!” I pulled the knife out and looked through the crack. “15 minutes left. If you don’t have the culprit by then, she bleeds out.” “She’s the first. But she won’t be the last.” Miller had been hoping I was bluffing. Now that hope was gone. He took a deep breath. “We will find the person. But she needs medical attention now. Can you let her go?” “No,” I said flatly. “If you don’t find the person, you watch her die.” Miller was sweating. He consulted with the SWAT team about breaching. The expert shook his head. “She’s too smart. She fortified the place. Like she said, the moment we breach, the hostages die.” Miller slammed his fist on the table, eyes bloodshot. Too many hostages. One wrong move and it’s a massacre. His orders were to protect the hostages at all costs. As for Sarah… shoot to kill if necessary. Miller wanted to take the shot, but I was using the hostages as shields. Parents who saw the carnage were trying to rush the police line. A huge man grabbed Miller by the collar. “My daughter is in there with that psycho! And you’re just standing here?! If anything happens to her, I will end you!” “You guys have guns! Go in there and trade places with my kid!” Looking at the parents who wanted to tie up the cops and offer them as tribute, Miller felt a chill in his heart. He forced himself to calm down, reassuring them he would get the kids out. Just then, my voice rang out again. “Ten minutes.” 4 Miller met my cold gaze and muttered, “Lunatic.” I smirked. “You people made me this way. If you don’t find the person who stole my life, I’ll show you what a real lunatic looks like.” Miller stopped hoping for mercy. He turned to the forensics team. “Anything?!” The tech looked miserable. “We reviewed all the surveillance footage from the testing center. Nothing. The chain of custody is unbroken. That test is hers.” “She just can’t accept that she failed three times. She’s delusional.” Miller knew that was the most likely explanation. But right now, with a knife at a kid’s throat, “you’re delusional” wasn’t going to cut it. “Are you sure? Nothing weird? No gaps?” The tech shook his head, then paused. “Well… there is a blind spot in the hallway camera when the tests were being moved to the secure office. Just thirty seconds. But… no one can swap a test in thirty seconds, right?” Miller’s face hardened. “This is life or death. Check it again. Start from that blind spot.” I looked at the timer on my phone. Three minutes left. I dragged five students and two teachers to the door. Through the crack, the crowd could see everything. “Three minutes left. Who should go next?” I ran the dull side of the knife across their throats, one by one. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. A few parents recognized their kids and collapsed, kowtowing on the asphalt. “Please! Kill me instead! Let my baby go!” “I’ll give you anything! Money! Anything!” “You want to go to college? I’ll buy a building for Harvard! Just let him go!” I didn’t blink. “Two minutes.” A furious dad jumped up. “Bitch! If you touch a hair on my kid’s head, I will haunt you from hell!” “Useless cops! Do something! She’s going to kill them all!” My tone didn’t change. “One minute. Officer Miller, you disappoint me.” Miller was frantic. “Wait! Don’t! We have a lead! We’re almost there!” “Three. Two. One.” I flipped the knife and drove it into a boy’s chest. He convulsed for a second and went still. His mother fainted instantly. The crowd erupted. Curses and screams washed over me like a tidal wave. Miller’s eyes were crimson. “Sarah! How dare you!” I pulled the knife out, wiping it on the boy’s shirt. “Now, I kill one person every minute until you bring me the culprit.” I stood over another student, counting down ten seconds in my head. Just as I raised the knife, a siren wailed. A police cruiser screeched to a halt. Miller’s face lit up. “Sarah! We found him! We found the guy who swapped your tests for the last three years!” “This time, you can go to your dream college!” A lump formed in my throat. Three years. Finally. Miller dragged a man out of the car. He was handcuffed, a black hood over his head. My palms were sweating against the door handle. I stared at the hooded figure, heart pounding. Impossible. How could it be him? Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I looked at the text message. My blood ran cold.

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My mother picked two potential marriage candidates for my brother and me. One was a wealthy socialite from a prominent family, her eyes always following my brother. The other, left for me, was the daughter of a scholarly family. She was in a wheelchair, blind. I didn’t look down on her because of it. Instead, I took her to the best doctors I could find. I spent all my savings and worked tirelessly to support her. Every doctor said there was nothing physically wrong with her legs; it might be psychological. So I took her to the seaside to feel the breeze. I took her to see rivers, mountains, and flowers blooming in spring. Until my brother and I were kidnapped. When the kidnapper’s knife was about to pierce my brother’s chest, she sprinted over and yanked me directly in front of him. I watched helplessly as the blade pierced my heart. As countless bodyguards rushed in calling her “Miss,” I finally realized the truth. She wasn’t crippled. She wasn’t blind. She wasn’t from some modest scholarly family. She just didn’t want to stand by my side. She didn’t want to see me. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “My family is the richest in the city. My father wanted me to feign illness to test for true love.” “You passed the test, but I couldn’t fall in love with you. Even if Ryan didn’t choose me, I couldn’t let him die.” “I owe you. I’ll repay you in the next life.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother chose our brides. 1 In the living room, Mom was smiling, entertaining two women. One was Fiona, sitting in a wheelchair. The other was Hannah, dressed in luxury brands. Just like in my previous life, my brother Ryan’s eyes were glued to Hannah. My younger brother, Lucas, who always enjoyed watching the drama, noticed my pale face and started teasing. “Is this even a choice? Big brother dresses so tacky, he’s a perfect match for the blind girl.” “Ryan has always been the school heartthrob. We can’t let him go to waste on a cripple.” I clenched my fists. “So you think your big brother, who paid for your food and drinks, deserves to be wasted on someone?” “Don’t forget how you survived until now!” Ryan and Lucas were twins, three years younger than me. Since childhood, our parents instilled one thought in me: as the eldest brother, I had to be like a father, caring for my brothers and supporting the family. So, any good food went to them first. New clothes went to them. Even when Lucas needed a kidney transplant, I was the donor. Now Lucas wanted to marry a rich girl but couldn’t afford the dowry. Mom shamelessly contacted the Fu and Han families, whom we hadn’t spoken to in over a decade, demanding they honor an old engagement promise made by the elders. They planned to use the dowry money Ryan and I received to pay for Lucas’s wedding. Since I was reborn, I had nothing to lose. “I choose Hannah. Or I won’t marry!” Everyone froze. Ryan turned red with anxiety. I had never spoken so forcefully in this house, nor had I ever fought for anything he wanted. He immediately looked at Hannah for help. Hannah got the message, sitting next to Ryan and leaning into his arms. “Ryan and I fell in love at first sight. I trust that as his big brother, you wouldn’t break us apart, right?” Ryan held her hand tightly, eyes teary. “You know I can’t take care of people. I can’t live with Fiona. If her condition worsens, I’ll feel guilty. Brother, you studied Chinese medicine with Grandpa. If you marry her and cure her, it would be a good deed.” I glanced at the silent Fiona, a smirk forming on my lips. “So you’ve decided on Hannah, right?” He nodded. Dad quickly hammered the final nail. “Alright, it’s settled then.” But the next second, Fiona moved. She lifted her pale hand, removed her sunglasses, revealing bright, clear eyes. Then, she stood up from her wheelchair. She walked past me straight to Ryan, smiling. “You don’t need to worry about taking care of me. I was just joking with everyone earlier. Although I’m not from Seaview City, my father is the richest man in Rivertown. If you marry me, you’ll live very well.” “Ryan, can you give me a chance to pursue you?” I sneered internally. So she was reborn too. That made things easier. 2 While everyone was shocked by the turn of events, I spoke up. “Dad, since that’s the case, I’m not marrying anyone. As for how much dowry you can get from them, that’s up to your skills.” Dad looked awkward. One was the son of the richest man in Rivertown, the other from a prominent family in Seaview City. He couldn’t afford to offend either. And just then, Hannah’s competitive streak kicked in. She stood up, meeting Fiona’s gaze. “A gentleman doesn’t steal what others love. Do you understand that?” Fiona didn’t back down. “Who he loves is up to Ryan to decide, isn’t it?” Then she smiled beautifully, looking at Ryan with utmost tenderness. “Do you remember when we were kids in Seaview City? My grandfather set up a chess game under a tree. You solved it in less than an hour. You were the only one.” “I was amazed by your wisdom back then and swore I wouldn’t marry anyone but you.” “Don’t feel pressured. I’ll compete fairly with Hannah. Whoever you choose in the end, I’ll respect it.” In my past life, I died not knowing why she loved Ryan so deeply. Hearing it now, I just found it laughable. I was the one who solved that chess game. I couldn’t blame her for the mistake. Back then, I was malnourished, giving all my food to my brothers. I wasn’t even as tall as Ryan. But I was too lazy to reveal the truth. It was boring. Seeing Ryan nod, Hannah looked displeased but agreed. From now on, it wasn’t a battle for a boyfriend, but a battle between the prominent families of Rivertown and Seaview City. Seeing enough of the drama, I got up to go to my room, but Dad stopped me. “Where are you going?” “Oh, I’m leaving this house to find Grandpa.” “You’re not going anywhere! If you leave, who will they marry?” I scoffed. “Dad, do you want both rich daughters-in-law? If it really doesn’t work out, why don’t you marry one? I don’t pick up other people’s leftovers.” I went to my room to pack. Grandpa had cut ties with our family long ago. Twenty years ago, my mom, greedy for money, boasted that Grandpa could bring the dead back to life and insisted on bringing a corpse for treatment. She almost ruined his reputation. Grandpa kicked her out and severed all ties. Only after I grew up did I sneak out to visit him. I had a talent for Chinese medicine. In my past life, I could have inherited Grandpa’s legacy. But because I married Fiona, I had to give it up. I was exhausted working multiple jobs to pay for her medical bills and save up to take her traveling. So this time, I was going to live for myself. 3 After packing, I ran to the community gate to hail a taxi. But Fiona blocked my way, standing right in front of me. This was the first time I stood next to her standing up. She was tall, her appearance perfect. Too bad her heart was rotten. “Liam, you were reborn too, right?” I met her gaze, neither humble nor arrogant. “Yes. I remember every cold look you gave me, every lie you told me, and the pain of that knife piercing my heart!” She sighed slightly. “I’m sorry.” “Save your cheap apologies! I will never forgive you! Move, get out of my way.” Suddenly, her hand clamped onto my arm like a vise. “You can’t leave.” The next second, two bodyguards dragged me into a car. I was taken to a villa, heavily guarded. “Fiona, what the hell are you doing! I’m not interfering with you and Ryan, why are you keeping me here!” “Liam, in my last life I said I would compensate you. If he doesn’t choose me this time, I’ll marry you and ensure you live in luxury for the rest of your life.” I scoffed. “And if he chooses you?” “Then I’ll give you a sum of money and let you go. For now, I need you to help me pursue him. Tell me everything he likes.” “Tell me what he likes to eat first. I invited him here for dinner. I’m going to cook.” Even though I was filled with hate, seeing how much she cared about Ryan still hurt. I bit my lip, refusing to speak, but her nails dug deep into my flesh. I winced and spoke. “Expensive. The more expensive, the better!” While she was in the kitchen, I looked around the house, thinking of a way to escape. Soon, the doorbell rang. Ryan stood there in a decent casual suit, looking boyish. Fiona welcomed him with a smile. He thanked her in a pinched voice, then saw me standing there. “Why are you here!” Fiona quickly explained for me. “He’s here to help me pursue you. I figured your brother would know your preferences.” Although his eyes were full of disgust, he had to pretend to be moved. “Fiona, you’re so thoughtful.” After sitting down, I unceremoniously devoured the airlifted lobster and king crab. Ryan, however, kept checking his phone. Soon, it rang urgently. “Hello Mom, don’t panic, what happened?” “What? I’ll be right there.” After hanging up, he suddenly knelt before me. “Brother, Lucas needs a kidney transplant. Help him, please. You can’t watch him die.” My mind went blank. I remembered clearly that after the last surgery, the doctor said Lucas recovered very well and wouldn’t relapse. “You’re a match too. Why don’t you donate?” But Ryan acted like he didn’t hear me, kowtowing repeatedly. “Brother, please, save him.” Fiona pulled him up heartache, hugging him. Then she glared at me. “You are so selfish!” She dragged Ryan away, not forgetting to order the bodyguards to watch me closely. 4 I was locked in a room on the third floor. Pounding on the door was useless. I found a trophy and smashed the window without hesitation. Looking down from the third floor, my legs went weak. I closed my eyes and jumped. But luck wasn’t on my side. I hit the ground hard, breaking my ribs. The pain was suffocating. Fiona walked over. I instinctively begged for help. “Send… send me to the hospital.” But her voice was freezing. “You’re not going anywhere. Wait here to donate your kidney to your brother.” I looked at her in disbelief, tears falling uncontrollably. “I only have one kidney left. If I give it to him, I’ll die.” “Yes, I know.” My heart turned completely cold. “This is your compensation to me?” “I’m sorry. I don’t want to see Ryan sad. Consider it another debt I owe you.” I lay in bed for days. My injuries healed slowly, but my life was counting down. Waiting for death filled me with despair. Five days later, Ryan walked into my room alone. Seeing me strapped to the bed, he laughed loudly. “Brother, since you’re dying, I’ll tell you. The person who needs the kidney is the guy Lucas hit with his car. Coincidentally, he’s a match with you.” Tears streamed down my face. “I’ve been good to you since we were kids. Why are you doing this to me?” He glared at me viciously. “Blame Fiona. If she were really crippled, I would have let you have her. But she’s not, so I want both!” I closed my eyes in sorrow. He untied me. I stood up and followed him slowly. When we reached the door, I suddenly shoved him out with all my strength and locked the door. I picked up the gasoline I had prepared by the bed, splashed it on the floor, and lit a match. Ryan pounded on the door frantically. “What are you doing? You can’t die! I’m calling Fiona right now!” My indifferent voice came from inside. “I’ve already called the police. If you don’t want Fiona to know you two conspired to trick her, you better pray I burn to death!” Sure enough, the noise outside stopped immediately. I stood in the dancing flames, laughing at the sky. Finally, I’m free. Goodbye, world that was never kind to me.

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The engagement party was winding down. I went to the lounge to find Richard, but stopped short when I heard his drunken voice slurring to a friend. “I don’t love Kelly. The woman I want to marry is Ava. You get me?” His friend sighed. “Then marry Ava. Why go through with an engagement to Kelly?” Richard mumbled, his words thick with alcohol and resentment. “My family demands a match of equals. They’d never let Ava into the Monroe family. But Kelly… she loves me, her family is perfect, my parents approve…” I lowered my eyes, swallowing the bitter taste that rose in my throat. It was true, I loved Richard. But my family, the Langstons, had no shortage of suitors. 1 I gathered the hem of my gown, ready to leave, when I heard his friend speak again. “Keep your voice down. What if Kelly hears you?” I froze, wanting to hear his answer. A moment later, Richard’s voice rose to a shout. “Let her hear! What’s she going to do? She loves me so much, she’d never leave me!” “You have no idea how suffocated I feel. When we were making the toasts tonight… God, I wished it was Ava standing next to me.” “Listen to me,” he said, his voice cracking. “Marry someone you love. Otherwise, you’ll end up miserable, just like me…” A smile, more painful than a sob, twisted my lips. I never knew. I never knew that Richard had agreed to be with me, to propose to me, under such a cloud of misery. My nose tingled, a hot sting behind my eyes. I turned to go and walked straight into a waiter. The hangover-remedy soup I’d ordered for Richard sloshed all over my expensive gown. The waiter began to apologize profusely. “It’s fine,” I said, my voice hollow. “Don’t bother making another one. Just… pretend I was never here.” I had arranged for the soup earlier, watching Richard knock back glass after glass. I thought he was happy. How utterly laughable I was. The waiter tried to say something else, but I was already walking away. I sat in my car for a long time, the world outside a silent blur. Then, I made a call. “The wedding in two months… can you be my groom?” The person on the other end was silent for a long moment. Then, a single word. “Yes.” My grandfather’s health was failing; the doctors had only given him a few years. His greatest wish was to see me married. As long as I was married, my uncles couldn’t touch the inheritance my parents had left me. That’s why, when Richard proposed, I’d said yes. But tonight, I learned the truth of his private agony. I drove back to the house we were supposed to share, our future home, but my heart felt like a hollow cavern. Just a few days ago, I had been excitedly telling the designer exactly how I wanted every room to look. In the living room stood several large suitcases I’d had delivered, still unpacked. Now, it seemed, they would be leaving with me. A dead calm settled over me. It was love at first sight for me with Richard. Our relationship was engineered by his family, a perfect strategic match. At first, he was polite but distant. Then, slowly, he began to return my affection. I thought… I thought he was falling in love with me. Richard’s call came while I was in the middle of ripping our enormous engagement portrait off the bedroom wall. I answered, and his heavy breathing filled the line. “They said you left early. Why didn’t you wait for me?” “Just tired,” I said coolly. He was quiet for a few seconds. “I have something to take care of tonight, so I won’t be coming back. I’ll pick you up for breakfast in the morning.” “Fine.” Tonight was meant to be our first night together in our new home. As soon as he hung up, I drove back to my own apartment and started searching for my important documents. I couldn’t find them anywhere. Then I remembered—I’d brought my birth certificate and passport to Richard’s apartment, thinking it would be more convenient for applying for the marriage license. Since that was off the table, I needed to get them back. The next morning, I drove to Richard’s downtown apartment. He often worked late at the office and wouldn’t come back until the afternoon. But when I opened the door with my key, the first thing I saw was a pair of long, bare legs. Ava, his secretary, was standing there wearing one of my shirts—one I had bought for Richard. Our eyes met. 2 So this was the “something” he had to take care of. “Kelly…” Ava stared at me, her eyes wide with shock. The egg she was frying in the pan began to smoke. “Where’s Richard?” I asked, my voice flat. “He’s… still sleeping.” She bit her lip, a picture of innocent chagrin. The scene was surreal: my fiancé’s secretary, wearing his shirt, making him breakfast in his apartment. But after overhearing his confession last night, my heart felt little more than a dull ache. There was no room for shock. I started toward the bedroom, but Ava blocked my path. “Kelly, this is all my fault,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “I had too much to drink, and Richard was just worried about me. I was the one who initiated things. It’s all on me. You can hit me, scream at me, just please don’t blame Richard.” By the end of her speech, she was sobbing. I tried to step around her, but she grabbed my arm. I shook her off, and with a sudden shriek, she stumbled backward and collapsed onto the floor. Before I could even react, Richard burst out of the bedroom and shoved me hard. My back slammed against the sharp corner of a console table. A jolt of intense pain shot through me, and I gasped. He wasn’t even dressed, just wearing a pair of boxers. A cluster of fresh red marks on his neck burned into my vision. “Kelly! If you have a problem, take it up with me! Don’t you dare touch Ava! I can explain everything.” Explain? Explain why he was sleeping with his secretary? I opened my mouth to speak, but my gaze fell on a bracelet on Ava’s wrist. It was the Monroe family heirloom. Richard’s grandmother had given it to me, a tradition for every bride who married into the family. A priceless piece of jewelry, now on Ava’s wrist. I stepped forward to get a closer look, but Ava shrank away like I was a monster, hiding behind Richard. “Please, don’t hit me again,” she whimpered. Her shoulders trembled as she cried, the very image of a victim. Richard shielded her, his face dark with fury. “It’s just a bracelet, Kelly. As the future Mrs. Monroe, you shouldn’t be so petty.” So it was true. The bracelet I treasured, the symbol of my place in his family, had been given to her. “If you want to marry her,” I said, my voice steady, “I will step aside.” Richard flinched. The reality of his family’s opposition hit him, and his expression turned blacker than the burnt egg in the pan. “Kelly, it’s a stupid bracelet! If she wants to wear it, let her. I already owe her so much. Can you just stop making things harder for me?” I looked at his heaving chest and realized something with stark clarity: the absence of love is deafeningly obvious. With me, his emotions were always muted, a calm, placid surface. He rarely got angry. But now, for another woman, his face was a mask of cold fury. The realization sent my heart plummeting. A profound exhaustion washed over me. “I’m just here to get my things. I’ll be gone in a minute.” I came out with my documents, and Richard stared at me, his brow furrowed. “What do you need those for?” To marry someone else. To be with someone else. But I saw no need to tell him that. “It’s none of your business.” He instinctively started to follow me to the door, but Ava’s weak, wounded voice called out from behind him. “Richard…” He stopped dead in his tracks and watched as I slammed the door behind me. Outside, I made another call to the same person. “When you get back, let’s get the marriage license first.” “Okay. I’m almost done here. Wait for me.” I looked up at the vast blue sky and thought, maybe things weren’t so bad after all. At least I was free of a rotten man. 3 I had my suitcases moved to a penthouse owned by him and began to set up our new home myself. I worked until evening, when a text from Richard came through. I stared at the message, a humorless laugh escaping my lips, and deleted it. The future Mrs. Monroe? Sorry. I’m no longer interested. Though I was resolute in my decision to leave Richard, our families were still entangled in business. So, until I was ready to make my move, I played my part. At my birthday party, I was on his arm, a fake smile plastered on my face as we accepted congratulations. When I grew tired and slipped out to the balcony for some air, I saw Ava, dressed in a stunning white gown, step gracefully to Richard’s side. They looked good together. A perfect match. I didn’t remember inviting her. A short while later, Richard was summoned to the study by my uncles. As he headed upstairs, he shot a worried glance back at Ava and me. I knew what he was thinking. He was afraid I would hurt her. Once Richard was out of sight, Ava came and sat beside me. She raised her wine glass. “Congratulations, Kelly.” “Are you congratulating me on my fiancé’s infidelity, or on you successfully climbing into his bed?” Her smile faltered, a flash of jealousy in her eyes. Since I wasn’t playing nice, she dropped the act. “You don’t actually think last night was our first time, do you?” She smirked, her tone dripping with provocation. “The night you confessed your feelings to him, the night you two officially got together? He came to me, drunk, holding me and apologizing for how guilty he felt.” “You were out making wishes on shooting stars, Kelly. Did the stars give you what you wanted?” My hand trembled, and red wine sloshed over the rim of my glass onto the floor. The night before I told Richard how I felt, I had seen a shooting star and made a wish. When he agreed to be with me, I’d joyfully told him my wish had come true. He had just smiled and patted my head. I couldn’t stop myself. I threw the rest of my wine in her face. The red liquid stained her expensive dress. I turned to leave, but she grabbed my hand and clamped it around her own throat. “Kelly, I’m sorry… please don’t do this…” I struggled to pull away, confused, and in the next second, she threw herself backward over the balcony railing. It wasn’t a high balcony, only a single story down to the lawn below. I heard Richard’s roar of fury from behind me. He ripped me away, his eyes locked on Ava’s unconscious form on the grass. Then he was gone, flying down the stairs to her side. He looked up at me, his eyes blazing with a hatred so intense it scorched me. He sped away with Ava in his car. She’d broken her leg. She wasn’t dead. The next day, I was trending online. Headlines painted the future Mrs. Monroe as a vicious shrew who couldn’t tolerate a grain of sand in her eye, who had pushed her fiancé’s poor secretary off a balcony. The story they spun was that Ava had only come to the party to deliver an urgent file. The public backlash was immediate and brutal. The Langston Group’s stock plummeted. My uncles pressured me to go to the hospital and apologize. Not wanting to worry my grandfather, I went. I was met by Richard, his face covered in stubble, his eyes shot with blood. The moment he saw me, he lunged, slamming me against the wall, his hands tight around my throat. Just as my vision started to blacken, Ava’s weak voice came from the room. “Richard… don’t do something you’ll regret…” He let go. “If we weren’t engaged,” he snarled, his voice thick with rage, “I would kill you.” He turned and went to her bedside, carefully spoon-feeding her porridge. I watched the scene with a cynical detachment. Ava, however, flinched under my gaze. “Kelly, I was wrong, I really was. Please, forgive me, I’ll break it off with Richard…” Before she could finish, Richard cut her off. “Kelly, get out!” My heart was already numb. I turned and walked away. Photos of my hospital visit were, of course, leaked to the press. The next day, a new story was published: it was all a misunderstanding, an accident. But no one believed it. Someone was carefully orchestrating the narrative, keeping the blame squarely on me. Then, two days later, every negative story about me vanished from the internet. I knew he was back. Eddy. Eddy Cole. He’d had a crush on me in college, but his family was so powerful, their world so complicated, that I had turned him down. We hadn’t spoken since, though he’d sent his congratulations through a mutual friend when he heard I was engaged. The night I heard Richard’s confession, I’d gotten Eddy’s number from that same friend, never imagining he would actually agree to my desperate proposal. Now, he sat across from me in a private dining room, devastatingly handsome. I had to ask. “Eddy, was it you who had the stories taken down?” “Yes,” he said, his gaze steady and serious. We ate in a comfortable silence. With Eddy, I was learning what it felt like to be treated with genuine chivalry. The next day, we got our marriage license. I showed it to my grandfather, who was overjoyed. He’d only met Richard once and barely remembered what he looked like. A moment later, my phone rang. It was Richard. “Where have you been? You haven’t been staying at the new house, have you? And all your suitcases are gone.” His voice was strained. “Kelly, I’m already stressed out cleaning up the mess you made. Can you please stop throwing a tantrum…” I cut him off, my patience gone. “What do you want?” He paused, then his tone softened. “Come back. There’s something I need to discuss with you.” Honestly, I could have just ignored him, but I knew if I didn’t go, he would just go to my uncles. Now that I was legally married, it was time to set the record straight. When he saw me, the frustration on Richard’s face melted away. He rushed toward me and took my wrist. I pulled away instinctively. His voice was gentle, conciliatory. “I was thinking, after we’re married, we should have Ava move in with us. That way, I can look after her. I don’t trust anyone else.” I stared at him in disbelief. He seemed completely oblivious to my shock. “None of this would have happened if your jealousy hadn’t gotten the best of you and you hadn’t pushed her,” he continued, his tone matter-of-fact. “I was going to call the police, but Ava stopped me. You should be grateful to her, Kelly.” “I’ve already had the housekeeper prepare the master bedroom for her. If you want to stay, you’ll have to use the guest room.” Hearing his words, I felt a wave of profound relief that I had woken up when I did. I opened my mouth to tell him that none of this mattered to me anymore, but he cut me off impatiently. “I have to get back to the hospital to take care of Ava. If you need anything, call my assistant.” He started for the door, but just then, his phone rang. My hands were shaking with rage at his audacity, and I accidentally hit the speakerphone button as I answered. Eddy’s clear, calm voice filled the room, laced with an unmistakable tenderness. “Wife, are you coming home for dinner tonight?” Richard froze, his hand on the doorknob. He turned slowly, his face ashen. “Kelly, stop playing these games. Do you really think hiring some guy to call you is going to make me abandon Ava?!”

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I won the $50 million lottery. But when I went to deposit the money at the bank where my fiancé, Wayne, was the manager, the teller suddenly screamed, “There’s a problem with the money! Security!” Wayne rushed over and grabbed my hand in front of everyone. “Ava, the source of these funds is questionable. The bank has to freeze the account temporarily. Just cooperate and go home. I’ll call you.” In my past life, I believed him. Not wanting to cause him trouble, I went home obediently and waited. But the only thing that came for me was a police summons. Wayne and that teller had conspired to steal every last cent of my money, then framed me by claiming it was the proceeds of a scam. In the end, with my reputation destroyed, I lit a charcoal stove in my tiny apartment and let the despair swallow me whole. My soul drifted aimlessly through the lavish villa they bought with my money. I heard Wayne say to the teller, “That idiot really thought I loved her? Trading her luck for our lifetime of luxury… I’d say she died a worthy death.” I opened my eyes again, and I was back in that moment, with Wayne’s hand gripping mine. This time, I smiled, nodded, and pushed the money back across the counter. Let’s see who dies a worthy death. 1. The smile on my face made Wayne flinch. His grip on my wrist tightened, as if trying to decipher something from my expression. He would find nothing. The me from my past life would have been a panicked, pale-faced wreck right now, looking at him helplessly, clinging to him as my only lifeline. But now, I simply pulled my hand free. I took the bank card holding the fifty-million-dollar prize, along with my ID, and pushed them back across the counter. Right in front of the teller, Mia. “Deposit,” I said. My voice was quiet but clear, easily heard by the curious onlookers whose ears had perked up. A flash of panic crossed Mia’s eyes. She glanced at Wayne, silently pleading for help. Wayne recovered quickly, his voice softening. “Ava, please, don’t make this difficult. I know you’re excited about the money, but we have to follow procedure. Go home first, and I promise I’ll call you the second this is sorted.” He reached for my hand again, trying to pull me away from the unfolding scene. I sidestepped his grasp. “Mr. Thorne,” I used his formal title deliberately, creating a chasm between us. “If we’re talking about procedure, then let’s follow it. If the bank suspects an issue and needs to freeze my funds, fine. But I’ll need an official written notice. It should state the reason for the freeze, the duration, and it must be signed and stamped by an authorized bank official, correct?” A deep line formed between Wayne’s brows. He never expected the woman who had always been so compliant to suddenly become this difficult. The crowd in the lobby was growing, their whispers turning into a low murmur. “She doesn’t look like a criminal…” “Fifty million dollars! My God, no wonder the bank is on edge.” “But they can’t just seize her money without a proper reason, can they? That’s not right.” The rising tide of chatter made Wayne’s face darken. He knew a public scene would destroy his plan. Mia, from behind the counter, grew agitated. Her voice turned shrill. “We suspect the funds are related to money laundering! This is for your own good. What if you’re being used by a criminal organization? Wayne is just trying to protect you!” She called him “Wayne” with such practiced intimacy, her eyes, when they met mine, were filled with a smug, defiant glee. I looked at her coldly. “Miss, I am discussing official bank protocol with the manager. May I ask your position? Are you authorized to declare a transaction as suspected money laundering on behalf of the bank? Or does your relationship with Mr. Thorne allow you to overstep your authority and make decisions for him?” My words were a slap across her face. Her cheeks flushed a blotchy red, and she stammered, unable to form a coherent reply. And Wayne, hearing me call out their relationship, his gaze turned to ice. He finally realized it. I wasn’t the same woman he knew. 2. “Ava, how can you say that about Mia? She was just trying to help. Have you been under a lot of stress lately?” He sighed, putting on a mask of deep, wounded affection. “I know we’re about to get married, and your family’s situation has always made you feel… insecure. Coming into this much money so suddenly, it’s normal to feel overwhelmed. Trust me, I would never hurt you.” In a few short sentences, he painted me as a mentally unstable woman, warped by insecurity, while positioning himself as the virtuous, long-suffering partner. The way people looked at me shifted instantly, from sympathy to suspicion and disdain. A masterclass in manipulation. I didn’t argue. I simply turned back to Mia. “Since the manager can’t provide the required documentation, I demand you process my deposit immediately. If you refuse, I will call the Banking Commission right now and file a formal complaint against this branch for unlawfully refusing a customer’s deposit.” I took out my phone. Wayne’s pupils contracted. The one thing he couldn’t afford was for this to escalate. If I went to corporate, or worse, to the regulators, his entire scheme would crumble. “Don’t!” The word escaped his lips before he could stop it. He quickly composed himself. “Ava, let’s not be hasty.” He walked to the counter and whispered something to Mia. Though her face was a mask of resentment, she nodded. Wayne turned back to me, his perfect smile back in place. “Alright, Ava. Since you insist, we’ll deposit the money first. But the verification process will still have to proceed. I hope you understand.” “Of course,” I said, nodding. I knew he was just buying time. He would let me deposit the money, then use his managerial access to manipulate the system from the backend, transferring the funds out silently. Just like last time. Mia began the transaction, her fingers striking the keyboard with resentful force. When the deposit slip printed, she stamped it violently and shoved it at me. I picked it up, carefully checked the details, and then placed it securely in my purse. “Thank you,” I said to her, flashing a brilliant, satisfied smile. The expressions on both her and Wayne’s faces froze again. Ignoring them, I turned and walked out of the bank. The sunlight was blinding, but I felt a profound sense of release. I hailed a cab and went straight to the State Lottery Commission. Wayne. Mia. Did you think the game was just beginning? No. The moment you decided to cross me, the game was already over. 3. At the Lottery Commission, I went directly to the public relations department. A director named Mr. Peterson greeted me. I didn’t give my full name, only that my last name was Sterling and I was the recent $50 million jackpot winner. Mr. Peterson was visibly surprised but maintained his professional composure. “Ms. Sterling, congratulations. How can we help you today?” “I’d like to do an anonymous interview,” I said, getting straight to the point. “The topic is how jackpot winners can protect themselves from financial risks and fraud—specifically, risks from within the banking system itself.” Mr. Peterson’s eyes lit up. This was a major story. A jackpot winner speaking out was more effective than a hundred of their own dry press releases. “Ms. Sterling, are you suggesting… you’ve encountered some trouble?” he asked, his journalistic instincts kicking in. I shook my head, my tone light. “Not trouble, just a minor incident that made me feel it’s necessary to warn future lucky winners. For instance, what to do if bank staff try to illegally seize your winnings, claiming the funds are from an unknown source.” I recounted what had just happened, omitting names and the specific branch, describing it in a calm, matter-of-fact way. Mr. Peterson’s expression grew serious. “That’s completely outrageous!” He slapped his desk lightly. “Ms. Sterling, rest assured, we will publish your warning through all our official channels. Furthermore, I strongly advise you to go to a notary public immediately and have your original lottery ticket and the claim receipt notarized. It’s the strongest legal evidence you can have.” “Thank you for the advice. That was my next stop.” It was the other reason I had come. In my last life, it was the lack of this crucial evidence that allowed them to brand me a fraud, a stain I carried to my grave. Leaving the commission, I went straight to a notary’s office. Everything went smoothly. As I held the notarized documents, my phone rang. It was Wayne. I answered. “Ava, are you home? Don’t be angry with me, I was just looking out for you. I’ve booked a table at your favorite restaurant tonight. Let’s talk properly.” I could almost picture his handsome, earnest face. It made me sick. “Of course! But I might be a little late. I’m out running some errands. Just gathering a few documents to prove my innocence.” On the other end of the line, Wayne’s breath hitched. “What documents?” His voice was laced with suspicion. “Oh, nothing much,” I said breezily. “Just some official papers. Fifty million is a lot of money, after all. Better to be safe than sorry. By the way, Wayne… what do you think would happen to someone who tried to steal that money and frame the real owner with fake evidence?” A long, heavy silence stretched from the other end of the phone. I could hear his breathing, suddenly ragged and harsh. He was scared. Good. This was what I wanted. To watch him fall from grace. To make him taste the same terror and despair that had consumed me. “Ava, what are you talking about?” he finally managed to say, his voice strained. “Just kidding,” I laughed lightly. “See you tonight.” I hung up, the smile on my face turning to ice. Wayne, your good life is officially over. 4. I went to a café to meet another familiar face from my past. Elias Vance. In my last life, he was the only financial advisor who had been willing to believe me in my darkest hour. Unfortunately, by the time I found him then, it was too late. Wayne had woven a web of lies so tight, with all evidence pointing to me, that even Elias couldn’t save me. His last words to me were, “Ms. Sterling, if time could be turned back, you must come to me the very second you get the money.” Now, here I was. Elias, dressed in a impeccably tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses, looked calm and professional. “Ms. Sterling,” he said, extending a hand. I shook it briefly and pushed my bank card, deposit slip, and a copy of the notarized documents across the table. “Mr. Vance, today I deposited a fifty-million-dollar lottery prize. The bank manager—who is also my fiancé—and a teller publicly claimed my money was dirty and tried to freeze it. Although the deposit went through, I have every reason to believe they will make a move on the funds.” Elias listened, his eyes scanning the documents. They sharpened. “Your fiancé’s name, and which branch?” “Wayne Thorne. Manager at the Sterling Trust Bank, Westgate branch.” At the mention of the name, a subtle change crossed Elias’s face. “Ah, him. I’ve heard things. He has a reputation for high-risk ventures that have caused the bank more than a few headaches. I never thought he’d target you.” So that was it. A history I knew nothing about in my past life. “Ms. Sterling, your instincts are correct.” Elias’s expression turned grim. “A man like Wayne Thorne won’t give up easily. He has countless ways to move your money within the bank’s internal system and then create a flawless paper trail that will leave you with no way to defend yourself.” “So what should I do?” I asked. “It’s simple,” a cold smile touched Elias’s lips. “We call the police. But before we do that, we’re going to let him hand-deliver all the evidence of his crimes to us.” He looked at me, his gaze seeing right through me. “I suspect you want more than just your money back, don’t you?” I met his gaze and nodded. I wanted their ruin. Total and absolute. Just then, my phone rang again. A number I didn’t recognize. I answered. A stern, middle-aged man’s voice came through. “Is this Ms. Ava Sterling? This is Director Walsh from Sterling Trust Bank’s internal affairs department. We need you to come to our corporate headquarters to assist with an investigation regarding a deposit you made at the Westgate branch today.” It was happening. Wayne was moving faster than I’d anticipated. He was striking first, trying to solidify his narrative and paint me as the criminal. I hung up and looked at Elias. He simply smiled. “It seems the show is about to begin. Let’s go, Ms. Sterling. I’ll accompany you. I’m quite curious to see what kind of ‘gift’ Wayne has prepared.”

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1 At the company’s annual party, they handed out gag gifts: a prank scratch-off ticket for everyone. Each one was a “winner” of a hundred million dollars. I thought it was lame, so I just took it home without scratching it. But when I came out of the shower, the ticket was gone, and my wife had a look of pure ecstasy on her face. I was about to tell her it was a fake. But in the next second, my mother-in-law burst through the door. “Annie, divorce him! Now! I always said this good-for-nothing wasn’t worthy of you!” “You’re a hundred-millionaire now! You can have any man you want!” Without a second thought, my wife, Annie, agreed. “I know, Mom. I’ve already made the appointment. We’re going tomorrow!” Then she turned to me, her expression a caricature of innocence. “You’re not going to try and claim this ticket is yours, are you?” “I already checked. Lottery tickets are bearer instruments. Finders keepers.” “Liam, my mom’s right,” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “A loser like you isn’t good enough for me anymore.” My heart turned to ice. I turned and quietly put away the gift I’d bought her with my million-dollar year-end bonus. If I wasn’t good enough for her, then she didn’t deserve any of this. … “Did you hear me? Pack your things and get out!” “You’re a grown man. Don’t tell me you’re going to try and squat in this house after the divorce?” My mother-in-law, Brenda, pointed a finger at me, her face a mask of smug triumph. “My daughter may be rich now, but she’s not stupid.” “She suffered with you for years. It’s only fair she gets some compensation for her emotional distress!” I was stunned, staring at Annie, trying to process it. “You really want a divorce?” She shot me a look, the disgust in her eyes impossible to hide. “That’s right.” “I’ve been married to you for five years, and I’ve never even owned a real Hermès bag. What good are you?” “You never gave me the good life. Now that I have my own money, it’s only natural that I’d divorce you. You brought this on yourself.” I suddenly felt like the world’s biggest fool. For five years, I had given her my entire paycheck—fifteen thousand dollars a month—without fail. The house and the car we bought after we married were all in her name. The bags I bought her weren’t Hermès, sure, but some of them cost more than a luxury car. And she had the nerve to say I never gave her a good life. Seeing my silence, Brenda thought I was refusing. “Don’t you even think about trying to steal my daughter’s ticket!” she shrieked. “That’s hers! It has nothing to do with you!” “You never worked hard enough to support her, and now you’re after her money? You’re shameless!” “Everyone in the neighborhood says it—that Annie married a freeloader!” “And they were right!” Annie turned away. “Mom, stop. It’s embarrassing just talking about it.” They had no idea. The company had just promoted me to General Manager, with a 5% stake in the business. If it weren’t for this, Annie would have been set for life, the wife of a very wealthy man. But now, it seemed fate had other plans for her. I looked at them, a cynical smile on my face. “The company gave me that ticket at the party. All of my colleagues can vouch for it.” Annie clutched her pocket protectively and then kicked my shin. “Are you that desperate for money?” “Have some dignity, Liam! The ticket belongs to whoever holds it!” Just then, another figure burst through the door. He swept Annie up into a hug. “Annie, is it true? Did you really win a hundred million?” It was my best friend, Dylan. He’d given me so much advice when I was trying to win Annie over. I never imagined he would be holding her in his arms, right in front of me. And Annie, the moment she thought she was rich, had called him first. It was obvious what was going on between them. Annie dropped the act. She wrapped her arms around Dylan’s neck. “It’s true, Dylan. From now on, how about I take care of you?” “Dylan, I think you’re my good luck charm!” “It must be because you kissed me today. That’s why I won!” “So really, you deserve a share of this prize money!” My head was spinning. The ticket was stolen from me, so my luck had nothing to do with it. But Dylan cheats with my wife, kisses her, and he gets a cut? The sight of them made my stomach churn. I remembered the first time I saw her, feeding stray cats. I was so drawn to her kindness, her innocence. I pursued her for three years, and I cherished her. A few years ago, when the company was struggling, I felt so guilty that I couldn’t afford to buy her a nice gift with a bonus. Now, I finally had a million-dollar bonus to give her. And a single, fake lottery ticket had shown me just how pathetic my devotion had been. I took a deep breath. “A divorce is fine. But what about the baby?” Just then, Annie covered her mouth and ran to the bathroom, the sound of retching echoing through the apartment. Brenda followed her. “Damn it! Is it that little bastard in your belly making you sick again?” I tried to go to her, but Brenda shoved me back. “Don’t touch my daughter! The big loser is disgusting enough, we don’t need the little freeloader making things worse!” Annie came out, wiping her mouth and glaring at her own stomach. “I’m not keeping this baby.” Hearing her say that, I actually felt a wave of relief. The thought of the child hurt, but the thought of being completely free of her, with no ties left, made me smile. She pulled out her phone, frowning as she booked an appointment. “I don’t care if I’m three months along. I’m getting rid of it.” “I’m a hundred-millionaire. Why would I have a baby for a loser like him?” Brenda immediately chimed in. “Exactly! Get rid of it!” “We’re rich now. You can have as many babies as you want later!” I pretended to be angry. “You cheated on me with Dylan. Shouldn’t you be the one leaving with nothing?” She exploded. “Liam! Are you even a man?!” “It was your fault! You didn’t give me the security I needed in this marriage! That’s why I fell for Dylan!” “You’re the one at fault! You should be the one leaving with nothing!” Dylan wrapped his arms around her waist. “Annie, baby, maybe the child is mine.” “Don’t you remember last month, when Liam was on that business trip? We spent days in here together.” “Why don’t we get a DNA test? If it’s mine, we can get married right away.” Last month? I suddenly remembered. That night I video-called her, she was breathing heavily, covered in sweat. She said she was working out. I guess this is the kind of workout she meant. My best friend had been sleeping with my wife behind my back. Seeing my silence, Annie thought I was going to fight her. “Liam! You don’t get a say in this!” she shrieked. “If you agree to the divorce, I might be generous and let you have the house!” Hearing that, I put on a heartbroken expression and nodded. “Fine. I’ll take the house. Let’s go get divorced now.” 2 Annie practically ran out the door, terrified I would change my mind. At the courthouse, the clerk handed us the paperwork. “Have you agreed on the division of assets?” Annie snatched a pen. “The house goes to Liam,” she scribbled. “We don’t need to split the savings. It’s not like he has any money anyway.” Brenda nodded from the side, sneering. “Gets a free house just for a divorce. You’re really something, Liam.” I said nothing, just signed my name with a blank expression. The moment both signatures were on the paper, Annie let out a sigh of relief. Then she and Dylan left for the hospital. Brenda turned to me. “The divorce isn’t final until the certificate is issued! You’re coming with us!” “If they need your signature for anything, you sign it. No questions asked! Or my daughter can take the house back anytime she wants!” I swallowed my disgust and agreed. After all, I needed more evidence of her infidelity. At the hospital, the doctor looked at the ultrasound. “A non-invasive prenatal paternity test usually takes five to seven business days. If you want to expedite it, we can get it done in two.” “Expedite it!” Annie blurted out. “I have plenty of money! Do it now!” “And if the baby is Liam’s, schedule an abortion immediately!” “An abortion?” a voice called from the hallway. My mother, holding a medical report, hurried over. “Annie, you’re getting rid of my grandchild?” I’d forgotten she had a check-up today. What a coincidence. Annie sneered. “Your son and I are divorced. I can do whatever I want with this baby. It’s none of your business.” My mom grabbed Annie’s arm. “Did Liam do something to you? Tell me…” Annie shoved her away violently. “What ‘mom’? You’re not my mother anymore! You’re disgusting!” “Trying to cozy up to me now that you know I’m rich? Ha! None of you are getting a penny!” My mom stumbled back, her face suddenly pale as she clutched her head. “Mom!” I rushed to steady her. “It’s okay. If she wants to get rid of it, let her. I can handle this.” She was trembling in my arms, her lips turning purple. “Don’t… don’t…” “You old hag!” Brenda shrieked at my mom. “Even if you fake your death right here, my daughter is never getting back with your loser son!” “Besides, the baby in her belly might not even be his!” At those words, my mom’s face contorted in pain. My heart sank. These were the signs of a stroke. “Doctor!” I yelled. “My mom is having a stroke! Somebody help!” Dylan just scoffed. “Annie, don’t fall for it.” “They know you’re rich now. They’re just trying to squeeze some money out of you before the divorce is final.” “It’s a pathetic act.” Annie glanced over, her expression mocking. “Your mom is just faking it.” “Besides, I barely pushed her. Even if she does die, it has nothing to do with me.” I froze. My mom had treated her better than she treated me, her own son. She cooked for her every day, even gave Annie her own retirement savings for vacations. When she found out Annie was pregnant, she immediately bought a hundred grams of gold to give her as a gift. And now, Annie could say something so monstrous. Before I could react, she was gone, dragging Dylan and Brenda with her. I didn’t spare them another thought, rushing my mom to the emergency room. Half an hour later, I saw a new post from Dylan. It was a video of him and Annie, kissing in the city’s most expensive nightclub, shouting, “Drinks are on me! For the whole bar!” The whole bar? A night there cost a fortune. The average person spent at least twenty thousand dollars. I let out a cold laugh and immediately cancelled the supplementary credit cards and shut off the family payment accounts I had set up for Annie. Sure enough, a few hours later, my phone rang. It was Annie, furious. “Liam! How dare you cancel my cards!” “Get your ass down here and pay this bill!” I laughed. “We’re getting divorced, and you want me to pay your bar tab?” “Annie, do you really think I’m that stupid?” She paused, then said, “I’ll pay you back tomorrow! After I cash the ticket!” “It’s only five hundred thousand dollars. Are you really going to be this petty?” I said nothing. I just hung up and blocked her number. Did she really think I would still spoil her like I used to? Did she really think any of that was her money? After hanging up, I dialed another number. “Hello, Mr. Peterson? I have a case for you.”

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1 After the breakup, I took my shattered heart and, without telling a soul, fled the country to study abroad. For five years, I changed my name, my number, and severed every last tie to my old life. Everyone thought I was dead. That I had died on the day my boyfriend, Liam, went behind my back and married my stepsister. For five whole years, a fresh red rose was laid on my grave every single day. Five years later, I returned to arrange for my mother’s grave to be moved. And there he was, Liam, once again holding a red rose to mourn me. After a moment of shared shock and awkward silence, I managed to speak. “Long time no see.” He forced a twitch of his lips, hiding the rose behind his back. “Long time no see,” he echoed. “I thought… I thought you were dead.” I offered a thin smile, pretending not to notice the redness rimming his eyes. He wasn’t wrong. Cathy was dead. She died five years ago, on the day he secretly married my father’s illegitimate daughter. 2 I was arranging to have my mother’s grave relocated when I noticed a new headstone right next to hers. A headstone that belonged to me. The inscription read: 【Beloved Wife, Cathy Graham】. In front of it lay a bouquet of fresh roses, a small St. Christopher medal, and a slice of the chocolate fudge cake that used to be my favorite. The cemetery administrator followed my gaze and his eyes widened slightly. “Ms. Davenport, look at the photo on that headstone. Doesn’t she look just like you?” He chuckled nervously. “If I didn’t know you just flew in from Paris, I’d think I was seeing a ghost!” I smiled. “She does, but it’s not me.” My name is Stella Davenport. I’m a senior writer for the Parisian magazine MT and the sole heiress to the Davenport Corporation. I just celebrated my third wedding anniversary with my husband. Our son is two. A winner, by all accounts. The woman on that headstone was Cathy Graham. Five years ago, after my father’s illegitimate daughter was diagnosed with depression, my father and brother arranged a wedding for her behind my back. The groom was the man I had loved since we were children, my fiancé of eight years. She was a complete and utter loser. We were no longer the same person. Tearing my eyes away, I turned back to discuss the relocation details with the administrator. Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the air from behind me. “Cathy!” I ignored it, continuing my conversation. A strong hand suddenly gripped my arm. Under the administrator’s astonished gaze, I stumbled, spinning around to meet Liam’s eyes. “Cathy,” he breathed, his voice tight with disbelief. “You… you’re not dead?” A cold smile touched my lips, but my eyes drifted to the red rose in his hand. Five years. Since when did Liam’s eyes become as red as the roses he held? 3 After the administrator left, I stood before my own grave. Liam was behind me, the rose now crushed on the ground. His voice was laced with the fury of a man who’d been deceived. “Quite the act you’ve been pulling, huh, Cathy? Was it fun? Watching me drown in guilt every single day for five years?” “You couldn’t even leave a single message.” I answered with a casual shrug. “Wasn’t it you who told me to never bother you again?” Five years ago, when I got the news he was marrying Mia, I’d raced to the venue. I crashed on the way. The airbag pinned me to the driver’s seat, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I called him, begging him to come save me. But he was busy placing the veil on Mia’s head. The phone rang and rang. He only picked up on the final call. “Mia’s had a hard enough life as it is,” he’d said, his voice cold. “Can’t you even let her have one wedding?” “I don’t care if you’re in a car crash. Even if you died, don’t bother me. I am marrying Mia today!” I met Liam when I was seven. We started dating at eighteen and were engaged at twenty-three. At twenty-six, he told me to die so he could marry my father’s illegitimate daughter. In that moment, I made a vow. I would never bother him again for the rest of my life. Now, hearing my words, he tugged uncomfortably at his collar. “C’mon, it was just a figure of speech. You actually took it seriously?” He straightened up, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. “How did you know I’d be at the cemetery today? You even wore that green coat I always liked…” A humorless smirk played on his lips. “You don’t actually think that after tricking me for five years, all you have to do is play dumb, play a little hard-to-get, and I’ll come crawling back, do you?” “Let me tell you, Mia has been wonderful to me while you were gone. Unless you get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness, I will never—” “You’re overthinking things,” I cut him off, my patience gone. “I’m here to move my mother’s grave. Once that’s done, I’m leaving.” “And one more thing…” I paused, then started walking towards the cemetery gates. “Since you’re married, you should probably stop wearing our engagement ring.” “It’s faded.” 4 Liam stood frozen for a second before striding to catch up with me. “It’s your dad’s fiftieth birthday tomorrow. He misses you. Make sure you come early.” I hesitated for a fraction of a second, then quickened my pace. As far as I was concerned, my father died five years ago. Five years ago, at my mother’s funeral, Robert Graham brought his illegitimate daughter home and introduced her to all our relatives. “I just made a little mistake, the kind any man could make,” he’d announced. “Mia’s been living on the outside for over twenty years. I waited until after your mother passed to bring her home. I did right by your mother.” So, to “compensate,” he let Mia take my room, my jewelry. He let her play the “innocent little sister” and wedge herself between me and Liam. When I was rushed into surgery after the car crash, the nurse called him for consent. He’d refused. “Today is my younger daughter’s wedding. A hospital is such a downer, I can’t go.” “I know Cathy. She’s always been a drama queen. Broken bones, major blood loss… she’s making it all up. You’re a hospital, not a theater. Don’t play along with her.” “My daughter is calling for me, the ceremony is about to start. Don’t call again.” Lying on that operating table, I could feel the pity and sympathy in the eyes of the doctors and nurses around me. They had probably never seen someone so completely abandoned by their family. Snapping back to the present, I pulled down my sleeve to cover the scars on my arm and hailed a cab back to my hotel. That evening, I video-chatted with my husband and son. My husband, Noah, is an expat, and he’s wonderfully clingy. Just like our little boy, he can’t stand a day without me. “Honey, Dad said he’s feeling homesick too. He’s packing right now and will fly back with us tomorrow morning,” Noah said. My adoptive brother, Julian, poked his head into the frame. “That’s right, little sis. Dad and I talked it over. Moving your aunt’s grave is a big deal, we have to be there.” “Besides,” he added, “Dad and I can inspect our domestic operations. You take care of yourself while you’re there alone. Eat well, stay warm. You know how your knee gets.” The accident five years ago left a permanent ache in my knee. Julian was my mentor back then, the first to see how lost I was. During those five years in France, he took me in, made me his sister, and helped me build a new identity. My adoptive father, Richard Davenport, doted on me as if I were his own. They are my real family. I smiled and nodded. After a few more minutes of chatter, I reluctantly hung up. It felt so good to have a family that cared. 5 The next day, the arrangements for the grave were proceeding smoothly, so I had some free time. I decided to go to the mall to buy a few things for my family’s return. On the way, Liam, who had somehow gotten my new number, sent me a text with an address. The Alistair Hotel. One of the properties my adoptive father, Richard, was planning to inspect upon his return. I ignored it and hailed a cab back to my hotel. A black Maybach pulled up silently in front of me. Before I could react, the back door was opened, and I was pushed inside. The door clicked shut, locking me in. “Bobby?” Seeing the familiar face of my brother, Bobby, in the driver’s seat, the name slipped out instinctively. Then I remembered the last call I ever made to him. Five years ago, boarding pass in hand, I had called to tell him I was leaving for good, that I wouldn’t get in the way of him and Mia being “real” siblings anymore. But before I could say a word, his angry voice had cut me off. “Cathy! Did your manners die with Mom?” “If Liam and Dad hadn’t told me, I never would have known you’d stoop so low as to fake a car crash just to ruin Mia’s wedding. You just can’t stand to see her happy, can you?” “Don’t you ever call me ‘brother’ again. I don’t have a sister like you!” The memory flooded back, and I immediately corrected myself. “Sorry, my mistake.” “Mr. Graham.” I stressed the name, emphasizing my detachment. Bobby’s face darkened instantly. “You’re still so… Hmph. Have the last five years been that hard on you?” he sneered, glancing at my shopping bags. “Can’t even afford a decent gift for Dad’s birthday.” “If Liam hadn’t told me you were back, how long were you planning on holding this grudge?” “If you were half as considerate as Mia, I wouldn’t have to—” He stopped himself. I gave a small, bitter laugh, finishing his sentence for him. “You wouldn’t have to choose her over me.” It was a line I could have recited in my sleep five years ago. Bobby glanced at the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. Then, he said casually, “There’s chocolate fudge cake in the fridge.” I used to love chocolate fudge cake. Especially the kind Bobby made. Before Mia moved in, Bobby had been the kindest person to me in the world, besides my mother. I loved pink, so he filled my closet with pink princess dresses. I loved chocolate cake, so he learned how to bake it himself. Whenever I was upset, he would appear with a freshly baked cake to coax a smile out of me. I once believed he was the one person in the world who would never betray me. But at Mia and Liam’s wedding, he was the one who led the toast, wishing them a lifetime of happiness together. On my way to crash that wedding, I had called and screamed at him, “Why are you helping an outsider bully me?” I could have accepted anyone’s betrayal. Anyone but his. Because he was my brother. He had paused on the phone, then his voice came back, firm and final. “Cathy, you’re my sister. But Mia is my sister, too.” “I want her to be happy.” That phrase, “Mia is my sister, too,” had made my mind go blank. My hands slipped on the wheel, and I crashed into the guardrail. I could almost feel the phantom pain of steel tearing through my knee again. Taking a sharp breath, I forced the memory down. “I stopped eating chocolate cake five years ago,” I said softly. Bobby froze, his lips parting as if to say something. I looked up, my eyes sweeping over his hair, which was now streaked with gray. “This isn’t the way to my hotel. Where are you taking me?” Bobby’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “To Dad’s birthday party.” The black Maybach stopped in front of the hotel. I was reluctantly dragged inside by Bobby. At the head table in the center of the grand hall sat my biological father, Robert Graham, dressed in a festive red suit and looking perfectly genial. He had aged in five years, softened around the edges. If the memories weren’t so painful, I might have forgotten the way he’d forced me to kneel in the rain all night because I wouldn’t give my room to Mia. “Dad, I brought Cathy,” Bobby announced, pulling me through the crowd. Liam was sitting next to my father, but Mia was nowhere in sight. “Dad knew you were coming back today, so he sent Mia on a trip,” Bobby explained, as if reading my mind. “He’s missed you a lot these past few years.” I snorted. How amusing. “You’re back,” Robert said, his gaze sweeping over me with the calm indifference of a parent addressing a child who had just finished a tantrum. I ignored him and looked at Bobby. “We’ve had our reunion. Can I go now?” My other father and brother would be landing soon. They’d worry if I wasn’t there. Bobby looked taken aback. As he was about to speak, the surrounding relatives, hearing the commotion, turned to look. “Isn’t Cathy dead? How is she still alive?” The speaker was my Aunt Carol, who used to dote on me more than anyone. She sighed dramatically to the person next to her. “It’s a good thing Mia isn’t here, or this would just upset her again.” “On such a happy occasion, for her to just show up out of the blue… Honestly, that girl has no sense of propriety.” “Tell me about it,” chimed in Aunt Susan, who always used to say she wanted to take me home as her own daughter. She shot me a disdainful look. “I always knew there was something conniving about Cathy. Look at her now, lying to her own father just for attention. She’s just like her dead mother!” Their words flew back and forth. All reprimands. Not a single person asked where I’d been for five years. If I was okay. If I had been hurt. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I wrenched my arm from Bobby’s grasp and turned to leave. “Stop!” Robert’s voice was sharp, his expression complicated. “Cathy, you’re not even going to stay for dinner?” As if he wasn’t the one who’d forbidden me from eating for a week because I refused to give Mia my bedroom. Liam stood up and grabbed my arm, his face a mask of concern. “It’s Dad’s birthday. You just got home. Don’t make a scene.” I shoved him away, spitting out two words. “You’re insane.” I made for the hotel exit. A heavy hand grabbed a fistful of my hair, and the next second, a stinging slap landed across my face. The blow was forceful, snapping my head to the side. My scalp and left cheek burned with a fiery pain, and I tasted blood. My Uncle David, the man who used to give me piggyback rides, let go of my hair and roared, “You little brat, is that any way to speak? Do you have any idea how many times your father has been sick with worry over you?” “Get on your knees! Apologize to your father properly.” “So young, yet so full of anger…” Five years ago. My mother’s funeral. Robert had walked in with Mia, a girl only a year younger than me, and announced to everyone at my mother’s memorial that she was his long-lost daughter and was being officially welcomed into the family. I had flown into a rage, a madwoman clawing at them. I screamed for them to get out, to not defile my mother’s memory with their presence. Aunt Carol had held me back, scolding me for being difficult. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a sister?” Aunt Susan had comforted the “shocked” Mia, saying I was crazy and to ignore me. Uncle David had clapped Robert on the shoulder. “I told you,” he’d said sagely, “you can’t spoil girls. Look at the state of Cathy now.” “Disgraceful.” The past flashed before my eyes, a nauseating wave of disgust. If I was going to be sick, they were going to be sick with me. I dropped the hand covering my cheek, grabbed a wine bottle from the table, and smashed it at their feet. “I’m telling you for the last time. My name is Stella. Not Cathy. And I have nothing to do with any of you!” Uncle David pointed a trembling finger at me. “Robert, look at your precious daughter! Daring to defy her elders!” “Throw her out! She is not welcome in this family!” Robert stepped in. “Brother, calm down. She is my daughter, after all. Bobby’s sister. She’s just a child who doesn’t know any better. I’ll teach her.” Bobby moved to stand in front of me, his voice a mixture of frustration and disappointment. “Cathy, can’t you just be reasonable for once?” Liam leaned in, his tone urgent. “I told you not to make a scene! These are our elders. Why do you have to be so stubborn?” “Look, just step outside for a bit. I’ll call Mia back, let her smooth things over with everyone, and then you can—” Before he could finish, the grand doors to the hotel ballroom swung open. My husband Noah and my brother Julian walked in, flanking my adoptive father.

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