Author: Momo Chan

1 The driver’s son became the king of our school, all by pretending to be a rich heir. He was the one who spread the rumor that I was desperately in love with him. When priceless heirlooms started vanishing from my home, he begged me not to call the cops. Then, at school, he led the charge to make my life a living hell. I was diagnosed with severe depression. Just as my parents started to uncover the truth, he had his father leak our company’s most guarded secrets to our biggest rival. We were ruined. My family, once titans of industry, were now homeless, wandering the streets. One rainy night, in a dark alley, we were beaten to death. The last thing I saw was his smug, handsome face, sneering down at us, telling us we deserved it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back before it all went wrong. The driver’s son—Ethan—stood before the entire class, arms spread wide. “This weekend,” he announced, “party at my villa! Everyone’s invited!” A roar of excitement filled the room. As they cheered for him, I pulled out my phone and sent a single, cold text: Effective immediately, no outsiders are permitted in any of my family’s properties. Screw his rich-kid act. If he thought I was a fool, he was about to learn just how wrong he was. “Ethan, you’re the man! A true prince!” “Thanks, Ethan! We finally get to see how the other half lives!” The deafening cheers snapped me back to the present. Ethan stood in the center of it all, a king surrounded by his adoring court, basking in their praise. His eyes met mine, and a flicker of something—annoyance? confusion?—crossed his face before he frowned and looked away. His glance was enough. Someone noticed me staring and a ripple of laughter spread through the group, their voices deliberately loud. “Isn’t that the broke girl who’s obsessed with Ethan? Stare all you want, honey, he’ll never like you. He’s with Madison, our school’s queen bee, now!” Those words. They were a poisoned dart from my past, hitting me with the force of a memory I had already lived. I was reborn. The realization sent a tremor through my entire body. It wasn’t fear. It was pure, electrifying adrenaline. In my last life, the rumor that I was pathetically in love with Ethan had made me a social pariah. I thought if I just kept my head down, it would all blow over. But living it all again, I finally understood: Ethan had orchestrated everything. He paraded around as a wealthy heir, enjoying the same privileges I did, while secretly painting me as a desperate gold digger. “She’s crazy about me, practically begs for my attention,” he’d say with a put-upon sigh. “What can I do? We’re classmates. I don’t want to be cruel.” And just like that, the fact that we arrived and left school in the same luxury car every day was twisted into something ugly. It wasn’t my family’s car; it was his, and he was just taking pity on me. I, the heiress, became the gold digger. And he, the driver’s son, became the heir. He lived off my family’s generosity, yet he despised us with every fiber of his being. The money my father spent on his education could have funded scholarships for a hundred deserving students, but for him, it was never enough. Gratitude wasn’t in his vocabulary. My fingers flew across my phone’s screen. “Starting today, no outsiders are allowed in any of the Sterling family properties. If any of the staff can’t handle a simple thing like gate security, they can pack their bags and leave.” Let’s see you host your villa party now, Ethan. He and his parents had first come to our home when we were in high school. The three of them stood before my father, bowing and scraping. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling, for sponsoring our son’s education! We’ll work hard to repay your kindness!” Ethan’s father, John, was our driver. His mother, Linda, was our housekeeper. When they heard my father was looking to sponsor a student, they begged him to choose Ethan. My father, ever the philanthropist, agreed. Ethan had good grades; he was a smart kid. It was supposed to be a simple act of charity. Instead, it was the beginning of my nightmare. Ethan moved into our house, living a life identical to mine. Soon after, the rumors started at school: I was obsessed with him. He was the rich kid with the chauffeured car, and I was the charity case who didn’t know her place. I tried to set the record straight, but Ethan talked me out of it. “It’s just gossip,” he’d said, his voice smooth and reasonable. “Let it go. Do you really want people to think you’re some rich bitch who throws her family’s money around?” “Just focus on your studies,” he’d urged. “That’s what’s important.” So I buried the hurt and confusion. My parents were always busy with work, rarely home. I listened to Ethan and threw myself into my schoolwork. But just as I fought my way to the top of the class, our family’s valuables began to disappear. I wanted to call the police, but Ethan stopped me. “Just wait until your dad gets back,” he’d insisted. “Calling the cops is a huge hassle, and you have school to worry about.” I didn’t call them. But at school, the rumors escalated. Now, I was actively trying to seduce him, a desperate attempt to marry into his “wealthy” family. The other students started to isolate me. Madison, Ethan’s beautiful and popular girlfriend, made it her mission to torment me. I was locked in bathroom stalls, had drinks “accidentally” poured on me in the hallways. I knew, deep down, that Ethan was behind it all. By the time my parents returned and saw the shell I’d become, I had been diagnosed with severe clinical depression. They were ready to confront Ethan, to tear him and his family apart. But before they could, the final blow came. John, our “loyal” driver, had leaked our company’s most sensitive data to our fiercest competitor. We were ruined. My family was thrown out onto the street. One rainy night, we were dragged into a lightless alley and beaten to death by strangers. But just before I died, I saw him. Ethan, dressed in a designer suit, looking down at us with a cold smile. “I can’t stand you rich people,” he spat. “You all got exactly what you deserve.” The killers were hired psychopaths. They took Ethan’s money and walked away, free. The memory of that agony, that burning injustice, made my eyes sting with tears. Ethan, I thought, my hands clenching into fists. Just you wait. I will never let you get away with it again. With my orders in place, Ethan’s villa party was dead on arrival. The other staff knew who signed their paychecks, and it wasn’t a Clark—it was a Sterling. By the afternoon, the news reached Ethan, and he was livid. I could feel his furious glare burning into the back of my head all through class. My phone buzzed incessantly. Sophie, are you doing this on purpose? What the hell is your problem?! Your dad promised to pay for everything! Are you going back on his word?! I already promised everyone! If you don’t let this happen, you can be the one to tell them why! I scrolled through a dozen more messages just like it before silencing my phone and shutting it off. Ethan was seething, but he didn’t have the guts to confront me himself. He sent his pitbull instead. The moment the bell rang, Madison stormed into our classroom. After a few whispered words from Ethan, she marched straight to my desk, her hand raised to slap me. “You just can’t give up, can you? Still trying to get your claws into my boyfriend!” she shrieked. “You were so scared people would find out you live in the servant’s quarters that you made him cancel his party!” “You’re insane, Sophie! Threatening to kill yourself for attention? Are you that pathetic?!” Madison’s voice was like a megaphone. The entire classroom fell silent, all eyes on me. Some looked at me with pity, others with open contempt and mockery. Only Ethan kept his head down, pretending to be absorbed in his desk. I shot up and grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand inches from my face. As I opened my mouth to speak, Ethan finally moved. He wrapped his arms around Madison, pulling her back. He looked at me, his handsome face, framed by a designer haircut, a mask of confidence. But the words that came out of his mouth were pure poison. “Maddy, don’t…” he murmured, then raised his voice for the class to hear. “Hey everyone, I’m so sorry, but we’ll have to postpone the party. Something… came up.” He shot a glance at me, his eyes filled with fake helplessness and regret. “It has nothing to do with Sophie, so please don’t jump to any conclusions.” Of course, that’s exactly what they did. The other students exchanged knowing looks, their glares in my direction growing colder. Even Madison, held in his arms, was trembling with rage, as if I were the one who had wronged her. He was a master at this, painting himself as the victim while making me the villain in every story. It reminded me of the time he’d written me a love note. I’d turned him down flat, and without missing a beat, he’d asked Madison out the very next day. From the first day of school, we’d arrived together in my family’s Rolls-Royce. Madison, convinced he was a wealthy heir, said yes immediately. And that’s when the rumors truly began, started by her and fueled by everyone else’s gossip. My fate was sealed. How utterly ridiculous. The driver’s son became the prince, and the heiress became the gold digger. And the most pathetic part? Everyone believed it. Well, payback’s a bitch. Ethan was petty and vindictive; I knew he wouldn’t let this go. I spent the rest of the afternoon ignoring the whispers and focusing on my work. When the final bell rang, he made his move. He strode ahead of me and, with an air of complete ownership, slid into the back of the Rolls-Royce. He rolled down the window and looked at me with a condescending smirk. “Well, get in,” he said loudly. “They’re waiting for us for dinner at home.” The way he said it, he sounded like the master of the house, and I was just someone he was graciously tolerating. I stared at him, saying nothing. “Come on!” he snapped, raising his voice even more. Behind us, students were already starting to point and whisper. His father, John, sat in the driver’s seat, staring straight ahead, pretending not to hear his son’s disrespect. I didn’t move. With an annoyed huff, Ethan told his father to drive on. As the car pulled away, I heard laughter behind me. I smiled, too. I made a quick phone call, gave them my location, and waited quietly by the curb. Suddenly, someone “accidentally” slammed into me from behind. As I stumbled to regain my balance, I heard a familiar, mocking laugh. “No matter how hard you try to get my boyfriend’s attention, he’s never going to want a charity case like you,” Madison sneered, puffing out her chest. Her long, curled hair bounced as she posed, a few of her cronies flanking her, all of them looking at me with undisguised scorn. I didn’t give them the satisfaction of a reaction. “Excuse me, you’re in the way,” I said calmly, my gaze shifting past her. Madison was about to retort when her eyes widened. She turned, saw the gleaming black Bentley that had silently pulled up behind her, and immediately fell silent, shuffling to the side. The chauffeur didn’t even glance at her. He walked directly to me, bowed slightly, and opened the rear door in one fluid motion. “Miss Sterling,” he said, his voice respectful and professional. “Shall we go home?” Madison’s jaw dropped. Her friends stared, mouths agape. I stepped into the car without a backward glance. As the Bentley purred to life, she finally found her voice, her face flushing a deep, angry red. “Sophie Sterling, who do you think you’re fooling?!” she shrieked at the departing car. “Everyone knows you’re broke! ‘Miss Sterling’… what a joke!” I tuned her out as we drove away. My family had more than one driver. If Ethan wanted to play pretend, I was more than happy to shatter his fantasy piece by piece. In the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of a familiar Rolls-Royce hiding awkwardly around the corner. The sight was so pathetic it was almost funny. Ethan and his father had been waiting, expecting me to come crawling to them. Seeing me leave in a Bentley had clearly sent them into a panic. The Rolls-Royce tailed us sheepishly, not daring to overtake. Seeing them follow, I took a screenshot of the dozen angry texts Ethan had sent me and forwarded them to my father. Then I met the new driver’s eyes in the mirror. “Evans,” I said casually. “From now on, you’ll be driving me to and from school every day. And John Clark is no longer permitted in the garage.” By the time we arrived home, John must have already received a call from my father’s assistant. He scrambled out of the Rolls-Royce, his face a ghostly white, beads of sweat on his forehead. He bowed low as I stepped out of the Bentley. “Miss Sterling, I am so sorry! I was wrong!” Wrong about what? I glanced at the top of his bowed head, then caught sight of Ethan standing by the door, his fists clenched, his face a mask of humiliation. The sight made my smile widen. “It’s not like you’re fired,” I said, my voice sweet as poison. “I just think you’ve been working too hard. Why don’t you take a few days off? Stay out of the garage, get some rest.” I walked past John’s ashen face and into the villa without a second glance. He couldn’t handle this? Oh, this was just the beginning.

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Married to Eric for ten years, and his phone was always “out of storage.” He cleared his chat history every single day. I told him to get a new one, but he’d always refuse, saying the old one worked “just fine.” And I believed him. Right up until the moment I discovered he’d deleted my messages and forgotten my birthday, yet somehow had space for over two thousand photos of him and a young colleague at a Halloween event at the amusement park. That’s when it hit me. The problem wasn’t his phone’s memory. It was that I was no longer worthy of taking up any of it. 1 On my birthday, after ten years of marriage, Eric came home late from work to find the dining table empty. He looked genuinely confused. I stared back at him, my own feigned surprise masking a deep disappointment. “The cake? You were supposed to cook tonight, remember? Did you even buy groceries?” Eric slapped his forehead. “Oh God, Kate, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. I’ll go right now.” The bubble of anticipation I’d been holding all afternoon popped. I felt deflated. “Forget it,” I sighed. “It’s too late. Let’s just order something.” “Eric, can’t you just get a new phone? You have to clear your chats every single day!” I grumbled, the frustration finally bubbling up. He immediately tried to smooth things over, sending me a $5,000 transfer. “I’m sorry, honey. The phone still works, it’s fine. But you should get a new one. Go buy yourself something nice.” I gave him a look—a mix of annoyance and affection—and let it go. “Just go take a shower. I made soup. We can order a couple of nice dishes to go with it and still make it a feast.” Eric squeezed my cheek and disappeared into the bathroom. While I waited, I started browsing new phones online, still thinking of getting one for him. To compare prices and avoid getting ripped off by targeted ads, I picked up Eric’s phone… and a notification immediately popped up: “Storage Almost Full. Clean Junk Files.” On instinct, I went to his photo gallery, planning to delete some old screenshots to free up space. But what I found made my blood run cold. His gallery contained 2,438 photos. Every single one was of the same woman: his colleague, Norah. The oldest ones dated back a year. Each photo was perfectly angled, capturing the soft, pale light on her face. He’d even caught candid shots of her turning to smile over her shoulder. But the most recent ones made me physically tremble. It was a selfie of him and Norah together, their faces painted with bloody streaks, little devil horns perched on their heads. The background was unmistakable: a Halloween pre-party at the amusement park. It was from last week. The same day as our daughter Lily’s parent-teacher conference. I’d been out of town on business and asked him to go. Her teacher later told me no one showed up. When I asked him about it, he’d claimed he got stuck with last-minute overtime and forgot. He said he’d cleared our chat history and the reminder along with it. He was so apologetic, even buying Lily a gift to make up for it. But his “overtime” wasn’t work. It was a date with his colleague at the amusement park. An image of Lily standing alone and confused in her classroom flashed in my mind, and a hot wave of fury washed over me. I wanted to storm into the bathroom and demand an explanation. No wonder he cleared his chats every day. He was erasing his tracks. He must have trusted me so completely, so certain I would never check his phone, that he didn’t even bother to hide the photos. The doorbell rang. The food delivery had arrived. The sound snapped me back to reality. I collected the food, called Lily to wash up for dinner, and calmly placed his phone back on the sofa. I thought for a long moment and made a decision. I would say nothing. Not yet. He was confident I’d never look. But even the most careful person makes a mistake, and he wasn’t even being careful. He was flaunting it, treating me and our daughter like we were invisible. Fine. If that’s how he wanted to play it, I would make him feel so guilty, so utterly indebted to me, that he would willingly give me everything before I made him lose it all. 2 After Eric got out of the shower, we ate dinner as a family. Later, he retreated to his study, claiming he had some reports to review. I opened my laptop and searched for “Norah” and the name of his company. Big data did its thing, and her social media profile was the first result. I clicked. There were hundreds of short videos, and nearly all of them featured Eric. A stolen glance. Feeding each other bites of food. Eric, at least, seemed to have some reservations; his face was often cut off, showing only his chin and mouth. But the small mole on his jawline was unmistakable to anyone who knew him. Norah’s captions were… interesting. “He said he wishes he could go back ten years and drive me to school every day. Lol!” “He bought me a Children’s Day gift today! Said he was making up for the last twenty-something years I missed out on!” “A client was giving me a hard time, and my guy stepped up and put him in his place! Total hero.” Reading that, a memory clicked. About six months ago, I’d gotten a call from the police station saying Eric had been in a fight. I rushed over, frantic with worry, only to find him calmly consoling a young woman. He seemed flustered when he saw me, quickly explaining that some guy had been harassing his colleague and he’d stepped in. Norah had even thanked me profusely, telling me how much Eric had helped her. She even took us out to dinner afterward to show her gratitude. How pathetic. Looking back now, it was so obvious. It wasn’t about justice; it was his chance to play the white knight. And I, like an idiot, had praised his “strong moral compass” and even joined them in bad-mouthing the client. I kept scrolling and found the video from the amusement park. Her caption read: “Halloween pre-party! He promised he’d take me again on the actual night!” I checked the date and a plan began to form. The next morning, Eric did something he rarely did: he made breakfast. As we sat at the table, I brought up Halloween. “We should do something for Halloween. I saw a lot of people going to the amusement park. It looks fun!” Eric shot the idea down immediately. “No, that’s for young people. It’ll be too crowded. What if Lily gets lost?” he said dismissively. “Besides, it’s a foreign holiday. What’s it got to do with us?” Lily looked a little disappointed. “My teacher did say we should celebrate our own traditional holidays more.” Eric ruffled her hair. “Exactly.” I could see the sadness in Lily’s eyes. “But we could just go for a little while. There are other rides and things to do there, too,” I pushed gently. “Think of it as a little break. The next day is a Saturday, anyway.” Lily’s head perked up. “Yeah! Let’s go!” I looked at Eric. He sighed, his voice heavy with resignation. “Fine. You two decide.” Lily and I exchanged a triumphant smile. I knew exactly what he was planning. He’d “accidentally” clear his chats and forget all about it. I just nodded, playing along. On Halloween, just before leaving work, I sent Eric a text with the plan. Let’s meet at the main gate. And please, don’t delete this message. He replied with a simple “Got it” and then went silent. I knew what that meant. He was going to stand us up and then play the “I was so busy I forgot” card. I pulled up Norah’s social media. A new video had just been posted. They were already in the car. “He’s taking me out for Halloween! Tonight is all ours!” she captioned it, complete with heart emojis. The comments were a flood of envy. “OMG, total daddy-boyfriend goals!” “Wait, a guy that handsome and successful can’t possibly be single, right?” “How did you snag such a great guy?” Norah replied to that one: “It was fate. He’s always been focused on his career, that’s why he was single. We’re the perfect team!” And then, a truly defiant one: “So what if office romances aren’t allowed? He’s willing to risk it all to be with me!” 3 Everyone in the comments was fawning over her. Using a burner account, I typed a simple question: “I see a tan line on his ring finger. Is he married?” Norah’s reply was instant: “He’s a desirable man. The person he lives with isn’t the person he loves.” The commenters understood immediately. “So you’re saying he’s already taken? You’re a homewrecker?” “I knew a guy that good wouldn’t be on the market. Knowingly being the other woman is disgusting.” Norah quickly deleted the negative comments, but not before I screenshotted everything. Oh, Norah, I thought. You have no idea how much people despise the other woman. Your defensiveness just proves one thing: you’re not as confident as you pretend to be. To know your relationship is wrong and dive in headfirst anyway isn’t brave; it’s just cheap. I took a deep breath, said nothing, and took my daughter straight to the amusement park. On the way, Eric called. “Honey, I just remembered I ordered some fresh groceries online. They’re being delivered right now. You need to get home and put them in the fridge before they go bad!” I almost laughed. There were no groceries. It was a pathetic attempt to keep me at home so he and Norah could have their perfect date night. “Okay, I will,” I said, my voice perfectly calm. My composure must have unsettled him, because he quickly added, “Listen, something came up at work. I don’t think I can make it tonight. But I promise, I’ll take you and Lily another time!” “I know.” I hung up and checked the video from our doorbell camera. Sure enough, a delivery person was at the door. I texted my neighbor, asked him to accept the package, and sent him $20 for his trouble. Then, Lily and I walked through the gates of the park. Nothing was going to stop me. I was going to make Eric understand that his actions had consequences. Just then, an email from my lawyer arrived with the draft of the separation agreement. I had already compiled a list of Eric’s assets, including every expensive gift he’d bought for Norah that she’d so conveniently flaunted in her videos. It was all marital property. I forwarded everything to my lawyer. All that was left was to serve him the papers. The park was packed. I bought Lily a little devil costume she loved, and we walked hand-in-hand, having the time of our lives. I took dozens of photos of her, and even a few of myself. Our family of three was split in two tonight. In Norah’s mind, a washed-up wife like me had no place here. This was a playground for the young. But who made that rule? I followed the trail of Norah’s video posts, easily tracking their location in the park. Lily was ecstatic, her joy infectious. I even bought her a huge pink cotton candy. We were busy taking pictures with a costumed monster character when I saw them. Just a few feet away, Norah was wrapped in Eric’s arms, kissing him as they posed for a selfie. Lily saw him first. Her face froze. “Daddy?” Before I could stop her, she ran towards them. “Daddy!” The sound of her voice made Eric whip his head around. His eyes met mine, and raw panic flashed across his face. He shoved Norah away from him so hard she stumbled. “Kate! I—I can explain!” he stammered, his face a mess of shock and regret. Lily reached him, her small voice trembling. “Daddy, you said you had to work.” I walked up to him, a slow, cold smile on my face, and slapped him hard across the face. “Eric,” I said, my voice ringing with finality. “I want a divorce.”

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For our anniversary, my husband, Reid, promised me sunflowers. They’re my favorite. But when he walked through the door, it wasn’t a brilliant yellow bouquet he held. It was a cheap bag of sunflower seeds. “Sorry, babe,” he said, handing them to me. “Money’s a little tight right now. These are sunflowers too, right? Just a temporary substitute.” I was furious, but I tried to understand. I forced a smile and started cracking the seeds. The very next day, I saw a post from his junior secretary on her social media feed. It was a photo of her, beaming, holding a massive bouquet of sunflowers, with my husband standing proudly beside her. The caption read: “Here’s to a future that’s always facing the sun.” So, it wasn’t that he didn’t have the money. He just didn’t want to spend it on me. Without a word, without a fight, I quietly liked the post. Moments later, my phone rang. It was Reid. “Honey, don’t get the wrong idea. She’s been doing great work lately, it was just a bonus.” “Can you just help clear this up? I’ll come home tonight and we can sort this out.” But I was so tired of his pathetic excuses. “No need,” I said, my voice calm and clear. “Let’s just get a divorce.” 1 The line went silent for a beat before Reid’s voice, tight with irritation, came through. “I was just motivating an employee, Clara. Her performance has been outstanding. Besides, half of this company is yours. Everything I do is for our benefit!” “You have no gratitude, and now you’re making jokes about divorce.” “Let me tell you something, marriage isn’t a game. This is your only warning.” “I gave you a chance to be reasonable, and you threw it back in my face. Don’t blame me for what happens next!” He slammed the phone down. I let out a long, slow breath and turned to the woman sitting across from me. “Ms. Collins,” I said to my lawyer, “what’s the best way to maximize my share of the assets?” He didn’t know it, but I was done. This time, I was serious. After Ms. Collins left, I scrolled through my phone. The comment section on the secretary Olivia’s post was exploding. Most of them were from my own team members, people I’d hired and mentored, and they were furious on my behalf. “Wow, so being a homewrecker is ‘facing the sun’ now? You’ve got some nerve. Teach me your ways.” “+1. I can’t believe she’s so proud of stealing someone’s husband. So all those late nights we pull at the office are just part of their little workplace romance drama?” The comments were brutal. No wonder Reid had called me in a panic. His precious new flame was getting roasted. But they were just speaking the truth. I’d known for a while that she was more than just his secretary. She was his mistress. But a small, stupid part of me had held on to the hope that he still had feelings for me, so I never called him on it. He’d hired her over more qualified candidates. He’d promoted her and given her raises despite repeated, costly mistakes. When the office gossip became too loud to ignore, I’d confronted him. He just looked at me with disappointment. “Clara, I thought you’d understand. I can’t believe you’re discriminating against her just because she doesn’t have a fancy degree.” “Have you forgotten why we started this company?” he’d asked, his voice full of righteous indignation. “To give people a chance, to treat everyone equally.” I actually felt ashamed. I’d even helped him squash the rumors. My trust was a joke, a fact I learned the day I walked in on them in his office. As I was lost in thought, a message popped up from my most trusted subordinate, Leo. “Don’t worry, Clara. If Reid treats you like this, it’s his loss. He’s blind.” Other messages from my team started pouring in, each one filled with genuine concern. My heart warmed. I was about to tell them to stop commenting on Olivia’s post, worried that Reid would retaliate, when a new notification appeared in the company-wide group chat. It was a penalty announcement from Reid. “Effective immediately, any employee found wasting time on their phone during work hours will have their monthly salary cut in half. A second offense will result in immediate termination.” I scanned the list of penalized employees and a cold, humorless laugh escaped my lips. Every single person who had liked or commented supportively on Olivia’s post was fine. The ones being docked pay? Every single person who had defended me. My phone immediately blew up. “Reid has gone too far! Clara, this isn’t about us, he’s targeting you!” “Clara, have you ever thought about leaving and starting your own thing?” “Wherever you go, we’ll follow!” Seeing their outrage hurt. We’d been married for seven years, business partners for ten. He knew I was fiercely protective of my team. He knew loyalty and relationships were the most important things to me. So whenever I did something he didn’t like, he punished my people. I had tolerated it time and time again. But I was done tolerating. I made a phone call. The man on the other end answered with undisguised delight. “Clara! You finally came to your senses! Are you ready to join us? I told you that company was a dead end for you!” “I have one condition,” I said. “Name it. One, ten, a hundred conditions, I don’t care. Anything for you.” “I’m bringing my team with me.” He was ecstatic. “That’s fantastic! Our company is just getting started here, we need good people. I’ll draw up the contracts right now. Everyone’s salary and commission will be double what you’re making now. No, three times!” Reid seemed to have forgotten a crucial fact: my team and I were the ones who had landed over half of the company’s major contracts. We were consistently the top-performing unit, yet we were constantly being undermined because of me. We had become Reid’s leverage, his way of keeping me in line. Not anymore. 2 The international firm had been trying to recruit me for six months to lead their expansion into the domestic market. I’d turned them down before, but they saw my potential and had kept their offer open. I always thought I’d retire from the company Reid and I built together. I never imagined this day would come. After finalizing the details, I received the drafted divorce agreement from Ms. Collins. She advised me to find concrete proof of Reid’s infidelity to secure a more favorable settlement. I emailed the agreement to Reid and printed a hard copy. I was about to call and tell him to review it, warning him that I’d sue for divorce if he refused to sign, but he didn’t pick up. With a sigh, I decided to go to the office and find him. Just as I was about to leave, my phone rang. It was him. “So now you’re in a hurry?” he started, his voice dripping with condescension. “I tried to be nice, but you wouldn’t listen. I’m still pissed off, so nothing you say is going to work.” “I have to work late tonight, so I won’t be home. You should take this time to think long and hard about what you did wrong.” Then, I heard her voice in the background, sweet and cloying. “Reid, honey, come dry my hair!” The line went dead. Working late? His work was drying Olivia’s hair. A bitter taste filled my mouth. When we were newlyweds, I’d asked him to dry my hair, and he’d told me it was too much trouble and to do it myself. But for Olivia, he made an exception. Amazing what love can do. The flowers he couldn’t buy for me, he could give to her. The hair he wouldn’t dry for me, he would dry for her. He just kept twisting the knife. I pushed the thoughts away and met with my team and our new boss. Jason, the CEO, had just returned after years of living abroad and wasn’t familiar with the local market, so he had a lot of questions. The more we talked, the more confident I felt about the move. After the meeting, my team gathered around me. “Clara, listen to us,” Leo said earnestly. “A guy like Reid… he’s not worth it. You’ve got the looks, the brains, the talent. Why are you wasting it all on him? That Jason guy seems pretty great, just saying.” A sad smile touched my lips. I remembered his passionate pursuit of me in college, how he’d promised he would love me forever. People change. The man he was now was a stranger, a liar who hurt me again and again. And wasn’t I the one who let him become this way? In the beginning, I loved him so much that whenever he made a mistake, all it took was a few sweet words and I’d forgive him. He learned that I had no boundaries, and he started pushing them. The apologies became less sincere, and if I didn’t give in, he’d find ways to punish me. Now, his behavior was unforgivable. I had given him countless chances to hurt me, always hoping he would change. I was so naive. I shook my head, changing the subject. “My treat tonight! Let’s go celebrate!” We partied late into the night. When I finally got home, exhausted, I opened the door to find a surprise. Reid, who had sworn he wasn’t coming home, was sitting on the sofa. He had clearly been waiting all night. He caught a whiff of the alcohol on my breath and recoiled. “I’ve told you I hate it when people drink. Why did you have so much? Do my words mean nothing to you?” I laughed. It was because he’d said he didn’t like it that I always waited for the smell of alcohol to fade after a work dinner before I came home. He had no idea that half of our company’s biggest deals were closed over drinks. And for what? Just a few weeks ago, Olivia had sent me a taunting video. She was tipsy, looking up at Reid with wide, innocent eyes. “I’m sorry, Reid. I know you don’t like it when I drink. I won’t do it again.” He had cupped her face in his hands. “Silly girl. You can drink whenever you want. It’s not the drinking I hate, it’s the person who’s always drinking.” And then he’d kissed her. Remembering that, I swatted his hand away. “I thought you weren’t coming home.” He tossed a blanket at me. “I was worried about you being here alone,” he grumbled. “But you’re out having fun, not even a single call. And I even brought you takeout from your favorite place.” I used to love him so much I’d lost myself. Every time we fought, I’d be the one to come crawling back within a couple of hours, apologizing. But this time, I hadn’t responded to a single one of his messages all day. He must have sensed something was different. I looked at the food. It was all my favorite dishes. But I didn’t touch it. It was his classic move: hit you, then give you a candy. I wasn’t falling for it again. He didn’t notice my mood, assuming, as always, that a small gesture was enough to win me over. His expression softened. “Look, fighting is exhausting. Let’s just both take a step back.” “I’m willing to overlook the fact that you falsely accused Olivia and caused her all this trouble,” he said magnanimously. “But you need to give her that big contract you’re working on.” “She’s a natural at this. If you hadn’t been holding her back, she’d be much further along by now. If you do this, I can even cancel the penalties for your team.” Ah. So that was it. The early return, the takeout. It was all for Olivia. The depth of his love for her was almost impressive. He was even willing to act like he cared during our cold war, all for her. I laughed coldly. “Fine.” A smirk touched his lips. He wasn’t surprised by my surrender; this was how it always went. “Next time, think before you act. If you hadn’t been so petty, liking that post and telling your team to bully her, we wouldn’t have had this fight.” “Anyway, it’s over now. Go transfer the project files to her.” I pulled my company ID out of my pocket and tossed it on the table in front of him. “One contract isn’t enough,” I said with a smile. “My position, too. Give it to her.” 3 Reid froze. “What are you talking about?” “She’s so brilliant,” I said sweetly. “She deserves a senior position.” “I am trying to have a reasonable conversation with you, and you’re throwing another tantrum?” His face darkened with displeasure. When I refused to give up the project, he accused me of targeting Olivia. Now that I was giving up everything, he was accusing me of being unreasonable. See? In the eyes of someone who doesn’t love you, you can’t do anything right. I stopped talking. Seeing my silence, his brow furrowed. “Is this all because of a stupid bouquet of flowers? Fine, I’ll go buy you some right now. Is that what you want?” he snapped. “God, you’re so childish, holding a grudge over something so small.” He still thought this was about the flowers. “No, thank you. You should save your money for your beloved Olivia.” His face flushed with anger. He grabbed a pillow and threw it at me. “I told you, Olivia and I have a purely professional relationship! Why are you so damn cynical, just like everyone else?” “You know the truth.” “Fine!” he yelled, his face turning a blotchy red. “If you’re going to be like this, then just tell me! What will it take for you to give the contract to Olivia?” I pulled out the divorce agreement I had prepared, flipped to the last page, and pointed. “Sign this, and the project is hers.” He snatched it from my hand and grabbed a pen. He probably thought it was just another document, maybe a stock transfer agreement. It was all our money anyway, what did it matter? Without a second thought, he scrawled his name on the signature line. “You’d better do what you said!” he warned, and stormed out of the apartment. The old me would have cried all night, staring at the door he’d slammed behind him. But now? I felt a profound sense of calm. I went to bed and slept soundly. When I woke up, my phone had exploded again. This time, it wasn’t my team being demoted and fined. It was me. An official company memo read: “Since a certain individual feels she is unworthy of the General Manager title, her wish is granted. Effective immediately, she is demoted.” The people who had defended me had all been punished. Now, no one dared to speak up for me. I didn’t care. I took my entire team to HR and we all submitted our resignations. The HR manager frantically called Reid. “Mr. North, we have a situation… several people are resigning…” Before he could finish, I heard Olivia’s voice on the other end. “Reid, if you have something important to deal with, you should go. I can watch the movie by myself.” “No,” Reid’s voice was firm. “You’ve been through enough. I promised I’d make it up to you, and I will.” Then, his voice dropped to an angry hiss. “Resignations are a minor issue. Why are you bothering me with this? Can’t you handle anything yourself?” “But…” “But what? The company seal is in my desk drawer. Stamp the papers yourself and stop bothering me.” He hung up, then turned his phone off. The HR manager was at her wit’s end. With no other choice, she processed our resignations. The story that circulated, however, was that we’d all been fired. Olivia’s sycophants were gleefully reporting the news to her. “What good is talent if you can’t hold on to your man?” one of them crowed. “In love, the one who isn’t loved is the real loser!” They were badmouthing me, loudly and openly, just a few feet away. My team was ready to fight them, but I held them back. I smiled cheerfully at the gossiping group. “You’re so right,” I said. “I wish all of you the good fortune of having your partners find their own ‘true loves.’” Then I turned my back on their stunned, ugly faces and led my team away. “I’m in a great mood today,” I announced. “Lunch is on me. You guys pick the place.” My team started chattering excitedly, arguing between seafood and steak. While I waited for them to decide, I scrolled through my phone. A call came in from Jason. He’d heard we’d resigned and wanted to take us out for a celebratory meal. I ran it by the team, and soon our group was on its way to the restaurant Jason had chosen. Suddenly, Leo tugged on my sleeve. “Clara, look over there.” I followed his gaze and saw Reid and Olivia, holding hands, strolling through the shopping center. I said nothing, just quietly took out my phone and snapped a picture. One of their companions was teasing them. “Olivia, you finally decided to introduce us to the handsome mystery man you’ve been dating for three years! He’s so hot, no wonder you kept him hidden.” Reid smiled graciously. “I’ve been busy with work. My apologies.” Then he addressed the group. “Olivia tells me you’ve all taken good care of her. Whatever you want today, it’s on me.” Three years. Olivia wasn’t even out of college three years ago. So that’s how long it had been going on. No wonder he’d fought so hard to bring her into the company. Beside me, one of my team members kicked a chair in frustration. The noise startled Reid’s group. He turned, saw me, and his face went white. He dropped Olivia’s hand like it was on fire. “What are you doing here?” I laughed coldly. “So this is your ‘purely professional’ relationship?” He looked guilty for a split second, then remembered we were fighting. His voice boomed. “It was just an act for her friends! Are you too stupid to see that? And what gives you the right to yell at me?” “And you! It’s the middle of the workday and you’re slacking off! Do you have any respect for me as your boss? You and your entire team, you’re all docked a month’s pay!” Olivia, the one who took days off to go shopping, never faced any consequences. But for us, he was a tyrant. I smiled. “Forgot to tell you. My entire team and I quit.” “Have fun. We won’t be joining you.”

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I used to buy my fruit from the same little stand on the corner. I did it because the owners were an elderly couple, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, with no one to look after them, just struggling to get by. So, I never haggled, never even asked the price or checked the weight. That is, until I noticed the dates he sold me were two dollars a pound more expensive than what he charged the person right before me. “Mr. Peterson,” I asked, “why did you sell those dates to her for eight dollars a pound, but charge me ten?” He just smiled, his eyes crinkling. “Because you’re a teacher, Miss Chloe. You have a beautiful, kind heart. You’re just storing up good karma for yourself.” So that’s what it was. They were ripping off a regular. 1 I made a point of stopping by their stand every Monday and Friday to help them out. They were trying to make a living, but their sons were worthless, and their life was pitifully hard. When Mrs. Peterson was in the hospital a while back, I couldn’t help myself and slipped him $800 in cash. “Make sure your wife gets the best care, Mr. Peterson,” I’d told him. His hand trembled as he took the money, his eyes welling up with tears. His voice cracked, thick with emotion. “Thank you, Miss Chloe. Thank you.” He then scooped a huge bag of dates and handed them to me. I quickly pulled out another hundred-dollar bill. “These look fantastic today. I’ll take them.” I never questioned the price with him, never asked how much things weighed. I always just gave him extra; it had become a habit over the last two years. To me, it was just pocket change. Just as he was about to take the bill, a hurried customer cut in. “Hey, how much for the dates?” Mr. Peterson’s eyes darted toward me, a flash of guilt in them. He suddenly seemed anxious to get rid of me. “Why don’t you head on home, Miss Chloe? I’ll hold these for you. You can pick them up after work.” I didn’t think anything of it. But as I turned to leave, I heard Mr. Peterson’s quiet voice behind me. “Eight dollars a pound. How many do you want?” Eight dollars a pound? My feet felt like they were glued to the pavement. I’d been buying dates from him every day for a while now. He’d told me just the other day they were ten dollars a pound. That’s what he’d been charging me all along. Why was it suddenly eight for someone else? A bitter feeling started to creep in. I didn’t mind giving them money to help; I like being charitable. But I couldn’t stand being deceived. To see if I was imagining things, I waited in my car for an hour before walking back to the stand. “Mr. Peterson,” I asked, trying to keep my voice even, “how many pounds were in that bag you set aside for me? What’s the total?” He held up a hand, showing all five fingers. “Five pounds even. That’ll be fifty dollars.” He grinned, revealing a set of decaying teeth. He looked so honest, so simple, as if charging me fifty bucks was doing me some huge favor. Had he been doing this for the past two years? “Fine,” I said, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. “Five pounds it is.” I tried to reason with myself. He’s an old man, his kids don’t support him, what’s a little extra money? I always gave him more anyway. I was used to it. It didn’t matter. But this time, it did. I pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and handed it to him. Mr. Peterson’s smile vanished. He clutched the bill, his face twisting. “Miss Chloe, you never ask the price… you never ask about the weight. Why are you… why are you doing this now?” “Is there a problem?” My voice was colder than I intended. “Well, you were going to give me a hundred before, weren’t you? Why only fifty now? Are you shorting me?” he pressed, his voice rising. “Come on, Miss Chloe, give me the hundred. Times are tough, you know? This fruit stand, it doesn’t make much.” He started to look pathetic again, his brow furrowed. “We’re regulars, aren’t we?” An hour ago, I was perfectly willing to give him that hundred dollars. Now, I wasn’t. And he had the nerve to act wronged. A wave of revulsion washed over me. I slapped the fifty onto the counter, grabbed the bag of dates, and turned to leave. I hadn’t gotten ten steps before I heard a voice call out from behind me. “Miss Chloe! You didn’t pay enough! It’s supposed to be a hundred!” It was Mrs. Peterson, his wife. She’d appeared from nowhere and was now hurrying after me. A hundred? They were really doubling down on this. I held up the bag. “Five pounds,” I stated firmly. “Your husband said ten dollars a pound. That’s fifty dollars, right?” “Oh, you misunderstood!” Mrs. Peterson cried, her voice shrill. “These are the large dates, the good ones, shipped all the way from California! They’re twenty dollars a pound! You have five pounds there, so it’s one hundred dollars. What you’re holding, Miss Chloe, that’s the premium stuff.” Her face was etched with a greed I’d never seen before, and it made her a stranger. And Mr. Peterson… he just stood there, watching, silent. The so-called premium dates in my bag were the exact same size as the ones the other customer had bought. There was no way mine were worth twenty dollars while hers were eight. They were trying to shake me down. The hundred dollars they thought they had in the bag had turned into fifty, and they weren’t about to let it go. A nauseating feeling shot through me, leaving me dizzy in the cold wind. I had been buying fruit from their stand, helping them, for two years straight. And this is how they repaid me? By ripping me off? “So you’re sure,” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet, “that you’re selling these to me for twenty dollars a pound?” My heart felt like a block of ice. “In that case, I’d like the eight-dollar ones. Do you have any of those?” As a teacher, I was used to maintaining my composure in public, so I kept my voice steady, even as my blood boiled. Mrs. Peterson shook her head frantically. “No, no, we’re all out of those! We only have the twenty-dollar ones left. They’re the sweetest, the freshest.” She was insistent. I had to pay the hundred. They had just taken $800 from me this morning, and now they were trying to bleed me dry over a bag of fruit? Did I have “sucker” written on my forehead? Or had their dependence on my charity morphed into some twisted sense of entitlement? I could be generous, but I would not be played for a fool. “Fine,” I said, my voice rising. “Then I don’t want them. Take your dates back, and you can give me my fifty dollars.” I slammed the bag back down on the fruit stand and held out my hand to Mr. Peterson. He plastered on a smile, his tone shifting into that of a preachy old man. “Now, Miss Chloe, I know you’re a good person. You love doing good deeds. You’ve been helping us for two years, and we’re very grateful. But in return, I’ve always sold you the best seasonal fruit, always saved the first pick for you.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, doing good deeds builds up good karma. Think of all the blessings you’ve stored up! You’ll find a wonderful husband, have beautiful children… you see? You’re not losing anything at all, are you?” Before I could even react, his wife chimed in with the same sanctimonious tone. “We appreciate your business these past two years, Miss Chloe, we really do. But business is business, and gratitude is gratitude. Let’s not mix the two.” “Many times,” she continued, “we wanted to repay you. But you’re a teacher, you drive a nice car… we knew you didn’t need anything from people like us, right?” She finished with a series of hacking coughs, bending over as if she were about to be sick. Watching her pathetic display, a hot spike of irritation shot through me. This was blatant guilt-tripping. Moral blackmail. The whole atmosphere felt toxic, and I needed to get away. But as I turned to my car, Mrs. Peterson lunged in front of me. “One hundred dollars for the dates, Miss Chloe. You pay, take the fruit, and then you can go.” I finally snapped. “I don’t want them! I’m not buying them! I’m not even hungry!” All thoughts of maintaining a professional image were gone, incinerated by their blatant manipulation. “But you already had us bag them up! You can’t just decide not to buy them now. You can’t bully us poor, honest old folks, can you?” I almost laughed. Me, bullying them? They had been working together to fleece me, and if not for that one little slip-up today, I would have been none the wiser. Helping them had become so ingrained in my routine. “I’m bullying you?” I shot back, my voice dripping with disbelief. “I’ve bought fruit here nearly every day, never asked the price, and always paid extra. Was I bullying you then? You sell dates to someone else for eight dollars and charge me ten, then try to jack the price up to twenty to squeeze a hundred out of me, and now you have the gall to say I’m the bully? Why don’t you calculate how much you’ve scammed out of me over the years?” “I have to get to school,” I finished, my voice shaking with rage. “Don’t waste any more of my time.” I swore to myself I would never set foot near this place again. Con artists didn’t deserve an ounce of my sympathy. Just then, Mrs. Peterson threw herself in front of my car, wailing. “Miss Chloe, you can’t just leave the fruit you picked out! These are the ones you wanted! You can’t waste our time like this!” Seeing that she wasn’t going to move, my frustration boiled over. “Mrs. Peterson, I need to get to school. And if you really want to talk about money, I gave you eight hundred dollars this morning. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to help you anymore. I regret it. So how about you give me my $800 back?” My whole body was trembling with a fury I hadn’t felt in years. My entire worldview, my belief in helping others, was being shattered on this dirty sidewalk. She started sobbing, a pathetic stream of tears and snot running down her chapped face. In the cold air, her weathered, gaunt features made her the very picture of a victim. Anyone watching would have thought I was the monster. “That’s not how it works,” she whimpered. “Your donation was a donation. The dates are business. You can’t mix them up. You’re a respectable person, Miss Chloe, you can’t act like this.” I was done. I couldn’t argue anymore. I yanked my car door open, threw it in reverse, and sped away. But I had only just pulled up to the school when I saw her again. I don’t know how she got there so fast, but there she was, hauling a huge basket of dates, tears streaming down her face. “Miss Chloe, don’t be angry!” she cried out, loud enough for everyone to hear. “The dates aren’t expensive! We’ll sell them to you for eight dollars a pound, but you insisted on three! There are ten pounds here… fine, fine, just give me thirty dollars for the whole basket!” Wait. A minute ago, she was demanding a hundred. Now, she was claiming I had more dates, and she was asking for less money? I looked around. Students and fellow teachers were walking by, many of them slowing down to stare. I knew exactly what she was doing. She was here to humiliate me, to make me look like a cheap, petty bully in front of my colleagues and students. This wasn’t just about money anymore; it was malicious. I felt a suffocating wave of disgust and regret. Why had I ever tried to help these people? Just then, a smug voice cut through the air. “Miss Chloe, you shouldn’t be treating an elderly person like this. Look how old she is, and you’re giving her such a hard time? I got it all on video. I can report you, you know. Get you fired.” It was Kyle’s mother. Kyle was the biggest troublemaker in my class, a bully I’d had to discipline countless times. I had called his parents, made him write apology letters—and his mother had hated me for it ever since. Of course she would show up now. Mrs. Peterson, though old, was sharp. Seeing she had an ally, her eyes lit up. She leaned in close to me, her voice a venomous whisper. “This can all go away very easily. Just give me twenty thousand dollars, and I’ll tell everyone you did nothing wrong. I’ll clear your name. What do you say?” Twenty thousand dollars. Blackmail. Kyle’s mom had a video of me “bullying” an old woman, and Mrs. Peterson was ready to cash in. I was trapped at the gates of my own school. If I paid her off, I would be rewarding her cruelty, and I would hate myself for it. If I refused, my career as a teacher could be over. My reputation would be destroyed. To think, all of this happened because I decided I didn’t want to be overcharged for a bag of dates. “Fine,” I said, my voice hollow. “Give me the dates.” She eagerly handed over the heavy basket. She said I wanted them for three dollars a pound, right? Then that’s what I’d give her, right here in front of everyone. If they wanted to make me miserable, I’d make damn sure they didn’t have a good day either. I took out thirty dollars and gave it to her. I turned to walk into the school, the basket feeling like a block of lead in my hand. Behind me, Mrs. Peterson let out a heart-wrenching sob. “Can you believe the nerve of some teachers? I bring her ten pounds of my best dates, and she only gives me thirty dollars! I was just being polite, and she takes advantage! The cheapest dates anywhere are eight dollars a pound! She’s cheating me out of fifty dollars! We work so hard, and for what? Pennies! Is she trying to kill us?” She was a master, twisting the truth, painting herself as the victim. To the onlookers, she was just a frail, poor old woman. A sympathetic figure. Kyle’s mom let out a triumphant laugh. “Hahaha, I got it all! You’re finished, Miss Chloe! Bullying the elderly! You’re toast! Nobody’s going to let you get away with this. How could you be so cruel?” Looking at their vicious, gloating faces, I didn’t even bother to argue. My heart felt bruised and numb. I walked woodenly into the staff room, set the dates down, and pulled out my phone. I dialed a number. “Mr. Davison? That fruit stand on East Gate… tear it down. I want them gone. Now.” The land that fruit stand sat on? It was my family’s property. When the area was redeveloped, all the old buildings were demolished. All except for that one little plot. I had specifically requested it be left for the Petersons. I charged them only $300 a month in rent. They sold fruit out of the small storefront during the day, and at night, they’d lock up and live in the spacious eighty-square-foot room in the back. “Of course, Miss Chloe. You’ve finally seen the light,” Mr. Davison said, a clear note of relief in his voice. “I never trusted that couple, but I didn’t want to say anything.” He had always followed my instructions without question, but I remembered now he’d been unusually quiet, almost disapproving, when I’d first told him my plans for the stand. He’d seen something in them I hadn’t. After the call, a small measure of relief settled over me. I had to focus on preparing for my classes tomorrow.

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In our circle, Bob Bright and I were the golden couple, the one everyone knew was meant to be. But one month before our wedding, he called it off. He was going to marry Amy Reed, a scholarship student my parents had sponsored. When I confronted him, his excuse was pathetic. “If I don’t marry her, she’ll be forced to marry that paraplegic her family arranged for her.” He had the audacity to look at me with pleading eyes. “Sienna, you’ve always been the kindest person I know. You understand, don’t you?” “Fine,” I said, my voice flat. “I agree.” Relief washed over his face. Bob leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek, then pulled me into a hug. “I knew you would. Don’t worry, Sienna. As soon as this is all over, I’ll divorce her and come back to you.” I gently pushed him away, wiping the lingering dampness from my skin, and pulled an invitation from my pocket. He took it, his smile bright until he read the names engraved on the card. Then, his face froze. 1. “Sienna Williams… what… what is this?” “It’s written right there,” I said, my expression unreadable. I offered no explanation. He flipped the invitation over and over, his confusion turning to a cold sneer. “Is this a joke, Sienna? It’s not funny.” “Very convincing performance,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Scheduling your fake wedding for the same day as mine. And to Damian Thorne, of all people.” “I know you’re still angry with me, but I’ve been perfectly clear. I’m just helping Amy out of a jam, and then it’s over. Is it really so hard for you to show a little understanding?” Just as he finished his rant, a soft knock came at the door. Amy entered, her eyes red and puffy from crying. “Bob,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Maybe… maybe we should just forget it. It’s okay if I have to marry him… It’s just that… I…” A wave of pity crossed Bob’s face. He moved to her side, patting her back gently. “Don’t even think that,” he soothed, his voice impossibly tender. “I promised I would help you, and I will.” I had no interest in watching this melodrama unfold. I had delivered the invitation, but I had one last piece of business at his company. I walked around them and out of the office. “Sienna, where are you going?” Bob called after me. I didn’t answer. I could hear Amy’s soft, wounded voice behind me, followed by Bob’s hushed murmurs of comfort. He wasn’t coming after me. Even though I had already made my decision to let him go, the reality of it still stung. Bob and I had grown up together, our friendship seamlessly blossoming into love. Our families were close, and they had started planning our wedding the moment we were old enough. But Bob was fiercely ambitious. For years, he’d used his company’s growth as an excuse to postpone our marriage. At first, I was his biggest supporter. I even put my own family’s business on the back burner to come and help him build his empire. Everyone in our circle envied us. We were the couple they all wanted to be. Until Amy showed up. My parents had sponsored her after a near-accident on the way to the airport. They saw how hardworking and honest she seemed, and her family was genuinely struggling. They never imagined they were funding a viper. After graduating, she got a job at Bob’s company. They didn’t interact much at first, not until she came to our house one evening to borrow money from my parents. Her father, she claimed, had a medical emergency. Bob overheard and, without a second thought, gave her the cash. Soon after, he promoted her to be his personal secretary. As they spent more time together, I noticed their relationship growing closer, more intimate. They started spending time alone, without me. I remember at the company’s annual gala not long ago, Amy was plastered to Bob’s side, laughing at something he’d said. I stepped in. “We’re engaged, Bob,” I reminded him quietly. “If people see you this close to Amy, the gossip will make it impossible for her to find a boyfriend later on.” Amy looked up at me, her face a mask of wounded innocence. “Sienna, I know you’re Bob’s fiancée. But I’m his secretary. We have a purely professional, friendly relationship. How could you think something so… sordid?” Purely friendly? Anyone with eyes could see she was playing a game. But Bob, instead of creating distance, turned on me. “Sienna, why do you always have to make things so ugly?” he snapped. “Do you have any idea how hard Amy has been working? She just got this promotion, and people are already trying to sabotage her. I was just offering some support. Is that a problem?” He shot me a look of pure annoyance. “If our families hadn’t arranged our engagement, did you really think I would have chosen to marry you?” I froze, watching them walk away together. In that moment, I knew it was over. The sweet nothings he used to whisper in my ear were just echoes now. The adoration that once filled his eyes was now reserved for someone else. I could hear the whispers of the other guests. “What’s Bob Bright doing with that little secretary? Isn’t he about to marry Sienna Williams?” “Are you blind? Who could put up with Sienna’s temper? The secretary is so sweet and gentle.” “But their engagement is public knowledge. The Williams family promised an entire subsidiary company as a dowry.” “If he calls it off, the Williams will be completely humiliated.” Even strangers could see the writing on the wall. I’m sure Bob could too. The simple truth was, he didn’t love me anymore. And now, I was fine with that. I dropped off my resignation letter with HR and headed for the elevator. As I passed the emergency exit, I heard voices from behind the door. Through the small glass window, I saw them. Amy was nestled in Bob’s arms, gazing at him with pure adoration. The look he gave her back was anything but innocent. She tilted her head up, offering her lips. Bob’s eyes glazed over. For a second, a flicker of reason seemed to hold him back, and he pushed her away slightly. “Amy, we can’t… we…” But before he could finish, her mouth was on his. He resisted for a moment, then melted into the kiss, pulling her closer. They clung to each other like two parched travelers finding an oasis. “Oh, Bob,” she breathed, “I’m sorry, I just can’t control myself. I love you so much. I only wish I’d met you sooner.” “Amy, I…” I didn’t need to hear the rest. I glanced down at the ring on my finger, the one Bob had made himself when he proposed on my eighteenth birthday. It meant nothing now. I slipped it off and dropped it into the trash can by the elevator. The doors opened, and I turned to find Bob standing there, his eyes blazing with anger. “Sienna, did you just quit?” I shot him a sidelong glance and jabbed the ‘close door’ button. He lunged forward, squeezing in just before the doors shut. “The company is in a critical growth phase! It’s almost the end of the year, where am I supposed to find a replacement on such short notice?” “You have Amy, don’t you?” I said coolly. He had praised her work ethic to me more than once. Now was her chance to shine. An uncomfortable look flashed across his face. “Amy’s capable, yes, but the company still needs you,” he said after a pause. “Are you still mad? Sienna, I’ve told you a dozen times, I’m only marrying her to fool her parents. I swear, the moment it’s resolved, I’ll divorce her.” I was tired of hearing it. Ding. The elevator arrived at the underground parking garage. I strode out, quickening my pace. Bob hurried after me, but I was faster. I reached my car, unlocked it, and slid inside, pulling away just as he reached for the handle. “Sienna Williams, you’ll regret this!” he shouted after me. “Do you think the Williams family can maintain its standing without me?” My parents had worked themselves to the bone for years, but now they were older, and the company was struggling. Bob had been using that as leverage, holding it over my head again and again. He seemed to forget that if I hadn’t joined his company to save it from the brink of collapse, I would have taken over my own family’s business years ago. It was the Bright Corporation that had been failing before I stepped in. After I officially took over Williams Industries, I was busier than ever, with no time to even think about Bob. Until a party brought us all back into the same room. I rarely attended such events, but as the new CEO, I needed to network. Unsurprisingly, Bob and Amy were there. While Bob was busy charming some heiresses, Amy sidled up to me. “So what if you grew up with him, Sienna?” she sneered. “In the end, he’s marrying me.” With that, she “tripped,” sending her glass of red wine splashing all over her own dress. The glass shattered on the floor. Right on cue, Bob appeared, gently brushing shards of glass from her clothes. Amy shot me a triumphant look before turning her tear-filled eyes to Bob. “Bob, don’t blame Sienna. I’m sure she didn’t mean to do it.” Bob glared at me, his face a mask of fury. “Haven’t you had enough, Sienna? Are you still playing these childish games? Do you think this is going to win me back? I’m warning you, if you ever lay a hand on Amy again, I won’t care about the history between our families.” I laughed. I walked toward them, my eyes locked on his. “Lay a hand on her?” I said, my voice dangerously low as I stopped in front of Amy. “Watch closely. This is laying a hand on her.” I raised my hand and slapped her, hard, across the face. “Do you see the difference now?” I asked, my voice ringing with cold finality. “Consider that my wedding gift. A long and happy life to you both.” Bob stood there, stunned into silence, long after I had walked away. The next day, I went directly to the city’s most exclusive bridal couture and jewelry designer. Because Bob had always been “too busy,” I had handled all the wedding preparations myself. To protect his fragile ego, I had even commissioned a magnificent heirloom-style tiara. And because I had a fondness for historical fashion, I had a custom, hand-embroidered gown made. Now that the wedding was off, I was here to reclaim my things. The boutique owner looked deeply uncomfortable. “Mr. Bright already picked up the gown and the tiara,” she stammered. “He had the order form… we assumed you were too busy and had sent him…” Of course. He chose this exact moment to collect them. His intentions were obvious. I could write off the gown as a loss, but the tiara was non-negotiable. It was set with a priceless, heirloom Williams family sapphire, a stone that was literally irreplaceable. I called him. His response was a thinly veiled threat. “You want the tiara back? Fine. But you know that project your parents just partnered with us on? There seem to be some… complications.” He was threatening me. I let out a cold laugh. His tone softened. “Sienna, it’s not like you need this one tiara. When we get married, I’ll have a new one made for you. Just let Amy have this one. I just want her to have a respectable wedding.” This time, his sheer nerve actually made me laugh out loud. Hearing my silence, he pressed on. “Sienna, our wedding is just around the corner. If you’d like to come…” “No, thank you,” I cut in. “I don’t think I’ll have the time.” “Busy with what?” he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. “My parents are planning my wedding,” I said calmly. “Oh. I see. Well, that’s for the best,” he said, misinterpreting completely. “You always were the thoughtful one. Okay, I’ll adjust the wedding schedule accordingly.” Before I could correct him, he hung up. It didn’t matter. There was only one thing on my mind: getting that sapphire back. And I knew just the people to handle it. Our weddings were set for the same day. Early that morning, a procession of hundreds of luxury cars snaked through the city streets, heading for my family’s estate. The route took us directly past the hotel where Bob and Amy were getting married. As our fleet of Rolls-Royces and Bentleys glided by, I saw her. Amy, stepping out of her wedding car, wearing my custom gown and… my family’s sapphire tiara. She was nestled against Bob’s side, beaming, soaking in the envy of the crowd. But in the next second, the triumphant smiles on both their faces froze.

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When tabloids exposed Marcus Sterling’s affair with a college student, I brushed it off. As his wife—the woman he pursued for seven years—I trusted him completely. Then, a pregnant girl showed up at our son’s birthday party, and I became the joke of New York’s elite. Marcus begged forgiveness, blaming alcohol and vowing to handle it. I believed him—until five years later, at a spa, I overheard a young woman in the next room complain about postpartum changes, then coo into the phone: “Marcus, if I hadn’t had your baby… I don’t want money—I want you to leave your wife!” My hand froze on the doorknob. By the time I regained composure, I was already filing for divorce. He wouldn’t need to leave me—I was already gone. … The moment I clicked “confirm,” my phone rang. It was Marcus. “Audrey,” he said, his voice casual, almost bored. “Something’s come up. I won’t be home tonight.” I touched my face, tracing the faint pinpricks from the countless injections I’d endured. All for him. Because he once said, “Audrey, a woman’s skin starts to go after thirty. I love the feel of an eighteen-year-old.” So I, a woman who wouldn’t even pierce her ears, subjected myself to needles to please him. And all the while, he had another child with another woman. “Okay,” I said. My calm reply seemed to catch him off guard. He was about to say something else, but I hung up. Then, I sent him a photo of the woman from the spa. Her name was Chloe. “See you at the courthouse,” I texted. Less than half an hour later, he was home. He didn’t look like he did the first time I caught him—there was no guilt in his eyes, no fear. He just calmly lit a cigarette. Then, he opened the door behind him. A small figure came running out. “Mommy!” I glared at Marcus, the words I wanted to scream caught in my throat. He grinned, a smug, infuriating look on his face as he swung our son, Leo, into the air. “Leo, what do you say we have a family fun day today?” “Yay! Fun day!” I knew what he was doing. He was using our son to threaten me. Just like five years ago, when Leo overheard us talking about divorce and had an epileptic seizure. He was convulsing on the floor, his little hand still clutching my clothes, gasping, “Mommy… don’t… divorce… Daddy… please…” The memory was like a knife in my heart. For my son, I had given in. But as we were about to leave, an unexpected guest arrived. Chloe, her eyes red-rimmed, was standing at our door, holding the hand of a little boy. Without a word, she dropped to her knees before me. “Audrey, please,” she begged. “Just give him back to me. It’s Ben’s birthday. He needs his father.” The little boy, Ben, burst into tears. “I want my daddy! I want my daddy!” Leo, whose hand was in mine, went rigid. The color drained from his face. I turned to look at Marcus. I saw a flicker of indecision in his eyes. My heart pounded. I reached for him. But in the next second, he took a definitive step to Chloe’s side. “I’m sorry, Audrey,” he said. “Not today. We’ll do it another time.” A roar filled my ears, and something inside me snapped. After that first humiliating scene five years ago, Leo had been mercilessly bullied at school. Kids would point at him, calling him a bastard, a boy with no father. The torment had driven him to the brink of suicide. I had found him on the ledge of our balcony, and it was only my own hysterical, desperate pleading that had brought him back down. Afterward, Marcus had sent me expensive jewelry and designer bags as an apology. But what good was money when all of New York knew the price my son and I had paid for it? “Marcus Sterling,” I said, my voice shaking with rage, “if you walk out that door, my son and I are truly done with you.” He met my blazing eyes, and for a moment, I saw a flash of fear. But then Chloe grabbed Ben and darted toward the busy street. “What’s the point of living anyway!” she shrieked. “To be bullied like this? We might as well be dead!” Marcus’s face contorted in terror. He shoved me aside and sprinted into traffic after her. I fell backward, my head cracking against the stone steps. Blood streamed down my face, hot and sticky. Leo burst into tears, trying to press his little jacket against the wound. Then he turned and ran after his father. “Daddy, Mommy’s hurt! We have to take her to the hospital!” His small body was no match for Marcus, who was busy cradling Chloe in his arms, his face a mask of irritation. Suddenly, the other boy, Ben, started to cry. Chloe held up his arm, showing a faint red mark. “Why did you pinch him?” she screamed at Leo. “He’s just a child! What do you two want from us? If you want to hurt someone, hurt me!” She started slapping her own face, over and over. Marcus, seeing this, lost his mind. His hand flew out and connected with our son’s cheek with a sickening crack. “You’re just like your mother!” he snarled. “Completely spoiled!” He pulled out his phone. “The Garrison disciplinary camp? Yes, I have an unruly child for you. Come and get him. Immediately.” Leo crumpled to the ground, his hand on his swollen cheek, staring at his father as if in a trance. “It wasn’t me,” he whispered. “I didn’t pinch him…” My world dissolved into pain. I scrambled to my feet and threw myself in front of my son. “How dare you hit him! How dare you accuse him of something he didn’t do!” But Marcus only had eyes for Chloe and her son. He didn’t even glance at me. A van screeched to a halt beside us. It was from the camp—a notoriously brutal institution known for physical abuse, where a student had committed suicide just last year. My sweet, gentle boy did not deserve to be sent to a place like that. I spread my arms, shielding Leo. “Get away from him!” I screamed, feeling like a wild animal. “I’ll die before I let you take him!” Marcus’s gaze fell on the gash on my forehead, and for a second, his expression softened. But Chloe, with tears streaming down her face, pleaded, “Audrey, you’re only hurting him more! He’s misbehaving, and you’re stopping him from getting the discipline he needs!” That was all it took. Marcus’s resolve hardened. He grabbed me and threw me aside, letting the large, rough-looking men drag my son into the van. “Mommy! Mommy, save me!” Leo’s screams tore through me. He reached for me as I scrambled after the van, only to trip and fall hard onto the pavement. To the onlookers, I was the villain. They saw a man protecting a crying woman and her child from a screaming hysteric. They saw a mistress making a scene. Phones came out, recording my broken sobs. “Look at her, no shame. The other woman, and she’s the one crying.” “She’s psycho. Someone should call the cops and have her locked up.” … I sat there, numb, as their insults rained down on me. In the distance, Chloe was nestled against Marcus like a delicate bird, her eyes filled with contempt. Her lips formed a single, silent word. Pathetic. A flicker of pity crossed Marcus’s face, and he started to reach for me. But Chloe slumped against him. “Marcus,” she whimpered, “my head hurts.” He immediately turned his attention back to her, scooping her up into his arms and carrying her to his car. As they drove past, Chloe shot me a look of pure triumph. At this point, who even cared? I went home. I packed. I hired private security. All that was left was to rescue my son. But at midnight, Marcus, who I had assumed would be gone for the night, walked in. He was drunk. He grabbed my chin, his grip tight. “Audrey, what’s with the long face?” he slurred. “I’ll keep Chloe and Ben set up somewhere else. They’re not a threat to you. Why can’t you just compromise a little?” Compromise? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I had compromised five years ago. And where did it get me? He had a whole other family. On her social media, Chloe had just posted a picture of the three of them celebrating a birthday, their backs to the camera. Meanwhile, my son was trapped in that cold, cruel camp. Marcus’s hand moved to my cheek, his eyes still holding a familiar trace of desire. “Audrey, let’s have another baby. A daughter. Once you have both a son and a daughter, you won’t want to leave me.” He pushed me down onto the bed, his hot hand sliding up my thigh. I slapped him. Hard. He froze, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you crazy?” I shoved him off me and threw the divorce papers I’d prepared onto the bed. “I want a divorce.” His parents had never thought I was good enough for him anyway. Now that he was a cheater, there was no reason to continue this sham. His face turned ugly. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe he’d finally had enough of me. For the first time, he didn’t try to talk me out of it. “You’re sure?” “Positive.” His eyes were bloodshot. He grabbed a pen and signed his name with a vicious slash. “Audrey Sterling,” he growled, “don’t come crawling back to me.” I didn’t bother to reply. I just took the papers, grabbed my bags, and walked out the door. The next morning, I sent the security team into the camp. Ex-special forces are efficient. They had Leo in less than ten minutes. In just one day, he looked like he had been through hell. His eyes were vacant; he didn’t even call me ‘Mom.’ My heart shattered. I rushed him to the car, desperate to get him to a hospital. But as we pulled away, a black SUV cut us off. Marcus and Chloe got out. “Get out of the way!” I screamed. “I have to get Leo to a hospital! You—” Before I could finish, Chloe dropped to her knees, sobbing. “Audrey, please, give me back my son! I can’t live without Ben! I’m begging you!” She started slamming her forehead against the pavement. I stared at her, horrified. “What are you talking about? What does Ben’s disappearance have to do with me?” “Audrey!” Marcus roared. “You’re still lying? You hired men to break into a school! What else are you capable of?” I felt a stabbing pain in my chest. He was attacking me over his mistress’s child, without even noticing the state of his own son. Leo started trembling, his face growing paler by the second. I knew I couldn’t wait. I scooped him up and tried to get back in the car. But Marcus, his eyes dark with suspicion, snatched Leo from my arms. “I’m asking you one last time, Audrey,” he said, his face a mask of cold fury. “Where is Ben?” Tears streamed down my face as I saw how roughly he was holding our son. “I don’t have him!” I cried. “We’ve been together for ten years! Is this really what you think of me?”

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It was the annual company barbecue. I took a bite of the vegetable salad, drenched in some kind of creamy dressing. A second later, my lips started to tingle. My throat swelled shut, and I couldn’t breathe. Realizing it was an allergic reaction, I shoved my phone at my boyfriend, Liam. “Call 911.” Liam took the phone. He unlocked it, then handed it to his intern, Mia. “You do it. My hands are shaking.” Mia took the phone and swiped across the screen a few times. A moment passed. She sent a link to a handbag to Liam. “Liam, what do you think of this one?” By now, I couldn’t speak at all, only a choked, gurgling sound escaping my throat. Liam studied the picture of the bag intently. “The color’s not right for you.” He took the phone back and opened the camera, pointing it at my swollen, disfigured face. Mia leaned in for a look. “Liam, stop. Rachel doesn’t look good like this.” 1 With Mia’s words, Liam put his phone away, his brow furrowed in annoyance as he looked at me. “Rachel, did you just eat something bad?” he snapped, impatience lacing his voice. “Don’t scare Mia. You know how sensitive she is.” I shook my head frantically, forcing a ragged hiss of air from my constricted throat. I raised a hand, pointing desperately at my backpack. My life-saving medicine was in there. My EpiPen. Liam completely misunderstood. His expression soured. “What the hell are you trying to do?” he demanded. “Can’t you just use your words? What’s with all the pointing?” Our colleagues started to gather around us, murmuring and pointing. “Hey, what’s wrong with Rachel?” “Her face is swollen up like a balloon. Is it an allergic reaction?” “God, that looks terrifying.” Amid the chatter, Mia suddenly burst into tears with a loud “wah.” She threw herself into Liam’s arms, her shoulders shaking. “Liam, did I do something wrong?” she sobbed. “Is Rachel mad because I was showing you that bag? Does she think I was trying to stop you from calling for help?” Liam immediately wrapped his arms around her, patting her back soothingly. “It’s not your fault, Mia,” he murmured. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” He turned to glare at me, his eyes filled with resentment. “She’s just throwing another one of her princess tantrums, trying to make everyone pay attention to her. Just ignore her. We’re not getting involved.” Black spots danced in my vision as my consciousness began to fade. With the last ounce of my strength, I crawled toward my backpack. My fingertips were just about to touch the zipper when a polished leather shoe stomped down hard on the back of my hand. Pain shot up my arm, but I couldn’t even scream. He loomed over me, his voice dripping with contempt. “Rachel, have you made enough of a scene? Are you happy now that the whole company is laughing at you?” From behind him, Mia peeked out, tears still glistening on her cheeks, but her eyes held a triumphant, vicious glint. She leaned closer, her voice a soft whisper only the three of us could hear. “Rachel, did you like the peanut sauce? I went to three different stores to find that special extra-rich blend, just for you.” My world narrowed to a pinpoint. I forced my other hand up, pointing a trembling finger at Mia’s innocent-looking face, trying to show Liam the truth. Seeing my gesture, Liam’s face darkened. He shoved me away forcefully. “Now you’re trying to hit her? Rachel, stop bullying Mia! She’s timid, don’t you dare scare her!” The surrounding colleagues immediately jumped to his defense, their words a torrent of condemnation. “Yeah, Rachel, you’re going way too far.” “Mia’s just a new intern. She’s so sweet and fragile, how could you be so mean to her?” “Liam, your girlfriend has a serious attitude problem. You really need to get her under control.” My breathing grew faint, my vision blurring into a meaningless smear of color. I had been with Liam for two years. He always thought I was just an ordinary girl. Today’s barbecue was supposed to be my final test for him before I decided to marry him. Through the last slivers of light, I saw Liam holding a weeping Mia, gently wiping the tears from her face. Finally, someone in the crowd noticed something was truly wrong. “I think she’s really in trouble! Look, her lips are turning blue!” “Quick! Someone call an ambulance!” In the ensuing chaos, someone finally remembered to dial 911. I collapsed onto the ground, my body beginning to convulse uncontrollably. As all eyes were on me, Mia subtly hooked my backpack with the tip of her foot, sending it sliding several feet away. My life-saving EpiPen rolled out, landing right underneath the scorching hot grill. No one noticed. Liam crouched down, patting my bloated cheek with a show of false concern, his voice sharp with irritation. “Rachel, stop faking it. It’s getting old. The ambulance is on its way, what more do you want? Everyone’s watching. If you keep this up, I’m going to get really angry.” My consciousness sank into an endless darkness. In the distance, I could hear the faint wail of a siren growing closer. Liam was still cooing at the girl in his arms, his voice dripping with affection. “Don’t be scared. She’s fine. She just loves to make a big deal out of nothing.” 2 “Patient is in critical condition! Move! Make way!” “Where’s the family? We need someone to ride with us to the hospital!” The paramedics’ voices echoed around me. I felt myself being lifted onto a stretcher by a flurry of hands. Liam raised his hand slightly. “I’m her boyfriend. We’ll go with you.” But the moment he climbed into the ambulance, he sat down next to Mia, not even sparing me a single glance. He pulled the still-sniffling girl into his arms, letting her rest her head against his chest. Mia trembled in his embrace. “Liam, I’m so scared,” she whimpered. “Rachel… is she going to die? If she dies, is it all my fault? Will the police arrest me?” Liam stroked her back, his brow creased with concern. “Don’t be ridiculous. It has nothing to do with you,” he said, his tone firm. “It’s her own fault for having such a weak constitution. Always having some reaction. Who even knows what she’s allergic to? She’s always so damn dramatic.” A paramedic, busy fitting an oxygen mask over my face, turned to ask Liam, “Does the patient have a history of allergies? Was she exposed to anything unusual?” Without looking up, Liam kept his eyes fixed on Mia. “I don’t know. I’m not really sure. She’s usually perfectly healthy. Nothing like this has ever happened before.” I struggled to open my mouth, to tell the doctor it was peanuts. He knew. He always knew I was allergic to peanuts. A memory surfaced—a company dinner from when we first started dating. A plate of Kung Pao chicken was set in front of me. He had meticulously picked out every single peanut with his chopsticks. “My Rachel could die from eating peanuts,” he’d said to everyone at the table. “I have to watch out for her.” A sharp-eyed nurse noticed my distress. She quickly grabbed my dirt-smudged backpack and started rummaging through it. In a moment, she pulled out a medical information card. “Found it! Severe peanut allergy!” She looked up, her voice sharp as she questioned Liam. “If it’s a severe allergy, why wasn’t her emergency medication used? Her bag should contain an adrenaline auto-injector!” Liam finally glanced over, his expression one of pure, innocent confusion. “What medication? What injector? I don’t know anything about that. She never told me.” Mia immediately lifted her head from his chest, rushing to explain. “Rachel was pointing at her bag earlier. I thought she wanted a tissue or something. I had no idea it was for medicine.” As she spoke, fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “It’s all my fault. I honestly didn’t know it was life-saving medicine, or I would have gotten it for her right away.” Liam instantly defended her. “How could you be blamed? We’re not doctors. How were we supposed to know? Don’t cry, Mia. You’re not as pretty when you cry.” The ambulance sped through the city. I could feel my life slipping away. And my boyfriend, not six feet from me, had pulled out his phone. He was scrolling through funny short videos, holding the screen up for Mia. “Look at this one. This cat is so dumb. Isn’t that hilarious?” The paramedics were inserting an IV, pushing antihistamines into my veins. And my boyfriend was whispering sweet nothings to another woman. Just then, Mia suddenly stood up, swaying with the motion of the vehicle. “Oops, I was just going to grab a bottle of water.” She stretched out her arm, pretending to reach for a water bottle in the corner. As the ambulance braked suddenly, she lost her balance, and her hand slammed hard against my oxygen mask. The mask flew off, landing beside me. My already shallow breathing stopped completely. The monitor beside me shrieked as my oxygen saturation plummeted. “What are you doing?!” the nurse screamed, shoving Mia away as she scrambled to replace my mask. Mia covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide with feigned horror. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to! The ride is so bumpy, I just lost my footing.” Liam pulled her back into his arms. “It’s okay, don’t be scared. It wasn’t your fault.” He turned to the nurse. “It was a bumpy ride, that’s all. Why are you yelling at her?” The nurse was so furious at his attitude that she was speechless, managing only to shoot them a venomous glare. “Both of you sit down and don’t move again!” The ambulance finally arrived at the hospital. I was wheeled rapidly into the emergency room. Just as the doors swung shut, I heard Mia rub her stomach and say in a delicate voice, “Liam, all that stress made me hungry. My tummy’s rumbling.” Liam immediately pulled out his phone. “What do you want? Hot pot? Barbecue? I’ll order us something right now.” 3 “The patient has severe laryngeal edema, her airway is closing! We need to perform an emergency tracheotomy, now!” “Another few minutes and she could suffer irreversible brain damage, or even die! We need a signature from the family, right now!” A doctor burst out of the ER, holding a critical condition notice and a surgical consent form. Liam casually took the pen but made no move to sign. He scanned the papers over and over before finally looking up at the doctor. “Doctor, I have a question about this procedure…” he began slowly. “Will… will it leave a scar on her neck? Are you even her boyfriend?” The doctor stared at him in disbelief. “Sir, your girlfriend is on the verge of death! This is about saving her life! And you’re worried about a scar?” Beside him, Mia tugged on Liam’s sleeve, whispering, “Liam, you know how much Rachel cares about her appearance. If she wakes up with an ugly scar on her neck, she’ll never forgive you. She might even get depressed.” Liam’s expression became even more conflicted. He twirled the pen in his fingers, refusing to sign. “Well… is there a way to do it without leaving a scar? Maybe use better medicine, or some imported technique? Can we get the best surgeon available? Money is not an issue. We’ll pay whatever it costs.” The doctor’s temples throbbed with frustration. “Do you think this is a supermarket where you can pick and choose? I’m telling you, every second we waste is a second closer to her death! Every delay increases the damage to her brain! Now sign the damn form!” I was being wheeled out of the ER, on my way to the operating room. Through the crack in the door as it closed, I could see Liam still arguing with the doctor. A few passing nurses couldn’t stand it anymore and gathered around to confront him. “What is wrong with you? Are you insane?” “Your girlfriend is dying and you’re hung up on a scar?” “Seriously, which is more important, a scar or her life? Are you really her boyfriend?” Faced with the accusations, Mia spread her arms to shield Liam. Her eyes were red as she pleaded with the nurses. “Please, don’t blame Liam. He just loves Rachel so much that he’s not thinking straight. He’s just trying to consider what’s best for her in the long run.” She turned back to Liam, her eyes shimmering with tears. “Liam, I trust you. I know that every decision you make is for Rachel’s own good. Don’t listen to them. Just do what you think is right.” Her words were like a shot of adrenaline to his ego. He stood up straighter. He looked the doctor dead in the eye. “I need more time to consider this. As doctors, you have a responsibility to guarantee a perfect outcome, with no side effects. That includes scarring! Otherwise, I am not signing anything.” The doctor was too enraged to waste another breath on him. He spun around and yelled to the nurse behind him. “We’re out of time! Call the department head immediately! Request an emergency authorization! Go! Go! Go!” The doors to the surgical wing slammed shut, cutting off the noise from the hallway. Outside, Liam was loudly defending himself. “I’m doing this for her own good! I’m being responsible!” Mia patted his back, comforting him. “Liam, don’t be angry. They don’t understand how deeply you care. But I do. You’re the best boyfriend in the world.” Liam nodded, his face filled with gratitude. “You’re the only one who gets me.” He pulled out his phone and checked his food order. “Come on. Our milk tea should be here. Let’s go wait by the entrance.” 4 “Patient’s blood pressure is dropping!” “Cardiac arrhythmia detected! Get the defibrillator ready!” “Increase the epinephrine drip!” Inside the operating room, it was controlled chaos. I could feel my body growing cold. Outside the closed doors, Mia was leaning on Liam’s shoulder, sipping her milk tea and pouting. “Liam, I’m suddenly craving crawfish. The spicy kind. Like, really, really spicy.” Without a moment’s hesitation, Liam opened a food delivery app and ordered a fifty-dollar deluxe spicy crawfish platter. While they waited for the food to arrive, he even found the energy to discuss a new project at work with Mia, strategizing how to present it to senior management to maximize his own credit. A passing head nurse saw them and walked over, frowning. “Sir, this is an emergency area. There is a patient fighting for her life in there. We need the family to remain quiet.” Liam looked up, annoyed. “Were we being loud? Are we interrupting you from saving the world?” The nurse, stunned by his brazen attitude, could only shake her head and walk away. The food arrived quickly. Liam took the bag and opened the containers on the bench right outside the ER doors. The fiery, aromatic scent of chili and garlic instantly filled the sterile corridor. Mia clapped her hands in delight at the sight of the bright red crawfish, then her lip jutted out. “But I don’t want to peel them myself. I just got my nails done. What if they get dirty? And my hands will smell.” Liam pulled on a pair of disposable gloves. “I’ll peel them for you.” A moment later, a perfectly shelled, plump piece of tail meat was pinched between his fingers. “Here, Mia. Open up. Ahhh—” Mia ate it in one bite. “Liam, you’re the best!” This was the scene that greeted Director Evans as he rushed down the hallway, several grim-faced department heads trailing behind him. His sheer presence silenced the entire corridor. Director Evans stopped directly in front of Liam. His voice was ice. “Move.” Liam, about to peel a second crawfish, looked up in confusion. “Who are you? Can’t you see we’re eating?” Director Evans glanced at the takeout containers on the floor, and his face turned to stone. Without another word, he shoved open the doors to the operating room and strode inside. The doctors inside looked up and saw him as if he were a savior. “Director Evans! What are you doing here?” Director Evans scanned the monitors, then looked at my condition on the operating table. His voice trembled with a rage so profound it was almost silent. “This is… this is Rachel Vance! From Helios Global!” “What in God’s name are you people doing! Why isn’t she on a heart-lung machine? Who approved this conservative treatment plan!” The operating room fell into a dead silence. Outside, Liam and Mia, who had been about to complain, froze, their expressions locked in place. Helios Global. Rachel Vance. The two names combined like a bolt of lightning, striking them right between the eyes. The crawfish in Liam’s hand fell to the floor with a soft splat.

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On the way to my biological parents’ mansion after they’d found me, my father, Walter, drilled me in the car. “Zoe, listen to me. In this house, what your grandfather says, goes. It’s the law. Don’t you ever talk back to him, or you’ll regret it.” I raised an eyebrow. “The law? Is that codified in the family trust, or is it more of a common-law precedent? What’s the source of its legitimacy and enforceability?” The color drained from my father’s face. He didn’t know that my adoptive parents were both law professors. Our dinner table conversations were less about our day and more like a moot court. I’d been trained since childhood to be a ruthlessly logical debater, with a particular talent for picking apart flawed arguments. So, faced with an unchallengeable authority? I wasn’t scared. I was thrilled. This was exactly the kind of flimsy power structure I loved to dismantle. … Stepping into the house, I was met with the sight of a patriarch straight out of an old film. My grandfather sat enthroned in a massive mahogany armchair, his hands polishing a silver tea service to a gleaming shine. He didn’t even bother to look up, treating me like a ghost. My father, Walter Grayson, the CEO of a billion-dollar public company, stood before him as deferential as a bellhop. “Dad, this is Zoe. She’s home.” Only then did my grandfather slowly lift his eyelids. His cloudy eyes swept over me, and he let out a short, dismissive grunt. “Now that you’re back, learn to behave. Don’t be like some people who, after a decade, can’t even produce a male heir. A complete disgrace to the Grayson name.” The remark was a clear shot at my mother, Helen. Her face went stark white, her hands twisting the hem of her dress. My uncle, Trevor, lounging on a nearby sofa, immediately chimed in with a malicious grin. “Dad, you can’t say that. Walter has two daughters now, doesn’t he? Even if one of them turned out to be someone else’s after eighteen years.” His wife, my aunt Brenda, tittered behind a silk handkerchief. “Exactly. What do you call that? All that effort for nothing. And now that the real one is back, who knows how wild she is? If she can even be disciplined.” In the corner, a girl about my age shot to her feet, her face flushed with anger. This was Ava Grayson, the girl who had been switched at birth, the so-called fake heiress. “Uncle Trevor! How can you say that about Mom and Dad?” Trevor’s eyes narrowed. “Hey, does a freeloader like you have any right to speak here? You eat our food, you live in our house. Don’t get too big for your britches.” Ava’s eyes instantly filled with tears. She stood there, trembling, unable to utter a single word in her defense. My father looked torn, tugging at my sleeve and signaling me to stay quiet. I brushed his hand away and stepped into the center of the living room. “Hello, everyone. My name is Zoe Miller. I’ve just been listening to the opening statements, and I’ve identified a few issues regarding factual determination and the application of law that I’d like to discuss.” My voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough to silence the room. I looked first at my uncle. “Firstly, regarding Ava’s legal status. Having been raised by Mr. Walter Grayson and Mrs. Helen Grayson for eighteen years, a de facto parent-child relationship has been established. Under inheritance law, as an adopted daughter, she enjoys the same succession rights as a biological child. Your use of the term ‘someone else’s’ to describe her could constitute slander.” I then turned to my grandfather. “Secondly, on the issue of procreation. Linking the success of a corporate entity to the birth of a male heir is a relic of feudal thinking. Furthermore, under federal anti-discrimination laws, no entity or individual may discriminate against a woman on the basis of marriage or childbirth. Your earlier statement constitutes gender discrimination against Mrs. Helen Grayson.” I paused, my gaze finally landing on Brenda. “Lastly, regarding the assertion of ‘all that effort for nothing.’ The logical premise of this metaphor is that raising a daughter is an investment that requires a financial or dynastic return. This commodifies the emotional value of a family member and is, frankly, unethical.” When I finished, you could have heard a pin drop. Walter and Helen stared at me, their jaws slack. Ava had forgotten to cry, her mouth hanging open in pure admiration. My uncle and aunt’s faces cycled through shades of green and white, as if they’d swallowed a fly. Finally, my grandfather broke the silence. He slammed his teacup down on the table, his cold eyes fixed on my father. “Walter. This daughter of yours has quite a mouth on her.” “Since she’s so clever, I think we’ll just cut your household allowance in half this month. Let’s see if that clever mouth of hers can talk food onto the table.” With the patriarch’s decree, the atmosphere in the house shifted. The next day, our dinner went from a six-course meal to a meager two dishes with barely any meat. The housekeeper looked at us with pity in her eyes. Helen was a nervous wreck, secretly trying to slip me a credit card. “Zoe, take this. There’s some money on it. Go buy yourself something nice to eat.” I pushed the card back. “Mom, the problem isn’t money. It’s that the power structure in this family is illegal.” That evening, I found Walter sighing in his study. “Dad, can I ask about the company’s shareholding structure?” He looked at me, then gave a bitter smile. “Why are you asking about that? I built the company from the ground up. I own sixty-five percent of the shares, your uncle has ten, and the rest is held by a few long-serving executives.” “If you’re the majority shareholder, why does Grandfather control the distribution of profits?” Walter sighed, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Your grandfather is the Chairman. He has control over the corporate accounts, the checkbooks, everything. He says it’s a Grayson family enterprise, not just mine. All profits are to be managed centrally, and then he gives us a monthly allowance.” I frowned. “That’s a violation of corporate law. The company is a separate legal entity. Its assets are distinct from the personal assets of its shareholders. This is a classic case of commingling funds. It could even be considered embezzlement.” “I know all that,” Walter said, rubbing his temples. “But he’s my father. These have always been the house rules. I can’t just sue him over money, can I? Imagine the scandal.” I finally understood. My father was trapped in the emotional shackles of filial duty. The next day, Trevor and Brenda returned from a shopping spree, making a grand show of their haul. Brenda carried several designer bags, while Trevor sported a flashy new watch, waving it in front of my father. “Walter, what do you think of my new timepiece? Dad approved it himself. A little reward for closing a small deal for the company.” Brenda tossed a handbag onto the sofa. “It’s so nice to have a father who appreciates you. Unlike some people, who work their fingers to the bone all year only to have their allowance cut.” Walter’s face was a mask of grim fury, his fists clenched at his sides. Ava couldn’t stand it. She ran to her room and returned with a stack of ledgers. “Zoe, look! This is the household account book. I’ve been keeping a secret copy. Uncle Trevor’s family spends five times more than we do every month! It’s all paid from the central family account!” I opened the ledger. The entries were shocking. Trevor’s dog had a monthly grooming bill of over two thousand dollars. Brenda’s afternoon tea parties started at five thousand. Their son’s tuition and living expenses abroad were a bottomless pit. And the vast majority of that money was profit generated by my father’s company. I closed the book, a plan forming in my mind. Just then, Trevor came bounding down the stairs, beaming. “Dad! Walter! Helen! The most wonderful news! Our Kevin got his acceptance letter from Oxford!” My grandfather emerged from his room, his face glowing. “Excellent! Excellent! A true grandson of the Grayson family! Don’t worry about the tuition. I’ll transfer five hundred thousand from the company accounts immediately!” He shot a triumphant, provocative glance in my direction. “You see that? This is how a true heir to the Grayson fortune is treated.” He then looked at my father, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Walter, we’ll deduct this amount from your dividends for the year.” The decision was like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the last bit of color from Walter and Helen’s faces. Five hundred thousand dollars was almost all of their nominal annual dividend. It meant that not only would they continue to live on a shoestring budget, but they would also be saddled with the massive expense of “sponsoring” their nephew. Helen’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t dare make a sound, biting her lip so hard it turned white. Walter’s head drooped, his shoulders slumping like a bull that had finally been broken. The whole family was going to the city’s most exclusive restaurant to celebrate. Before we left, Brenda made a point of coming over to us, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, Walter, Helen, you’ll have to eat your fill tonight. You’re only here thanks to our Kevin’s success. After this, you might not even get a taste of the soup.” Trevor clapped my father on the shoulder with false sincerity. “Don’t worry, big brother. We won’t forget your sacrifice when Kevin comes back from Oxford to take over.” Ava was trembling with rage, gripping my hand. “Zoe, let’s not go! Why should we celebrate with them using our money?” I patted her hand soothingly. “We’re going. Why wouldn’t we? This is a historic moment. We have to be there to witness it.” The restaurant’s private dining room was opulent. My grandfather sat at the head of the table, beaming as relatives fawned over him. Our family of four was seated at the farthest corner, as if we were crashing the party. After a few rounds of drinks, Trevor stood up, raising his glass. “Tonight, I first want to thank my father, the great helmsman of the Grayson family! And secondly, I want to give a special thanks to my big brother, Walter! Without his hard work, Kevin’s bright future would not be possible! Come, let’s all raise a glass to my brother!” All eyes turned to our table. My father’s face was beet red, the wine glass shaking in his hand. I stood up. I walked slowly to the projection screen at the front of the room, took out my tablet, and connected it. “Before the celebration continues, I believe that as key stakeholders in Grayson Enterprises, you all have the right to be informed of some recent corporate developments.” The screen lit up, displaying the public information page from the Secretary of State’s office. “According to corporate law, ownership of a limited liability company is determined by shareholding. Currently, the structure of Grayson Enterprises is as follows: Mr. Walter Grayson, holding sixty-five percent, is the absolute majority shareholder.” My tone shifted, becoming sharp and cool. “Using corporate funds for the personal educational expenses of a shareholder’s relative, without a resolution passed by the board of directors, is legally defined as ‘misappropriation of funds’ or embezzlement. For amounts of this magnitude, the maximum penalty is a significant prison sentence.” My grandfather’s face darkened. He slammed his hand on the table. “Insolence! I am the Chairman of the board! I can do whatever I want with the company’s money!” My uncle started shouting. “What does a little girl like you know? Get the hell out of here!” I smiled faintly and clicked to the next slide. “Regarding the position of Chairman, I also have a recent document to share.” Projected on the screen was an official notice of corporate amendment, stamped with a bright red digital seal. “An interesting assertion, Mr. Chairman. However, according to a change in registration that became effective three days ago, the legal representative, executive director, and Chairman of Grayson Enterprises is no longer you.” I picked up a freshly printed document from the table and waved it gently. The line for “Legal Representative” clearly displayed my name: Zoe Miller. “I am.” The room was plunged into a dead silence.

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After the college entrance exams, the most popular guy in school, Seth, decided to throw a qipao party to help everyone relax. When I saw the dangerously low necklines and thigh-high slits on the dresses, I tried to stop the entire class from going. My girlfriend, Sandra, just raised an eyebrow. “Jealous that Seth is hotter than you?” The whole class laughed and walked away. Only my childhood friend, Riley, listened to me. That night, everyone at the party was arrested for indecency. They were all detained. Riley looked at our classmates behind bars and shook her head. “Thank God you warned me. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have made it to college either.” After graduation, Sandra and Seth were released from prison. The first thing they did was get engaged. Riley, who had been waiting outside the prison gates with me, turned and plunged a knife into my stomach. Again and again. “Why did you stop me? Don’t you know how much I love him? If I had been there with him that night, if I had gone to prison with him, the person he’s marrying now wouldn’t be someone else!” Only then did I realize she had been in love with Seth all along. When I opened my eyes again, I gave Riley and Sandra a gentle push forward. “No problem. Go ahead.” 1 “Hayden, I’m throwing this qipao party for everyone’s sake. You think this is easy for me? Are you trying to slander me and say I have some ulterior motive with the girls?” I had just opened my eyes to find Seth, the most popular guy in school, with his arm draped over my girlfriend’s shoulder, looking at me with disdain. The other students nodded in agreement, especially the girls. “Yeah, Hayden. Qipaos are a cultural treasure. Are you just upset because Seth has better looks and a better body than you? Worried you won’t get any attention if you go?” “Hahaha, don’t worry, class president. We were never interested in you anyway. You could be naked and we still wouldn’t look twice.” My girlfriend, Sandra, let out an ill-timed chuckle. But this time, I didn’t look at her. I turned to my silent childhood friend, Riley, who stood beside me. In my past life, everyone thought I was just jealous of Seth. Even my girlfriend teased me about it. Only Riley, after my desperate pleading, stayed behind. Later, she even went to the same university as me, and we were in the same research group until we finished our master’s degrees. I thought she was the only one who saw clearly. But I never imagined that all those years of studying, she was just waiting for Seth to get out of prison. Her love for him was so perfectly hidden that even I, her closest friend, never noticed. “I get it,” I said, nodding. I grabbed my backpack and took a couple of steps back. “I’m going home.” “Hayden.” Riley suddenly grabbed my hand. I froze. Her gaze was complicated. “You should take your girlfriend with you.” In that instant, it felt like an electric current shot through me. Riley… she was reborn too? There was a hint of defensiveness in her eyes as she looked at Sandra. Of course. In our past life, she and Sandra were the two girls closest to Seth. If Sandra went to the party this time, Riley couldn’t be sure that Seth would still choose her in the end. “Mind your own business,” Sandra said, shooting me a disgusted look. “I haven’t had a chance to relax since I started studying for the exams. It’s just a qipao exhibit. Don’t be so dirty-minded.” “Did I say it was dirty?” I seized on the flaw in her logic. “I just said it wasn’t a good idea. Why would you assume I meant that? So you already know there’s something wrong with this party?” The girls’ and Seth’s expressions instantly turned cold. Sandra’s face stiffened. It was Riley who came to my defense. “Sandra, you’re Hayden’s girlfriend. A party like this isn’t really appropriate for someone who’s in a relationship.” Sandra was unfazed. “It’s just a party. Besides, if Hayden really can’t handle it, we can just break up for a day, right?” She shot me a challenging look. 2 I was always sensitive to her jokes. Every time she mentioned breaking up, I would force her to take it back. But now, I just smiled. “Sure.” And then I really did turn and walk away. Sandra’s smile froze on her face. Before she could say anything, Seth stopped me. “Alright, alright, don’t make it seem like I stole your girlfriend. Hey, you guys, bring the class president along.” A few guys came over and grabbed me by the arms. I struggled frantically. “I’m not going! Let me go!” “Come on, class president, stop playing hard to get. You were just waiting for us to invite you, weren’t you?” “You’ll see for yourself whether it’s a decent party or not when you get there.” Sandra and Riley tried to say something to Seth, but he just looked at them smugly. “If I don’t make you go, who knows what kind of rumors you’ll spread about me stealing your girlfriend. I can’t be bothered with people like you, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you slander me.” Sandra and Riley hesitated, then slowly lowered their hands. “Alright, Hayden, you’ll see Seth’s good intentions once you’re there. Stop making a scene,” someone said. Others chimed in. “Yeah, and with you there to watch your girlfriend, I’m sure Sandra won’t do anything out of line.” “We broke up! I’m not going!” I thrashed, but Sandra just laughed. “It’s just for a day. Don’t be dramatic.” With that, everyone eagerly started heading toward Seth’s house. I struggled violently, but more students held me down, forcing me into the car. In desperation, I grabbed onto Riley’s clothes. “Riley! If we go, we won’t be able to come back! You know this isn’t just a qipao party! The police will come and we won’t even be able to apply for college!” “You’re being ridiculous again!” Riley frowned. My breath caught in my throat. Wait, wasn’t she reborn too? Why was she so calm about her fate? “I know what’s going to happen,” she whispered, her voice low enough for only the two of us to hear. “But Seth isn’t that kind of person. Someone must be trying to frame him. I have to find out who.” “No one is framing him! He’s doing this on purpose—mmph!” A rag was stuffed into my mouth. The arts committee member looked annoyed. “You’re interrupting the music. Be quiet!” My hands and feet were tied to the seat. I stared at Riley, hoping my eyes could convey my meaning. But she stood up and moved to a seat in front of me where she could see Seth, and she didn’t look back. When we arrived at Seth’s house and everyone saw the qipaos, they couldn’t help but gasp. 3 The dresses had impossibly low necklines and dangerously high slits. The boys’ eyes were practically popping out of their heads. The girls’ faces were flushed with a mix of excitement and embarrassment. Only Riley frowned. She hadn’t expected the photos she’d seen in her past life—the dresses that looked more like lingerie—to have actually been prepared by Seth. Seth locked the door and tossed the key to Riley. “Beautiful, right? I searched for a long time. There’s one for every girl! Who wants to go first?” The girls exchanged glances. One of them tentatively raised her hand. “Me!” That was all it took. Soon, other hands shot up. Many of the girls had crushes in the class and were eager to show off. I broke free from my restraints and grabbed Riley’s arm. “Do you see now?” She turned to look at me. I tried to convey the wrongness of it all with my eyes. “Give me the key. We can still leave. Before the police—” “He must have his reasons,” Riley said, pushing me away and tucking the key into her pocket. “If you’re not going to participate, then don’t slander him.” The incense burning in the room had a strange scent. I felt my heart start to race. I rushed forward and kicked over a dozen mannequins dressed in qipaos. “Can’t you smell that there’s something wrong with the incense? Someone is going to call the cops, and when they get here, none of us will be going to college!” Someone sniffed the air and seemed to notice something was off. But then Seth pulled back the curtain of the dressing room. A purple, high-slit, form-fitting qipao clung to Sandra’s curves. She leaned against the wall, perfectly showcasing her impressive figure. “Hayden, you’ll say anything to go after Seth, won’t you? He just wanted to throw a party to help everyone relax. Why can’t you just let it go?” The moment she appeared in that purple dress, the few boys who had seemed wary a moment ago were now staring, mesmerized. One of them turned on me, furious. “Will you just shut up? All you ever do is make malicious assumptions about Seth!” “You’re just jealous because he’s better looking than you! It’s a fact! Even your girlfriend thinks so!” The scent of the incense was making my vision blur. Looking at the girls’ figures made my face flush inexplicably. I couldn’t imagine what would happen if I stayed here any longer. I gritted my teeth, lunged for the door, and started kicking at the lock. Seth jumped back in alarm. A few of the guys dragged me away. Sandra stepped in front of Seth. “He’s lost his mind! Lock him in the storage room! Don’t let him ruin Seth’s party!” Seth subtly put his arm around Sandra’s shoulders and gave me a condescending smirk. Sandra stiffened. Seeing the desperation in my eyes, she gently pushed Seth’s hand away and touched my face. “Be good. Everyone is tired from the exams. It’s just an art exhibit. When it’s over, I’ll come get you myself.” “No!” I shook my head frantically, kicking and thrashing, but the boys, their eyes already glazed over, dragged me into the storage room and locked the door from the outside. “No! Let me out! You’re ruining your own lives!” I pounded on the door until my hands were raw. But the deafening music from outside drowned out my cries. Soon, I could hear other, unspeakable sounds from outside. The incense had taken effect, and along with the music, there were other, more disturbing rhythms. “What are you doing?!” A sudden shout cut through the music. I froze. The police? 4 “You sluts! What are you doing?!” By the time my parents got me out of there, the scene was beyond words. All the girls were in qipaos, entwined with different boys. My mom grabbed Seth by the hair. “You’re the one who organized this party and dragged my son here?” “I was wondering why he wasn’t home yet! So this is what you’re all doing!” My dad slapped Riley across the face. “You’re his childhood friend! Not only did you not stop him, you let him get locked up and didn’t even send us a message! What is wrong with you?” “I…” Riley was speechless. Her appearance at that moment was anything but respectable. She had thought she was above it all, that she could listen to Seth’s reasons for throwing the party. But when the incense filled her lungs and Seth wrapped his arms around her waist, she had completely given in. She let her clothes be torn to shreds and joined the orgy. My mom slapped Sandra too. “You’re Hayden’s girlfriend, and you’re fooling around with other guys like this? Have you no shame?” They both looked embarrassed, but seeing Seth being held by the hair, they instinctively pulled him behind them, protectively. “Uncle, Auntie, you’ve misunderstood. It’s not what you think.” “The police will find out what we think!” Just then, sirens wailed outside. The students scrambled to get dressed, but the police had already broken down the door, taking control of the scene. “Nobody move!”

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My sister decided she wanted my fiancé. So my family, who had always worshipped the ground she walked on, sold me. They offered me up to settle a debt, leaving me in a darkness so absolute it shattered my mind. By the time Adrian found me, I was already gone. He carried me out of that hell without a word. The next day, my family’s empire crumbled. My parents were found dead. My sister, Chloe, was dragged into an alley and brutalized so badly she would never carry a child. For seven years, as I drifted in a fog, Adrian never left my side. He took me to every specialist, every clinic, becoming a ghost who haunted the city, a man everyone feared. They called him a madman, shackled to a broken woman. Then, a miracle. I was healed. I held the doctor’s report in my hand, a surprise I couldn’t wait to give him, a new beginning for us on the eve of our wedding. That’s when I heard them in the dressing room. His voice, a raw, ragged whisper. “Keep it down. If Stella hears you, I’ll kill you.” And Chloe’s, hitched and broken as he moved against her. “You broke those men’s hands just for touching me during that little stunt you arranged. Are you really going to kill me, Adrian?” …I stood frozen on the other side of the door, listening until the very end. I forced the tears back down, swallowing the acid in my throat. Then, I plastered a bright, vacant smile on my face, and with the light, skipping energy of a child, I ripped the curtain open. “Adrian! I was looking for you! I found you!” 1 The charged atmosphere in the small space evaporated. My eyes landed on the two of them, pressed together, and for a fraction of a second, the mask on my face cracked. They both jumped, startled. Adrian instantly grabbed his suit jacket, throwing it over Chloe to hide her. I tilted my head, my expression one of pure, childish confusion. “Adrian, why are you being mean to the pretty lady? You made her cry. Did she do something bad?” Chloe let out a sharp, derisive snort, a smirk twisting her flushed face. “God, she’s still just a broken toy.” Adrian, his face tight with discomfort, finished buttoning his shirt. He looked at me, at the empty innocence in my eyes, and a wave of relief washed over him. “It’s nothing, Star. Don’t worry about her. She’s just a salesgirl. Come on, let’s get you into a beautiful dress.” As he tried to lead me away, I twisted in his arms, my reaction sudden and violent. “No! Let me go! You smell… wrong. I don’t like it!” Adrian’s face froze for a moment. He quickly recalibrated, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “Okay, Star. You’re right. My fault.” He gently sat me down on a velvet chair and disappeared, returning only after he had changed into a fresh suit, smelling of nothing but clean linen and his familiar cologne. His assistant brought out dozens of wedding heels, but I shook my head at every single one. “Don’t like them.” Adrian, without even looking at the shoes, flicked his fingers. “Bring more.” Just then, Chloe emerged from the dressing room, fully clothed. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at me. “Adrian, I want the pretty lady to try them on for me!” Adrian’s hand, which had been resting on my waist, tensed. Chloe’s face fell. When Adrian gave a curt nod of approval, her expression twisted into outrage. “You want me to try on shoes for a psycho?” Her shriek made me flinch and shrink back into Adrian’s side. His expression darkened instantly. With a sharp gesture, he had his assistant forcibly drag Chloe over. “You’re lucky she’s even letting you touch her,” he said, his voice deadly calm. “If you don’t want to do it, you can be on a bus back to whatever nowhere town you crawled out of before this city ever knew your name.” Chloe’s face went pale, then red. Reluctantly, she knelt at my feet and picked up a stiletto. The second her fingers brushed my ankle, I kicked out, sending her sprawling backward. I immediately burst into tears and buried my face in Adrian’s chest. “Hurts,” I whimpered. “My toe hurts. Her nails…” Adrian’s brow furrowed. He glanced down at Chloe’s long, blood-red manicure. “Cut them,” he ordered. That was the final straw. The suppressed fury in Chloe ignited. She snatched the high heel and hurled it against the wall. “Adrian, if you wanted to humiliate me, you could have just said so! I wasn’t born to be your goddamn servant!” Sobbing, she turned and ran out of the boutique. “Adrian, is the pretty lady mad at me?” I asked in a small voice. He stroked my back, his touch meant to be soothing. “Don’t worry about her.” His voice was cold, but his eyes were locked on Chloe’s retreating figure. We were halfway through the wedding dress fitting when Adrian’s assistant rushed in, her face pale, and whispered something in his ear. Adrian didn’t move at first, just took a long, slow drag from his cigarette, but a storm was gathering in his eyes. After a long moment, he loosened his tie and finally stood up. “Star, something’s come up at the office. I’ll have Sarah take you home.” I dropped the veil I was holding and ran to him, grabbing his hand. “Adrian, please don’t go. Today is…” “Stella, be good. Don’t be difficult.” He patted my head, his touch dismissive, and walked away without another glance. The rest of my sentence died in my throat. The assistant picked up the discarded veil. “Ma’am, let me help you with the fitting.” I saw the pity in her eyes. I looked down, my voice so quiet it was barely a whisper. “No, thank you. I don’t like it.” We don’t have to try anymore. Midnight came and went. Adrian never came back. I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out into the storm. Outside, wind and rain lashed against the glass. On the table, the birthday cake he’d had delivered had melted into a sugary puddle. In seven years, this was the first birthday he had ever missed. Suddenly, a deafening crack of thunder echoed, and the entire mansion plunged into darkness. My mind went completely blank. “Adrian!” I screamed into the void. Silence. I scrambled to my feet, my back drenched in a cold sweat. Blinded by the dark, I tripped and fell hard on the marble floor. “Ma’am! Ma’am!” The housekeeper, hearing the crash, rushed in with a candle. I was curled into a ball on the floor, clutching my head, shaking uncontrollably. “Don’t touch me!” Just as I felt the edges of my consciousness fraying, the front door burst open with a deafening crash. A familiar scent cut through the darkness. Adrian rushed to my side, pulling me into his arms. “Stella, don’t be scared. Don’t be scared, I’m here.” He was soaked from the storm, his clothes cold and damp, but his hands holding me were feverishly tight. It was too late. I was already lost. This was the first time I had experienced true darkness since my recovery. The memories I had locked away came flooding back in a torrent. I screamed, sobbing, my flailing hands striking his face, leaving red marks on his skin. “Get away! Don’t touch me!” The sheer terror in my eyes made him realize this was something more, something new. He scooped me up and raced to the hospital. In the hazy delirium, I felt like I was drowning. A doctor’s voice drifted in and out. “Mr. Blackwood, your fiancée has severe PTSD and nyctophobia. She must have experienced some kind of extreme trauma… Also, regarding Miss Landon… her condition is critical. If she doesn’t receive a uterine transplant soon, she’ll never be able to conceive.” It turned out Chloe had crashed her car after running from the boutique. When she woke up in the hospital, she’d had a complete breakdown and tried to kill herself. “Adrian,” she had shrieked, “if you blame me for what happened back then, then let your punishment be real! Let me pay her back for good!” The silence in my hospital room was absolute, broken only by the cold, rhythmic beeping of the machines. After a long time, Adrian sat down on the bed beside me. He gently wiped a tear from the corner of my eye and leaned down to kiss my forehead. His voice was choked with emotion. “Don’t let it be too painful for her.” I tried to force my eyes open, to fight, but my body wouldn’t respond. I was helpless as they wheeled me toward the operating room. When I felt the cold steel of the scalpel against my skin, I summoned every last ounce of strength and clamped my hand around the blade. “Ma’am, let go!” a nurse hissed in alarm. The surgeon leaned close, shouting in my ear. He listened to the frantic whispers coming from my lips, then drew in a sharp breath. “I understand,” he said quickly. “I will convey your message to Mr. Blackwood.” He rushed out of the O.R. But just as he began to explain the situation to Adrian, a nurse ran up from the other end of the hall, shouting that Chloe’s condition was deteriorating. Adrian’s furious roar was so loud I could hear it through the doors. “Every second you waste talking is another second of pain for them! Do it!” “But Mr. Blackwood, your fiancée—she’s—” “Shut up! A broken mind doesn’t need a womb! Stella has me. That’s all she’ll ever need. You say one more goddamn word and you can clear out your locker tomorrow!” The surgeon returned, his face a mask of bitter defeat. The scalpel slipped from my grasp.

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