Author: Momo Chan

I used a rock to smash a car window, saving my uncle who had driven his car into a river. But instead of thanking me, he blamed me for accidentally scratching his paint job and demanded my family pay him $20,000 in repair fees. My grandma chimed in with even more shocking logic: “All he had to do was open the door and swim out! Who told you to go smashing windows? If you ask me, your family owes your uncle a brand-new car!” My mom snapped back on the spot. “If it weren’t for Jane saving him, he’d be fish food by now. Forget twenty grand—I’d burn a hundred cars for him at his funeral!” Denied his compensation, my uncle flew into a rage. He drove his truck and rammed our family car off a bridge and into the river. “Won’t pay? Fine! Let’s see how you like having your car wrecked!” My parents died instantly. I ended up in the ICU. But Grandma took the money meant for my life-saving surgery and gave it to my uncle. “Even if your parents are dead, a debt is a debt! He needs a new car!” As I died filled with hatred in that hospital bed, my uncle was happily picking up a new car at the dealership. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the riverbank, watching the car sink rapidly into the water. This time, I’d like to see how my unconscious uncle plans to just “open the door” and swim out. 1 I was awakened by the loud crash of my uncle’s car hitting the water. I opened my eyes to see the vehicle already drifting toward the center of the river. The water was swallowing the car at an alarming rate, seeping into the cabin and submerging most of the seats in seconds. Even though the water was up to his legs, Uncle Rick was slumped over the airbag in the driver’s seat, motionless. Without rescue, an unconscious Rick would sink to the bottom of the river with his car within five minutes. In my past life, seeing this, I didn’t hesitate. I grabbed a rock from the bridge and smashed the window. I knew that once a car is submerged, the water pressure makes opening doors impossible. Smashing the window is the only way out. I never expected that this common-sense act of survival would bring total destruction upon my family. After escaping through the window I broke, Rick didn’t offer a single word of thanks. Instead, he blamed me for scratching his paint job with the rock, leaving three coin-sized dents. I explained that the car was drifting in the current, making it hard to aim. But he wouldn’t let it go. “I just bought this BMW! Your daughter smashed it up. Family or not, business is business. You owe me twenty grand!” My parents called him ungrateful. But Rick insisted he would have survived without me. “There are plenty of ways to escape! Who said you have to break the window? Someone else might have saved me without damaging my car!” “Your daughter just had to play hero and ruin my window. Now I have to spend an extra grand fixing it. I’m being generous not asking for that too!” Hearing that Rick had to pay for the window, Grandma turned on me. “You little brat, can’t keep your hands to yourself! Opening the door is easy! Who told you to smash the car?” Then she demanded my mom buy Rick a whole new car. “Your brother’s nice car is ruined because of your daughter. If you don’t pay him back, don’t call me your mother anymore!” 2 Usually, Mom gave in to Rick and Grandma’s demands. But seeing their greed grow out of control, she finally woke up and firmly refused. “Jane did nothing wrong. We won’t pay a single cent!” Rejected, Rick locked the gate, trapping us, and threatened violence. This infuriated my parents. They warned him that if he didn’t let us go, they’d report his drunk driving to the police and sue him for the $15,000 he’d borrowed over the years. Hearing “police,” Rick reluctantly let us leave. But as we drove onto a nearby bridge, Rick chased us down in his truck and rammed our car into the river. “Won’t pay? Fine! Let’s see how you like having your car wrecked!” My parents drowned. I suffered severe brain damage and was rushed to the ICU. Friends and coworkers pooled money for my surgery. Grandma promised them she’d do everything to save me. Then she turned around, signed a “Do Not Resuscitate” order, and gave the money to Rick to buy a new car. She cremated my parents and told everyone they died due to drunk driving. While I lay dying in agony, Grandma comforted Rick. “Don’t blame yourself! Their deaths have nothing to do with you. It’s their own fault for being bad people!” “Look! You both drove into the river, but you’re fine and they’re dead! If that’s not karma, what is?” Karma. I clenched my fists tight. I hope that in this life, when Grandma sees Rick’s corpse, she can still casually call it karma. The crash naturally attracted the villagers. But it took nearly a minute for anyone to actually walk to the riverbank. Several elderly voices rang out. “Did I hear that right? Sounds like a car went in the water?” “Let me put on my glasses… Oh my! It really is a car. We should call 911!” “Huh? Where’s my phone?” Watching the old folks slowly patting their pockets for phones, I almost laughed. In my past life, when Rick woke up on the shore, the police and fire department had already arrived, leading him to believe plenty of people could have saved him. He didn’t know that the only reason a kid like me had to smash the window was that the first responders on the scene were geriatrics and toddlers. 3 In Grandma’s village, most young adults had moved to the city for work. The place was populated almost entirely by the elderly and children left behind. Though there were many people, almost none had the ability to save Rick. As the crowd on the riverbank grew, I squinted, scanning the faces. Soon, the person I was waiting for appeared. Grandma squeezed her way to the front of the crowd of old ladies with surprising agility, craning her neck toward the center of the river. I pricked up my ears, waiting for her reaction. But to my surprise, upon seeing the car, Grandma put her hands on her hips and laughed out loud. “Haha! Serves him right! Driving like a maniac in the village! Hope you drown, you bastard!” I was stunned. The onlookers were stunned too. “Martha, why would you say that? Do you have a grudge against the driver?” “Yeah! Do you know whose car that is?” Seeing that the villagers didn’t recognize the car, I remembered. Rick had bragged about “just picking up” the BMW in my past life. I thought he meant he bought it recently, but now I realized this was the first time he’d driven it back to the village. Even his own mother didn’t know it was his car. Grandma said angrily to the villagers: “I don’t know him! But this car almost hit me on the road just now. If I hadn’t dodged fast, I wouldn’t be standing here talking to you!” She pointed at her clothes. “Look! I had to roll on the ground to dodge him. Look at my new clothes!” Grandma was wearing the new outfit my mom brought her today. It was a light blue jacket, now covered in mud, looking almost brown. Looking at Grandma’s clothes, I slapped my forehead. I remembered something else. In my past life, after waking up, Rick said he was going to settle the score with an old lady in blue. He claimed he drove into the river because that old lady suddenly jumped in front of his car, causing him to panic and swerve. Well, well, well! So the person Rick almost hit was Grandma. I was so focused on saving him last time that I missed the drama on the shore! I was getting more and more curious about Grandma’s expression when she realized the person in the car was her son. Strangely, despite hearing Grandma’s near-death experience, none of the other elderly people responded to her. Another minute passed. The kids finally managed to find two middle-aged men. As soon as they saw the car, they started discussing rescue plans and asking the elderly folks for help. “Did anyone call 911?” “Quick, take a picture and send it to the village group chat. Let’s see whose car this is! Get their family here!” “Who has tools? We need something to break the window!” 4 With someone taking charge, the elderly folks finally mobilized, taking pictures, making calls, and hobbling home to find tools. Seeing the villagers ignoring her and obeying the newcomers, Grandma unhappily tried to make her presence known. “What’s the rush! Wait until you drag the body out, then call the family to identify it!” Grandma’s mouth was always venomous, and after nearly getting hit, she was in full curse mode. “Martha, the man isn’t dead yet! Save your breath for prayers!” “Exactly! They’re going to save him!” Grandma got riled up and started arguing. “Driving like that, even if he doesn’t drown today, he’ll crash eventually! He didn’t hit me this time, but what if he hits someone else later? You’re saving a murderer!” I don’t know how others felt hearing this, but a chill ran down my spine. However, the villagers were much busier than me. They had no time to argue with Grandma. The two middle-aged men had stripped down and jumped into the water. The elderly folks were handing them tools. “See if this works for the window!” “Take this inner tube! Be safe!” In the bustling crowd, only Grandma was as idle as I was. She sat on a stone bench, crossed her legs, and started pouring cold water on the rescue efforts. “Ooh! You guys really aren’t afraid of death. So many people have drowned in this river. Aren’t you afraid of the water ghosts pulling you down instead of saving anyone?” This made a few teenagers who wanted to help hesitate. The river currents were strong, and there were whirlpools. People really had drowned here. Plus, it was Ghost Month. The mention of “water ghosts” scared the superstitious elders into holding their grandkids back. “Go home! This isn’t for you!” Seeing Grandma discouraging everyone, Mrs. Lee from the east side of the village couldn’t take it anymore. “Can you stop talking! It’s a human life! Are you going to watch him drown? Your Rick drives too. If this happened to him, would you want everyone to just stand by?” Hearing this, Grandma jumped three feet in the air and grabbed Mrs. Lee’s hair. “You old hag! How dare you curse my Rick to drown? I’ll throw you in the river right now!” Mrs. Lee’s son was one of the men in the water. He had already swum out a few meters. Hearing the commotion, he looked back to see Grandma shoving his mother toward the water. He had to turn back immediately. Seeing the rescuer return to shore, others who planned to help stopped. “What’s wrong? Is there something in the water?” The momentum to save the person deflated significantly.

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My boyfriend of five years, Justin, promised me a “huge surprise” for my birthday. I was full of anticipation, thinking he was finally going to propose. But at exactly 1:14 PM, he sent me a Venmo for $0.25 with the note: “Read it backward.” When I called him out for being cheap and thoughtless, he got defensive. “I timed it perfectly for 13:14 (1:14 PM military time, sounds like ‘forever’ in Chinese slang) to send you that red packet, and you’re calling me thoughtless? Chloe, you really are a gold digger!” I was shaking with anger, but he just slammed the door and left. That same night, he took his childhood sweetheart to a charity auction and spent $520,000 on a “Heart of True Love” necklace for her. I packed my bags and left him without a word. A year later, we met again at a business gala. Seven months pregnant, I leaned into my billionaire husband’s arms and introduced Justin: “Honey, this is the ex-boyfriend who sent me 25 cents and told me to read it backward.” Chapter 1 When I ran into Justin’s best friend, Liam, I was already seven months pregnant. I was bored, so I went to the supermarket with our housekeeper. While she was in the produce section, I wandered into the home goods aisle and bumped into Liam. He looked shocked, pacing back and forth near me until I finally called his name. He rushed over. “Chloe? Is that really you? Where have you been? It’s been so long!” I nodded politely. “I went to Hong Kong. Just got back recently.” Liam’s jaw dropped. “Hong Kong? Justin has been going crazy looking for you!” Hearing Justin’s name again didn’t even cause a ripple in my heart. I replied casually: “Why is he looking for me? We don’t really have any reason to be in contact.” “Huh? Aren’t you guys still together…” “We ended things a long time ago.” It ended the day he sent me that $0.25. A year ago, on my birthday. Justin, my boyfriend of five years, said he had a surprise for me. I excitedly waited, thinking a proposal was coming. Instead, at 1:14 PM, I got a notification: You received $0.25. “My birthday, and you send me a quarter?” I looked at Justin in disbelief. “Justin, five years, and this is how you treat me?” Facing my questions, Justin acted even angrier than I was. “Read 0.25 backward! It’s 520! It means ‘I love you’!” “And I specifically waited until 13:14 (forever) to send it! Instead of being moved, you call me thoughtless?” “Is it because it’s too little money? Sarah was right, you really are just after my money!” With that, he slammed the door and left before I could react. I was shaking with rage, tears streaming down my face. But thinking about my birthday and our five-year relationship, I endured it. I pulled myself together, cooked a table full of his favorite dishes, and waited for him to come back so we could talk. I waited and waited. The clock ticked from 11:59 PM to 0:00 AM. The food went cold. My birthday passed. Justin never came back. Just as I picked up my phone to call him, a headline stabbed me in the eyes: “Heir to the Lin Group Spends $520k Just to Make a Beauty Smile” My hands trembled as I clicked the link. The article detailed Justin’s glorious deed at the auction that night: spending $520,000 on the “Heart of True Love” necklace for his childhood sweetheart, Sarah. There was even a photo of Justin smiling as he put the necklace on a blushing Sarah. I stared blankly at my phone, tears blurring my vision, my heart filled with bitter acid. On my birthday, he sent me $0.25. Then turned around and dropped half a million on Sarah. Was he telling me I was only worth a quarter? Five years of love, traded for this humiliation. My heart died that night. I packed my bags and moved out. I deleted Justin from everything, blocked everyone associated with him, and changed my number. Later, I met my current husband and moved to Hong Kong with him. A year had passed. I had long forgotten Justin. If I hadn’t run into Liam, I probably wouldn’t have remembered he existed. Chapter 2 “You and Justin were together for five years, how can you just cut it off like that?” Liam looked disapproving. “Chloe, Justin hasn’t stopped looking for you all year. Stop being stubborn and just contact him.” I asked him back, “You think I’ve been holding a grudge for a whole year?” Liam was speechless, looking a bit awkward at my indifference. “Ma’am, I’ve got the groceries. We can head back now.” My housekeeper walked over with the bags, speaking respectfully. Liam exclaimed, “You’re married?!” I nodded calmly. “Yes, I am.” “You’re really married? Then Justin…” “Doesn’t Justin have Sarah? They seem close. Haven’t they settled down after all these years?” “What are you saying? Sarah and Justin are just friends…” Liam’s voice trailed off under my gaze. Clearly, even he felt Justin and Sarah’s relationship crossed the line of “just friends.” “Oh well, not my business anyway. I’m going home; my husband gets off work soon.” With that, I left with the housekeeper. I thought that was the end of it, but I ran into Justin at a gala. He was wearing a bespoke suit, chatting elegantly. When he saw me, he froze, then rushed over aggressively. “Chloe?” I gave him a faint nod, feeling annoyed. If I knew he was here, I would have ordered room service. Seeing my indifference, Justin’s face stiffened, then he demanded angrily, “Liam told me he saw you, and I didn’t believe him. A year without a word, and you have nothing to say to me?” I looked at him, confused. Did I have anything to say to him? Justin’s face went cold. “You left me because you thought 25 cents was too little, and now look at you. Is this the life you wanted?” What’s wrong with my life? I looked down at my pajamas. Sure, they were a bit out of place compared to the haute couture at the gala. But I had just woken up hungry and was too lazy to change, so I threw on a shawl to find food. If I knew I’d see him, I wouldn’t have come down. “Chloe, long time no see.” Sarah appeared out of nowhere, linking arms with Justin. Her eyes were full of disdain. “Haven’t seen you in so long. Didn’t expect you to become a mistress.” I frowned at her. “What nonsense are you spouting?” “Isn’t it true?” Sarah scoffed. “This gala is invite-only for VIPs. You have no background, no status, and you’re wearing a bathrobe. You obviously sold your body to get in here.” I rolled my eyes at her certainty. Not wanting to deal with this drama, I turned to leave. But Justin grabbed my wrist, believing her instantly. “You actually became someone’s mistress!” His grip was tight, hurting my wrist. I cried out in pain, “Let go!” “Justin, take it easy. Look at her, she probably just crawled out of someone’s bed.” Sarah fanned the flames. Red-eyed with rage, Justin raised his hand to slap me. The slap landed heavy on my right cheek. It swelled up immediately. I stumbled, instinctively protecting my belly. Sarah saw my movement and yanked off my shawl. My seven-month baby bump was exposed for all to see. Chapter 3 “You’re pregnant?!” Anger practically spilled out of Justin’s eyes. “Chloe, you left me without even a breakup, and now you’re a mistress carrying someone else’s child!” “In the end, you really are a gold digger. You left just because I didn’t give you enough money, didn’t you!?” Watching him rage, I found it hilariously pathetic. He always thought I was with him for his money. He forgot that when we met, I didn’t even like him. I stayed away from his “rich heir” identity. He claimed love at first sight, chased me relentlessly for three years, and even got injured saving me before I finally agreed to date him. Now he accuses me of wanting his money. “What? Silence because Justin hit the nail on the head? Embarrassed?” Sarah taunted. I took a deep breath and looked at her blankly. “Sarah, if you like Justin, go chase him. Why are you obsessed with me?” “I have a husband who loves and spoils me. I stopped liking Justin a long time ago. What’s the point of targeting me?” Sarah’s face froze. She glanced at Justin and denied it instantly. “What are you talking about?! I only see Justin as a friend!” A friend she wants to sleep with? I scoffed, ignoring them, and turned to leave. But Sarah stepped forward, grabbed my arm, and with a fake stumble, snapped the pearl necklace around her own neck. She shrieked: “I spent a million dollars on this necklace at an auction! Why did you break it?!” Pearls scattered everywhere, attracting everyone’s attention and blocking my path. I frowned, annoyed. “What do you want?” Sarah sneered. “You broke my necklace, obviously you have to pay for it!” I looked at her coldly. “You know exactly who broke it!” Sarah leaned in, whispering maliciously: “If I say you broke it, you broke it. Do you think people will believe you or me?” Seeing her smug face, my stomach started to cramp. To avoid trouble, I thought about transferring the money first and dealing with her later. Then I realized I didn’t have my phone. “I didn’t bring my phone. Let me go back to my room to transfer it.” Sarah laughed like she heard the biggest joke. “Transfer money? A mistress like you has that kind of money? This is a million dollars, not a hundred bucks!” “Oh, or do you need to go back and spread your legs for your sugar daddy to get it?” Her words made everyone look at me with disgust and contempt. Humiliated, I pressed my lips together, one hand guardedly over my belly. Sarah smirked, then suddenly grabbed a wine glass and threw it at me. I dodged, face pale. My stomach cramped painfully. “Oops, hand slipped.” Sarah shrugged, her malice intensifying. “I know you can’t afford it. How about we play a game?” “This necklace cost a million. Let me throw things at you 100 times, and we’ll call it even!” She grabbed a plate and threw it. I stumbled back. The plate shattered at my feet, shards cutting my ankle. I gritted my teeth. “Sarah, are you insane!?” Sarah smiled. “98 to go.” Panting, I looked around. Everyone was watching like it was a show. I looked at Justin, hoping he would control her. Justin sighed, looking like he was compromising. “Chloe, just admit you were wrong back then. I’ll pay the million for you. You don’t have to be a mistress anymore. Come back to me, I’ll treat you well.” Sarah’s face darkened. She forced a smile. “Justin, she’s pregnant with another man’s child…” Justin clenched his fists, voice strained. “Then abort it!” I was shaking with anger. Sarah was mad with jealousy. She grabbed a wine bottle and hurled it at me. I barely dodged, but slipped and fell hard. Warm liquid gushed between my legs. My face went white. I almost fainted from the pain. Suddenly, the banquet hall doors burst open. A crowd sycophantically surrounded a handsome, noble-looking man as he entered. The man frowned, his deep eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. His expression turned to panic. “Chloe!” Chapter 4 Watching Ethan rush toward me, I teared up, feeling wronged. “Hubby… my stomach hurts…” Ethan squatted beside me, carefully letting me lean on him. He didn’t dare move me, only soothing me gently: “Baby, don’t be scared. Bear with it, the doctor is coming.” His assistant had already run to find a doctor. “I thought she was a mistress? Doesn’t look like it…” “Yeah, look how precious she is to him. Is that his wife?” Whispers spread through the crowd. Sarah stepped forward first. “Who are you? Chloe’s sugar daddy?” Her voice was shrill. She looked at Ethan with admiration that quickly turned to jealousy. She didn’t expect my “sugar daddy” to be such a quality man. Ethan looked at her darkly. “What did you say?” Sarah shrank back from his cold glare but straightened up again. “Isn’t it true? You look like someone with status. Why pick a vain woman like Chloe as a mistress? Did she trick you?” Ethan ignored her, looking down at me. “Did she bully you?” I nodded weakly. “She framed me for breaking her necklace, then threw glasses and bottles at me. She said if she threw 100 things at me, she’d let me go…” Veins popped on Ethan’s forehead. His eyes were murderous. He waved his hand, and several bodyguards immediately pinned Sarah down. “What are you doing!?” Sarah panicked, screaming for help from a stunned Justin. “Justin! Save me!” Justin snapped out of it, trying to pull the bodyguards off, but was shoved away. He turned to Ethan. “Sir, I don’t know who you are, but Sarah is the daughter of the Su family. Offending the Su family for a mistress… might not be wise.” Ethan sneered. “I didn’t know I ever needed to fear a tiny Su family! And since when did my lawfully wedded wife become a mistress?” Justin stared blankly. “You’re really Chloe’s husband?” Ethan glared at him, displeased he used my first name. “And who are you?” I tugged weakly at his sleeve. “Hubby, this is the ex-boyfriend who sent me 25 cents and told me to read it backward…” Justin’s face paled. Humiliated by my introduction, he roared red-eyed: “Chloe, stop bringing up the 25 cents!” “I just wanted you to understand my heart! If you had seen my sincerity back then, I would have taken you to the auction the next second and proposed with the Heart of True Love!” “With your 25-cent sincerity?” Ethan laughed mockingly. He looked down at me, chiding gently, “Chloe, your taste back then was terrible. You picked this thing?” I tapped his chest feebly. He suddenly lifted my chin, looking at my swollen cheek. “Who hit you?!” I glanced at Justin. Two more bodyguards immediately pinned him down and started slapping him left and right, hard. Justin’s face swelled up quickly, blood trickling from his mouth. “Good. Very good!” Ethan’s voice was ice-cold. “Bullying my wife at my Emerald Group gala. You people have guts!” His words were like thunder, freezing everyone in place. “What did you say!? You are Ethan Jiang, CEO of Emerald Group!?” Chapter 5 Sarah’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “How is that possible!? That slut Chloe, how could she be the wife of the Emerald Group CEO!?” Before she finished, a bodyguard slapped her twice. Her cheeks burned red, but she kept screaming, “Impossible! This is impossible!” Justin stared blankly at us, his expression shifting complexly. The doctor arrived. After a checkup, he confirmed it was just a fright, nothing serious. Ethan finally relaxed and picked me up princess-style. “However these two bullied my wife, pay it back tenfold! If anyone has a problem, tell them to come find me personally!” “As for everyone who stood by and watched my wife get bullied, don’t bother seeking cooperation in the future. Emerald Group is out of your league!” Ethan’s cold voice rang out. The banquet hall fell silent, followed by a chorus of begging and apologies. “Mr. Jiang! Misunderstanding! We didn’t know she was your wife!” “Yes, Mr. Jiang, this is the Su and Lin families’ fault! Please don’t punish us!” “Mr. Jiang, wait…” Ethan ignored them, carrying me out. Back in the room, he placed me on the bed with a cold face, then sat by the window, lit a cigarette, and took a deep drag. He had quit smoking since I got pregnant. Starting again meant he was extremely agitated. I pursed my lips, standing up to approach him. Ethan snapped, “Don’t come over!” My eyes reddened instantly, voice choking up. “You’re yelling at me…” “I smell like smoke… never mind.” He crushed the cigarette and walked over, helpless. “I really owe you in a past life, little ancestor.” I leaned into his arms, sobbing. “I was hungry, I wanted to find food. I didn’t know I’d run into them…” “I was already bullied and upset, and now you’re yelling at me…” “I didn’t yell at you.” Ethan sighed, kissing away my tears. “I’m angry at myself for not protecting you, letting you get scared.” “You’re carrying a baby. No crying. Remember, the baby will come out ugly.” I suddenly got annoyed. “In the end, it’s all for the baby. Is the baby more important or am I?” Ethan paused, then coaxed me helplessly, “You. Of course you. No one is more important than my baby girl. Hungry? I’ll have food sent up?” I nodded haughtily. After eating and cuddling with Ethan for a while, I fell into a deep sleep. The next day, I walked downstairs yawning to find the living room full of people. Ethan was drinking tea on the sofa. Justin and a middle-aged couple stood on one side. On the other were Sarah and her father. I recognized them. Justin’s parents and Sarah’s dad. “Awake?” Ethan saw me first. He got up, wrapped me in a blanket from the sofa, and picked me up like a child. “Why aren’t you wearing shoes? You’ll catch a cold.” He placed me on the sofa. “Wait here, I’ll warm up some milk.” I nodded obediently, watching him walk to the kitchen, ignoring everyone else. “…Um, Chloe, long time no see.” I turned to look at Justin’s parents, their faces awkward and fawning. “Mr. Lin, Mrs. Lin. Long time no see.”

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My online boyfriend loves ordering me food. But I live out in the boonies. Afraid he’d look down on me, I always gave him my friend’s address in town. Every time I was busy with farm work, I told him I was “at the office.” I tried so hard to maintain my persona. But one time, while we were gaming, my rooster crowed right outside the window. Crap! I logged off immediately. “My grandma’s calling me to shuck corn, gotta go.” Later, standing in a cornfield in the pouring rain. The man looked at me with a smile. “Caught you, you little liar.” 1 The July sun was brutal enough to render fat. I spent the whole afternoon shucking corn in the field. Just as I was catching my breath, the phone in my pocket buzzed. It was a message from Caleb: Haven’t gotten off work yet? I wiped the dirt off my hands. Replied: Just got off. Checking the time after sending, it was 3 PM. Damn. Who gets off work at 3 PM? I quickly added: Can you believe it? Leaving early is actually kinda nice haha. He paused for a moment. Sent a confused panda sticker. Rough day. Ordered you some boba, be there in thirty. Shit! I ripped the straw hat off my head and jammed it onto my grandma’s head. Then I sprinted for the house. Grandma shouted after me. “Where you goin’? Where you goin’? You ain’t done yet and you’re runnin’ off?” I looked at the field, still half full of corn. Can’t finish. Simply can’t finish. “Grandma, hold the fort! I gotta run to town, be right back!” Back home, I splashed water on my face. Grabbed the keys, jumped on my e-scooter, and gunned it. Before zooming off, I managed to reply to Caleb. Thanks babe~~ Love you~ Although the sun was scorching, the wind felt sweet on my way to pick up the delivery. 2 Caleb is my online boyfriend. We met three months ago playing PUBG Mobile. Teamed up with randoms. A couple, single dog him, single dog me. Map was Karakin. Hot drop. I landed and didn’t find jack. Enemies everywhere. The couple’s voices filled the headset. “So many people.” “I only have a shotgun, what do I do?” “Babe, don’t move, I’m coming to you.” Seconds later, ear-piercing screams came through the mic. “Ahhhhh!” My hand shook, almost dropping the phone. The girl died. Thirsted immediately. She complained: “This map sucks, babe let’s go back to Erangel.” The guy said okay. And fragged himself. Two absolute legends. I carefully prepared to camp my way to the final circle. Unexpectedly, Number 4 was a pro. The kill feed was full of his name. I couldn’t help but shout, “Nice one!” The next second, I heard Number 4 turn on his mic. His voice was crisp and clean, like a cold soda fresh out of the fridge. Cool, wrapped in a smile. “Thanks.” In that moment, my face felt a little hot. I’m a sucker for voices. Number 4’s voice was literally my type. After the game, I shamelessly added him. “Wanna play together?” He accepted quickly. 3 After adding him, I camped online every day waiting for him. His IGN was Moon. Avatar was a crescent moon, cold and mysterious. Heaven rewards the faithful. On the third day, I finally caught him online. I messaged immediately. “Play?” He replied: “Sure.” That night we duo-queued until dawn. His gameplay was smooth as silk; I just followed him around looting boxes. Originally, I was pretty decent too. The type randoms often praised. After teaming with him, I became the one shouting praises. Caleb didn’t talk much. But Level 3 helmets, Level 3 vests, whatever. He’d drop them for me. I was giddy inside. “Why give them all to me~” He paused, hesitating. “So you die slower.” …… Damn! Later, we added each other on WeChat. Topics slowly shifted from the game to our lives. My friend said: “Lily, you’re done! You’re falling for an online relationship!” I gripped my phone. Thinking. So what if it’s online? It’s Caleb. The first voice call was on a rainy night. I was bringing in clothes under the eaves when a call request popped up. The name “Caleb” danced on the screen. I was so nervous my hands shook. “Hello?” “Busy?” His voice was clearer than in the game, with a slight static buzz. I quickly put down the clothes: “Not busy.” He paused, then suddenly said. “It’s raining.” I looked up at the drizzle outside the eaves. “Raining there too?” “Yeah.” There was a smile in his voice. “Just… suddenly wanted to hear your voice.” In that moment, I felt something explode in my chest. The sound of rain, heartbeats, and his breathing intertwined. “Do you… usually flirt with girls like this?” A low laugh came from the other end. “No, this is the first time.” The rain got heavier. Hiding under the eaves. I felt my whole body burning up. 4 When I got to my friend’s house. She was already waiting at the door with the door open. Holding my boba. I laughed guiltily. “Hehe, sorry to trouble you again.” Caleb is great in every way, except he loves ordering me food. In his words. It’s “feeding.” The first time he ordered for me was because I casually mentioned I was hungry while gaming at night. “What do you want?” he asked. I instinctively said. “McDonald’s.” “Okay, give me your address.” ? I was dumbfounded. “Huh?” Caleb: “Didn’t you want McDonald’s? I’ll order it for you.” I looked at the big courtyard outside. How do I fill this address? Some Town, Some Village, Some Household, Big Courtyard? I declined. “No need~ I can order it myself.” He insisted. “I’m ordering.” Finally unable to dissuade him. I gave my friend’s address in town. Late at night. I called my friend with a bitter face. “I ordered food to your address, babe, please grab it for me.” Then rode my little e-scooter. Heading to town. When I got to her place, she raised an eyebrow. “Ordering McDonald’s late at night to my address? Tsk, something’s fishy.” Couldn’t hide it. So I told her everything. After listening, she bit into a chicken wing. “So what about the future? What’s your plan? You can’t come to town every time you need to pick up food, right?” I swore with my fingers up. “Don’t worry! This is definitely the last time.” Didn’t expect Caleb to get addicted to ordering food. Feeding me constantly. Cake, boba, pizza. Every time, I had to ride my e-scooter for an hour in tears to pick it up. My friend commented. “Gotta say, your boyfriend is actually pretty nice.” I smiled bitterly. 5 My friend sighed and handed me the boba. “How long do you plan to keep this up?” I lowered my head, mumbling: “We’ll see.” She didn’t get it. “Living in the country isn’t shameful.” I looked down at the condensation on the cup. “You don’t understand.” My friend shook her head. “I don’t understand, but I know.” “Lying to him like this will only make it uglier later.” Phone buzzed again, message from Caleb. Is it good? I quickly snapped a photo of the boba and sent it. Super good! The new shop downstairs is awesome~ My friend shook her head beside me: “Sinful.” Riding home, I thought about her words. True, lying isn’t a solution. But every time I wanted to tell the truth, I’d think of Caleb’s Instagram. Him in a white shirt standing before floor-to-ceiling windows. Behind him, the bustling night view of City A. And myself in the scooter mirror. Sun-reddened cheeks, pants stained with mud. The gap was too big. Back home. Grandma was sitting in a chair shelling beans. “Back?” I nodded and handed over the boba. “Grandma, try this.” She squinted at it. “What’s this? Black stuff.” “Boba tea, city folks love it.” She took a sip, brows furrowing tighter. “Too sweet, burns the throat. What’s good about this?” I smiled without speaking, taking out my phone to message Caleb. Finished the boba, so satisfied! Caleb replied quickly: That’s good. Game later? Okk

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The first time, I built my life on a desperate lie. I stole the identity of a rich man’s son. I spent half a lifetime shoring up that deception, constantly looking over my shoulder, consumed by fear. It ended exactly as it should: abandoned by everyone, betrayed by my own wife and her family. This time, the lie dies here. Let the gilded cage rot. The rich boy’s life is a trap. 1 The whisper was still ringing in my ears, cold and clear as mountain air. “You’re useless to me now. Just help me cash in the insurance, darling.” And then I woke up. My body ached with a familiar, deep fatigue. I looked around. I was back in the cramped, dusty living room of my childhood home in the Flats, the low-income neighborhood I grew up in. I blinked, momentarily disoriented. How was I here? I was dead. Pushed. Gone. My body felt smaller, lighter, but the ache was the same. The chronic, grinding soreness of a body that was overworked, underfed, and perpetually fighting the cold. My skin was rough, my clothes threadbare. I realized: I was back. I’d been reborn. In my past life, the Beaumonts—the family who’d lost their golden boy—had finally tracked me down. To them, I was a rough diamond they needed to polish. I’d fought tooth and nail to marry Finn’s girl, Sloan, cutting off the real, deep connections I had left, all for the shallow promise of status. I wondered if they felt relieved after I died. If the pressure was finally gone. I dragged myself to the peeling wall calendar. The date was exactly one week before the Beaumonts’ staff would descend on the Flats. I remembered the motorcade of black SUVs, the gaggle of sharp-suited men who’d filled the tiny, pathetic yard. They’d asked me, frowning at the grime, if I was the child who lived here. Terrified of being left alone, terrified of the responsibility, I’d choked out, “No.” They’d assumed I was the missing heir, their lost Asher Beaumont. I realized then, and later confirmed, that they had simply picked up the closest child who fit the rough age and location. They had the wrong kid. That mistake forced me to live in constant, crippling fear of discovery. This time, if they came, I’d answer, “Yes.” Let someone else take on the gilded cage. I preferred the dirt. 2 A few days back in the Flats, and the bitter memories of that hardscrabble life were already fading, replaced by the grim reality of needing to eat. All I could think about was money. In the past, the Beaumonts hadn’t been generous. They were embarrassed by my roots, constantly trying to compensate for their loss while simultaneously looking down their noses at my “lack of refinement.” They pushed endless prep courses on me but kept my wallet empty. I needed to see if the endless, agonizing studies and lessons I’d been forced to endure—the things I thought were useless—could actually give me a head start this time. My stomach rumbled. First, food. I scavenged in the tiny, overgrown yard for anything edible. After eating, I started cleaning. I’d been living in the opulent Beaumont mansion for so long that my old home felt like a literal slum. If I was going to stay here and build a real life, it had to be a tolerable space. In the late afternoon, after a full day of work, I returned home. And there they were. A column of polished black SUVs and a dozen men in dark, conservative suits. The entourage was the same, filling the small yard, making the whole street look ridiculous. The lead man, a severe-looking older guy, frowned at me. “You the boy who lives here?” I stood up straight, shoulders back, and answered clearly, forcefully. “Yes. What’s it to you?” That’s it, I thought. No more gilded cage. Poverty isn’t a crime. The man looked at my clothes, my scraped knuckles, and then merely waved his hand. “Take him.” 3 Same question, different answer, and the result was identical. I was being dragged back to the Beaumont estate. How could they mess up twice? I had tidied the house, cleaned the yard, and started making plans to hustle for cash. Now, I was being uprooted again. In my first life, my total lack of funds was my ultimate downfall. After I stole Finn’s fiancée, Sloan, she discovered I had no real capital, only a generous but capped allowance. The family abandoned me, and Sloan cut me loose, leading to the insurance scheme and the cliff. Stepping inside the sprawling foyer, the atmosphere was instantly toxic and familiar: Finn, the younger brother, frowned, radiating petulance. Paige, my older sister, looked at me with an expression of polite revulsion. Mr. Beaumont wasn’t present, but Mrs. Beaumont stood ramrod straight, all rigid posture and forced composure. “You’ve got the wrong person. I am not a Beaumont. Send me back,” I stated flatly. This time, Mrs. Beaumont’s reaction was different. She didn’t show the subtle annoyance of the past life. Instead, she rushed forward and pulled me into a tight, tearful embrace. “Oh, my darling boy. You’ve been through so much. I won’t let them send you back.” Ah, I realized. In my first life, she assumed my terror was greed. This time, she thought my rejection was trauma and disinterest in material wealth. I was still wondering why answering “Yes” didn’t change my destiny. Was this a fixed loop? I was escorted to my room—the same room as before: the first floor, right by the staff wing. “Easier for the help to attend to you,” was the official line. I was the one who suffered on the streets, I was the one who was brought back—yet I was the one they had such a massive problem with. Last time, I constantly demanded compensation for my lost childhood. This time, I’d be quiet, keep my head down, and save enough money to leave permanently. I refused to be a burden or a point of contention. 4 I found Paige’s room and knocked, entering before she could answer. Paige, despite her initial coldness, was the only one in the family who never truly looked down on me in the past life. She was one of the few who tried to help, even if grudgingly. I didn’t mince words. “I need to borrow some money. I’ll pay you back. Every dime.” “What for?” she asked, setting down her phone with a sigh. “To get out. To start my own life so I’m not underfoot. I need seed capital.” She sighed, a sound of deep, resigned helplessness, but she wrote me a check. A generous amount—tens of thousands. I took the money and immediately had a driver take me straight back to the Flats. No one at the Beaumont house asked where I was going. My real mother, Elaine, was living under the brutal thumb of her own mother and my deadbeat father, a drunk and a gambler who’d quickly run through any money Elaine earned. In my past life, I’d cut ties, believing I had to sever everything. But Elaine had sent me money, bits and pieces, when I was struggling most in the Beaumont house. She was my true family. I found her working in the community garden. She was still heartbroken that I had been taken. Seeing me made her face light up with a genuine joy I hadn’t seen on any Beaumont. “Asher, my baby, you’re safe! Go back and live your good life. Don’t worry about me,” she insisted, pressing my face between her calloused hands. I waited until my father was drunk and passed out, then quietly took Elaine. I rented a small, safe apartment in the city, gave her the money, and promised to visit often. I forbade her from ever going back. Then, I snuck back to the Flats. Under the cover of darkness, I hiked up the back mountain trail. The very trail that, in my previous life, was discovered to be a botanical goldmine soon after I married Sloan Rhodes. My mother had given me five thousand dollars from the sale of a small plot on that mountain to help with the wedding expenses, money my father immediately gambled away. This time, I was getting there first. I knew what was there: rare herbs, wild ginseng, and premium fungi that no one in the Flats understood the value of. This was my seed capital, my true exit ticket. I had to monetize it before the big companies discovered the tract. 5 That night, I went back into the city, carrying a heavy burlap sack. I knew exactly where to go: Stonehaven Botanicals. In my past life, Sloan had mentioned it only in hushed, reverent tones—an exclusive, old-money operation whose owners were untouchable, even by the prestigious Rhodes family. I knew they specialized in the exact high-end, wild-harvested material I had. I walked in, found the older man at the counter, and laid the sack on his pristine oak desk. “I’m here to talk business,” I said. The boss, a shrewd-looking man, chuckled. “A young man like you? What kind of business?” He glanced quickly toward the back room, a move I barely registered. “I have superior-grade, wild-harvested botanicals. I want a long-term contract. I don’t know market price, but I expect a fair deal. And I have one condition: cash only, and I need it immediately.” I rubbed my fingers together. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, dealing with people the Rhodes family couldn’t even get an audience with. The boss smiled. “Let me see the material.” He took the sack, walked to the back, and told me to wait. When he returned, he had a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills. It was more than I had expected. “The materials are excellent, young man. I’ll buy whatever you bring. We won’t cheat you.” I counted the money, nodded, and left quickly. Finally, I had the capital I needed. I arrived back at the Beaumont house to find the whole family waiting in the grand salon. “Where were you?” Mr. Beaumont’s voice was a gravelly demand. “Getting my bearings. Just looking around.” “Insubordination. Paige will see to your social education. You will not embarrass this family.” He stood and walked away. The mandatory education. In my first life, I’d desperately tried to learn finance and management to prove I deserved the family wealth and a good wife. It failed. The Beaumonts had been grooming their own for years; I was clumsy and slow. The rich kids laughed at my nouveau riche attempts. “Give me the cash. I’ll handle the lessons myself,” I said. Finn and Paige openly scoffed. I knew I wouldn’t get the cash. “You’ve never managed money. You’d just squander it. Tell us what you want to learn.” Fine, I thought. If I have to play their game, I’ll choose my own weapons. I remembered the useless but hyper-specific skills Sloan had forced me to master to impress her powerful business contacts. “Auto Racing, Equestrian, Archery, and Golf. I want to start with those.” The entire room—Mrs. Beaumont, Finn, and Paige—was stunned into silence. These were high-status, networking-heavy sports, not management degrees. This was the way to build genuine, valuable connections, and, more importantly, money. 6 Paige recovered first, a mischievous smirk touching her lips. Finn, the younger brother, tried to probe. “Don’t you want to learn the family business, Asher? Get into corporate?” In the past life, my answer had been “Yes, I want to learn.” That led them to believe I was trying to steal Finn’s inheritance, which only hardened their animosity and severed my access to independent funds. I refused this time. Finn looked genuinely surprised. The heir apparent was a smooth operator, raised in the elite bubble, always calculating the angle. Paige, though she protected Finn, didn’t have his ruthless competitive edge. I knew I had to watch Finn like a hawk. “Fine. You’ll start training immediately to temper your spirit. Your father is hosting a gala next week to formally announce your return. Don’t be a liability.” I spent the week training furiously. I also used some of my botanical stash to negotiate an apprenticeship at Stonehaven Botanicals. They agreed to teach me herbalism and pharmacology in exchange for regular shipments. The night of the gala, I walked downstairs in dark jeans, a crisp white button-down, and a decent jacket. Last time, I’d dressed in the most expensive black tie I could find, trying too hard to be a Beaumont. I ended up looking like a costumed monkey, providing the guests with endless entertainment. This time, I’d learned the lesson: In this circle, confidence is currency. Casual is powerful. I grabbed a plate of canapés and retreated to a quiet corner of the garden. I was virtually invisible. Last time, my awkward attempts at networking had driven Mr. Beaumont’s guests away early. Tonight, my absence meant everyone was relaxed. “Sloan,” Finn’s voice cut through the quiet. “My brother is back.” I looked up. Sloan Rhodes. She was stunning, a captivating trophy, exactly why I had been so obsessed with her. She was new money, but her family was a rising power. She was undeniably attractive, but beneath the polish was a ruthless ambition I knew all too well. She was the second child in her family, eclipsed by an older sister, and she was desperate to climb. That desperation, I knew, was what led her to me—the eldest Beaumont son. She needed a ticket to the top, and I was just an expendable launchpad. I sank deeper into the shadows. I was not playing that game again. If Finn and Sloan got married, maybe they’d be blissfully happy. That was his problem now. 7 I stayed hidden for half the evening. In my first life, I would have been swaggering around, trying to introduce myself, a spectacle for the guests. This time, my low profile meant a much smoother evening. It was as if I didn’t exist at all. “Asher, Finn, Paige. Come with me. We have an important guest.” This was new. This didn’t happen last time. Maybe my past awkwardness had shut down this opportunity. A woman was seated across from Mr. Beaumont, radiating a power that dwarfed his own seasoned gravitas. “Thank you, Ms. Stonehaven, for honoring us with your presence.” Ms. Stonehaven? Kinsley Stonehaven? The heir to the Stonehaven empire—old wealth, far-reaching influence. The kind of person Sloan had spent years trying to get a meeting with. Her presence here was monumental. Paige quietly whispered to Finn: “The Stonehaven family runs this city. Their heir, Kinsley, is ruthless. She cleared out all the old relatives and took over the firm herself.” Mr. Beaumont clearly wanted an alliance. Was he vetting both Sloan and Kinsley for Finn? I didn’t know this person from my past life. My best bet was to stay silent. Kinsley’s eyes, sharp and dark, landed on me. “Mr. Beaumont,” she said, her voice like silk over steel. “Your son is dressed quite simply. Does the Beaumont estate not treat its children well?”

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The Hawthorne Academy’s Charity Case was in the marble-tiled bathroom, dousing herself in cold water. Willow, our resident poor-but-pure girl, was soaking her crisp, but perpetually faded, linen blouse, her eyes glittering with malice. “Guess who your brother and your fiancé are going to believe?” she challenged, the ice in her voice sharper than the water she was pouring over herself. The moment the heavy door slammed open—Beckett, my brother, and Graham, my fiancé, charging in—she was on the ground. A crumpled, shivering heap of innocence. “I’m sorry, Miss Hawthorne,” she choked out, her voice barely a tremor. “I was wrong. I promise I’ll stay away from them. Please, don’t hurt me again.” A wave of pure, red-hot fury—a familiar Hawthorne trait—surged through me. They were both barreling toward me, their faces twisted with an infuriated protectiveness that made my stomach clench. They were going to make me pay, again. Just as I prepared to launch my defense, a blinding, holographic text overlay—like a malicious, glowing subtitle—flashed across my vision: [This villainess is too much!] [It’s fine, let her keep acting out!] [Her reputation for being a bully is universal. Soon no one will believe her! Once she embarrasses the Hawthorne name, the family will cut her off! The Male Lead will step up, and she’ll be the first person he purges!] I froze. The anger was instantly replaced by a glacial, sickening clarity. A slow, cold smile stretched across my face. I raised my hand and began to strike myself—not once, but a dozen times. Then, I grabbed the collar of my designer top and ripped it down the front. Finally, I scrambled onto the third-story window ledge and jumped. I made sure every witness saw the final, terrifying tableau: me, driven to self-destruction from the third-floor ledge by my own brother and fiancé, all for the sake of the ‘poor white flower’ they so adored. I was unconscious before I hit the ground, rushed to the ER, the family name already screaming in headlines. That night, the roar of the Hawthorne private jet shook the quiet suburb. Every major name in the city—the old guard, the corporate titans—showed up at the hospital. Grandfather Elias Hawthorne, propped up by his silver-wolf-head cane, ordered Beckett to receive fifty strokes. Graham was forced to kneel in the hospital lobby for three days and three nights, begging for Grandfather to lift the corporate sanctions that were already crushing his family’s hedge fund. 1 In the restroom stall, Willow—her clothes strategically faded, a testament to her ‘hardship’—was methodically dumping a bucket of toilet water over her head. “Guess who your brother and your fiancé are going to believe?” she repeated, her eyes gleaming. I looked at her the way you look at a truly bizarre performance artist. This wasn’t even the first time she had used this exact trick to set me up. Willow had arrived at Hawthorne Academy as the token scholarship student. Her innocent features, soft voice, and weaponized fragility had earned her the nickname: The Ingenue. Everyone bought the pure, selfless act. I, Audrey Hawthorne, the sole granddaughter in the Hawthorne legacy, had been raised on a pedestal of absolute privilege. I was notoriously aloof, arrogant, and rarely suffered fools. Naturally, I hadn’t rolled out the red carpet when Willow started circling Beckett and Graham. I’d told her, in front of the entire Advanced Placement class, to stop pretending she could marry her way out of poverty. She’d never forgiven me. Her revenge campaign was insidious. She’d pretend I tripped her in the hallway, glue her chair to the floor, plant a dead mouse in her locker, or slap herself and scald her own arm with a hair straightener. Then, she’d turn on the tears and blame me. At first, Beckett and Graham had defended me. But Willow’s relentless, tear-soaked consistency had worked. They slowly started to believe her. My reputation as a privileged, reckless bully who persecuted the poor had solidified across the entire campus. This newest performance—the drenched victim in the private bathroom—was just another escalation designed to turn everyone, especially Beckett and Graham, further against me. Seeing my silence, Willow’s smile widened, radiating smug satisfaction. “Thinking of a defense, Miss Hawthorne?” she asked. Before I could speak, she violently slammed the back of her head against the wall. A red contusion instantly bloomed on her pale forehead. The sound of desperate, pounding footsteps echoed outside the door. Willow instantly dropped to her knees, hugging herself, shivering dramatically. “I’m so sorry, Miss Hawthorne. I was wrong. I won’t go near them again. Please, stop tormenting me.” Beckett and Graham burst in simultaneously. The flash of sick panic in their eyes as they saw Willow on the floor was like a physical stab in my chest. Graham ripped off his limited-edition cashmere jacket and draped it over her trembling shoulders. When he looked up, his eyes were pure ice. “Audrey. When are you going to stop being a goddamn sadist?” he hissed. “First the mouse in the locker, then locking her in the equipment room, and now this? Cornering her in a bathroom? The whole school knows you harass her. Are you happy only when you’ve driven her out of school?” Beckett, without a word, grabbed the bucket Willow had used and, without hesitation, dumped the rest of the freezing water right over my head. His voice was terrifyingly cold. “Is this fun for you, Audrey? Are you finally satisfied?” The cold shock ran from my scalp to my toes, but the freezing water couldn’t extinguish the inferno of rage in my heart. Just as I opened my mouth to scorch the earth, the text overlay reappeared, even brighter now: [This villainess is too much!] [It’s fine, let her keep acting out!] [Her reputation for being a bully is universal. Soon no one will believe her! Once she embarrasses the Hawthorne name, the family will cut her off! The Male Lead will step up, and she’ll be the first person he purges!] The words hammered the future into my mind. I was the novel’s Designated Villainess, whose sole purpose was to lose everything before being destroyed by my own brother, the true Male Lead, all because of my repeated attacks on The Ingenue. But I knew the ending. And I absolutely refused to play the role they had written for me. Willow, seeing my dazed, drenched state, leveraged the moment. “Graham, Beckett,” she whispered, her voice laced with tears. “Don’t blame Miss Hawthorne. It’s my fault for forgetting my place, for foolishly thinking I could be friends with you. I’ll stay away from you both from now on. I don’t want to be the reason you fight.” Graham, his face contorted with sympathy, bundled her tighter in his jacket. “This isn’t your fault, Willow. It’s Audrey’s. She never learns.” He glared at me, his eyes full of contempt. “Audrey, if you so much as touch her again, I am ending our engagement today.” Beckett stepped closer to Willow, smoothing her damp hair. “It has nothing to do with you. Everyone indulged her, which is how she became such a spoiled tyrant. I’m making her apologize to you now.” He grabbed my wrist hard. “You are going to apologize, Audrey. If you don’t, I’m telling Mom and Dad, and more importantly, I’m telling Grandfather everything you’ve done at this school.” The text overlay flashed again: [Will she apologize now that Graham used the break-up threat?] [No way. She’s too arrogant. Once Beckett tells the family, she’s going to face her first-ever session kneeling in the family chapel!] I looked from Graham’s cold indifference to Beckett’s smug certainty and finally to Willow’s carefully crafted distress. I violently yanked my wrist free from Beckett’s grip. SLAP. The sound echoed through the tiled room as I struck my own face. Beckett and Graham stared at me, their eyes wide and synchronized. “What are you doing?” they demanded. I let out a strange, choked laugh. “You’re both so heartbroken for Willow,” I whispered, tears of real, white-hot fury beginning to stream down my already wet cheeks. “You don’t believe I was set up. Now, I’m letting you taste your own medicine, my darling brother and soon-to-be-ex-fiancé.” I lifted my hands and began to strike myself again, harder this time. My white face was instantly blotched with red, swelling rapidly. They surged forward in alarm, but I was faster. I lunged onto the window ledge. I tore off the rest of my ruined shirt and screamed at the top of my lungs: “Ah! Willow! Beckett! Graham! I’m sorry! Stop hitting me! Stop!” A crowd instantly formed below the window. They saw me, drenched, shaking, my face hideously bruised, perched precariously on the ledge. Tears, real ones mixed with the shock, poured from my eyes. I was performing for the largest audience I’d ever had. “Oh, God, Beckett, Graham, I really didn’t touch her! She poured the water herself! She put the mouse in the bag! It was all lies! She set me up!” I wailed. “I know you’ll never believe me. But if I have to die for you to finally see the truth, fine!” I reached out and grabbed their hands, pulling them toward me, and smiled a cold, desperate, unhinged smile. “You’ll get to feel exactly like me now. Wait for it.” Beckett scoffed, attempting to maintain control of the spiraling situation. “I don’t buy it, Audrey. You’re not actually going to jump.” He threw my hand away. That was my cue. I turned and dropped. As I fell, I screamed a final, desperate plea: “AH! STOP PUSHING ME! HELP!” You want a villainess who masters manipulation? Fine. Let’s see you try to out-manipulate a girl who already knows the script. The pain was immediate and absolute, and then the world went black. As I fell, I saw the twin looks of utter, paralyzing horror on Beckett’s and Graham’s faces as they looked down from the frame. The fall happened during the passing period. A huge crowd instantly gathered. “What happened to Audrey Hawthorne? Why did she jump?” “I was right here! I heard her scream that Willow was setting her up, and she was begging Beckett and Graham to stop hitting her!” “But that’s her own brother and her fiancé! Why would they do that to her? And Audrey is so proud—she would never jump without a reason.” “I thought I heard her scream, ‘Don’t push me’…” Everyone stared at my visibly bruised face and the drenched, torn remnants of my clothes. Audrey Hawthorne, the spoiled tyrant, was untouchable. No one would dare bully her. The only logical explanation in their minds was that someone had pushed her, or driven her to it. The news of the Hawthorne Heiress’s jump spread faster than a market crash, alarming the headmaster, the board of directors, and the entire Hawthorne corporate apparatus. Within ten minutes, private security and medics swarmed the campus. My father, currently closing a deal in Zurich, mobilized his private jet to return immediately. I was out for a full day and night. Other than a nasty spiral fracture in my leg, I was fine. When I finally woke up, my room was packed. My eyes immediately locked on the three figures kneeling in the corner of the room. Grandfather Elias’s voice was the first one I heard. It was thick with concern. “Audrey. Tell me exactly what happened. Why did you do this?” My parents looked devastated. “They told us it was your brother and Graham… that they pushed you. Is that true, sweetheart?” Beckett exploded. “I already told you, she jumped! She did this to herself! Why won’t anyone believe me?” Grandfather roared, “Silence!” The text overlay flashed again, now with new, frantic comments: [Wait, what? This plot twist wasn’t in the draft! Did the villainess just jump to frame Willow and the guys?] [They’ve been kneeling for a day and a night because of her jump. What an evil, disgusting villainess!] […Is the villainess starting to use her brain? Beckett just got Grandfather’s wrath for the first time because of her.] A day and a night? Pathetic. My face crumpled. I unleashed a flood of tears. “Grandfather, Mom, Dad, you have to help me.” I reached for my father’s hand. “Willow poured water on herself to frame me, and they refused to listen. They slapped me, they poured water on my head, and they cornered me on the window ledge, telling me to apologize to her.” I forced a sharp, painful cough. “When I refused, they pushed me.” I leaned back, weak and frail. “It wasn’t just this time! Every time Willow hurt herself to set me up, Beckett and Graham believed her, and they always took her side. Grandfather, I was so scared. I thought I would never see you again.” My parents’ faces hardened. Grandfather’s expression was thunderous. “Grandfather! Dad, Mom! She is lying! She is framing us!” Beckett pleaded, furious. “She’s the one who bullies Willow at school! Everyone knows it! She had Willow cornered in the bathroom, and if Graham and I hadn’t gotten there, Willow would have been the one going out the window!” Willow, still kneeling, whispered meekly, her lips trembling, “I didn’t lie, Miss Hawthorne. I know my place is beneath you. I would never have the courage to harm you or offend you.” Graham quickly chimed in. “Mr. Hawthorne, Audrey is completely lying. She slapped herself, she ripped her own clothes, and she jumped. We never laid a hand on her!” Grandfather slammed his cane on the floor. “Nonsense!” he bellowed. “Audrey Hawthorne is the heiress of the Hawthorne legacy. She can snap her fingers and ruin anyone who crosses her. Why on earth would she mutilate herself and jump from a third-story window just to frame you three?” Exactly. No one could believe I would degrade myself that way. It only proves how desperate I was to clear my name. I met Willow’s eyes. A flicker of pure, unadulterated hatred swam in hers, but she didn’t dare speak another word. Beckett, emboldened by panic, stood up. “Grandfather! Why do you believe Audrey and not us? She’s a bully! She’s been tormenting Willow since she arrived!” Graham nodded seriously. “Mr. Hawthorne, Beckett is telling the truth. She’s the aggressor. Her jump was an attempt to frame us.” Grandfather’s face was a mask of cold disappointment. He directed his fury at Beckett. “Disgraceful! You, as the elder brother, not only failed to protect your sister but actively conspired with an outsider against her! You will take the fifty strokes, copy the family rules one hundred times, and kneel in the family chapel for seven days and seven nights!” He turned to Graham. “And you. You have been betrothed to my granddaughter since childhood. You have not only failed your duty as a fiancé but aided in her abuse. The Hawthorne corporation is immediately severing all financial and political ties with the Graham Group. The engagement is null and void.” Beckett and Graham stared, aghast and speechless, at the patriarch. I watched, a vicious joy coiling in my chest. Willow threw herself forward, forehead hitting the floor with a loud thud. Her voice was a heartbreaking sob. “It’s all my fault! I caused this! If hitting my head until I bleed would make Miss Hawthorne feel better, I would do it!” She hammered her head again. “Please, don’t punish Beckett and Graham! I caused this argument! Punish me instead! If Miss Hawthorne is still angry, I will leave the school and never show my face again!” [Oh God, our poor Willow! She’s being framed, but she’s apologizing for the villainess! When will this cruel villainess get what’s coming to her?] [Sweetie, you did nothing wrong! Don’t apologize! It’s only because you don’t have the background! You’ll step on Audrey Hawthorne one day!] Beckett and Graham rushed to her, their faces contorted with pity. “Grandfather, this has nothing to do with Willow. It’s my fault for not looking after Audrey. Punish me.” “Mr. Hawthorne, Willow is from a poor background. It’s hard enough for her to attend school. I’ll take the punishment.” Grandfather’s expression darkened, ready to deliver his verdict, but I spoke first, my voice weak but steady. “Grandfather, let her go. It’s not worth it. We don’t want to be accused of bullying a poor townie.” Willow looked up at me in shock. I gave her a small, sweet smile. You don’t think I’d just let you walk away after you put me in the hospital, do you? Grandfather looked at me with approval. “Fine. On the condition that Audrey has forgiven you, I will spare you the corporate consequences. However, you will write a full apology and read it aloud to the entire student body. If this happens again, you will be dealt with severely.” I was satisfied. The Hawthorne family was dangerously thin on heirs; it was just Beckett and me. Grandfather, being old school, favored the male heir, but I was still his only granddaughter. This incident had shaken his faith in Beckett. My goal wasn’t just revenge; it was the legacy. From this day forward, I would prove that Beckett was unfit to lead the Hawthorne empire. Beckett spent two weeks recovering from his fifty strokes. Graham was forced by his parents to kneel outside my hospital room for three days straight, begging Grandfather to reconsider. When Willow returned to school, the sympathy in her peers’ eyes was gone. Whispers of her being a manipulative “white lotus” followed her everywhere. She finally got a taste of what it felt like to be publicly maligned and utterly powerless. I spent a month recovering. During that time, I enrolled in the upcoming national academic competition. On the day of the competition, I arrived in a wheelchair, only to find Willow sitting in my reserved spot. Beckett and Graham were flanking her, still acting as her self-appointed bodyguards. They were whispering to her, eliciting a delicate, muffled giggle. The moment they saw me, their faces went cold. Willow remained firmly planted in my seat. She tilted her face up, a picture of false concern. “Miss Hawthorne, are you feeling better? I wanted to visit you, but I thought you wouldn’t want to see me, especially after… well, everything.” She brightened suddenly. “I see you signed up for the academic competition! I admire your courage! But you’ve been in the hospital. I know you haven’t had time to study. Don’t worry. I’ll let you have first place as my apology for everything that happened.” I looked down at her, utterly unimpressed. “Move,” I said, my voice flat. Beckett stepped forward, his eyes burning with familiar contempt. “Audrey, what is your problem? Willow is trying to be kind! Don’t be a brat! And for God’s sake, what’s the point of you even showing up? Don’t you dare come in last place and embarrass the Hawthorne name again.” Graham chimed in with his usual condescension. “Willow is being gracious. You’ve been sidelined for a month; you’ve probably forgotten the basic formulas. If you place dead last, you’ll only confirm the rumors that the Hawthorne Heiress is just ‘a golden cage with nothing inside.’” I ignored them both. “Move. This is my seat.” Willow immediately broke into a fit of delicate coughing, looking like a weak puff of wind could scatter her. “I’m so sorry, Miss Hawthorne. I didn’t mean to steal your spot,” she whispered. “After you poured that water on me, and then the kneeling… I’ve been sick off and on all month. I just felt dizzy and needed to sit down. Please, don’t be angry.” Beckett shot me a hateful look. “Willow, stay put. Rest here until the competition starts.” He turned to me, his voice a low, hostile growl. “Don’t think that just because Grandfather is protecting you, I’m afraid of you. I will make them see you for what you are. As long as I’m a Hawthorne, you will not touch Willow!” Graham stood directly behind her, shielding her. “I won’t let you bully her again.” I glanced past them. Willow caught my eye and flashed a small, confident smirk. She mouthed the words: What can you do? The text overlay exploded: [LOL, Willow’s so fierce! If Audrey charges in, she’s screwed! Willow already called the press—if the villainess loses control, tomorrow’s headline is “Psycho Heiress Bullies Sick Classmate,” and Hawthorne stock will plummet! Grandfather will disinherit her!] [Since Audrey framed them last time, Beckett and Graham are both wearing tiny pinhole cameras! If Audrey tries to lie, the recording goes straight to Grandfather!] I slowly released the arms of the wheelchair and stood up, leaning against the table. The noise around us had swelled. “Do you think Audrey will actually attack her this time?” “Of course, she will. It’s Audrey Hawthorne. She has no brain, only a terrible temper. She’ll blow up instantly.” “I bet $500,000 she flips the table!” “A million! I bet she slaps her!” Everyone was waiting for the show.

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They call me the Reaper. When I walked out of the head office with that familiar pale blue folder, a collective groan echoed through the cubicles. The usual mix of glares and whispered curses followed me. In the last six months, I’d personally escorted nearly two hundred people out the door of Ascend Corp, saving our CEO over a million and a half dollars. My hands were stained, but I thought my reward was finally here—the promotion I was promised, the one I’d sacrificed my reputation for. Instead, he handed me a folder of my own. My termination papers. Fine. So this is what it feels like to be the blade they use and then discard. If my name is on the list, then they’re about to find out just how terrifying the Reaper can be when she comes for you. 1 “Ava, take a look at this list. I need them processed by Monday.” I took the folder from Robert Peterson, our CEO, my stomach already tightening with a familiar dread. Another list. Another round of lives to upend. I opened it. A dozen names, all familiar, stared back at me. One of them, Frank Miller, had been a senior engineer here for eight years, three of which we’d spent working on projects together. “Mr. Peterson,” I began, testing the waters. “Frank is a cornerstone of the tech department. Are we sure about this?” A frown creased his forehead. “Ava, you know the position we’re in. We have to be lean. You’ve been at this for five months. Don’t tell me you’re getting soft now.” I pressed my lips together. He was right. For five months, I had been the company’s Grim Reaper. One hundred and eighty souls—or rather, jobs—sent into the ether on my watch. “Besides,” Peterson added, a knowing glint in his eye, “once we get through this quarter’s restructuring, that promotion is all yours. Director of HR. You know how many people would kill for that spot.” That was the shot of adrenaline I needed. My hesitation vanished. For that title, for that corner office, for the promise of finally making it, I could handle one last list. I could be ruthless one more time. “I understand, sir. It will be done by Monday.” I nodded, closing the folder and sliding it into my desk drawer. “Attagirl.” He clapped me on the shoulder, his face breaking into a satisfied grin. “Ava, you’re the most effective HR manager I’ve ever seen.” His praise was a warm balm, soothing the unease in my gut. All the anxiety, all the guilt, melted away. As I walked back to my desk, I felt their eyes on me. The glares were a mix of contempt, fear, and a sick kind of relief that it wasn’t them. I was used to it. Since the layoffs began, my name had become poison. I’d heard the whispers: “The Hatchet Woman.” “The Vulture.” “That soulless corporate witch.” But who cares what they called me? Once I was Ava Morgan, Director of Human Resources, their whispers wouldn’t matter. I pictured the doubled salary, the spacious office with a view, and my mood lifted instantly. Back in my chair, I began my work, pulling up the file for each name on the list. Years of service, technical skills, project contributions—I meticulously copied the key details into my personal, encrypted notebook. It was a habit of mine. The official company files were comprehensive, but my own records were cleaner, more useful. They helped me do my job. 2 Monday morning, I began sending the death sentences. “Frank, could you come by my office when you have a moment?” The silence on the other end of the line was heavy, broken only by a soft sigh. He already knew. In the current climate at Ascend, a summons from Ava Morgan was a pink slip waiting to happen. Ten minutes later, he walked in. The eight-year veteran, one of our best engineers, looked exhausted. Dark circles hung under his eyes. “Have a seat,” I said, gesturing to the chair opposite my desk. I had rehearsed the script a thousand times in my head. “Ava, let’s just get to it,” he said with a bitter smile. “It’s my turn, isn’t it?” I nodded, pulling his prepared severance package from the drawer. “The company has decided on another round of personnel optimization. Unfortunately…” “Spare me the corporate bullshit,” Frank cut in, his eyes sharp with scorn. “We’ve worked together for three years. Don’t pretend this is anything other than what it is. What’s the package?” I pushed the documents across the desk. “Two months’ severance for every year of service. It’s more than the standard. It’s the best I could get for you.” He let out a short, harsh laugh. “Generous. Eight years of my life for a few months’ pay.” His gaze hardened, pinning me to my chair. “Do you even realize what you’re doing, Ava? You’re gutting this company, kicking your own colleagues to the curb, all for that director title he’s dangling in front of you.” His words were a direct hit, striking a nerve deep inside me. I kept my face a mask of professional calm. “This is a corporate decision, Frank. It’s not personal.” “Isn’t it?” He stood, looking down at me. “Then you’d better pray you never end up in our shoes. You think Peterson’s promises are worth anything? He’ll kick you to the curb the second you’re no longer useful to him.” His warning felt like a shard of ice in my chest. I suppressed the feeling, forcing my voice to remain flat. “Please have your affairs in order by Wednesday.” Frank just shook his head, picked up the folder, and walked out without another word. That scene repeated itself more than a dozen times that day. With every person I let go, I felt a small piece of my own soul chip away. But the thought of the promotion, the finish line, was all that kept me going. Before leaving for the day, I compiled all the signed documents, ready for Peterson in the morning. This was it. The final list. After this, I could shed this Reaper persona and finally claim the throne I had bled for. A flicker of triumph cut through my exhaustion. I opened my laptop, updating my private spreadsheet one last time. As of today, I had terminated 196 employees, saving Ascend Corp an estimated $1.56 million in annual payroll. The numbers were my justification. My proof of worth. I walked out of the office with my head held high, ignoring the way people averted their eyes and fell silent as I passed. It wouldn’t be long now. Soon, they wouldn’t see the Reaper. They would see Ms. Morgan, the Director. 3 “Excellent work, Ava.” Mr. Peterson scanned the files I handed him, nodding in satisfaction. “The personnel optimization plan is officially complete.” I couldn’t help but stand a little straighter, my expression full of anticipation. “Sir, about my promotion…” “Right, about that.” He smiled faintly, reaching into his desk drawer. He pulled out a single, familiar folder. Pale blue, with the small “HR” logo in the bottom corner. My heart stopped. For six months, I had been the one pulling termination letters from those folders, placing them in the hands of others. This time, he was handing the folder to me. “I don’t understand,” I managed to say, my fingers trembling as I took it. Peterson’s smile remained, but his eyes had turned to ice. “The company has decided on a complete overhaul of the Human Resources department. Your position has been eliminated.” I shot to my feet, nearly knocking my chair over. “What are you talking about? I did everything you asked. You promised me…” “Circumstances have changed,” he said, his voice clipped and final. “This new phase for Ascend requires a fresh HR team. One without the… historical baggage.” I stared at him, speechless. The air had been punched from my lungs. He glanced at me, his tone softening just enough to be insulting. “Ava, you’ve done a lot for us, and we appreciate it. Per company policy, you’re entitled to a standard severance. But for your unique contributions, I’ve personally authorized the same enhanced package you’ve been giving out.” The same package. The exact same one I had just given Frank. The room began to spin. A hot rush of blood roared in my ears. “You can’t do this,” I said, my voice shaking with rage. “I laid off nearly two hundred people for you. I took all the hate for it. You know the reputation I have now! You promised me the director position!” For a fleeting moment, something flickered in his eyes—pity? guilt?—but it was gone as quickly as it came. “Business is war, Ava. Plans change. You, of all people, should understand that.” “I don’t understand!” I was practically shouting now. “This is a betrayal!” His face hardened. “Watch your tone. The company is providing you with a fair severance, which is more than generous. Don’t forget, there’s a line of people out there who would kill for a job here.” I took a deep, shuddering breath, forcing myself to find some semblance of calm. “Then tell me who’s replacing me.” He hesitated. “Chloe Jenkins. The junior director from Marketing. She’s sharp, has fresh ideas.” Chloe? The kid who’d been here barely six months? I almost laughed out loud. “Mr. Peterson, she doesn’t even know basic labor law.” “She’ll have a team to support her,” he said, his patience clearly gone. “Ava, it’s done. There’s nothing more to discuss. Have your desk cleared out in three days. HR will handle your exit.” He stood up, the universal signal for “get out.” I walked out of his office in a daze, the pale blue folder clutched in my hand, a ringing in my ears. Back at my desk, I numbly opened it. The termination letter, with my name printed in neat, black ink, felt like an artifact from another dimension. Hours ago, I was the one issuing these. Now, I was the one receiving it. The eyes of my colleagues were on me again, but this time the emotions were different. There was shock, a little pity, but mostly, a chillingly familiar indifference. It was the same look I had given every person I had fired. “Karma’s a bitch,” I muttered with a humorless smile. Frank’s voice echoed in my head. He’ll kick you to the curb the second you’re no longer useful to him. A strange heat bloomed in my chest. It wasn’t just anger. It was the profound, burning shame of being played for a fool. 4 The clock hit five, and the office began to empty out. I remained at my desk, staring blankly at my monitor. My personal notebook lay on the desk, the one filled with the data of every single person I had let go. Names, positions, skills, major contributions… all the ammunition I had used to carry out my orders. Now, it looked like a monument to my own stupidity. I flipped through the pages idly. My eyes caught on a name, then another. Wait a second. This data… My mind started racing as I scanned the pages. An idea, audacious and cold, began to take shape. Peterson wanted a “lean” company, did he? He was so proud of the million and a half dollars I’d saved him. But what would be the cost if all that talent I’d cut loose ended up at his biggest competitor? A slow, icy smile spread across my face. I shoved the notebook into my bag, shut down my computer, and walked out of Ascend Corp for the last time as an employee. That night, back in my small apartment, I didn’t collapse into bed. I opened my laptop and began to organize the information from my notebook, focusing on the high-level tech talent. What was the real damage their absence would cause? I pulled up a job search site and looked up Ascend’s main rival, Apex Solutions. Just as I suspected. They were on a hiring spree, and their posted salary ranges were significantly higher than what we paid. After a moment’s hesitation, I created a new, anonymous email address. I drafted a short message to the head of HR at Apex Solutions. [> Subject: High-Value Talent Pool To Whom It May Concern, I have access to a curated list of highly qualified tech professionals with extensive industry experience. If you are looking to acquire top-tier talent, I invite you to a discussion.] After hitting send, I closed the laptop and lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Half a year as the Reaper, and now I was about to become a shepherd, leading the flock to a greener pasture. The irony was thick enough to choke on. But this was the perfect revenge. It was legal, professional, and it would hit Robert Peterson right where it hurt the most: his bottom line. The next morning, a reply from Apex was waiting in my inbox. They wanted to meet. Today. “Well, that was fast,” I murmured, sending back a confirmation. At the office, while gathering my things, Chloe—the chosen one—approached my desk. “Ava,” she began, looking deeply uncomfortable. “I heard that you…” “That I got canned? Yep,” I said, my face a blank mask. “Congratulations on the promotion.” Her cheeks flushed. “Ava, I swear I had no idea. Mr. Peterson only told me yesterday…” “Don’t worry about it. It’s just business,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand, pushing a stack of files toward her. “Here’s the latest project pipeline. You should get up to speed.” Chloe took them, but hesitated. “How can you be so calm? If it were me…” “What’s not to be calm about?” I looked up at her. “I fired almost two hundred people. Now it’s my turn. It’s only fair, isn’t it?” My words left her speechless. She stammered, “Well… what are your plans? Do you want me to see if I can… put in a good word for you somewhere?” I had to suppress a cold laugh. A rookie with six months of experience was going to give me a referral? Still, I kept my tone polite. “Thanks, Chloe, but I have my own plans.” She nodded and scurried away. At three o’clock, I was sitting in a quiet corner of a downtown café. The HR Director from Apex, a sharp woman in her thirties named Sarah, got straight to the point after shaking my hand. “So, what’s your story?” “Former HR Manager at Ascend Corp,” I replied, equally direct. “I was just let go. I have a deep understanding of your talent needs and where to find the perfect candidates.” Her eyes lit up with interest. “Oh? And who did you have in mind?” I slid a neatly prepared dossier across the table. “This is a list of top-tier tech talent. All of them are industry leaders with proven track records on major projects.” She scanned the first page, her eyebrows rising. By the second page, her expression was one of pure excitement. “This is… these are all from Ascend, aren’t they?” “Yes. All recently laid off,” I confirmed. “And their current project expertise aligns perfectly with your company’s recently announced strategic initiatives.” “This is incredible,” she breathed, closing the file. “We’re trying to staff three critical projects right now. These people could fill every gap we have. Can you connect us?” I smiled. “Of course. But first… we should discuss my commission.” “Naturally,” she said without hesitation. “Standard rate is fifteen percent of the candidate’s first-year salary. For key personnel like these, we can go up to twenty.” I did some quick math. A senior engineer like Frank pulled in at least $250,000 a year. Twenty percent of that was fifty grand. If I placed even half this list… I’d make more than Peterson had ever promised me. “Deal.” I extended my hand, and we shook on it. “I look forward to working with you.” On the way home, I felt something I hadn’t felt in months: genuine, unadulterated joy. This wasn’t just revenge. This was a brilliant business opportunity. That night, I started making calls. The first message went to the man whose curse had become my prophecy. [> Frank? It’s Ava Morgan. I have a job opportunity I think you’ll want to hear about.] He replied almost instantly. [> You’ve got a hell of a nerve.]

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Everyone in New York City knew I was the gold digger who’d clawed her way into a marriage with Grayson Ford for his money. Grayson, however, only had eyes for the ghost of a girl his mother had once paid fifty thousand dollars to break up with him. The one that got away. So, the moment Ava Cole set foot in Ford Industries, the vultures in our circle started a betting pool, taking odds on how long it would be before Grayson kicked me to the curb. Some said three months. Others said six. I had every intention of fighting to save both my marriage and my money. But that resolve crumbled the moment I saw Grayson—a man who was usually a glacier in a bespoke suit—turn a rare, warm gaze on his new secretary. I can lose the man. I can’t lose the money. That evening, I walked straight into the city’s most exclusive speakeasy and laid down five million dollars. “I’ll take the one-month bet,” I said. 1 Who on earth doesn’t love money? I was intensely curious about this sainted ex-girlfriend of his. The day after I heard she’d been hired, I stormed into Ford Industries, dressed for battle and ready to see for myself. Grayson was in his office with a client. When he saw me walk in, his expression didn’t flicker. I was used to it. My husband had a face carved from ice. What could I do? He was handsome and rich. My only option was to spoil him. I’d just settled onto the plush leather sofa when his new secretary, whose back was to me, spilled a cup of coffee. It splashed, with almost theatrical precision, all over the new shirt I’d picked out for him that morning. The secretary’s face was a mask of calm. She expertly retrieved another shirt—one I’d never seen before—from the private adjoining room, her chin held just a little too high. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Ford. You’ll have to change.” Despite the interruption in front of a client, Grayson didn’t reprimand her. He simply took the shirt and went to change. When he came out, adjusting his collar, he glanced at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window. “How does it look?” he asked her, his voice casual. “It looks good on you.” Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, a silent understanding passing between them, followed by the ghost of a shared smile. Oh. I could smell the stench of betrayal from across the room. Before I could demand he shut the door for a private conversation, Grayson was already ushering the client out and toward the conference room. I stood up, my four-inch heels clicking furiously on the marble floor, but I couldn’t keep up with their brisk pace. The secretary, cool and detached, stopped me at the door. “Ms. Langley, there’s an important meeting today. Unlike you, some of us have things to do. We don’t have time to entertain you.” Her voice was low, but sharp. “For those of us who believe in earning our place in the world, our time is best spent on things that actually matter to this company.” A mocking smile touched her lips. “Besides,” she added, “you’re dependent on this company to survive, aren’t you?” I stared at her, this legendary woman who supposedly couldn’t be bought, this icon of integrity and strength. I let out a soft, deliberate “tsk.” Ms. Langley? Earning our place? What a perfect performance. The noble working girl who scoffs at the very capital that keeps the lights on. So this was his type. No wonder a bombshell like me didn’t even register on his radar. … When I agreed to the merger of our families, I already knew about the one that got away. Ava’s family wasn’t wealthy, and she was fiercely proud. She couldn’t stand the constant condescension from Grayson’s mother and had ended things, walking away without a second glance. Grayson had been hung up on her for years. On our wedding night, he slept in the guest room, clutching a cheap, hand-knitted scarf she’d once made for him. I scoffed, rolled over, and buried my face in my five-figure, custom-made silk comforter. It smelled divine. I slept until dusk the next day, then met my friends to continue the bachelorette party we’d started two days prior. It wasn’t until the fourth day of my marriage that I found out Grayson had fled the country for a “business trip,” a trip that lasted three months. The story of his blatant rejection spread like wildfire. Everyone in New York’s elite circles knew that the beautiful daughter the Langley family had pushed on the Fords couldn’t even keep her husband in their bed on their wedding night. The humiliation was… immense. Gritting my teeth, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I eyed his broad shoulders, his lean waist, the outline of his abs through his shirt. One evening, I found my chance and slipped something into his tea. We spent the night tangled together, a blur of skin and heat. The next morning, he woke up in a fury. “Aurora! Have you no shame? This is… this is coercion! You can’t just—” I crossed my legs, lounging against the headboard, and gave him a lazy, dismissive glance. “Please, Grayson. It’s called fulfilling your spousal duties. Besides, don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.” He was a mess of shame and indignation. “I’m warning you, Aurora. If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will pull all funding from Langley Enterprises.” That got my attention. I immediately backed down, hopping out of bed. “Fine! Don’t sleep with me! It wasn’t that great anyway!” I, Aurora Langley, fear nothing. Except being broke. To seal this marriage, my father had reluctantly signed over thirty percent of his company’s shares to me. Threatening the family business was the one way to get to me. With Langley Enterprises still on shaky ground, I was living on Grayson’s dime. Pissing him off was not a good strategy. So, I decided to lay low and play the long game. And so, two years of our marriage passed. The numbers in my bank account grew exponentially with each passing day. Life without love but with plenty of money was a kind of blissful, hollow existence. It was certainly better than the years I’d spent after my parents, high on their first taste of success, had dumped me in a small town in the middle of nowhere to be raised by my grandmother. It was better than begging door-to-door in a storm to scrape together a few hundred dollars for her medication. I was done with the anxiety of wondering how we’d pay for things. I was done watching my grandmother’s trembling hands pull wrinkled dollar bills, one by one, from her old wooden box. From a very young age, I decided my life could be devoid of a soulmate, devoid of family, but it could never, ever be devoid of money. … Honestly, I truly did want to make things work with Grayson. That is, until his sainted ex showed up at our front door that night. Ava Cole held out the ruined shirt, her chin still tilted in that same posture of defiant pride. “Mr. Ford, just tell me how much it costs. I’ll pay you back in full.” Grayson, fresh from the shower and wrapped in a loose robe, paused at the sight of her standing in our doorway. His voice softened. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a shirt.” “Five thousand dollars. Cash or transfer?” I stepped out from behind him, plucking the shirt from her hand. A slow, deliberate smile spread across my face as I watched the color drain from hers. “Can’t afford it? That’s alright,” I purred. “I can just deduct it from your salary. Installments are fine.” … 2 “You went too far, Aurora! Do you need that five thousand dollars? Didn’t you see she was about to cry?” The second the door closed, Grayson’s anger was palpable, rivaling the morning after I’d drugged him. I sat down gracefully, taking a moment to admire my fresh manicure. “No, I don’t need the money. But why should I have to pay for her mistake?” “Her family is struggling, Aurora! That’s several months’ salary for her. She has a sick grandmother to support. How is she supposed to live?” “Is her financial situation my fault?” I countered, my voice dangerously calm. “If you know you can’t afford to make mistakes in life, you learn to be careful with everything you touch. Whether it’s a man… or a job.” Grayson was speechless for a moment. “You’re unbelievable,” he finally spat out, before storming upstairs to his study. The door slammed with a resounding crack. I just lowered my gaze to the wrinkled, unrecognizable shirt in my hands. He seemed to have forgotten. Two years ago, he’d developed a severe skin allergy. Even the finest custom-tailored fabrics irritated him. I had gone to a master tailor in Charleston, a man known for his work with a rare, limited-edition heritage silk. I’d bought the entire bolt. And then, with my own two hands, I had stitched that shirt for him, thread by thread. My carefully manicured fingers were pricked and raw by the end, but when I saw that rare flicker of genuine pleasure in his eyes, I felt the ridiculous, hands-on effort had been worth it. For a little while after that, our marriage had a hint of sweetness to it. But that was before Ava Cole’s return. Before I realized that Grayson—the man who treated me with such icy indifference, whose smiles felt like charity—could be so gentle with someone else. I never knew his eyes could hold that kind of warmth so effortlessly. I could faintly hear the low murmur of his voice through the closed study door, comforting her. It was quiet, but it grated on my nerves. A bitter laugh escaped me. I crushed the shirt in my fist and threw it into the trash can with a satisfying thud. A gift that isn’t cherished is meaningless, no matter the effort. Money, on the other hand, is loyal only to the person holding it. The next day, I called my friends and went on a marathon shopping spree. When I returned home, arms laden with bags from every designer on Fifth Avenue, I was stunned to find Ava Cole in my house. She was wearing a simple cotton dress, her hair in a low bun. Modest. Understated. An apron was tied around her waist. She was walking out of my kitchen, carrying a steaming tureen of what smelled like a hearty beef stew. 3 I stared at Grayson, who was sitting on the sofa, engrossed in some documents. I tried to rack my brain, wondering if I’d suffered some sort of memory loss. “What did I miss? When did we start the part of the show where you move into my house?” Ava’s eyes immediately welled with tears. She lifted her chin, her voice trembling with indignation. “Ms. Langley, does having money give you the right to bully people like this? You’re attacking my character and my dignity!” Grayson didn’t even look up from his papers. “You pushed her to the point where she was about to start delivering food to pay you back. That’s dangerous. You were never happy with the last housekeeper anyway. I told Ava she could work here instead.” “You have my word, Ms. Langley,” Ava said, regaining her composure and that infuriatingly righteous expression. “I will pay back the five thousand dollars as soon as possible. I won’t be in your debt for long.” “Hah.” I glanced at the stew on the dining table. “Did you bother to do any research before you started playing house? I’m allergic to mushrooms.” Ava flinched, but her face quickly settled back into a neutral mask. “Mr. Ford enjoys this recipe. If you don’t like it, Ms. Langley, you can have something else. I also made a salad.” “Tsk,” I clicked my tongue, applauding softly. “So, you’re paying off your debt to me with money you earn by waiting on my husband?” Ava’s face flushed. “You…” “That’s enough!” Grayson stood up, his face dark. “I asked her to come here. If you have a problem, take it up with me. Stop making things difficult for her.” “Grayson! She just appears out of nowhere at your company, and now she’s in our home! She is not here with good intentions!” I was losing my composure. A cold smirk crossed Grayson’s face. “Do you really think every woman is like you, Aurora? Don’t forget why you married me in the first place. This family, this company… I’m in charge of it all. And that includes your family’s little business.” The air crackled with silence. After a long moment, I burst out laughing. “Fine. You’re the boss.” I shrugged. “You two enjoy your dinner. I’m going out for martinis.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked out, ignoring the stunned look on Grayson’s face. But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ava. She was standing perfectly still, a look of pure, triumphant scorn directed right at me. … I drove aimlessly for a while before pulling over. I couldn’t explain the feeling. Seeing Grayson defend her left an ache in my chest, a hollow space that made it hard to breathe. I pulled out my phone. The screen was blank except for a single notification from my doctor’s office with my recent test results. Bored, I opened the file and started scrolling. When I got to the gynecology report, my eyes widened. Wait. Abnormal hCG levels? What did that mean? Was I… pregnant? My mind went into a tailspin. Last month, overcome by a rare wave of desire for him, I’d put on a silk slip and tried, with a little flourish, to seduce him. And now… this. As if on cue, a dull ache started in my lower abdomen, a phantom pain that felt like something was actually taking root. This baby… It was coming at the worst possible time. And the best possible time. A wave of melancholy washed over me. Because I had, in quiet moments, actually imagined… having a child with Grayson. 4 I had seen him once before, long before we were married. I was twelve, a year before my parents, who had finally struck it rich, remembered they had a daughter and brought me to New York. He had come with a team from his family’s foundation to donate supplies to the schools in our small town. He was only eighteen, but he moved with a quiet confidence. He was so handsome it made my heart ache. I saw him, and I never forgot him. So later, when my parents decided to trade me and Langley Enterprises’ most profitable division for an alliance with the Fords, I agreed. But he had always been cold to me. And our marriage was a business deal, tainted by ambition and money. There was never a moment for heartfelt confessions. There was never a chance to tell him I’d fallen for him when I was twelve. It was a shame, really. But then I thought, she’s the one who walked away from him. Why should I be the one to step aside now that she’s decided to waltz back into his life? If anyone should leave, it’s the expired ghost of his past. With that thought, I spun the car around and drove back, my foot heavy on the accelerator. The moment I opened the front door, I saw her. Ava was standing in the foyer, the house spotless behind her, as if she’d been waiting for me. She saw the storm on my face and a knowing look crossed hers. “Grayson already left for a meeting with a client.” She paused, her voice laced with condescension. “You really have a low opinion of me, don’t you, Ms. Langley? Did you think I would try to seduce him the moment you were gone? I’m not like you. I don’t do everything for money. If I did, you never would have had the chance to become Mrs. Ford.” She smiled, a cruel, cutting thing. “But a woman like you, who needs Grayson to survive… you must be terrified of losing him.” Her eyes flickered with amusement. “By the way, do you and Grayson sleep in separate rooms? I noticed while I was tidying up the master bedroom. Your side of the bed looks… untouched.” I ignored her, striding past her into the immaculate living room. My eyes landed on the coffee table. Sitting there, as if placed on display, was a single, gold-rimmed coffee cup. Used. A cold laugh escaped my lips. I swept the cup, the apron she’d worn, and a hairpin she’d “accidentally” left on the table into the nearest trash can. “Sorry, Ava. You’re fired. I don’t welcome people who help themselves to the owner’s private belongings. Nor do I welcome people who are obsessed with whether or not my husband is sleeping in the master bedroom.” I turned back to her. “Oh, and that coffee cup was part of a set worth twenty thousand dollars. I’ll expect you to reimburse me for the one you used. If you don’t, I won’t hesitate to file a police report.” Ava’s calm facade finally cracked. Her face was flushed with fury. “On what grounds? This is Grayson’s house! You can’t just throw me out!” I grabbed her arm and physically pushed her toward the door. “I can,” I said, my voice like ice. “Because I am Mrs. Ford.” 5 Night fell, and a cold rain began to pour. Ava remained outside the gates, a stubborn, pathetic statue in the downpour. I made myself a coffee and sat on the second-floor terrace, watching her, until Grayson’s car screeched into the driveway. He saw her there—the proud girl who had never bowed to anyone, now a tear-streaked mess locked out of his house—and his face contorted with rage. He looked up at me, his eyes burning with a hatred that chilled me to the bone. Without a second’s hesitation, he shrugged off his suit jacket, draped it over her trembling shoulders, and gently helped her into his car. And then I remembered. In two years of marriage, Grayson had never once let me ride in his car. I drove myself everywhere. Once, I’d been stranded on a back road outside the city during a torrential storm. The roads were flooding. Terrified, I’d called him, sobbing, but he’d hung up before I could even finish my sentence. So, this was the difference between love and the lack of it. … My phone rang, shattering the quiet. It was my mother, a woman I rarely heard from. She didn’t bother with a greeting. “The finance department at Langley just called. Grayson pulled the funding! The news just broke and our stock is already tanking. What in God’s name did you do to him?” I was silent for a moment. In the past, when I’d annoyed him, he’d threatened this. But he’d never actually done it. This time, he’d acted swiftly, without warning. I had clearly crossed a line. “Oh…” I said slowly, my voice devoid of any real concern. “I’ll figure something out.” She let out a theatrical sigh on the other end of the line. “Aurora, please, take this seriously. Your brother is about to take over the company. We can’t afford any problems. And don’t forget, you get a healthy dividend from Langley every month. Keeping him happy is keeping your own wallet happy, isn’t it?” She paused. “And whatever little tramp he has on the side, surely you can handle her. A woman with your looks?”

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I was supposed to be the mother of the tragic heroine in a paperback drama. My mission, handed down by a disembodied voice I’ve come to call ‘the System,’ was to save her from a miserable fate—a life of abuse at the hands of some dime-store villain. The System laid out the grim starting point: 【A cheating father, dead too soon. A mother who vanished overseas. A frail, sick grandmother, and a lonely girl left to fend for herself. How do you plan to save her from this?】 I slid my McLaren to a halt in a perfect drift in front of her rundown apartment building and killed the engine. “I’m going to hit her with money,” I said. The System went silent. I adjusted my sunglasses, offering a confident smirk to the rearview mirror. “Don’t worry. On my watch, there’s no way in hell she’s growing up to be anyone’s tragic heroine.” This time, she gets to be the spoiled, ridiculously loved daughter of a second-generation millionaire. 1 My name was Audrey Croft. I went to sleep in my own bed, and I woke up here. The System explained it was a “temporal disturbance.” It promised I could go home once I lived out this new life and died of old age. A full-sentence commutation, I guess. 【Since you’re here,】 the System chimed in my head, its voice sterile and unfeeling, 【you might as well save the original owner’s daughter. In this world’s narrative, she’s the tragic heroine. She clings to a toxic, abusive man simply because she’s known so little kindness in her life. Her story is brutal. You have to save her.】 I looked out at the girl standing by the high school gates. Her school uniform was faded to a pale, washed-out gray, the cuffs frayed. A thick curtain of dark hair hung over her eyes, casting her face in a permanent, uninviting shadow. I squinted. “That’s the tragic heroine?” I asked, unconvinced. I always pictured them as delicate, wilting flowers. 【Affirmative.】 The System repeated its earlier prompt like a script. 【A cheating father, dead too soon. A mother who vanished overseas. A frail, sick grandmother, and a lonely girl left to fend for herself. Given these parameters, how do you plan to save her?】 I took off my sunglasses, my voice dripping with the bored confidence I’d spent a lifetime perfecting. “I’m going to hit her with money.” 【That’s an inefficient solution,】 the System replied, its tone bordering on digital disapproval. 【She requires an infusion of love and emotional support.】 I gave a noncommittal shrug. It couldn’t possibly understand the unique kind of therapy that only a limitless bank account can provide. Why would she want to be some pitiful, tragic heroine when she could be an audacious, unapologetic trust-fund baby? The original Audrey’s daughter is named Maya Thompson. She’s sixteen, a sophomore in high school. She lives with her grandmother. Her father had an affair when she was two and never gave her a second thought. Devastated by the betrayal, her mother—the woman whose life I’ve inherited—swore she’d become a massive success to make him regret it, and promptly left for a career overseas. She was gone for years without a word. What she never learned was that her cheating husband died in a drunk-driving accident not long after she left. The grandmother, who seemed healthy enough, was worn down by life and diagnosed with a serious illness. The entire burden of their world fell onto Maya’s small shoulders. In the original story, when the mother finally returns, rich and successful, she finds a daughter who is a complete stranger, hardened by life and filled with a quiet, simmering hatred for her. The story ends with the mother, disappointed, leaving to start a new family. Maya, trapped in a cycle of abuse with the story’s male lead, eventually takes her own life. I sighed. All of this, because some mediocre man cheated with some mediocre woman. Was that really a wound worth dedicating your entire life to avenging? 2 Maya’s grandmother, Eileen, lived in an old brick walk-up, the kind of housing the city had built for municipal workers decades ago. The paint on the railings was peeling, and the hallway walls were stained a permanent, sickly yellow. I pulled up in the McLaren, the throaty roar of its engine turning heads on the quiet street. I parked it in a spot clearly marked NO PARKING and clicked my way up to the second floor. I knocked. “Who is it?” a frail voice called from inside. It took a few long minutes of shuffling and the clicking of locks before the door creaked open. I flashed my most dazzling, enthusiastic smile and took her hand in both of mine. “Mom,” I said. “I’m home.” The old woman flinched, startled. She peered at me, her eyes clouded with suspicion, taking in my designer dress and the perfect, blood-red lipstick. “Audrey?” she asked, the name tasting like a foreign word on her tongue. I nodded brightly. “Yes, Mom! You recognized me.” Of course, the woman I was now was a universe away from the heartbroken housewife who had fled the country. I was all designer labels, sculpted waves, and a killer smile. Eileen had never been a cruel mother-in-law, but she was fiercely protective of her own son. When his affair came to light, her first instinct had been to tell the original Audrey to just “endure it for the child’s sake.” The argument that followed had shattered their relationship completely. So now, her face was a mask of cold fury. Her lips trembled as if she were searching for the right curse word, her eyes darting toward a broom leaning against the wall. “You finally know the way back, do you? Get the hell out of my house!” I bounced on the balls of my ten-centimeter heels. “Oh, come on, Mom, don’t be like that. I’m here to see Maya.” She planted her hands on her hips, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “You still remember you have a daughter?” she spat. “After all these years of silence? Do you have any idea what kind of life she’s had?” I did, of course. The System had downloaded the complete file into my brain. Maya had been a model child—obedient, quiet, always at the top of her class. During the day, she went to school. At night, she helped her grandmother run a small food cart to make ends meet. She was diligent, responsible, a miniature adult. But then, in middle school, her grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. They needed money, fast. Maya was just a kid. No matter how many part-time jobs she took, it was never enough. Her grades plummeted. She ended up at a low-tier high school where she was ostracized by the other students, and that’s when the shadows truly began to close in around her. I switched my expression to one of deep, apologetic remorse. “It’s all my fault. But I’m here to make it up to her now. Please, just tell her tonight that her mother is back. I’ll come see her tomorrow, okay?” 3 I gave them a night to process. The next day, I timed my arrival for just after school let out. The slender girl stood in the doorway, blocking it. She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes cold and flat. “Get out.” “Well, aren’t you a ball of sunshine,” I chirped. I slipped an arm around her back and gently nudged her inside, turning to give a cheerful wave to the nosy neighbors peering out of their doors. The two-room apartment was spartan. A simple table and a few wooden stools took up most of the living space. There was no art on the walls, no softness anywhere. I didn’t mind. I plopped down onto one of the stools and casually set my half-a-million-dollar handbag on the floor. I reached for the girl’s hand and squeezed it, my voice saccharine sweet. “My darling daughter, Mommy missed you so, so much.” I felt her fingers clench into a fist inside my palm before she violently ripped her hand away. “I don’t have a mother.” Her tone was so absolute it almost made me pause. I glanced around the cramped apartment and then looked at her grandmother. “Mom, this place isn’t exactly ideal, is it? I have a gorgeous condo in a much better neighborhood. How about you two move in with me?” Our past relationship may have been a wreck, but the woman had raised my—the original Audrey’s—daughter for years. That deserved some respect. Eileen just snorted with contempt, then looked at Maya and said nothing. Being ignored didn’t faze me. I opened my bag and pulled out a thick stack of cash—a few thousand dollars. “It’s okay if you don’t want to move. But you should at least eat well, live comfortably. Take this, for expenses. When you run out, just ask for more.” Don’t get me wrong, this wasn’t the limit of my generosity. It was the limit of what I could physically stuff into my purse. Perhaps it was my casual, almost bored demeanor that finally made something in the girl snap. Maya’s composure shattered. She slapped the money out of my hand, sending bills scattering across the floor. Then she grabbed the front of my dress and started pushing me toward the door. “Do you think everyone wants your filthy money? Get out! You didn’t come back then, so don’t bother coming back now!” 4 The force of her shoving left me a little disheveled, but I managed to snatch my bag off the floor with cat-like reflexes. At the door, the girl’s eyes were red-rimmed and furious. “Go,” she seethed. “I don’t want to see you.” Sigh. I let out a long, dramatic breath and pulled a few business cards and a sleek black credit card from my wallet. “Maya, I know this is hard for you to accept right now.” I held up the cards one by one. “This is my personal cell. This is my assistant’s number; he’s on call twenty-four-seven. This one is for my head of security. This is HR at my company. And this is the front desk…” Finally, I pressed the credit card into her hand. “This is an Amex Black Card, a supplementary card on my account. There’s no limit. It’s more than enough to cover any major medical procedure you could ever need. The PIN is your birthday. 121819. I hope I remembered that right.” Maya stood frozen, the cards clutched in her hand, her jaw set so tightly I was afraid she’d crack a tooth. I reached out and smoothed her hair back from her face. “Don’t throw it away,” I said softly, my voice a conspiratorial whisper. “If you don’t like it, just put it somewhere safe. You don’t want to need it and not have it.” The pride of a teenager is a fragile, ferocious thing. They have no idea what kind of price life will eventually demand of them. “Are you trying to buy your way out of our relationship?” she asked, her voice trembling. I shook my head and pulled her into a hug she didn’t return. “No,” I whispered into her hair. “I just want you to know something. I will never punish you for being angry with me. And I will never, ever use money to control you. So when you’re in trouble, please… don’t hesitate to ask me for help.” In the original story, there was a scene where she desperately tries to call her mother, over and over, while her grandmother is dying because she can’t afford the surgery. I refused to let her live through that again. 5 As soon as I got back in the car, the System dared to speak. 【I see now why the original Audrey disliked the protagonist. She’s so aggressive. If she would just act a little sweeter, wouldn’t she get anything she wanted?】 I glanced in the mirror, fixing my slightly messy hair. “Getting into a fight with a teenager who hasn’t even fully developed emotionally? What’s the point in that? If you ask me, that old version of me was the one acting like a child.” Knowing the kind of trouble a “tragic heroine” can attract, I’d just finished arranging for a security detail and a full-time caregiver for Eileen when my new head of security called. “Ms. Croft, we’ve lost visual on your daughter.” He explained that because Maya was so hostile towards him, he had been keeping his distance, waiting outside the school and leaving only after he saw her get home safely. But today, two hours had passed since the final bell. The school was locked up for the night, and she never came out. “We’ve checked the security footage and spoken with the janitor and her teachers. It appears a few of her classmates led her out through a back exit. We have people searching the area now.” I grunted in acknowledgment, not overly worried yet. But to be safe, I had them ping Maya’s phone location and sent a team that way. Before they could get there, my phone rang. An unknown number. I hesitated, then answered. “Hello?” Silence on the other end, but I could hear a muffled cacophony of teenage voices in the background. “Maya?” I tried. Finally, someone spoke, their voice trying to sound bold. “Um, hello? Are you Maya’s mom?” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Yes. Can I help you?” The girl on the other end giggled. “We were just, like, curious. We heard Maya didn’t have a mom.” The tone was a sickening mix of feigned innocence and undisguised malice. I don’t know, maybe this is just how all teenagers are. It’s been a while. So I just laughed lightly. “Did you skip health class? Where do you think she came from, a rock?” 6 The girl stammered for a second before recovering. “Well, where have you been all these years? Did you run off with some guy?” “No, sweetie, I was working. You know, earning a living? Like your dad does. Oh, wait,” I said, my voice turning sharp as a razor. “He didn’t run off with another woman, did he? Madison.” Hearing me use her name sent a ripple of panicked whispers through the group on the other end of the line. But Madison, to her credit, didn’t back down. Her voice was shrill with indignation. “My dad is not like you! He’s a big deal. He makes, like, a million dollars a year! How much do you make? A hundred thousand? You can’t compare yourself to my dad.” The moment someone tried to pull financial rank on me, the game was over. I let out a low, dangerous laugh. “Is that so? And with that little money, he’s already got a second family on the side? And here you are, wasting your time bullying other kids instead of studying. Does your mother know? You brainless little twit. You absolute pig.” It was probably the first time anyone had ever spoken to these kids with such pure, unadulterated venom. There was a stunned silence. Madison finally managed to squeak out a “You—,” but I cut her off, my patience gone. “Alright, I’m done with this. Let my daughter go. Right now. If a single hair on her head is out of place, I will personally destroy your father.” The anger was boiling in my blood now. I grabbed my car keys from the counter. “In fact, I’m on my way to see him right now.” The roar of the McLaren’s engine echoed through the phone, and Madison finally panicked. “Wait! Ma’am, I was just kidding! Maya and I are friends, we were just hanging out! Please don’t tell my dad!” Typical bully. All bark, no bite. “Who gave you permission to ‘kid’ with me?” I snarled. “You’re not in my league.

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The day before my brother’s wedding, I was picking out a dress when Liam suddenly lost his temper. “I told you, she likes the fuchsia one. Why do you always have to steal her spotlight?” At first, I thought he was just worried I’d be overdressed for the ceremony. A little too much, a little too soon. But then he added, “Isabelle only gets one wedding day. She’s already miserable enough that she can’t marry the man she loves. Can’t you just let her have this?” A silence stretched between us. I didn’t ask Liam how he knew, better than I did, who exactly his brother’s fiancée was in love with. Instead, I picked up my phone and video-called my brother. 1 My brother, Ethan, was with Isabelle for her final fitting. He was dressed in a sharp black tuxedo, his eyes crinkling with a smile that was pure, unfiltered joy. “Audrey,” he said, his voice beaming through the phone. “Your sister-in-law wants you and Liam to come over for dinner later.” Liam’s profile slid into the frame beside me. Without even glancing my way for an opinion, he agreed for both of us. Strange. He usually hated going to my parents’ house. The camera on Ethan’s phone flipped. Isabelle burst out of the dressing room in a cloud of white tulle, tiptoeing as she threw herself into my brother’s arms. “Ethan, how do I look?” At the exact same moment Ethan answered, a voice behind me, barely a whisper, murmured its own reply. I heard it. “I’ve always known. She’s never more beautiful than when she’s trying to seduce someone.” I turned my head. Liam’s face was a calm mask, tinged with a familiar shade of weary resignation. For a second, I thought I might have imagined it. He leaned in close, his mouth near my ear, a gesture of intimacy that felt like a lie. “Hey,” he whispered, his tone soft and placating. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Are you still mad?” He shifted, his voice dropping lower. “Tell me how to make it up to you, Audrey. Whatever you want. You know I’ll do it.” I thought of all the ways he had of “making it up to me,” each one more inventive than the last. We were still on a video call with my brother. A blush crept up my neck. I turned away from him, and my eyes met Isabelle’s across the screen. They were sharp with something that looked like jealousy. It was gone in a flash. She replaced it with a bright, brittle smile. “Audrey, you and your boyfriend seem so close. Are you two getting married soon?” Ethan, still fussing over the lace on Isabelle’s train, didn’t even look up. “Liam’s been plotting to marry my sister since the day they graduated. Audrey’s the one who wants to play the field a few more years.” My hand holding the phone tightened. I’d never really thought about it before. Why was it that Liam was the one who wasn’t ready for marriage, yet he always insisted I tell everyone it was my idea? His reason at the time was that he didn’t want my parents to get the wrong impression, to think he wasn’t serious about me. Now, that excuse felt flimsy, almost transparent. A stylist led Ethan away to change. I picked up the fuchsia dress I’d chosen earlier. Before I could say a word, my future sister-in-law’s eyes welled with tears. Her gaze drifted past me, landing on Liam standing just behind my shoulder. “Audrey, could you… could you let me have that dress?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Someone once promised to buy me the perfect dress, one that was just for me. But… someone else got it instead.” The hand on my shoulder tightened, its pressure unconscious and absolute. This time, I knew I wasn’t imagining it. “Give it to her,” Liam said. 2 After saying that, Liam announced he had an urgent work matter and left in a hurry. He was in such a rush, he didn’t even notice he’d put on one of his loafers with one of my house slippers. This wasn’t normal. After a moment’s hesitation, I grabbed my car keys and drove to his office building downtown. I hadn’t even made it to the elevator bank when the receptionist told me Liam had taken the afternoon off. His assistant had just called it in. My hand, hanging by my side, started to tremble. A wild, terrifying thought clawed its way into my mind, and the blood drained from my face. I took several deep, shaky breaths before my legs felt strong enough to carry me to the underground parking garage. It was the middle of the workday, and the garage was cool and silent. And then I heard it. A series of low, ragged breaths that cut through the quiet. “Do you have to marry him? He’s Audrey’s brother!” A man had a woman pinned against a concrete pillar, his hand tight around her neck, their bodies pressed so close they seemed to merge into one shadow. She was still smiling. “What’s wrong, Liam? Jealous? You’re the one who threw me away. It doesn’t matter who I’m with now. You don’t get a say anymore.” Isabelle’s taunts only made the storm in Liam’s eyes darken. He silenced her, his mouth crashing down on hers with pinpoint precision. The ragged breathing grew louder. The only other sounds in the vast, empty garage were my own, a choked sob I tried to swallow as I clapped a hand over my mouth. Liam was cheating on me. With Isabelle. My brother’s fiancée. How was I supposed to accept this? I don’t know how long I stood there, frozen, before the sounds stopped. When I looked again, Liam still hadn’t let her go. His voice, when he spoke, was softer than before, almost gentle. “Isabelle, I never said you couldn’t get married. But it can’t be him. It can’t be Audrey’s brother. Come on, break it off. I can set you up with someone better.” Isabelle’s eyes were red-rimmed, her body language a study in bruised pride. “Audrey is the love of your life. Even after I spent three years as your secret, you dropped me for her without a second thought. You made your choice. Stay out of mine.” Liam was not a patient man. I was the only person he ever let shout at him, the only one who could get away with sarcasm and moods. But now, it seemed Isabelle had been granted the same privilege. I watched him. He lowered his head, silent for a long moment, as if weighing an impossible decision. It wasn’t that complicated. It was her, or it was me. The moment I knew he had betrayed me, it was already over between us. But his hesitation, right here, right now—it still sent a sliver of ice through my heart. My car keys slipped from my numb fingers and clattered onto the concrete floor. I stood there, staring. And met Liam’s eyes as they snapped toward me, suddenly cold and sharp. In the next second, he shoved Isabelle away from him, his face a mask of panic I had never seen before. I snatched my keys from the ground and ran. 3 I cried the whole way. Tears streamed down my face, blurring the traffic into streaks of light. In my rearview mirror, Liam’s black Mercedes was a relentless shadow, chasing me through the city. Was he that afraid I would expose them? He was right to be. I was going to tell everyone. I was going to tell my brother. I was going to tell him he couldn’t marry Isabelle, that she didn’t love him, that we had all been played for fools. I screeched to a halt in front of the bridal shop. Inside, Ethan was still trying on tuxedos, his face glowing with a naive, unshakeable happiness. He looked startled when he saw my tear-streaked face. I opened my mouth to speak, but his phone rang. It was Isabelle. I don’t know what she said, but when he looked back at me, his expression had shifted. It was questioning, suspicious. “Audrey,” he said slowly. “Are you about to tell me that there’s something going on between Isabelle and Liam?” I didn’t have time to think. I just nodded frantically, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “Yes, Ethan! Liam’s cheating on me. Isabelle has been his secret mistress for three years. She only got close to you to get back at him.” My mind started to clear. From their conversation in the garage, I could tell. Isabelle wasn’t over Liam. And Liam… Liam was far from over her. But my brother’s reaction was not what I expected. His face remained calm, his eyes fixed on me. A terrible premonition began to form in my stomach. Just then, Liam strode into the shop, pulling Isabelle along with him. “Ethan,” Liam said, his voice smooth and reasonable. “I’m sure Miss Lin has explained everything. Audrey and I had a little argument. I happened to run into Miss Lin on my way to the office, and we were just saying hello when Audrey jumped to conclusions.” He spread his hands wide in a gesture of utter helplessness, as if I were a hysterical child. I understood immediately. He was betting on the fact that I had no proof. He was lying, twisting the truth to protect her. Isabelle pushed past me to stand in front of Ethan. Her eyes were puffy and swollen from crying. “Ethan, I know I’m not good enough for you, and that’s why your sister doesn’t like me. But she can’t just throw accusations like this at me… saying that I… that I’m with her boyfriend. Does she really think I’m that cheap, that shameless?” Her voice broke. “Maybe we should just call off the wedding. This is too much. I can’t take it!” She shot a frightened glance at me, shrinking back as if I might strike her. Seeing Isabelle so fragile and distraught, Ethan’s heart melted. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a protective embrace. Then he raised his hand. Before I could process what was happening, a sharp, stinging slap echoed through the quiet showroom. “Audrey,” he said, his voice cold as steel. “If you ever say another bad word about Isabelle, I will forget I have a sister. This is your only warning.” I was stunned. My parents had never, not once in my entire life, laid a finger on me. But my brother had just hit me. Faster than my shock, however, was Liam’s fist. It shot out, connecting squarely with Ethan’s nose. “Who the hell do you think you are,” Liam snarled, his voice a low growl, “putting your hands on the girl I’ve spent years cherishing?” A raw fury erupted from him, and he and Ethan became a tangle of limbs and curses. It ended with Ethan on the floor, hands raised in surrender. He mumbled an apology in my direction, his words thick with resentment. 4 Liam dragged me out to the car. He moved with a grim efficiency, not looking at me once after we got in. I stared out my own window, a silent, vibrating wall of anger between us. He drove until the city lights faded, pulling over on a deserted stretch of road on the outskirts of town. I thought… I hoped… I would finally get an explanation. Even a lie would have been something. Instead, he said, “Audrey, Isabelle is a good person. I’m not going to let this wedding happen, but not like this. Not by destroying her reputation.” He turned away, a flicker of discomfort on his face, and rolled down the window. He lit a cigarette with a trembling hand. I knew his every tell, every gesture, after all our years together. So, he could feel guilt after all. What was I supposed to say? Scream at him? Hit him? Join forces with him to stop my brother’s wedding? If none of this had happened, maybe I would have swallowed my pride, done whatever it took to protect Ethan. But now… I didn’t want to. “Liam,” I said, my voice flat. “We’re done.” I would stop this wedding. But I would do it my way. The hand holding the cigarette shook. The burning tip fell from his fingers onto his crisp white shirt, instantly searing a small, dark hole. I had rarely seen him so undone. He turned back to me, a look of genuine helplessness on his face. “So what do I have to do? Tell me what to do to make you forgive me.” Some things can’t be forgiven. For me, betrayal was the line. There was no coming back from it. I held his gaze, letting my contempt show. He looked down, and in a soft, pathetic voice, he told me everything. “I met Isabelle during the first big fight we ever had. She was… gentle. Kind. She had a way of calming me down. She was like a drug, Audrey. I got addicted. But I was never in love with her. I swear. The only reason I ended it for good was because she started pressuring me to break up with you.” My nails, already short, dug into my palms. I didn’t feel the pain. What he was saying was… if Isabelle had been content to be the other woman, to stay in the shadows forever… would he have kept her a secret from me for the rest of our lives? The thought arrived like a punch to the gut, turning every beautiful memory we ever shared into a sick joke. I opened the car door. “Liam, I will never forgive you. And I won’t let Isabelle get away with this.” Since she was so prepared to be a homewrecker, she should be prepared for the consequences. Liam’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “So you’re still going after her?” So, he was still going to protect her. That day, Liam left me there. He drove away alone. I was on a deserted road, and the sky was growing dark. He never came back for me. 5 It was almost eleven at night when I finally made it back to my parents’ house. Ethan wasn’t there. I collapsed into my mother’s arms, my body wracked with sobs that seemed to tear me apart from the inside out. My parents were terrified. They wanted to call Ethan, to demand he come home. “No!” I pulled back, my hand instinctively going to my right cheek, which was already swollen and throbbing. The pain from my brother’s hand hurt far more than Liam’s betrayal. My own brother. He had believed Isabelle, a woman he’d known for less than two months, over me. When the tears finally stopped, I told them everything that had happened. My father, in a silent rage, swept an expensive porcelain tea set off the coffee table, shattering it against the floor. He immediately got on the phone and called the wedding planner. The wedding tomorrow was canceled. The news reached Ethan quickly. After settling Isabelle and her family, he stormed into the house. I was waiting for him, sitting on the sofa between our parents. The moment he saw me, he raised his hand again, his face twisted with fury. But before he could move, my father, his face a thundercloud, kicked him hard in the stomach. “Ethan! Have you lost your mind? Raising a hand to your own sister? Is that how I raised you?” Ethan had just finished calming Isabelle down after the call from the planners, only to have her start crying again, threatening to take her family and leave that night. He had spent hours apologizing and placating them. He truly hated me. Even with my mother shielding me, I could feel the daggers in his eyes. “Audrey, what did Isabelle ever do to you? Why are you so determined to destroy her?” He glared at me, his resentment deepening. “Oh, I get it. This isn’t about her. It’s about me. You’ve always had to compete with me, haven’t you? Always had to get a perfect score on every test just to make my ninety-eight look bad. You wanted everyone to think I was less than you. You wanted to steal Mom and Dad’s company right out from under me.” When you’ve been hurt enough, nothing really surprises you anymore. Two slaps echoed in the room as both my parents struck him across the face. He stumbled back, laughing a hollow, bitter laugh. “It’s because I’m the son, right? Not the daughter. So you always take her side. It was like that when we were kids, and it’s like that now. I’ve known for years.” He wiped his eyes and stared at us, his gaze hard. “Isabelle is the only woman I have ever loved, and I am marrying her tomorrow. If you want to keep me as your son, you won’t stand in my way.” After he left, my parents sat in silence for a long time. The truth is, they weren’t just taking my word for it. I had shown them the video from the parking garage. 6 My entire life, I was taught to be prepared, to always have proof. Especially for something like this. Something dirty. Something that belonged in the dark. I had intended to show the video to Ethan. But after he took Isabelle’s call, after he refused to even give me a chance to speak, I changed my mind. Let the fool wear his crown of thorns. Let Isabelle play him for everything he was worth. But then I thought of her becoming my sister-in-law. Of her enjoying everything our family had built, a smug smile on her face. And I couldn’t stomach it. And Liam. He needed to be punished for what he did to me. If my life was going to be a wreck, then I was taking everyone down with me. The wedding happened after all. But I wasn’t there.

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Liam Thorne chased me for three years. He proposed sixty-six times. The day I finally said yes, he sank to his knees and wept with joy. Everyone said I was the jewel he treasured above all else. Until I saw him holding an umbrella for his pretty underclassman in a downpour. They were kissing in the rain, lost to the world. I filmed it all, quietly, and sent it to the entire campus. Then I deleted my accounts and left the country. He searched for me like a man possessed, kneeling outside my family’s home for three days and three nights. “Forgive me,” he begged. “I just made a mistake any guy could make.” Later, I returned with a new man on my arm. He asked me, his eyes red-rimmed, “Then why did you accept my engagement ring?” I smiled, twisting the new diamond on my finger. “Oh, that?” “I threw it away.” Turns out, my mother was right all along. 1 My mother once told me that for a boy like Liam Thorne, love wasn’t about affection. It was about conquest and the thrill of the new. For a family like ours, for a girl with a face like mine, I was nothing more than a respectable, easily controlled stepping stone. The story of Ava Reed and Liam Thorne was the stuff of campus legend at King’s University. He was a Thorne heir, born with a silver spoon so firmly in his mouth it was a wonder he could speak. He was campus royalty, worshiped and feared, a reckless star no one dared to cross. I was Ava Reed. From an ordinary family, with little to my name besides a decent face and a permanent spot at the top of the Dean’s List. He pursued me with the subtlety of a flash flood. It was a campus-wide spectacle. Breakfast delivered to my door every morning, seats saved for me in crowded lecture halls, gifts piling up in my dorm room until it looked like a high-end department store. Every time I rejected him, he came back twice as hard the next day. “Come on, Ava. Just say yes,” he’d plead, blocking my path after class with that infuriating, wolfish grin. Three years. Over a thousand days. He got into fights for me. He pulled all-nighters to catch up on the coursework he’d blown off, just to impress me. For my birthday, he hijacked the campus bell tower’s digital display to scroll “Ava Reed, Marry Me” in glittering lights. Sixty-six proposals in total. For the sixty-sixth, he knelt by the fountain in Centennial Plaza, drenched to the bone, clutching a diamond ring custom-made by a Parisian master. His eyes were as red as a rabbit’s. “Ava,” he choked out. “I’ll die without you.” The crowd around us was a roaring sea of voices. “Say yes! Say yes!” In that moment, the plaza lights shattered in his eyes, reflecting a galaxy of desperation. Maybe, I thought, this is what love looks like. I finally nodded. He spun me around, laughing and crying like a child, asking again and again, “You really said yes? Ava, you’re going to be my wife!” He was genuinely happy then. And he truly did, for a time, treasure me above all else. Which is why, when our mutual friends saw the post I dropped on my private Instagram story—the high-definition video, filmed from a damningly perfect angle that captured every raindrop clinging to Liam’s eyelashes as he kissed her, followed by a series of crystal-clear screenshots—our entire world exploded. 2 It took less than a minute. My phone began to vibrate like a disturbed hornet’s nest, threatening to leap from my hand. The screen vanished under a tidal wave of notifications. “HOLY SHIT, AVA! IS THIS REAL?! Is Liam insane?! I thought he was obsessed with you!” “Ava, where are you? Pick up the phone! I need the tea, NOW!” “I always knew there was something weird with him and that Sienna girl. At every party, his eyes were glued to her!” “Ava, are you okay? Don’t cry over a scumbag like him!” “LMAO, Liam Thorne is FINISHED! This is gonna be the King’s University story of the year!” … The messages flooded in. An avalanche. The digital equivalent of sharks smelling blood in the water. I could picture them on the other end of the screen—shocked, gossiping, reveling in the drama, or draping themselves in flimsy cloaks of feigned sympathy. What a spectacle. The sincerity of their past congratulations now felt like a prelude to the biting mockery and pity of the present. I didn’t reply to a single one. I just opened my contacts, found Liam’s name, and blocked him. WhatsApp. Blocked. Every social media connection we shared, severed with a single tap. Then, I began to cleanse the space that had been built on lies. My photo gallery held thousands of pictures of us, from awkward beginnings to intimate moments. Delete all. Our chat history, filled with the goodnights and sweet nothings that once made my heart race. Clear. Every trace of him on my social media profiles. Erase. It felt like excising a tumor, one digital snapshot at a time. Cool, precise, surgical. Outside, the sky began to pale. The night’s rain had stopped, leaving the air with a clean, crisp, and utterly false scent of renewal. I zipped up my last suitcase and took one final look around the apartment, a place that had once been the backdrop for so many of my hopes and dreams. Everything in it—the furniture, the decor, even the lingering scent of his signature cedarwood cologne—was suffocating me. The phone was still buzzing relentlessly. A new, unknown number flashed on the screen. I knew who it was without having to guess. I powered the phone down, popped out the SIM card, snapped it in two, and dropped it into the trash. My eyes fell on the gaudy diamond ring sitting on the table. It felt cold to the touch. I picked it up, weighed it in my palm for a second, then tossed it into a box of scrap paper. Then, I dragged my suitcases to the door, opened it, and walked out. I didn’t look back. The elevator descended, the numbers dropping away. On the ground floor, the lobby TV was playing the morning news. The anchor’s polished voice was a world away from the silent chaos in my head. At the airport, I made my way to the international departures terminal. I handed my passport and boarding pass to the customs officer. “Ma’am, are you traveling to Berlin for tourism or…” “I’m moving there.” He stamped my passport. I was through. As I walked down the jet bridge, the city I had lived in for over twenty years—and the man I thought I would spend my life with—receded behind me. The plane ascended, and a familiar sense of weightlessness pressed down on me. I stared out the window at the city shrinking below, a miniature model in a life that was no longer mine. The storm-ravaged landscape of my heart had, strangely, fallen silent. You see, Liam. What you treasured, another could throw away like trash. And me? I no longer wanted it. 3 Life in Berlin felt like it was on fast-forward, set to an entirely different rhythm. I rented an apartment with a small balcony that caught the sun until three in the afternoon. My days were a blur of German language classes, prep courses for my master’s program, and navigating a foreign city’s streets and transit systems. I filled every waking moment, leaving no room for memories to seep in. Occasionally, during sleepless nights, I’d open a secondary, almost-abandoned social media account known only to a handful of my closest friends back home. I had blocked everyone connected to Liam. But ghosts from the past still flickered across my feed. The social circle we once shared, a pot of hot oil that had been doused with cold water, was now sizzling more violently than ever in my absence. At first, it was an overwhelming chorus of support for me and condemnation for Liam. “Where the hell did Ava go? Liam, you bastard, you drove her away!” “Sienna is such a snake. I always knew she was trouble, with that pathetic damsel-in-distress act!” “Liam Thorne is officially the biggest disgrace on campus!” … Then, the tide began to subtly turn. About two weeks after I “vanished,” a new post appeared, written by a girl from one of my classes who thrived on stirring up drama. “Unpopular opinion, but wasn’t Ava a little too harsh? Didn’t even give him a chance to explain, just nuked his reputation with a video and then skipped off to Europe to live her best life? Yeah, Liam screwed up, but it’s not like he killed someone. He’s been a complete wreck, looks like he hasn’t eaten in days.” A few comments below echoed her sentiment. “Yeah, relationships are complicated. Maybe it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing.” “The Thornes are a powerful family. Liam’s never been humiliated like this. I almost feel bad for him.” … I scrolled, my fingertips cold against the screen, a bitter laugh caught in my throat. There it was. The fickle nature of public opinion, the instinct to side with power and punch down. The same people who had put me on a pedestal were now eager to find a new angle, to showcase their own “rational” and “unbiased” perspective. A few days later, Liam seemed to have recovered from the initial shock and chaos. He began his counter-offensive. First, he used his family’s influence to scrub the video and photos from the King’s University online forum and most social media platforms. Then, he made an appearance at a mutual friend’s birthday party. Someone snapped a candid photo of him in profile: sitting in a shadowy corner, a drink in his hand, his expression dark, his jaw clenched. The caption read: “Liam Thorne is not in the mood. Approach with caution.” A brave soul commented below: “Still thinking about Ava?” He, who rarely engaged, replied personally. Three words. “She lied to me.” Even through the screen, I could feel the venom, the raw, wounded fury of a man betrayed. I lied to him? I lied through three years of his pursuit, through sixty-six proposals, through his grand declarations of love? What a fucking joke. 4 A month later, Sienna started appearing by his side. Or rather, she started appearing in photos, strategically placed by his side. At a charity gala, she wore a revealing evening gown, her arm looped possessively through his, a practiced smile on her face. At the polo club, he was pictured teaching her how to ride, his arms wrapped around her from behind in an intimate embrace. Someone even photographed them entering his downtown penthouse together late at night. The gossip blogs ran wild with sensational headlines: “Liam Thorne Heals Broken Heart with Underclassman Rebound? Ex-Fiancée Ava Reed is Yesterday’s News!” The comments section was a battlefield. “Of course. A man can’t stand to be alone for five minutes.” “This Sienna girl knows how to play the game way better than Ava. Look how she dotes on him.” “Family status matters. Ava was never going to fit into the Thorne family anyway.” “I’ll bet a hundred bucks this one doesn’t last either.” … I stared at the photos—at Liam’s blank, emotionless profile and Sienna’s triumphant smirk that practically screamed from the screen. The dead lake of my heart couldn’t even be bothered to produce a single ripple. It was all just… noise. The incessant, irritating buzz of flies. I closed the browser, shut my laptop, and picked up my German textbook. I had a three-thousand-word essay to write and a presentation to prepare for next week. I was busy. Too busy to care about the cheap drama unfolding an ocean away. 5 The call came on a new number, an international one. It was Liam’s best friend, Ethan. His voice on the other end was heavy with exhaustion and anxiety. “Ava… I finally found you. Are you… are you doing okay?” “I’m fine,” I said, my voice flat. “Listen… Liam… he’s…” He paused, searching for the right words. “He’s in a bad place. He’s drinking every day, and when he’s drunk, all he does is say your name. He’s ignoring his work at the company, his family is freaking out…” “Oh,” I cut him off. “And how is that my problem?” Ethan was taken aback. His tone shifted to one of pleading. “Ava, I know he was an asshole. I know what he did was unforgivable. But… you two were together for three years. He knows he was wrong. Can’t you just… give him a chance? Even just to meet, to talk things through?” I looked out my window at the gray-blue Berlin sky, where a few pigeons were landing on my balcony railing. “Ethan,” I said slowly. “Do me a favor and give him a message for me.” “What is it?” “Tell him to stay the hell away from me.” I hung up and blocked the number. The world was quiet again. 6 I thought the drama would eventually fade with time and distance. Then, one weekend, I was coming home from the library and saw a figure at the entrance to my apartment building. A ghost who had no business being there. Liam. He was leaning against the wall, wearing a wrinkled trench coat that was completely wrong for the weather. A few cigarette butts lay scattered at his feet. His hair was a mess, his eyes were sunken, and a dark stubble shadowed his jaw. He was so haggard and broken, he looked like a different person. His eyes lit up the moment he saw me, like a dying man spotting a lifeline. He stumbled forward, reaching for my arm. “Ava!” I took a step back, avoiding his touch, my gaze calm and steady. His hand froze in mid-air. The hope on his face shattered, replaced by a raw, painful vulnerability. “Ava… I… I finally found you…” His voice was a harsh rasp, thick with emotion. “I’m sorry. I know I was wrong, I really, really know… Forgive me. Please, just forgive me this one time, okay?” I said nothing. He seemed to take my silence as encouragement, or perhaps it pushed him further into desperation. He continued, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “I was an asshole! I’m not human! I was drunk that day… I wasn’t thinking straight! The only one I love is you, Ava. It’s only ever been you!” He tried to step closer, but my icy stare pinned him in place. “Ava, don’t be like this… Look at me. Please, just look at me,” he begged. “Hit me, scream at me, do whatever you want! Just don’t ignore me… I can’t live without you…” “Are you done?” I finally spoke, my voice devoid of any warmth. He froze. “If you’re done, you can leave.” The color drained from his face, as if I’d siphoned the life right out of him. His lips trembled, and after a long moment, he managed to force out the words. “Ava… I just… I just made a mistake any guy could make…” I almost laughed out loud. The classic, shameless excuse. “So?” I raised an eyebrow. “Am I supposed to applaud you for this… universal male achievement?” “No… that’s not what I meant…” he stammered, shaking his head, a look of profound, desperate confusion in his eyes. “Ava, you were never like this… You were always so kind, so forgiving… Why have you become so… so cold?” Yes, I used to be kind. I used to be forgiving. That’s why I let him fool me for three years, like an idiot. Believing his sweet words while he was off kissing another woman in the rain. “Liam,” I said, looking straight at him, my voice clear and sharp. “Your love is filthy.” “And it disgusts me.” He recoiled as if struck by lightning, stumbling back a step, his body swaying. His eyes were wide with utter disbelief and a crushing despair. “No… that’s not true…” he muttered, then his head snapped up, his gaze turning wild as he clung to one last thread of hope. “Then why did you accept my ring?! You said yes to my proposal! Ava! You loved me, you know you did!” Ah, yes. The ring. The one I had casually tossed into a box of trash. I looked at his bloodshot, obsessive eyes and suddenly felt an immense wave of exhaustion, followed by a sharp, satisfying clarity. I slowly raised my hand. In the pale afternoon light, my fingers were long and bare. I met his gaze, and a faint, cold smile touched my lips. “Oh, that?” I paused, watching his pupils constrict in anticipation, and then I let the two words fall between us, soft and final. “I threw it away.”

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