Author: Momo Chan

Five years. That’s how long it had been since I’d divorced Ryder Croft, the ghost I thought I’d finally laid to rest. And then, there he was, standing in the doorway of the rehearsal hall for the Joint Service Commendation Ceremony. The security guard, in the middle of checking my credentials, straightened up, his tone shifting from professional to familiar. “Captain Croft! Good to see you, sir.” Ryder gave a slight nod, his gaze landing on me, a current passing through the space between us. “She’s with me,” he said. I politely cut him off, pulling my own laminated pass from my pocket. “No need. I have my own clearance.” His eyes dropped to the ID in my hand. For a moment, he was silent. “Anya,” he said, his voice low. “It’s been all this time. You’re still angry with me.” I offered a small, empty smile and said nothing. My mind was already occupied by the man who would be receiving his award tomorrow. There was no room for anyone else. 1 After the rehearsal, I packed up the dress uniform I needed to take home, slung my tote bag over my shoulder, and headed out. The early autumn wind whipped up dust from the parade ground, stinging my eyes as I walked toward the on-base shuttle stop. By the time I’d rubbed the grit from my eyes, Ryder’s black government SUV had pulled up in front of me. He noted the redness rimming my eyes, his brow furrowing. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.” “Not necessary. I’ll take the shuttle.” His gaze swept over me, from my combat boots to my practical fatigues, finally settling on the tote bag slung over my shoulder. His voice softened. “How have you been these past few years?” “I’ve been great.” Ryder clearly didn’t believe me. “Get in the car, Anya.” The shuttle behind us honked its horn, but he didn’t move an inch, creating an impasse. Under the curious stares of other personnel, I finally relented and pulled the passenger door open. “Three Miller Road,” I said, giving the address to the old base housing. The air in the car thickened. When Ryder finally spoke, his voice was strained. “You’re still living there? They zoned that whole sector for demolition years ago. And you’re all alone, with….” He trailed off, but I knew exactly what he was leaving unsaid. It was where my mother died. Ten years ago today, she had refused to attend my wedding to Ryder Croft. Instead, she jumped from her tenth-floor window. The back seat was spacious, but the heat was cranked up too high. I pressed the button to lower my window. “You always catch a cold from the draft,” he said automatically. “You should close it. I can turn down the heat if you’re warm.” I shook my head, a real smile touching my lips this time. “That was a long time ago. I’m fine now.” Silence fell between us until his phone rang, the name flashing on the car’s infotainment screen. The call connected, and a familiar voice filled the speakers, though it was laced with a delicate sweetness I didn’t recognize. “Honey, is rehearsal over? Are you on your way home?” “Just wrapped up. Ran into Anya. I’m giving her a lift.” A beat of silence on the other end. “Anya’s back? Wow, it’s been forever. You should have said something, we should get the old gang together for dinner.” I’d known Mia for over a decade, and I’d never heard her use that soft, almost girlish tone. The Mia I remembered was quiet, head-down, completely absorbed in her tactical cartography. The Mia I knew would just cry in private when someone with better connections stole her spot in the national competition. It was me who had smashed that person’s sand table in front of the entire company, me who had written letters of complaint all the way up the chain of command until they gave Mia her spot back. It’s true what they say. Being cherished really does bring a person to life. “It was just a chance encounter,” Ryder said. “She has plans. I’ll be home after I drop her off.” “Even a chance encounter is fate! What’s wrong with treating an old friend to dinner?” “Mia. Don’t start.” The line went silent. Ryder was always gentle when he was trying to coax someone, but when he made a decision, nothing could change his mind. Mia, of all people, should have known that better than I did. The call ended abruptly. Just then, the SUV pulled up in front of the old housing complex. “Thanks for the ride.” I opened the door to get out, but his voice stopped me. “Anya, can I ask? The dress uniform you picked up… who is it for?” “My husband.” Ryder rubbed his forehead and let out a bitter laugh, as if he thought I was just saying it to spite him. “It’s the same regulation uniform. You used to prep mine just like that, five years ago.” “And?” I met his gaze, my expression perfectly calm. “You don’t have to put on a brave face for me. All these years, all I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. Not… not like this.” Like what? My reflection stared back at me from the tinted window. A standard set of fatigues, combat boots, a tote bag filled with groceries I’d picked up. I looked like any other military spouse, worn down by the daily grind. But compared to the woman I used to be, the one who felt she had to be perfectly polished at all times, this version of me wasn’t so bad. I smiled, feeling no anger at all. “But I am happy.” A flicker of confusion crossed his face. “You really have changed, Anya.” “Yeah,” I said. “A lot of people say that.” I turned and walked toward the building without a second glance. Inside, I climbed the five flights of stairs and unlocked the door to my old apartment. The layout was exactly as it had been last year. My mother’s official military portrait sat beside the old television, the incense in the burner long since turned to ash. I moved on autopilot, lighting three new sticks and tying on an apron before heading into the kitchen. I soon had a simple meal on the table—three dishes and a soup. Across from me, I placed a bowl of rice that would go untouched. I ate slowly. “Mom,” I murmured to the empty room. “I saw Ryder today.” “Don’t get upset. He can’t hurt me anymore. Besides, I’m not the fool I used to be.” The only answer was the wind howling outside the window. My appetite faded. I put down my chopsticks, went into the bedroom, and pulled an old photo album from a dusty box. “Look at how commanding you were back then,” I said to the portrait. “Staring at a picture is so boring.” I hadn’t even opened the album when a loose photograph slipped out and fluttered to the floor. I bent to pick it up. It was a picture of Ryder, Mia, and me. Three young, smiling faces. I was standing in the middle, my arms linked with theirs, my grin the widest of all—a faint purple bruise from training still visible on my right cheek. It was the summer I turned thirteen. Debt collectors had shown up at Ryder’s house, making a scene. All the neighbors shut their doors, even my own parents were too afraid to get involved. But I ran out there. A wooden stick that was meant for Ryder’s back came down hard across my face instead. A fractured cheekbone. I spent the entire summer recovering. My mother, her heart aching for me, forbade me from seeing Ryder ever again. That lasted until Ryder’s mother, dragging her injured leg, knelt on our doorstep, thanking us over and over. My mother’s heart softened. For the next ten years, there was always a place for Ryder at our dinner table, always a new set of clothes for him at the holidays. When Mom wasn’t busy, she’d help Ryder’s mom at her small convenience store, and she had a tongue sharp enough to scare off anyone who came looking for trouble. They called each other sisters. But no one ever imagined that the timid, stuttering “little sister” would one day climb into her “big sister’s” husband’s bed. I came home to find our apartment destroyed. My mother stood in the ruins, sobbing, a bright red handprint stark against her cheek. My father stood protectively in front of the other woman, Helen. “Let’s get a divorce,” my father said, his voice flat. “You can have everything. All I want is Helen.” Ryder, who was with me, rushed to pull his mother away, but my mom slapped him twice, hard. I shoved my own mother. She stumbled backward and fell, staring up at me in disbelief. Tears were streaming down my face, but the words that came out of my mouth were the cruelest I’d ever spoken. “Mom, what gives you the right to hit Ryder?” That chaotic memory, frozen forever on this small, glossy square. After my divorce, I burned everything that had to do with Ryder. I thought I’d gotten it all. Apparently, one piece of evidence had survived. I was about to toss the photo into the trash when a knock came at the door. Assuming it was Mrs. Gable from next door, who always brought over dumplings on this anniversary, I opened it without thinking. It was Mia, her arm linked through Ryder’s. Her smile was radiant. “Anya! It’s been so long! You haven’t changed a bit.” She turned to Ryder. “See? I told you she wouldn’t mind. Sorry for dropping in unannounced, Ryder was just too stubborn to call first.” I looked at them, my expression unreadable. “I’m not going to invite you in. What do you want?” Mia’s smile faltered, and she looked up at Ryder with a wounded expression. “Mia wanted to see you,” Ryder said, his voice a low rumble. “She brought a gift. We mean well.” He placed a gift box on the small table by the door. Mia immediately launched into her explanation. “I’ve been using this skincare line, and it’s amazing. I thought you might like it too. We always used to share these kinds of things, remember?” I glanced down at the box. It looked like the same brand my housekeeper used. “That photo…” Mia started, her eyes suddenly welling with tears. “Anya, after all these years, you still haven’t let it go.” I crumpled the photograph in my fist and tossed it into the nearby trash can. “You’re overthinking it.” She reached out as if to take my hand, then hesitated. “I know you’re still hurting. If you two were still together, today would have been your anniversary.” Her voice was thick with performative sympathy. “I had no choice back then, you know that. If you’ve really moved on, then let us take you to dinner. And if you’re struggling with anything, please tell us. We’re old friends, after all.” My immediate instinct was to refuse. But then, one of the incense sticks on the altar for my mother suddenly flared, letting out a sharp pop. I smiled and changed my mind. “Alright.” In the car, Mia’s chatter intensified, as did her little gestures of affection. While we were stopped at a red light, she uncapped her lip balm and gently applied it to Ryder’s lips with her finger. “Honestly, I have to remind you every winter. Last time you kissed me too hard your lips started bleeding. You never learn, do you?” Ryder caught her wrist, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Stop it, Mia.” “Oh! I completely forgot Anya was here. You don’t mind, do you, Anya? Ryder and I are just so used to…” I cut her off with a placid smile. “Of course not.” My voice was even. “I’ve already seen the two of you naked and tangled up in bed together. This is nothing.” The car fell into a dead silence. Finally, some peace and quiet. I stared out at the passing scenery, thinking that if my mother were still alive, she’d be stunned by how much the city had changed. My father’s determination to divorce her for Helen had nearly driven her mad. My decision to secretly marry Ryder was the final blow that took her life. At first, I only hated my father and Helen. Their betrayal had transformed my mother from a formidable, respected officer into a paranoid, weeping wreck, time cruelly eating away at her spirit. Later, I came to hate myself. After my mother’s funeral, during what should have been my honeymoon, I requested a temporary assignment to a remote border posting and stayed there for a month. Back then, the only person I didn’t hate was Ryder. To me, he was a diamond in the rough, a resilient soldier who had overcome a difficult past. Before I left for the border, I asked Mia to look after him. And she did a wonderful job. She cooked for him in our new apartment in the base’s family housing, whipping up impressive four-course meals that looked and smelled delicious. I was genuinely grateful to her. In that year, the three of us grew even closer. Ryder treated me better than ever. He spent his entire first commendation bonus on a tactical watch I’d been wanting. For my birthday, he arranged a city-wide fireworks display. Every time he came back from a field training exercise, he would cancel all his meetings just to be with me. I never once doubted him. I believed he loved me to the bone. Until one day, by chance, I went to his office alone. The door to his private break room was slightly ajar, and I heard… sounds. I pushed the door open. Two naked bodies, entwined. The image was a bayonet stabbing into my eyes. A scream tore from my throat. He moved like lightning, pulling a sheet over the woman beneath him. “Who told you to come in here?” he roared. “Get out!” I went berserk, grabbing anything I could find and hurling it at them. Blood trickled from a cut on Ryder’s temple, but he never stopped shielding the woman in his arms. I destroyed everything in the room I could get my hands on. But I couldn’t bring myself to get any closer to them. These were the two people I had loved most in the world. Fear seized my heart, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. “Mia,” I managed to say. “Look at me.” The woman, her face swollen from crying, struggled out from under the sheets and knelt before me on the floor. “Anya, I’m so sorry.” “Ryder and I… we shouldn’t have, but we’re truly in love.” “Please,” she begged. “Please, just let us be together.” Her pathetic, groveling form looked so much like the first time I met her, when she was cornered by a group of bullies behind the training grounds. That was the day I, a top-ranked cadet, received my first disciplinary action for defending her. I had personally handed her my wedding bouquet, wishing for her to find her own happiness. And now here she was, in my husband’s arms, begging for my blessing. Tears streamed down my face. My voice trembled. “When did it start?” Her lips quivered, but no words came out. He answered for her. “Does it matter? Have you made enough of a scene? This is a military base, Anya, not your living room.” “Does it not matter?! Ryder! Does it not matter?!” I shrieked, my voice raw. He stood there, naked and unapologetic. “Fine! You want to know? I’ll tell you!” “It was last March, when you insisted on transferring to the border post. We got together then.” “We didn’t mean to hide it from you. But you had just lost your mother, and I didn’t want to hurt you more. So I let this marriage continue, to humor you.” “Mia has given up too much for me. I can’t let her suffer anymore. I was planning to ask for a divorce after the anniversary of your mother’s death.” “But since you’ve found out, we might as well be honest.” “Let’s get a divorce. You can name your terms. All I want is Mia.” In that single, shattering moment, I finally understood. I understood the true weight of that day I had sided with Ryder, when I had pushed my own mother away. Before the divorce was finalized, I waged a war. I took the photos I had of them in that state and had them printed, slipping copies into every company mail slot on base. I hung banners exposing their affair across the front of the main administration building. I filed a formal complaint with the Inspector General’s office about Mia’s conduct. I plastered the online forums of the National Defense University, where she was finishing her degree, with my story. At her graduation ceremony, I paid someone to loop a slideshow of all our old photos—the ones of our supposed friendship—on the main screen. The memories I had once treasured became my weapons. But Ryder protected her through it all. She graduated with honors. She was even about to have her first solo art exhibition. To clear the path for Mia, Ryder finally confronted me directly. “Mia is about to achieve her dream. Don’t you dare interfere.” By then, I was seeing red. “Interfere? I’m just getting started. I’m going to make sure everyone who comes to see her art gets to appreciate your masterpiece, too.” He threw a file on the table in front of me. “Sign the divorce papers, and stay the hell away from us. Do it, if you want your mother to have a final resting place.” When my mother was buried, I was so consumed by grief that Ryder had handled everything, including the purchase of the plot at the national cemetery. His name was on the deed. Now, he was using my mother’s grave against me. I threw my coffee in his face. That night, I slept at my mother’s graveside, crying until I passed out. The next day, I went to the legal office and signed the papers. The outcome was a final, cruel twist—Ryder only gave me the old, dilapidated apartment in the family housing complex. “You reported me for misconduct,” he said, his voice cold. “Most of my assets are frozen. This is all I can give you.” A pause. “If Mia hadn’t begged me, you wouldn’t have gotten a penny.” I could never win against Ryder. It had been that way since we were kids. He was calm, calculating, never acting on impulse. He knew how to use strategy and power to get what he wanted. I was the one who always charged straight ahead without thinking, wounding the enemy but taking the brunt of the damage myself. I gave him what he wanted. I went quiet. I sold the apartment and put in for a long-term transfer to the border. But before I left, on a whim, I went to Mia’s art exhibition. Her serene face was projected onto a massive screen in the city’s central plaza. The exhibition was titled, The Unlocking. It was a phrase we used to use in the letters we wrote to each other as teenagers. It represented the purest dreams of girlhood, the most sincere hopes of friendship. Driven by a final, self-destructive need for closure, I put on a hat and sunglasses and slipped into the gallery, feeling like a rat sneaking in to watch someone else’s feast. And then I saw the centerpiece painting. The Unlocking. It depicted two entwined bodies. I had kissed the mole on the man’s back a thousand times. The woman’s fingers were clenched, wrinkling the bedsheets. The bed had a pale green duvet cover, and outside the window, a magnolia tree was in full bloom. I had picked out that duvet cover myself. The pink blossoms swayed in the wind, a picture of tranquil beauty. It was my home. It was the place where he and Mia had first been together. So, the soul was hers, and the key was Ryder’s. A wave of nausea crashed over me. I threw up, right there on the polished gallery floor. The commotion drew the attention of the happy couple, who were greeting guests nearby. A soft voice sounded beside me. “Ma’am, are you alright?” The heart-shaped pin on her dress glittered, a perfect match for the key-shaped cufflinks on Ryder’s shirt. I lunged, ripping the pin from her chest and slashing it across the canvas. Screeeech. The sound of tearing canvas silenced the room, followed by a collective gasp. In the chaos, security guards tackled me and pinned me to the floor. My cheek pressed against the cold marble, I looked up and saw him, holding a sobbing Mia, his eyes meeting mine. He looked at me as if I were something he’d found in a sewer. “Call the police,” he said.

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She took the commission on my million-dollar contract and slashed it to nine dollars and ninety-nine cents. “Platform overhead, marketing spend, client retention costs… you think that’s free?” “You should be on your knees thanking me for the $9.99. Now sign it.” I went to my boss, Mark, looking for a shred of sanity. I found only deeper humiliation. “Whatever Finance says, goes. We can’t bend company policy for your personal gain.” Then, with a magnanimous sigh, he added, “Look, I’ll tell you what. I’ll throw in my own money to make it $99.99. For good luck. Happy now?” Later, that same Finance Director used a web of fabricated policies to cut my expense report until I owed the company money. That’s when I finally understood. I would follow their policies. To the letter. Two weeks later, I sat in silence during a meeting for a two-million-dollar deal. My boss had a complete meltdown. 1 “Nine ninety-nine. Sign it.” Veronica Lang, the Director of Finance, slapped the pay stub down on my desk. The acrylic tips of her nails clicked against the paper. “Veronica, I closed a million-dollar deal. How is my commission nine dollars and ninety-nine cents?” I fought to keep my voice steady, to keep the tremor of disbelief from cracking it. “Hmph.” She tapped impatiently at her monitor. “That client signed because of the Nexus Dynamics platform. Did you really think it was because of you? Without the company, what are you?” Before I could form a retort, her fingers were flying across a calculator, a vicious staccato in the quiet office. “Your million-dollar contract had the highest overhead of any deal this quarter,” she announced, as if delivering a verdict. “Let’s see… we deduct 40% for platform fees, 30% for marketing, 20% for office administration, 10% for post-sale support…” She spun the monitor toward me, a triumphant smirk on her face. “After all the deductions, you were actually in the negative. See? But the company, in its infinite mercy, decided to forgive your debt and grant you a bonus of $9.99.” Her chin tilted up, a pose of regal condescension. “It’s an act of profound generosity. You should be grateful.” Of course, a million-dollar deal has higher costs than a ten-thousand-dollar one. But in her mouth, my success became a crime. A hot, tight knot of anger formed in my chest. My hands clenched into fists. I spun on my heel and stormed into my boss’s office, Mark Redmond. “Mark, I need a reasonable explanation for the commission on the Sterling account.” Mark’s usually warm smile evaporated the moment I said the word “commission.” “Ava,” he said, his tone shifting to one of paternal disappointment. “As a sales professional, you need to see the bigger picture. You can’t get hung up on nickels and dimes. Think about the platform and the value this company provides for you.” “As for the commission,” he continued, steepling his fingers, “whatever Finance says, goes. We can’t bend company policy for your personal gain.” “My commission should have been twenty-five thousand dollars,” I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. I was barely suppressing a volcano of rage. Mark’s voice hardened. “You need to recognize your position here. Without this company, you’re nothing.” Seeing the look on my face, he softened his approach, shifting to a posture of performative charity. “Look, I know it’s not easy. I’ll tell you what.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’ll throw in my own money to make it $99.99. For good luck. Happy now?” I had come to him hoping for an ally, for a sliver of reason. Instead, he handed me a deeper, more personal humiliation. I forced the words through my teeth. “Mark, if this is how it works, who is ever going to close a major deal for this company again? Why would anyone kill themselves to land a big client, only to have Finance gut them and leave them with nothing?” He slammed his hand on the desk, the sound cracking through the office. He pointed a trembling finger at my face. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me! Ava, you’ve been here for years. The market is tough right now. You need to be a team player.” His voice dropped again, becoming a soothing, manipulative purr. “Just focus on your work. Don’t worry, your contributions will be remembered when it’s time for annual bonuses. Don’t be so impatient.” Every word was a needle. “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice flat, devoid of the emotion that was churning inside me. “I’ll take the $9.99.” The second I stepped out of his office, I was swarmed. Veronica was at the center of the vulture’s circle. “Be happy with it, Ava. $9.99 is still money. You came out ahead,” one of them chirped. “Exactly. You should be glad you don’t owe them. You should thank Veronica and Mark for their kindness.” “Some people just don’t know their own worth,” another chimed in, loud enough for the whole floor to hear. “They really think the company can’t survive without them.” Even my boyfriend, Liam, hurried over, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Why did you have to go and argue with Mark?” he hissed under his breath. “Making such a scene over a little bit of money. You’re embarrassing me.” A laugh, sharp and bitter, escaped my lips. “Fighting for money I earned is embarrassing? Fine. From now on, why don’t you all just donate your salaries back to the company? Work for charity.” That shut them up. If a million-dollar deal was only worth $9.99, then my efforts were wasted here. I sat down at my desk and calmly typed out a text message: “Sarah, about that business proposal you mentioned last month. I’m in.” That afternoon, a potential investor, Mr. Peterson, came for a site visit. Mark was in full schmooze-mode, bowing and scraping. To showcase the company’s strength, he made my million-dollar deal the centerpiece of his presentation. “Mr. Peterson, I won’t lie to you, our sales team is the best in the business,” Mark boasted. “We have deep partnerships with several publicly traded companies. Just last month, one of our top people, Ava, closed a million-dollar contract. That’s the kind of talent we have here. You can rest assured.” He then called over to me. “Ava! Come over here for a second. Share some of your insights with Mr. Peterson on how you landed that major deal.” I walked over, a practiced, professional smile fixed on my face. “Mr. Peterson,” I said, my voice sincere and earnest, “my biggest takeaway is that you must spare no effort in contributing to the company’s success.” Mark nodded, beaming with satisfaction. “Here, you can see for yourself,” I said, my tone suddenly shifting as I held my phone out for Mr. Peterson to see. Displayed clearly on the screen was my pay stub. “And to recognize my contribution, Mark was generous enough to approve a staggering bonus of nine dollars and ninety-nine cents.” My voice was loud enough to carry across the room. “I insist on using this… fortune… to buy you a coffee later, as a small token of my appreciation.” Mr. Peterson’s expression darkened. He glanced at Mark, whose face had gone pale. “Your company’s incentive program is… unique,” Mr. Peterson said, his voice now distant and cool. “It seems you still have a long way to go.” Sweat beaded on Mark’s forehead. He scrambled to recover. “Mr. Peterson, please don’t misunderstand. The younger staff, they love to joke around. Our benefits package is absolutely top-tier…” Mr. Peterson held up a hand, cutting him off. “I think I’ve seen enough for today. We’ll need to re-evaluate this partnership.” He turned and left without a backward glance. Mark watched the deal walk out the door, then shot me a look of pure venom. A moment later, a notification popped up in the company-wide Slack channel, posted by Veronica. “Due to inappropriate and unprofessional conduct during a client visit today, which has caused significant damage to the company’s reputation, employee Ava Miller is hereby fined $1,000, to be deducted from her salary.” The office erupted in whispers. “Serves her right. Closes one big deal and suddenly she’s royalty.” My colleague Rick snickered loudly. “Some people need to be put in their place. They get a little success and their head gets so big they can’t see straight.” Liam rushed to my desk, his voice a furious whisper. “Are you trying to get fired, Ava? Is that it? Everyone knows we’re together. If you’re going to self-destruct, don’t drag me down with you.” I gave him a withering look and typed a public reply in the Slack channel, tagging Veronica. “@Veronica Lang, could you please cite the specific company policy this fine is based on? Thank you.” Veronica shot up from her desk, her hands on her hips. “It was authorized by the CEO. My word is the policy.” She lifted her chin, defiant. “And this rule will be added to the employee handbook effective immediately. Does anyone else have a problem with that?” Rick was immediately on his feet, practically bowing. “No, of course not! We completely support you and the company, Veronica.” He glanced pointedly at me. “People who can’t follow the rules don’t deserve to work here.” Others murmured in agreement. Liam saw the tide turning and shoved my shoulder, hissing, “Go and apologize to her right now, or we are done.” I brushed his hand away, disgusted. “If you want to lick her boots, go ahead. I did nothing wrong.” “For God’s sake, Ava, can you just be reasonable for once?” he practically shouted. Veronica watched our exchange with a cruel smile. “Liam, you deserve better. I have a cousin, she just graduated from Stanford. I could introduce you two sometime.” Liam’s eyes lit up, even as he mumbled, “Oh, you don’t have to do that, Veronica.” The shamelessness of it all was breathtaking. “Fine. We’re over,” I said calmly. Liam froze, then his face twisted in anger. “What did you say? You don’t get to break up with me. I’m breaking up with you!” I shrugged. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” The next morning, Liam walked into the finance department with his head held high. Not five minutes later, another company-wide notification appeared. “An internal audit has revealed that Sales Executive Ava Miller engaged in a serious violation of contract policy. Without approval from Finance, she unilaterally granted a client an unauthorized discount. As a penalty, this employee’s salary will be reduced by two pay grades.” It had to be Liam. I was bored anyway. I decided I might as well see this farce through. In her office, Veronica tapped a long, crimson nail on a stack of contracts. “Who gave you the authority to offer a client a 15% discount?” Her voice was shrill, the nail jabbing in the air just inches from my face. “This is a grave detriment to the company’s interests. I’m being merciful by not garnishing your entire salary to cover the loss.” She was warming up now, her voice rising with theatrical indignation. “No wonder profits have been shrinking these past couple of years. We have traitors like you eating us out from the inside.” I pointed to the contracts on her desk. “Veronica, Mark himself gave me verbal authorization to offer that discount to high-potential legacy clients. The repeat business and add-on sales from those accounts have more than covered that initial discount.” She slammed her palm on the desk. “Is that verbal authorization written anywhere in the company’s policies? Anywhere at all? No? Then it doesn’t count!” she shrieked. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, trying to shift the blame. I’m already being lenient. Don’t push it.” It was a witch hunt. I turned and walked out. The office was buzzing. “She used company money to buy herself favors. Makes you wonder how she really closed all those other deals.” Rick picked up the thread. “I always said there was something fishy. A woman pulling in numbers like that… maybe she wasn’t just offering them a discount, if you know what I mean.” “Tsk, tsk. Acts all high and mighty, but who knows what she does behind closed doors.” I stopped. I picked up the lukewarm coffee from my desk, walked over to Rick, and poured the entire cup over his head. “There’s a sewer rat in here,” I said calmly. “It’s making a lot of noise.” “You… you’re an unhinged bitch!” he sputtered, his face turning a blotchy red as coffee dripped from his hair. I ignored him and returned to my desk, my fingers flying across the keyboard. They wanted to accuse me of giving unauthorized discounts? Fine. I went into the system and revised every single one of my active client proposals, setting the price to the absolute maximum allowed by company policy. The emails from clients canceling their contracts started rolling in within the hour. For the next week, my sales figures were zero. On Monday morning, Mark came down to the sales floor himself. “Due to a lack of performance,” he announced to the entire team, “the two-million-dollar medical account previously managed by Ava Miller will be transferred to our new hire, Leo, who will be taking over effective immediately.” This Leo, I’d heard, was a personal recommendation from Veronica. A real “superstar.” The team burst into applause. “Congratulations, Leo! It’s about time.” “Some people just can’t carry their own weight. Serves her right.” More daggers, all aimed at me. During my lunch break, I walked past Mark’s office and heard voices. “Mark, darling, you can relax. Leo’s family owns a chain of clinics. He knows the medical sector inside and out. This deal is a slam dunk,” Veronica cooed. “Weren’t you worried about Ava having too much power? I found you a real loyalist.” “You always know what I need,” Mark laughed. “Your bonus is doubled this month.” So, they were replacing me. Too bad for them. That medical account was a minefield. I’d spent a month doing due diligence, and the internal politics and technical requirements were more complex than anyone knew. A nepo-hire with a family connection wasn’t going to just waltz in and close it. I was almost excited to see how Leo would handle it. At three o’clock that afternoon, Mark was in his office, practically groveling into his phone. “Yes, yes, of course. Don’t worry, Ava will still be involved in the project.” The moment he hung up, he posted in the team channel. “While Ava has made some mistakes, I believe in second chances. Leo will remain the project lead, but Ava will provide support as an auxiliary member.” It seemed the client had pushed back. Mark couldn’t afford to lose the deal, so he was forced to shove me back onto the team. Fine by me. The new company Sarah and I were launching wouldn’t be ready for a few weeks anyway. I might as well enjoy the show. Besides, I still hadn’t been reimbursed for my last business trip. I wasn’t about to let them keep that money. I walked over to Veronica’s desk with a stack of receipts. She was touching up her lipstick in a compact mirror. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. The company’s star employee.” The sarcasm was thick enough to choke on. I placed the receipts on her desk. “My expense report.” She poked at them with her pen as if they were contaminated. “Fifty dollars for an Uber? Couldn’t you take the subway? It’s three bucks.” “Veronica, I was carrying three large cases of product samples. Did you want the client to think we’re broke?” I replied patiently. “This hotel bill is outrageous. Why didn’t you sleep under a bridge?” “That was the cheapest corporate-rate hotel in the area. If you’d feel safer under a bridge, you’re welcome to try it on your next trip.” Veronica’s head snapped up, her eyes flashing. “Don’t get smart with me. I say it’s not approved, it’s not approved.” She picked up another receipt. “A hundred and fifty for a meal? What are you, a black hole?” “I had to take the client for coffee and a sandwich. Or do you think our clients are black holes?” She was momentarily speechless, her face darkening. She took a red pen and started slashing through my receipts with a vengeance. “This one’s blurry. Denied.” “This one is past the submission deadline. Denied.” “This one… hmph, no itemized list. Who knows what sordid things you bought with this. Denied.” She punched numbers into her calculator, a cruel smile spreading across her face. “Oh, and I almost forgot. You used a company laptop during your trip. As per the new fixed asset usage policy, there’s a daily rental fee of fifty dollars. For eight days, that’s four hundred dollars.” She scrawled a final figure on the reimbursement form and shoved it at me. “Read it and weep. For this trip, you owe the company $838. I’ll be generous and waive the change. We’ll just deduct the eight hundred from your…” She paused, a look of mock realization on her face. “Oh, silly me! I forgot we already docked your entire salary this month. Well, we’ll just take it out of next month’s paycheck, then.” She watched me, waiting for me to break. “I’m just following company policy,” she said sweetly. “Is there a problem?” I looked at her mean, pinched face and felt a strange mix of pity and amusement. “No problem at all,” I said calmly. “Go ahead and deduct it. Consider it my contribution to your medication fund.” Her smile froze for a second before blooming into a triumphant, gloating laugh. “Still trying to get the last word in. With all that energy, you should probably be figuring out how you’re going to pay your rent this month. I’ve seen your type before—broke, arrogant, and always ending up with nothing.” Back at my desk, my phone buzzed. Another notification in the company Slack. “It has been determined that employee Ava Miller has violated company reimbursement policies with multiple non-compliant submissions. Her reimbursement privileges have been downgraded to the lowest possible level. At this company, policy is paramount. No one is above the rules.” The jackals descended immediately. “Good. Trying to scam the company for money. Absolutely shameless.” “Rules are what separate us from the animals. About time the company cracked down on the bad apples.” My ex-boyfriend, Liam, even chimed in, seeking his own moment of glory. “For the record, I want to state publicly that Ava Miller and I officially ended our relationship last week. I am currently single.” The subtlety was overwhelming. Veronica immediately replied with a tag. “@Liam, good for you. My cousin is free this weekend. I’ll set it up. She’s a real class act. Not like some people.” Then, she tagged me directly. “@Ava Miller, see the memo? Cat got your tongue? Failure to respond to work-related communications in a timely manner is a hundred-dollar fine.” I took a deep breath and slowly typed my reply. “Seen. I am reflecting on my actions.” Veronica responded with a single smiley-face emoji, dripping with the smugness of a victor. They wanted me to follow the policy? Fine. This time, I would follow it to the very end. A few minutes later, my phone began to ring incessantly. “The proposal meeting is starting! Where the hell are you? Why aren’t you at the client’s office yet?” Mark’s frantic voice crackled through the speaker. I held the phone to my ear, my voice unhurried. “Ubers aren’t a reimbursable expense, Mark. I’m waiting for the bus.” “It’s two million dollars on the line, who gives a damn about an Uber fare right now?” he roared. My tone was placid. “Mark, Leo is the project lead. His presence should be more than sufficient.” “Ava, the client specifically said if you’re not here, they’re not signing the contract.” Mark’s voice dropped, becoming a desperate plea. “This is a two-million-dollar deal. We can’t afford any mistakes. Just get over here. Please.”

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Four months pregnant. My husband, an OB/GYN, was with me to get the results of my latest scan. The smile on his face froze the moment he saw the report. Then, he was dragging me by the arm, insisting I have an abortion. I stood there, stunned. The doctor had just told me the baby was perfectly healthy. I wrenched my hand free. “Why? What are you talking about?” He didn’t answer, but his fingers were already flying across his phone, scheduling the procedure. When he saw me backing away, his grip on my arm became a vise. “This baby cannot be born, Anna.” I clutched my stomach and called my parents—both of them OB/GYNs, like him. My father, the man who had always cherished me, raised his fist as if to strike my belly. My mother’s face was a mask of terror, her head shaking frantically. “No, this is wrong. All wrong.” Then, a chilling whisper from my father. “We need some guys. To be with Anna.” I didn’t understand why they wanted to destroy my child, my life. I tried to run. They locked me in a dark room. When I saw the blood pooling beneath me, I knew my baby was gone. My mother came for me later, a bright, brittle smile on her face. I screamed at her, demanding to know why, why they had done this to me. She didn’t answer. Instead, she had me committed to a psychiatric hospital. I died there, tormented and alone. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back. It was the morning we were supposed to get the test results. 1 “Annie, you ready?” My husband, Mark, smiled at me from the doorway, his eyes shining. “Our first baby. I can’t wait to finally meet them.” “Come on, honey, let’s beat the morning rush at the clinic.” Hearing his voice jolted me back to the present. I felt the gentle, firm curve of my four-month belly, the warmth of the life inside, and I knew it was real. I was back. I had been reborn on the exact day my life had shattered. In my first life, Mark had been the perfect expectant father. He’d treated me like I was made of glass from the moment we saw the positive test. Every day, he’d buy something new for the nursery—a tiny pair of socks, a beautifully illustrated book. He’d already compiled a list of over a hundred names. Even though I was getting my prenatal care at the very hospital where he worked, he insisted on taking the day off to come with me to every single appointment. His excitement for this child was boundless, a radiant sun we both orbited. Then came the four-month check-up. We went to the appointment, holding hands, full of happy anticipation. Dr. Evans, my obstetrician, confirmed that the fetus was healthy, with all genetic markers, including for Down syndrome, coming back clear. Mark, being a doctor himself, asked to see the report. He was still smiling when he took it. And then the smile didn’t just fade; it shattered. A raw, animal fear flashed in his eyes. Without a word, he grabbed my hand and started pulling me out of the office, his other hand already on his phone. I realized with a sickening lurch that he was booking an appointment with the surgical unit. I dug my heels in, yanking my arm back. “Mark, Dr. Evans just said the baby is fine! Why are we doing this?” He ignored me, his focus locked on the screen. I tried to snatch the phone from his hand, but he spun away, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes were bloodshot when he turned back to me, and his voice was a raw snarl I had never heard before. “Anna, listen to me,” he growled. “This baby cannot be born!” The sheer violence in his tone terrified me. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my knees went weak. While he was finalizing the arrangements at the front desk, I scrambled for my phone and sent a desperate text to my parents. They were both respected doctors; surely, they would talk some sense into him. They arrived in minutes. Seeing them didn’t faze Mark. If anything, a strange, chilling smirk touched his lips. I shrank into my mother’s arms, seeking the familiar comfort of her embrace. My father, however, bypassed me completely and slammed his fist into Mark’s jaw. “What the hell are you doing?” he roared. “The baby is healthy. Why would you schedule an abortion?” Mark didn’t even rub his cheek. He simply straightened up and handed the lab report to my father. The rage on my father’s face dissolved into the same stark terror I’d seen in Mark’s. His eyes widened, his hands trembling as he clutched the single sheet of paper. Then, he turned, his gaze fixing on my stomach, and he lunged, his fist raised. My mother threw herself in front of me just in time. The blow landed on her shoulder with a sickening thud. “Are you insane?” she screamed at him. “That is your daughter! Your grandchild!” My father just laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. He passed the report to my mother. The woman who had just protected me, the woman whose arms were my lifelong safe harbor, recoiled as if the paper had burned her. Her face went ashen. She pushed me away from her, stumbling back, shaking her head over and over. “No,” she whispered. “No, this can’t be.” A cold dread was coiling in my gut. “Mom? What is it? What’s wrong with the baby?” She didn’t seem to hear me, lost in her own private horror. “This is not going to work,” she muttered, grabbing my father’s arm. “Doing it here, at the hospital… it’s too public. I have another idea.” Her eyes, when they finally met his, were cold and hard. “We need some guys. To be with Anna.” My entire body went numb. I stood frozen, watching the three most important people in my world transform into monsters, all because of a piece of paper. What could it possibly say? And why wouldn’t any of them tell me? As my parents started to move toward me, instinct took over. I turned and ran. But my father was faster. He caught me by the arm, his grip unforgiving. I sobbed, begging them to let me go, begging them to just tell me the truth. They forced me into their car, stuffing a glove in my mouth to silence my screams. They locked me in a dark, foul-smelling room with five naked men. I was too terrified to even scream. I pounded on the door until my fists were bruised and bloody, but the world outside was silent. The men dragged me to the floor. Every time I fought back, they hit me. My child dissolved into a pool of blood that dried on the filthy concrete. A week later, my parents and Mark came to get me. “Anna, sweetie, we’re going home,” my mother said, her voice bright and cheerful. I stared at her, at the casual way she pretended nothing had happened, and something inside me snapped. A raw, guttural laugh escaped my throat. “Why?” I shrieked, the sound tearing at my vocal cords. “Why would you do this to me?!” The mask of maternal concern dropped, revealing a face of ice. My father slapped me, hard. “You ungrateful bitch.” I was still reeling from the blow when my mother’s gaze, sharp and venomous, pinned me in place. “Anna is confused,” she said, her voice clinical and detached. “We should take her to a psychiatric hospital.” From that day on, Mark made sure my life in the institution was a living hell. He sent people to torment me, to ensure I never had a moment of peace. The man who had once loved me more than life itself now wanted nothing more than my death. Three months later, he got his wish. I died without ever knowing why. What was on that report that made them all want to kill me? The terror of my past life flooded back, a cold tide in my chest. I rested a hand on my still-warm belly and took a deep, shaky breath. This time would be different. This time, I would find out the truth. At the hospital, I made sure I was the one who took the report from Dr. Evans. As she gave me the good news, my eyes were already scanning the page, my fingers closing around it. I thought that as long as Mark never saw it, I would be safe. But as we were leaving the exam room, he held out his hand, just like before. “Can I see the report, honey?” My heart stuttered, but I forced a playful smile. “What for? It’s just a bunch of numbers.” He chuckled, a sound that now seemed laced with menace. “I’m the father, and I’m an OB/GYN. Isn’t it normal for me to want to see it?” “Dr. Evans just told you we’re both perfectly healthy. You don’t trust your own mentor?” “Of course I do. I just want to be informed so I can take the best possible care of you.” I deliberately tucked the paper into my purse. “Well, today you don’t get to. Call it a pregnancy whim.” He played along, his tone indulgent. “Alright, alright. As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” I smiled and linked my arm through his. “I’m just going to run to the restroom. I’ll be right back, and then we can go home.” I clutched my bag and walked toward the bathroom. I had glanced at the report, but in my haste, nothing had jumped out at me. I needed to lock myself in a stall and study it, line by line, to find the monster hiding in the details. But the moment I stepped into the deserted restroom, a cold wave of panic washed over me. I fumbled inside my purse. The report was gone. I rushed back out into the hallway and saw him. Mark was standing twenty feet away, his face deathly pale. In his hand was the report that was supposed to be in my bag. He saw me and started walking toward me, his steps quick and purposeful. My survival instinct screamed at me to run, but he caught my arm before I could take more than a single step. His eyes were bloodshot, his gaze locked on mine with a terrifying intensity. “Anna,” he hissed, his voice low and urgent, “this baby cannot be born. We’re going to schedule the procedure right now.” In my last life, I never understood how the man I loved could change so completely in an instant. The raw hatred in his eyes was something I had never seen before. My body trembled, but this time was different. This time, I knew what to do. “HELP!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “SOMEBODY HELP ME! HE’S TRYING TO MAKE ME LOSE MY BABY!” The busy hospital hallway fell silent for a beat, then erupted into motion. In seconds, we were surrounded. Mark froze, clearly stunned by my outburst. I immediately dropped to my knees before him, my voice breaking with manufactured sobs. “Mark, please! The doctor just said the baby is healthy! Why are you trying to make me have an abortion?” He gritted his teeth, his voice a furious whisper. “You bitch. Shut your mouth.” He tried to haul me to my feet, but a burly man stepped out of the crowd and shoved him back. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” “My God, the baby’s fine and he wants to abort it? What kind of monster is he?” a woman gasped. “He didn’t want the responsibility, he should’ve thought of that before he got her pregnant,” another man chimed in. “Forcing a pregnant woman to have an abortion is illegal! Someone call security! Call the police!” Mark’s breath was ragged, his face contorted with a rage he couldn’t unleash. He glared down at me, trapped by the circle of strangers. Then, a slow, cold smile spread across his face. He pulled out his phone and made a call. To my parents. By the time they arrived, a small crowd was still gathered around Mark and me. My mother rushed to my side, her face etched with worry, pulling me into a protective hug. The moment she touched me, I flinched. Sympathetic onlookers quickly explained what had happened. My father’s face purpled with rage. He strode toward Mark, his hand raised to strike. But before the blow could land, Mark held up the lab report like a shield. “Dad, don’t look!” I screamed, trying to scramble forward to snatch it away. It was too late. My father took the paper and his eyes scanned the page. The change was instantaneous. The fury in his eyes flickered and died, replaced by a familiar, chilling horror. “Dad?” I whispered. When he looked at me, his eyes were red-rimmed and filled with loathing. The hand that had been meant for Mark swung without hesitation and cracked across my face. “You animal!” he spat. “Mark wants you to get an abortion for your own good!” The world felt like it was crumbling around me again. I pressed a hand to my stinging cheek, my voice trembling but defiant. “But Dr. Evans said the baby is healthy!” “I’m an OB/GYN too! Are you calling me a liar?” He drew back his fist, aiming for my stomach this time. My mother leaped forward, pushing me behind her. “Have you lost your mind? She’s pregnant!” she yelled at my father. But instead of backing down, my father let out that same, ugly laugh. “You feel sorry for her? This… thing… doesn’t deserve to be our daughter!” Gasps rippled through the crowd. People started murmuring, pointing at my father, disgusted that a man could speak about his own child that way. My mother, though, was no longer looking at him. Her focus was on the report in his hand. She knew my father, knew his gentle nature. She knew something on that paper must have broken him. “Let me see it,” she demanded. I grabbed her arm, my eyes pleading. “Mom, please. Dr. Evans said the baby is fine. You don’t need to look, do you? You can go ask her yourself if you don’t believe me.” I knew that the moment she saw it, I would lose her, too. She pulled me into a hug, stroking my hair. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Your father and Mark are just a pair of incompetent doctors. They’ve misread something. Remember, I was the head of the department. I know what I’m looking at.” “No, Mom, please don’t,” I sobbed, clinging to her. “Please, I’m begging you.” But the more I resisted, the more determined she became. Seeing there was no stopping her, I fell to my knees again. “Mom,” I cried, my voice raw with desperation. “If you look at that report, you’ll stop loving me. Just like they did.” “That will never happen, Anna,” she said, her voice soft and reassuring. “I’ve seen every kind of report imaginable in my career. And even if this baby wasn’t Mark’s, I would still stand by you and protect you. You are the person I love most in this world.” Her gaze was so warm, so full of love, that for a foolish second, I believed her. I let her go. She took the report. The warmth in her eyes vanished as if it had never been there, replaced by a flicker of pure, cold malice that made me shrink back. Her face drained of all color. A bitter, twisted smile touched her lips. She wasn’t explosive like my father or Mark. Her control was what made her terrifying. “It’s alright, Anna,” she said, her voice a monotone. “The baby is fine. Get up now. We’re going home.” She said the words, but the hand she extended toward me was trembling violently. She was fighting to contain an earthquake of emotion. “No,” I whispered, scrambling backward, into the legs of the crowd. “I don’t want to go home.” My mother’s brow furrowed, her expression turning venomous. “Anna, what are you doing? You’re pregnant. You can’t be out here. What if something happens to you?” I saw them closing in—the three people I once called family. I grabbed the sleeves of two strangers, kneeling on the hospital floor. “Please,” I begged them, “please help me. I can’t go with them. They’ll kill my baby.” The onlookers hesitated. I was a pregnant woman, but I was also clearly hysterical. And these were my parents, my husband. It was a family dispute. Thankfully, one woman spoke up. “She’s pregnant and clearly distressed. You shouldn’t be forcing her. What if you hurt the baby?” My father’s face was a mask of fury. “We are the doctors! Do you think we don’t know what we’re doing?” he roared at her. The good Samaritan faltered. In that moment of hesitation, Mark lunged, grabbing me from the crowd and dragging me across the polished floor without a shred of care. The crowd watched, hesitant to physically intervene with family. But just as they were about to pull me through the automatic doors, a firm hand clamped down on Mark’s shoulder. “Let her go. Now.” A uniformed police officer stood behind him, his voice radiating authority. Mark instantly released me. My mother was already spinning a story. “Officer, thank you for coming. This is our daughter. She’s been having some… mental health issues. We’re just trying to take her home.” The officer looked at me, his expression skeptical. I shook my head, my voice finding its strength. “That’s not true,” I said, pointing at them. “They want to kill my baby. My perfectly healthy baby.” The three of them froze, but I could see the smug certainty on their faces. They believed they held all the cards. “If you don’t believe me,” I continued, my voice growing stronger, “check the hospital’s security footage. You’ll see them. You’ll see everything.” The officer dispatched his partner to retrieve the surveillance tapes. After they reviewed the footage, a female officer moved to my side, placing a protective hand on my shoulder. She faced my family, her voice stern. “Why are you trying to force this woman to terminate a healthy pregnancy?” My parents just scoffed. Mark stared at me with cold indifference. “Coercing a pregnant woman into an abortion is a felony,” the officer reminded them. Mark didn’t flinch. I turned to the police officer, my voice steady. “Let me see the report.” Their faces changed the moment they saw it. The truth had to be there. At the officer’s command, Mark reluctantly handed over the single sheet of paper. I took it from him. And as I read the words printed in neat, clinical black ink, I finally understood. I finally knew why this child had to die.

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On the day of our high school graduation, in front of the entire class, I threw a stack of cash at Xavier Stone. “I’m done playing,” I said, my voice cold. “Let’s end it here.” He bent down, picking up the bills one by one from the floor. His voice was raspy when he finally spoke. “Okay.” By the end of the summer, Xavier boarded a train to Johns Hopkins for pre-med. I boarded a plane overseas to begin endless rounds of chemotherapy. Years later, back in the States, I lay in a hospital bed, bald from the treatment, scrolling through my phone for a new wig. The door opened. Xavier Stone, wearing a white coat and a stethoscope, locked eyes with me. 1 When Xavier walked in, I was in a compromising position—butt in the air, face buried in the pillow, doing yoga stretches to help with gas. My phone was blasting a livestream: “Black Friday deals! Buy now or cry later!” “Miss Miller, looking at wigs again?” a nurse teased. The noisy room went dead silent. The nurse pointed at me. “Dr. Stone, this is the new patient for the clinical trial. She’s signed the consent forms.” When Xavier looked over, I collapsed onto the mattress like a tipped cow, my mind going completely blank. Ten years. The man I thought I’d never see again was suddenly my attending physician. And he caught me doing gas-relieving yoga. Kill me now. I scrambled up, adjusting my crooked face mask, silent as a cicada in winter. Even without looking at him, I could feel his gaze. It was cold. There was no warmth in it. It was nothing like the look of helpless affection he used to give me when I messed up a math problem back in high school. “Miss Miller, this is Dr. Xavier Stone, the head of our team. He’ll be in charge of your treatment plan.” I dodged his eyes and gave a curt nod. I didn’t make a sound. The intern next to him held a clipboard, reciting my history like a script. “Mia Miller, female, 28. Ten years ago, a physical revealed enlarged cervical lymph nodes. Initial diagnosis: Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. Further pathology revealed—” “You can skip the history.” “Oh? Do you know the patient, Doctor?” My heart hammered in my throat. I pretended to be busy with my phone, feeling Xavier’s eyes drift to the ridiculous sheep-horn beanie I was wearing. After a long pause, he spoke, his voice flat. “I don’t know her. Her case is just unique. I reviewed it beforehand.” My phone screen auto-refreshed to Amazon. The payment countdown was ticking. Seconds ticked by. I zoned out, my finger hovering over the ‘Buy’ button but never pressing it. The intern finished listing the treatment protocols. Xavier listened, his tone devoid of emotion. “Fine. Continue with the current regimen. We’ll re-evaluate tomorrow.” Then, he moved on to the next patient. The rounds lasted twenty minutes. He never looked at me again. I rubbed my stiff neck, realizing my back was soaked in sweat. The wig I wanted sold out while I was frozen in panic. Just my luck. But there was a silver lining: Xavier had forgotten me. Even when the intern said my name, he didn’t flinch. 2 When Xavier and I first met, we didn’t get along. I was the rich girl with terrible grades who did whatever she wanted. To force me to study, our homeroom teacher made Xavier my desk mate. At first, he ignored me. He just stared at his practice exams, solving problems over and over. He had the brains, the personality, and the looks. His only flaw was being poor. I was the opposite. No brains, bad attitude. Next to him, I looked like a bimbo with a wallet. Luckily, I had EQ. While other girls wrote him love letters, I bought him SAT prep books. I bought him every study guide on the market. In less than a semester, I wore him down. The day I kissed Xavier, it was his birthday. His white shirt was rumpled, my lipstick stained on his mouth. He looked down, lashes fluttering. “What does this mean?” It was my first time kissing a guy. My brain short-circuited. I stammered, “Don’t… don’t you get it? Be my boyfriend.” Xavier’s ears turned red. He whispered, “Okay.” Those were good times. I hated studying, but I’d sit obediently next to him, listening to him tutor me. In one year, my SAT score shot up by 200 points. I calculated it. I could get into a college in Boston. I wouldn’t have to do long-distance with him. If only that physical exam hadn’t ruined everything… “Ugh…” The sound of retching echoed in the hospital room. I hugged the toilet bowl, vision blurring, cold sweat drenching my clothes. My best friend, Sarah, patted my back. “This isn’t right. Your reaction is too severe. I’m getting a doctor.” I grabbed her hand. “Don’t. I’m used to it.” I’d survived 27 rounds of chemo alone abroad. I’d held on for ten years. Now that I relapsed, who knew how much more suffering awaited? I didn’t want to be the annoying patient who cried wolf. Sarah wouldn’t have it. “Isn’t Xavier your doctor? I’ll find him. He’ll help.” I hugged Sarah’s leg, begging. “Girl, please. Sit down. You should be glad he didn’t recognize me. If he did, he’d probably prescribe a hundred rounds of chemo out of spite.” “Who told you you’re getting a hundred rounds?” A cool voice came from behind. I froze. I didn’t dare turn my head. Sarah let out a breath. “Dr. Stone, Mia isn’t feeling well—” “It’s a normal reaction to chemotherapy. If she can’t handle it…” I didn’t hear what Xavier told Sarah after that. All I could think was: Did he hear what I just said? 3 That evening, a nurse came to give me an anti-nausea shot. She probed, “Do you know Dr. Stone?” I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. “No. Why?” “Dr. Stone never micromanages like this. He specifically went to the attending’s office and ordered this shot for you.” I looked in the mirror. I was gaunt. The pain had sucked the life out of my face. I looked nothing like the girl from ten years ago. Impossible… Even if Xavier had a good memory— Okay, he had a photographic memory. Maybe he’s just holding a grudge? The name “Mia Miller” was on the chart. How could I be stupid enough to think he didn’t know? Sarah chimed in, “Your Dr. Stone is only 28, right? A department head at that age?” “Oh, you know your stuff! He did an accelerated MD/PhD program. His resume is legendary. Regular people can’t compare.” Seeing Sarah’s interest, the nurse laughed. “Planning to chase him? Save your energy. He’s taken.” Sarah winked at me. The nurse continued, “The Hospital Director’s daughter. She just got back from overseas with a PhD. Rumor has it they’re getting married soon.” The smile froze on Sarah’s face. I picked at a loose thread on my hospital gown, suddenly finding it fascinating. After the nurse left, Sarah whispered, “Mia… I’m sorry.” “What for?” I shrugged. “I’m 28, not 18.” The dream of the cold genius falling for me ended ten years ago. 4 After that day, I didn’t see Xavier. I heard about him, though. He was at conferences or in the lab. He did rounds once a week to tweak medication. During the break between chemo cycles, patients could go home. So, until I was discharged, I didn’t see him again. On the way home, I got a call from Ben, our old high school class president. “Mia! You’re still in Boston? How’s treatment?” The background noise was loud. Another classmate chimed in, “Why didn’t you tell us you were sick? If Ben hadn’t mentioned it, we wouldn’t have known.” I was popular in high school, and I’d kept in touch with Ben over the years. I laughed weakly. “Didn’t want to bother anyone.” “Nonsense. Where are you staying? We’re coming to visit tomorrow.” I couldn’t refuse their kindness, so I gave them my address. My parents had spent a fortune on my treatment over the years. Thanks to Sarah, I found a cheap rental in the city. First floor, south-facing yard. If I got better, I could plant flowers. Maybe get a dog. Most of our classmates had stayed in our hometown, so only five or six came. They hauled in bags of groceries. “We wanted to do hotpot, but it’s too hot. Let’s just cook a big meal.” I adjusted my thick beanie. “It’s fine, I have AC. I want hotpot.” Everyone cheered and piled into the kitchen. The house felt alive. It felt like graduation again. Ben was washing vegetables. “Have you contacted Xavier?” I paused for a second. “Who?” “Dude, don’t you know he’s an expert in blood diseases? Lymphoma is his specialty. Why didn’t you ask him for help?” “Oh, I—” I really didn’t want to drag Xavier into this mess. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Ben wiped his hands on his apron and went to open it. Then, I heard the cheers. “Xavier! You actually came!” “Dr. Stone, long time no see.” “Come in! Mia wants hotpot. You’re the expert, tell us if she’s allowed to eat it?” I stood frozen in the living room. My unwashed face, maskless, felt exposed to the scorching sun. I never expected them to contact him. And I never expected him to come. Xavier looked at me calmly. “Clear broth is fine.” “Okay! Listen to the Doctor! No spicy broth!” Everyone got busy again. Xavier accepted the slippers Ben offered. He handed a bag of fruit to someone in the kitchen. Ben tried to break the ice. “Hey, the past is the past.” “Laugh it off, right? Xavier, be the bigger man. Don’t hold a grudge against Mia.” “Help with the veggies.” Someone shoved a colander of spinach into Xavier’s arms and pushed him onto the sofa opposite me. Suddenly, it was just the two of us in the living room. The AC unit in the corner rattled noisily. I avoided his gaze, fumbling for the mask in my back pocket. Snap. Xavier broke the stem of a spinach leaf. “I already recognized you,” he said coolly. “Is there any point in hiding it now?”

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My roommate stole my black card, boasting to the entire class that she was treating them to limited edition Labubus, telling them to “pick whatever they want.” When she realized everyone had chosen the $50 million hidden diamond editions, racking up a bill over $1 billion, she panicked. In my past life, my roommate Tiffany did exactly this. She maxed out my card, saddling me with massive debt and ruining my reputation in front of the whole school. When I confronted her, she cried in my boyfriend’s arms: “Lily, just because you’re a gold digger in debt doesn’t mean you can frame me!” On my way to the bank to get evidence, Tiffany ran me over with her car, killing me. The entire class testified against me, claiming I was jealous of Tiffany and had thrown myself in front of her car to extort money. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Tiffany offered to buy the whole class Labubus. What they didn’t know was that my mother is the CEO of the world’s largest designer toy conglomerate, and Labubu is our product. 1 “Ladies! The new Labubu collection drops tomorrow. I’m taking everyone to the flagship store. Pick whatever you want, it’s on me!” Tiffany’s voice echoed through the dorm room, chin held high. I shuddered violently. I was really back. Back to the day the nightmare began. Tiffany sashayed over, linking her arm through mine with fake intimacy. “Lily, I heard that flagship store only accepts VIPs. Doesn’t that bank card of yours have internal priority access? Let me borrow it so I can get everyone in without queuing.” Her excuse was identical to my past life. To let me experience a normal college life, my mom gave me a special supplementary card. On the surface, it had a limited balance, but it was actually linked to the highest authority level of her toy conglomerate. In my past life, Tiffany used “borrowing” as a pretext to steal it. She went on a frenzy in the store, racking up millions. The massive debt turned me into a laughingstock, cementing my reputation as a “gold digger.” When I confronted her, she threw herself into my boyfriend Brad’s arms, sobbing. “Lily, I know your family is poor, but you can’t accuse me of theft just because you can’t pay your debts.” Brad, my boyfriend of three years, slapped me across the face and called me vain. While on my way to the bank to pull the transaction records, Tiffany ran me over, crushing me repeatedly until I was dead. My spirit watched as Brad and the entire class gave false testimony, saying I was trying to scam her. Although my mom was the CEO, she was abroad handling business. By the time she uncovered the truth, Tiffany’s family had already smuggled her out of the country. My mom fell ill from grief and never recovered. Thinking of this, I wanted to tear the person in front of me apart. I suppressed my hatred and looked at Tiffany’s hypocritical face. “My card? I didn’t bring it.” Brad was sitting at my desk, playing video games on my computer. Hearing me, he scoffed without turning around. “Lily, stop pretending. Tiffany is generous enough to treat everyone. It’s an honor for your crappy card to be useful.” He stood up, grabbed my bag hanging by the bed, and dumped its contents onto the mattress. He spotted the card immediately and tossed it to Tiffany. “Tiff, take it. Don’t mind this cheapskate.” Tiffany smiled sweetly, taking the card and pressing her body against Brad. “Brad, you’re so good to me. Lily won’t be mad, will she?” Brad looked at her with adoration, then turned to me with pure disgust. “Lily, you’re getting more and more unreasonable. It’s just a card, why the attitude?” I walked up to him. Slap! I used all my strength to slap Brad across the face. The dorm went silent. I snatched the card back from Tiffany’s hand. “Brad, who gave you the right to touch my things?” Brad clutched his face, eyes wide. “Lily! Are you crazy? You, a poor student living on financial aid, dare to hit me?” Slap! Another slap, this time on the other cheek. “Do I need to pick a special day to hit you?” 2 “Lily! How could you hit Brad?!” Tiffany immediately blocked Brad, tears welling up in her eyes. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked for the card. Don’t be mad at Brad, hit me if you want.” She cried like a tragic heroine. I sneered and slapped Tiffany across the face without hesitation. “Wish granted.” “Stop acting in front of me. Don’t you feel disgusting?” Tiffany covered her face, staring at me in shock. Brad’s eyes went red instantly. He raised his hand and shoved me hard. I stumbled back, my lower back slamming into the metal edge of the bunk bed. Cold sweat broke out from the pain. “Lily! You ungrateful bitch! Who do you think you are hitting Tiffany? She’s so kind!” Holding my back, I looked at him coldly. “She asked for it.” My other roommates surrounded us, accusing me. “Lily, that’s too much. Tiffany was just being nice offering to treat everyone. You didn’t have to lend the card, but hitting people?” Tiffany sobbed uncontrollably, clutching Brad’s arm. “Brad, don’t blame Lily. She must feel inferior because her family is poor. But Brad and I are innocent.” Brad looked heartbroken, pulling Tiffany into his arms. “Tiff, you’re just too pure. That’s why this shrew bullies you.” He turned to me, his gaze full of contempt. “Lily, put away your poor-person temper. Give the card to Tiffany right now and apologize. Otherwise, we are completely done.” I laughed in anger. I was truly blind in my past life. “Break up? I’ve been waiting for you to say that!” “Brad, I’m dumping you!” Tiffany feigned surprise. “Lily, don’t be impulsive. Three years of relationship, how can you just end it?” She switched to a charitable expression. “Lily, how about this. You lend me the card, and all the reward points from tomorrow’s shopping spree will go to you. I heard VIP points can be exchanged for hidden editions that sell for thousands. You won’t lose out, right?” Brad glared at me. “Lily, Tiffany is giving you an out. Don’t be ungrateful. Hand over the card.” I sneered. “My card stays with me.” A flash of malice crossed Tiffany’s eyes. “Lily, I really want the whole class to have their favorite Labubu. If you lend me the card, I’ll personally buy you the latest blind box myself, okay?” The other roommates chimed in. “Lily, that’s enough. Getting points and a free toy? You’re making a profit.” Brad mocked, “Lily, aren’t you just trying to get more out of this? Quit while you’re ahead.” I looked around at these greedy, stupid faces. In my past life, they all testified against me. “Do you not understand English? I’m not lending it.” Tiffany’s eyes darkened for a split second. The next moment, she wiped her tears and turned to the classmates from other dorms who had just walked in, her voice dripping with grievance. “I’m so sorry, everyone. I promised to treat you all to Labubus tomorrow. But Lily won’t lend us the VIP card, so we probably can’t use the priority lane. I broke my promise.” She buried her face in her hands and collapsed into Brad’s arms. Brad looked like he wanted to kill me. He rushed over and slapped me hard. “Lily! You bitch!” Then he kicked me in the stomach. I fell to the ground, pain radiating through my abdomen. Brad pointed at me and cursed, “Did you do this on purpose? You can’t stand that Tiffany is popular! You’ve always been jealous that she’s richer and better liked than you!” 3 The surrounding classmates were incited. Their long-awaited freebies were gone. A girl grabbed a glass bottle from the desk and threw it at my head. “Lily, you’re disgusting! We finally had a chance to get the limited edition, and you ruined it!” Next, a cup of stale coffee was splashed onto my face. Others followed suit, dumping trash on me. I was a mess, sticky and smelling foul. Hatred made me snap. I stood up abruptly, grabbed a chair, and smashed it into the crowd. “Get out!” The chair crashed to the floor with a loud bang. Everyone froze. “Lily, you’re crazy!” Ignoring the pain, I took out my phone and dialed 911. “Police, I’m being assaulted by a group. Intentional injury. The address is…” Hearing me call the police, Brad rushed over, snatched my phone, and smashed it on the ground. The screen shattered. “Lily, are you sick in the head? It’s just a joke between classmates, why call the cops? Do you want to ruin everyone’s future?” I looked at him coldly. “You dared to hit me, why wouldn’t I dare to call the police?” Ten minutes later, the police and the counselor arrived. However, everyone’s story was consistent: I went crazy and framed them. The counselor didn’t want a scandal, so she smoothed things over, saying I often had episodes like this. Despite my defenses, there was no concrete evidence. Seeing no obvious major injuries on me, the police told us to get along and left. Although I didn’t punish them, the immediate danger was resolved. As I was leaving, I noticed the zipper on my backpack had been moved. My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t say anything and returned to my apartment. After showering, I took out the black card and examined it closely. It was fake. Tiffany had switched it. It happened during the chaos when they were attacking me. She had prepared a high-quality counterfeit card beforehand. She provoked me and created chaos just to make the switch. I thought I had retrieved my card, but the real one was already with Tiffany. If she successfully used it tomorrow, I would be saddled with massive debt just like in my past life. No. In this life, I will make sure she has no escape. I picked up my spare phone and dialed a number. “Miss Lin, is everything okay this late?” It was Uncle Andy, my mom’s chief assistant. “Uncle Andy, a classmate stole my card.” “What?” Uncle Andy’s voice turned serious. “Are you safe?” “I’m fine. But the thief plans to go to the flagship store downtown tomorrow. She thinks the card has an unlimited limit.” Uncle Andy understood immediately. “I’ll notify the bank to freeze the card.” “No.” I interrupted him. “Uncle Andy, don’t freeze it.” “Why?” I took a deep breath and laid out my plan. “They want to play, so I’ll play a big game with them.” “Uncle Andy, please contact the flagship store manager. Tomorrow, put the Eternal Diamond Collection on display in the most prominent spot.” Uncle Andy gasped. “The Eternal Diamond Collection is the group’s 10th-anniversary commemorative edition. Limited to 100 pieces worldwide, encrusted with VVS-grade natural diamonds. Unit price: $50 million.” “Miss Lin, are you sure?” “I’m very sure. They want Labubus, right? Let them have the best.” Hanging up, I smiled. My card has a security protocol. When daily spending exceeds $100 million, the final settlement requires my iris and fingerprint verification. Tiffany thinks it’s an unlimited card, but she doesn’t know that the end of the spending spree requires my confirmation. In my past life, she didn’t reach the $100 million mark, so she got away with it. Tiffany, Brad. Tomorrow, you will learn the true meaning of “luxury.” 4 The next day, I went to the downtown Labubu flagship store. I sat in the café on the second floor, a corner overlooking the entire shop. Before long, Tiffany, Brad, and the whole class—about thirty or forty people—swarmed into the store. Tiffany, wearing a knockoff designer suit and holding onto Brad, looked incredibly smug. She flashed my black card at the staff. “My aunt works here; she said this card grants VIP access,” Tiffany lied. Seeing the card, the staff immediately notified the manager. The manager came out personally, respectfully guiding them to the VIP display area in the center of the store. “Esteemed guests, you’ve arrived at the perfect time. We just received a shipment of the collector’s edition.” The classmates gasped in awe. “Wow, Tiffany, you’re amazing!” Tiffany basked in the praise. “No big deal. Pick whatever you want today, don’t be shy.” The manager smiled and pressed a switch on the display case. Lights flared, revealing rows of Labubus under bulletproof glass, shining brilliantly. They were made of top-tier flocking, with rare black diamond eyes, and bodies encrusted with pink and white diamonds. The whole class was stunned. “Is… is this a Labubu? Are those real diamonds?” Tiffany was also stunned. Vain as she was, she knew items of this caliber weren’t cheap. But she believed the card in her hand had no limit. To save face, she gritted her teeth and said, “That’s right. This is the limited hidden edition I prepared for everyone. Regular ones are boring; we only buy the best.” Brad hugged Tiffany excitedly. “Tiff, you’re the best!” Tiffany feigned nonchalance. “Pocket change. Go ahead, pick one each.” The students cheered and rushed the display case. The manager thoughtfully took out a Diamond Labubu for each student, placing them in special secure boxes. I watched from upstairs as they went mad. Thirty-two classmates, plus Tiffany and Brad. Thirty-four in total. I walked downstairs, deliberately passing by them. Brad saw me and immediately sneered. “Yo, Lily? You here to buy a Labubu too? Can you afford it?” I looked at the Diamond Labubu in his hands and said coolly: “That’s an expensive luxury item. Be careful not to drop it.” Brad hated my condescension the most. “Lily, stop pretending! What do you know about luxury?” To show off in front of me, he tossed the Labubu high into the air and caught it. “See that? Tiffany can afford it, and we can play with it.” Tiffany giggled. “Lily, I don’t blame you for being uncultured. It’s just a toy. If it breaks, it breaks.” I shook my head. “Really? You guys must be very rich then.” My “weakness” made Brad even more arrogant. He looked at Tiffany, and to make his beauty smile, he shouted, “Lily, watch this! This is what rich means!” He smashed the Diamond Labubu onto the marble floor. Crash! A muffled thud. A hairline crack appeared on the Labubu’s body, and several diamonds flew off. Brad smirked triumphantly. “See? Just a broken toy. I smash them for fun! Tiff, get me another one!” For the sake of her image, Tiffany gritted her teeth. “Sure! As long as you’re happy, Brad!” The manager expressionlessly picked up the damaged Labubu and handed Brad a new one. Soon, all thirty-four Diamond Labubus were claimed. The manager smiled and walked up to Tiffany. “Hello, esteemed guest. You have selected a total of thirty-four pieces from the ‘Eternal Diamond’ collection. Unit price $50 million. Total price: $1.7 billion.” “Additionally, the gentleman damaged one piece. Repairing the diamond and structural damage, plus depreciation, comes to $10 million.” “Grand total: $1.71 billion. Would you like to settle the bill now?” $1.71 billion. Silence fell over the store. Brad’s smile froze. Tiffany collapsed onto the floor in terror.

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Three months into my pregnancy, Julian finally agreed to give me the wedding I had always dreamed of. We invited friends over to discuss the details. That’s when his “female bro” laughed and said: “Sister-in-law, you’re so lucky. You caught Julian after he grew up and stopped being a jerk. Unlike me. Back then, we played too hard, and I even had an abortion.” “This idiot didn’t even know how to put on a condom. Daddy had to teach him!” She chuckled and punched Julian in the shoulder. My breath hitched. Seeing my expression change, she quickly tried to explain. “Don’t misunderstand. I’m just saying, back then he was immature. He watched too much porn and had nowhere to vent, so he insisted on using me for practice.” “But it’s all good now. I trained him for you. You just get to enjoy the finished product. So, how is my son in bed? Pretty good, right?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I splashed my tea in her face. “If you know it’s in the past, why are you telling me this? What’s your intention?” Before Sarah could speak, Julian exploded. He accused me of being unreasonable and threw me out of the house in the middle of the night. The last thing I heard before leaving was Sarah’s teasing voice: “Son, you’re being naughty. Want a beating? Take a punch from Daddy!” They bet ten million dollars that I would come crawling back on my knees, begging for forgiveness. But this time, I was truly done. 1 When Julian kicked me out, his eyes were full of rage. “We’re all friends here. Did you have to make it so ugly?” “I told you, Sarah is my bro. Bros don’t have genders!” “If there was anything between us, why would I choose to marry you?” “If you’re going to be crazy, get out and calm down!” He turned back to Sarah, his expression instantly softening into his usual gentleness. “Keep drinking. Ignore her. I spoiled her too much! Just because she’s pregnant, she thinks she’s the Queen Mother.” Someone asked, “It’s freezing outside, and Haley is pregnant. Don’t freeze the baby. Careful she doesn’t leave you for real!” “Leave me? Look at her now. She gained thirty pounds since getting pregnant. Who would want her?” “I’m doing her a favor by marrying her. Give her an inch and she takes a mile.” Sarah immediately slung her arm around his shoulder. “Pregnant women are so much trouble. Bros are way easier. Drink! If I don’t drink you under the table tonight, I’m not your daddy!” “Screw you, I’m your daddy! Call me daddy or I’ll wreck you!” “With your little needle? Hahaha—” Outside the door, I wiped my cheek. My hand felt ice cold. I didn’t realize I had been crying. Without hesitation, I called a cab to the hospital. The doctor hesitated. “Miss Haley, scheduling an abortion requires the father’s signature. Is he not here?” “He’s dead.” The doctor didn’t say anything else. She finished the checkup and filled out the appointment form. The pity in her eyes tore my heart to shreds. When I first met Julian, he wasn’t like this. His eyes and heart were full of only me. Until he introduced me to his “bro,” Sarah. Everything changed. While I was in a daze, the paperwork was done. As I was paying, a video popped up on my phone. It was from Sarah. In the video, Julian was kneeling on the floor, licking her diamond-encrusted nails. He looked up with a disgusted face but kept joking. “Damn, Sarah, do you have foot fungus? Are you trying to gross me out?” “Daddy is giving you a chance to redeem yourself. It’s an honor! Dare to talk back, and I’ll teach you a lesson!” Then came a text from Sarah. “Sister-in-law, don’t be mad. I taught this rebellious son a lesson for you. He’ll be obedient from now on!” I don’t know how I felt watching that video. Boom. The sweet memories in my head exploded into shrapnel. They pierced my chest, churning my insides with pain. Julian was a germophobe. I knew this from the day we met. He never held my hand. He even found my hugs disgusting. I got pregnant because one night, he drank himself into a stupor with Sarah. When he got home, his friends were gone, leaving a mess. Julian sat on the sofa smoking, feet up, ordering me without looking up: “Clean this up. Those bastards did this on purpose to annoy me.” Usually, I would have cleaned up like a maid without him asking. But this time, I didn’t respond. instead, I said: “Julian, let’s… break up.” 2 Hearing my voice, he reluctantly looked up from his phone. “What did you say? The game was too loud. Sarah, that idiot, fed the enemy team ten kills in a row. Dragging me down so hard my pants are falling off.” He shouted into the voice chat. “Son, feed one more kill and Daddy will spank you red!” I took a deep breath and repeated myself. “Julian, let’s break up.” This time he heard it. He threw his phone. “Are you crazy?” “What nonsense are you spouting?” I shook my head and sat down, clutching my aching stomach. “I’m not joking. I’m serious.” “I think… Sarah suits you better.” From the broken phone, Sarah’s furious voice leaked out. “Rebellious son, where did you go? Don’t go AFK! Daddy is about to win! It’s a rank-up match!” Julian ignored her, but anger was brewing in his eyes. “So it comes back to me being close to Sarah?” “How many times do I have to explain? We have nothing going on. It’s pure friendship!” “Right. Pure friendship. Friendship where you lick feet. Friendship where you cuddle. Friendship where you screw without a condom.” I smiled mockingly. Julian snapped. He rushed over and pinned me to the sofa, his lips brushing my nose. “Jealous?” “It’s just kissing, right? I’ll compensate you.” As he leaned in to kiss me, the image of him kissing Sarah’s toes flashed in my mind. I shoved him away violently. “Don’t touch me!” He hugged me tighter. “Stop pretending. Isn’t this what you want?” “I know what you’re mad about, but we’re having a baby. Why compare yourself to that idiot?” Our intense argument was interrupted by Sarah’s voice chat. “Son! Where the hell are you! They’re at our base! Get online or Daddy disowns you!” Julian glanced at me. “She’s breaking up with me. I’m the one whose base is getting stolen.” “Just coax her! Women are so troublesome. You have one minute to log on!” The call ended. Julian immediately went back to the game. He brushed me off casually: “Be good, stop making a scene. Tomorrow I’ll take you shopping. Buy whatever you want, hubby pays.” In that moment, I didn’t even have the energy to argue. That night, my stomach hurt badly. I called out softly for Julian. He didn’t answer. The bathroom light was on. Laughter came from inside. Mixed with the sounds of the game battle, piercing my ears. I heard Sarah ask. “So you smoothed it over? Your combat power is skyrocketing! That’s my son! Keep going, Daddy is hitting King rank tonight!” “Smooth what over? Just buy a few gifts to shut her up. Damn, how did you die again? Can you ping?” I didn’t sleep all night. At dawn, Julian pulled me out of bed. “I promised to buy you gifts. I keep my word.” “Good wifey, don’t be mad anymore, okay?” I fought back the nausea in my throat and got in the car. The GPS voice had been changed to Sarah’s custom pack. “Son, turn left ahead, then go straight.” “Damn it, you didn’t use your turn signal again! Take a hammer from Daddy!” Seeing my expression, he laughed it off: “I lost a bet last time. That bastard insisted on prankng me. I have to listen to it for a month. Just bear with it, it’s almost over.” At the mall, I spotted an Hermès bag I liked. I was about to pay for it myself when Julian rushed to the counter to pay. A familiar voice came from behind. “Hey, this bag is nice. Suits me.” Julian came back from paying and bumped right into Sarah trying on the bag. He was beaming. “Changed your style? Not carrying your hiking backpack? So feminine, Daddy almost didn’t recognize you.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “What, charmed by Daddy? Get in line, there are 10,086 people ahead of you.” I really didn’t want to listen anymore, so I interrupted. “Miss Sarah, I was here first. It’s already paid for.” “But I like this bag too. Son, who gets it? You say.” She tapped a threatening finger on Julian’s chest. “Bros before hoes? Don’t you dare choose sex over friendship!” 3 Julian burst out laughing. “It’s yours. It’s rare to see you buy a bag. When the son asks, how can Daddy refuse?” Sarah took the bag and left happily. My breath trembled. Sharp pain stabbed my abdomen. Julian quickly supported me. “Wifey, don’t be mad. Sarah never buys bags. It’s rare she likes something, just consider it a favor.” “There are so many other styles in the store. Which one do you like? Pick again, hubby will buy it for you.” But I didn’t want things I couldn’t have anymore. I forced a smile, swallowing the bitterness. “Julian, we need to talk.” He immediately pulled out his phone to search for restaurants. “You said you wanted to try that place last time. It’s good. I’ll make a reservation. I’ll accompany you tonight.” “Heaven and Earth are big, but wifey is the biggest.” But that night, I waited in the restaurant for three hours. He was late again. I got a text saying he had to work overtime, busy earning diaper money for the baby. Then, Sarah posted an update. A picture of that Hermès bag. “Son is filial to Daddy. I am very comforted! Treating Son to drinks tonight as thanks.” The comments were all mutual friends. “Damn, isn’t that the new limited edition? Two million? Julian is generous. Why doesn’t he give me stuff?” “Sarah, watch out or Sister-in-law will come beat you up. She’s not the generous type.” “Don’t mention it. Talking about Haley makes me mad. Last gathering she ruined the mood. Never drank so unhappily before! If Julian hadn’t kicked her out, I would have made her kneel and apologize!” Sarah replied with a bomb emoji. “Can a bro be the same as a wife? You guys better not get married. Be careful you get stuck with a trouble magnet like Haley. Can’t even come out for a drink.” Julian didn’t reply, but he liked Sarah’s comment. My fingers trembled. The pain spread from my heart to my limbs. The waiter approached me for the eighth time. “Miss, the guests for the next reservation have arrived. Are you still… eating?” “No need. Throw it away for me.” People who won’t come aren’t worth waiting for. Sincerity you have to beg for never belonged to me. When I rushed to the bar, the deafening music made my stomach cramp. I forced myself to endure the discomfort. I wanted to see. I wanted to see what kind of filth was hidden under the skin of the man I had loved for five years. Sometimes you have to see the betrayal with your own eyes to give up on a relationship. Outside the private room, through the glass, I saw Sarah had taken off her clothes. Only a lace bra hung loosely on her shoulders. Julian’s friend teased: “Didn’t know you were so stacked. You hide it well.” “Screw you. Rabbits don’t eat the grass near their burrow. You want to die? Believe it or not, I’ll have my son beat you up!” The man laughed loudly. “Yes, yes, yes. You’re Julian’s grass, I wouldn’t dare look. Last time someone hit on you, Julian almost broke his legs. I have the heart of a thief but no guts!” I remembered picking Julian up from the police station last time. He said he was being a good Samaritan, saving a stranger girl from harassment. It was Sarah. A bucket of ice water poured over me from head to toe. The jokes inside continued. The invincible Julian lost a game. Immediately, people started chanting: “Kiss! Kiss! Last time was only five minutes, not enough fun. Double it this time! No one stop them!” Another guy punched him. “Kissing is boring. These two have kissed enough. Change it!” “How about Julian takes off Sarah’s bra with his mouth! Hahaha!” 4 Sarah blushed and threw a pillow at the guy’s head. “Screw you! If you want to see, just say so!” Julian was instantly amused. “Oh, my son is shy? Come let Daddy take a picture for a souvenir. I’ll show it at your wedding.” “You’re the one who’s shy! Take it off then! Who’s afraid of who! I’m afraid your mouth skills aren’t good enough!” Julian raised an eyebrow, grinning wickedly. “You don’t know if it’s enough? Who was begging for mercy?” Amidst the jeering, Sarah lay on the sofa. Julian slowly approached. It was a front-clasp bra. Julian’s lips grazed the curve several times. The jeering stopped. Everyone stared. Snap. The clasp popped open. Sarah panicked, quickly covering herself. Julian didn’t expect it to be so fast either. He hurriedly used his jacket to cover her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone holding up a phone, grinning. A look of anger I had never seen appeared on Julian’s face. “You took a picture? Delete it!” The guy joked: “Come on, Julian. Just for fun. We’re bros, don’t you trust me?” “I said… delete it!” “Nope, nope. Hahahaha Sarah you’re done for!” Amidst the laughter, no one expected Julian to throw a punch. By the time they reacted, the guy taking pictures was on the floor, head covered in blood. “Julian!” Sarah reached out to pull him back, forcefully hugging him. “Julian, don’t be impulsive! Calm down!” Miraculously, Julian calmed down in her arms. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have agreed to this game.” “I don’t blame you. Who let you be my son!” The joking words instantly relaxed the atmosphere. Before the ambulance arrived, I fled the bar. I had imagined him being ambiguous with Sarah. I thought I was prepared. But I never expected him to lose control like that for her. That moment of vicious indifference, I had never seen it. Even when we were deeply in love and I was bullied, he only said threateningly: “I called the police. Talk to my lawyer later.” It turned out he wasn’t naturally indifferent. It was just that the person who could make him break his rules wasn’t me. I took a taxi to the hospital and got the abortion. Before the surgery, Julian texted me to pick him up from the police station. I didn’t reply. I turned off my phone. It was two hours later when I came out. When I turned my phone on, 99+ messages popped up, all from Julian. “Why aren’t you answering? I told you to come to the station. Can’t you see the messages?” “What do you mean? What are you doing?” “Wifey, please, come get me. I just helped a little girl and got impulsive.” Then a message came in his “Bros” group chat. “Julian, you lost. Sister-in-law didn’t come. Twelve thousand dollars. Pay up.” “Did Haley change her personality? Julian, you’re losing favor!” Julian replied immediately. “Screw off. Haley must be busy, otherwise she wouldn’t ignore me.” Someone realized something and panicked: “Crap, you guys sent it to the wrong group! Haley is in this one!” From the moment he introduced me to his friends, Julian had pulled me into a group chat. The group was always silent. No one spoke. I suspected the group was fake. Until now. My guess was finally verified. My heart died completely. The messages were quickly recalled. Julian then called me. “Are you… busy?” “Didn’t check your phone just now?” I replied with a “Mmhmm.” Julian didn’t send any more messages. Thinking we were breaking up, the wedding house wasn’t needed anymore. I contacted an agent to sell the house, only to be told the deed had already been transferred to someone else’s name. I skillfully opened Sarah’s social media. She had updated, of course. The photo was the living room of my wedding house. The floor-to-ceiling windows, the rabbit dolls, the couple ornaments. Everything I had carefully chosen. Caption: “Compensation from Son to Daddy. Not bad. Satisfied. Forgiven this one time.” Julian replied gently: “Glad you like it. Housewarming tonight. Invite everyone.” Housewarming? How could there be no housewarming gift? I went back to the hospital, retrieved the unformed embryo, and put it in a gift box. I hired people to hang banners full of warm congratulations on the building. A neighbor lady asked me: “Miss, is there a happy event in your family?” I smiled and nodded. “Yes, Auntie. My husband gave our wedding house to his female friend. I’m helping them warm up the place.” Her husband’s eyes widened. He poked the aunt’s arm. “See? I told you other wives aren’t as petty as you. Learn from her!” The aunt slapped him and dragged him away by the ear. I stood downstairs, throwing red envelopes continuously. “Welcome everyone to come celebrate! Ten thousand dollars cash for everyone who comes!” I stroked my stomach gently. “Just accumulating good karma for the unborn child.” In the blink of an eye, thousands of people surrounded me. When the door opened grandly, Julian had just lost a game and was being punished with a deep kiss with Sarah. Seeing me arrive, he hurriedly pushed her away. “Why are you here?” I shook the gift box in my hand. “Bringing you a housewarming gift.” Behind me, gasps erupted. All the neighbors raised their phones and started taking pictures.

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I was trying to leave the restaurant my brother owned when the manager stopped me. “Excuse me, Miss. You haven’t paid your bill.” I looked at the stranger, assuming she was new and didn’t recognize me. So, I explained politely: “Put it on your boss’s tab. He knows.” The female manager looked me up and down with pure disdain. “Miss, we are a Michelin three-star establishment. We never allow tabs.” She slapped a printed bill in front of me. I glanced down. Fifty grand for one meal. “Flatware Polish Fee: $3,000.” “Exclusive Air Purification Fee: $5,000.” “VIP Mood Stabilization Service: $10,000.” And a bunch of other nonsense charges. I didn’t know my brother was running a scam joint. I laughed out loud. “I’m your boss Brandon’s sister. If you have a problem, tell him to talk to me at home.” But she wouldn’t let it go. “If you can’t afford it, don’t act rich. Trying to name-drop Mr. White?” I sent a text to my secretary right then and there: Tell my brother to either fire this woman, or I’m pulling my investment. 1 “Miss, stop wasting everyone’s time. Pay up.” Her tone was sharp and cutting, as if she had already branded me as a broke gold-digger trying to dine and dash. A few curious diners were already looking our way. I frowned. I didn’t want to waste time on this nonsense, so I pulled out my phone and called my brother, Brandon. It went straight to voicemail. I called again. Same thing. What is that idiot doing on a weekday? I put down my phone and looked the aggressive woman in the eye. “I’ll say this one more time. My name is Bailey White. I am the biological sister of your owner, Brandon White.” “He’s not answering right now, but you can check his credit card on file. My photo and info are linked to it.” I thought that would settle it. Instead of checking, the manager burst into shrill laughter. She leaned in close, lowering her voice so only I could hear. “Still acting? I’ve seen your face on my boyfriend Brandon’s Instagram a long time ago!” “You shameless homewrecker. Trying to hook up with my man on the sly?” “And now you have the nerve to come to his restaurant and try to put it on his tab? Is your face made of brick?” I froze for a second. I glanced at her name tag—Tiffany Zheng. A wave of speechless realization washed over me. Brandon’s mysterious girlfriend, the one he refused to show me a picture of… was this stupid, vicious woman? His taste was truly appalling. Turns out, this wasn’t a misunderstanding over a fifty-grand bill. It was a premeditated humiliation. Before I could speak, she lost patience. “Since this lady wants to dine and dash, we have no choice but to detain her until the police arrive!” She waved her hand. Two burly security guards who had been hovering nearby stepped up immediately. One clamped a hand over my mouth. The other twisted my arms behind my back like a pretzel. I struggled violently, but I was no match for them. Ignoring my furious glare and the shocked looks from other patrons, they dragged me toward the kitchen. I was thrown into a storage closet that smelled of bleach and rotting food. The door slammed shut, cutting off the light. 2 In the darkness, the manager didn’t say a word. She just lifted her stiletto heel and kicked me hard in the stomach. Pain exploded in my gut. I curled into a ball, nausea rising in my throat. “That’s for spending my man’s money!” “That’s for seducing him!” She shrieked, her voice twisted with jealousy and rage. She looked down at me and ordered the guards, “Beat her! Beat her to death!” The guards, clearly her henchmen, didn’t hesitate. Kicks and punches rained down on me. I gritted my teeth, swallowing my screams. My bones felt like they were shattering. My organs felt displaced. Her shrieking continued. “Who do you think you are? Just a cheap slut throwing herself at him!” “I told you I’m his sister! Ask Brandon! Call him right now!” I tried to explain, but she ignored me. She didn’t stop until I was dizzy and seeing stars. She put her heel on my shoulder, smiling down at me. “You’d better pay the bill right now. And add another fifty grand for my trouble.” “This is what happens when you mess with my man and spend his money.” “I’m not afraid of killing you. Brandon will cover it up for me.” Curled in agony, I whispered weakly, “It’s my own money. I told you. Ask him.” Her face darkened. She kicked me again, and the guards resumed the beating. I knew she wouldn’t listen. If this continued, I might actually die here. After coughing up blood, I used the last of my strength to reach for my phone. “Stop… I… I’ll pay.” Satisfied with my submission, she signaled the guards to stop. She crouched down and patted my swollen cheek. “Should have done that sooner. Why do it the hard way?” “One hundred thousand. Not a penny less.” I lay on the cold floor, gasping for air, my lungs burning. I ignored her and dialed my best friend, Mia. She answered immediately. “Mia, bring two hundred thousand dollars to my brother’s restaurant.” “I need it now.” Mia paused, sensing something wrong. “Bailey? What’s wrong? Your voice…” “Don’t ask. Just hurry.” I hung up. Tiffany heard “two hundred thousand” and her eyes lit up. Greed flashed across her face. She probably thought I was scared and offering more money to save myself. She couldn’t hide her smugness. “Smart choice.” 3 Mia was incredibly fast. Moments later, the closet door burst open. Mia strode in with two bodyguards. She gasped when she saw the blood at the corner of my mouth, my torn clothes, and me huddled on the floor. She rushed to help me up. I shook my head, signaling her not to speak. I took the bank card with the PIN code taped to it from her hand and threw it at the woman. Tiffany took the card and waved dismissively. “If this card is fake, I have ways of finding you. Get out.” Enduring the bone-deep pain, I limped out of that disgusting place with Mia’s help. Outside, I thanked Mia. “Thanks, Mia. I’ll pay you back as soon as I handle this.” She looked at me with worry. “The money is nothing. What happened to you?” I let out a cold laugh. “My brother found himself quite the girlfriend. It’s time I settled accounts with him.” I pulled out my phone and called the restaurant’s Vice President. He was the actual manager, headhunted by me personally. He was loyal. When he answered, I didn’t waste words. My voice was devoid of emotion. “You have ten minutes. Fire a manager named Tiffany Zheng.” “If not, the White family pulls all investment from the restaurant. Every cent.” The VP was terrified just hearing my voice. He must have heard the weakness and anger in my tone. He agreed frantically, not daring to ask why. I hung up and went straight to the police station. I calmly and logically reported everything that happened to the officer on duty. After giving my statement and getting a medical examination at the hospital, I held the thin report in my hand. The fire of betrayal burned hotter than ever. I needed an explanation. I needed Brandon to look me in the eye and explain this. My assistant located Brandon at his own villa—the one I bought for him. When I arrived, heavy bass music thumped through the walls. He was throwing a party. That’s why he didn’t answer his phone. The front door was ajar. Instead of barging in, I paused. I heard a familiar, tearful female voice. Tiffany. She was crying to the room, painting herself as the victim of an arrogant mistress who bullied her. “…I just asked her to pay the bill, and she threw a million dollars in my face and got me fired…” “Brandon, she’s too much! She doesn’t respect you at all!” “She just wants to humiliate me. She wants us to break up!” Inside, Brandon’s frat-boy friends were shouting in indignation. Brandon was loudly comforting Tiffany, his voice full of love and protectiveness. “Tiffany, don’t worry! I won’t let you be treated like this!” Then, as if to prove his manhood to the room, he swore: “When I find that woman, I’ll make her kneel and apologize to you!” His friends cheered, shouting about how they’d make me pay. “Just say the word, Brandon, and we’ll go drag her here!” “Yeah! Show her who’s boss!” I couldn’t listen anymore. I raised my hand. My bodyguard kicked the villa door wide open. Boom. The music cut. The laughter died. Dozens of shocked eyes turned to the door. “No need to drag me. I’m right here. Who wants to teach me a lesson?” 4 The air solidified. The only sound was the click-clack of my heels on the floor. I walked step by step toward the couple embracing in the center of the room. Brandon’s face was a masterpiece. Shock, then uncontrollable fear. He turned pale instantly. He instinctively let go of Tiffany and started to stand up. But then he looked at Tiffany’s tear-streaked face, and hesitation flickered in his eyes. Finally, fear was replaced by a laughable, bravado-fueled stubbornness. He stayed seated, staring at me, trying to mask his panic. Tiffany’s eyes went wide when she saw me. But she quickly realized she was on Brandon’s turf, surrounded by his friends. She snuggled deeper into his arms, wailing louder. “Brandon! It’s her… she’s the one who hurt me…” She cried while shooting me a look of pure malice and triumph. See? He chose me. I ignored her. My eyes were fixed on my dear brother. “Brandon White. I asked you a question.” “Didn’t you just say you were going to make me kneel and apologize to your girlfriend?” Brandon swallowed hard. His lips trembled, but no sound came out. He was afraid of me. He had always been afraid of me. He knew who really ran this family. His friends looked confused. One of them, a rich kid with bleached blond hair, tried to impress Tiffany. He stepped forward. “Who are you? Talking to Brandon like that?” “If you know what’s good for you, apologize to Tiffany right now, or else…” He didn’t finish. My bodyguard stepped forward, blocking him with a menacing glare. The blond kid shut his mouth instantly. I walked around the bodyguard and stood over Brandon. “It seems you aren’t planning to give me an explanation.” Brandon finally mustered some courage. He stood up, puffing out his chest. He pulled me aside, lowering his voice to a beg. “Sis, what are you doing?” “Do you have to embarrass me in front of my friends?” “Tiffany didn’t mean it. She’s just straight-forward. Can’t you just let it go?” I looked at him and wanted to laugh. Let it go? After she had me beaten half to death and extorted two hundred grand from me? “Brandon,” I said his full name. “Are you joking?” “I…” He stammered, avoiding my eyes. Just then, sirens wailed outside. Sharp and clear, cutting through the fake party atmosphere. Everyone froze. Police officers marched in, faces grim. The lead officer scanned the room and locked onto me. “Are you Ms. Bailey White?” I nodded. “Yes.” The officer pulled out a warrant and turned to Tiffany. “Tiffany Zheng, you are under arrest for assault and extortion. Please come with us for questioning.”

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During the Cold War with my sugar daddy, I accidentally slapped his childhood sweetheart. Overnight, my reputation was dragged through the mud. Meanwhile, my sugar daddy remained as silent as a corpse. In a fit of rage, I started a livestream and roasted him until he was trending. “Julian Blackwood? Yeah, we dated. He was mid.” “Of course I dumped him first.” “Oh, nothing major. Just… he’s old, bad in bed. I’m thinking of dating a college boy next.” … The internet said I was crazy for daring to roast Julian Blackwood. Not long after I ended the stream, my front door was literally removed from its hinges. Julian, looking dark and dangerous, loosened his tie as he backed me into a corner. “Tell me more about this college boy you’re planning to date.” 1 I am known as the delicate “Little White Flower” of the entertainment industry. Pure looks, sweet voice, kind heart, always helping others. I painstakingly curated this persona for three years. It collapsed in a single night. 2 I was filming a fantasy drama recently. In the dead of winter, I had to fly around on wires in flimsy silk dresses and film multiple underwater scenes. Work was already annoying enough. Then someone came looking for trouble. I was in the makeup chair when I saw the director bowing and scraping to a girl with exquisite makeup. He not only gave her a tour but also moved his director’s chair for her to sit behind the monitors. Crew members whispered that she was an investor named Sierra. I didn’t think much of it. Until filming started, and I got NG’d (No Good) a million times. If I was actually messing up, I would have redone it a hundred times without complaint. But clearly, I wasn’t. Someone just wanted to watch me freeze in thin clothes, dangling from wires in the snow. I did that scene twenty-three times. Finally, they swapped in a stunt double, and it was perfect on the first take. The director looked embarrassed and told me to rest. My assistant wrapped me in a down jacket and walked me to the trailer. As we passed the monitors, Sierra leaned back in the chair, looking me up and down with disdain. “The bar for entry in this industry is really ground level. Anyone can be an actor.” I was shivering too hard to retort. Mainly because I didn’t know who she was or what power she held, so I couldn’t afford to offend her blindly. Back in the trailer, once I warmed up, I sent my assistant to dig up dirt on Sierra. Before I got an answer, I had an underwater scene. Unsurprisingly, same routine. No matter how I acted, it was NG. Even when I saw the director’s eyes light up with satisfaction, Sierra would reject it, claiming the “emotion wasn’t right.” This scene required close-ups, so no stunt double. The director didn’t dare speak up, so I was dunked in the water over and over. Eventually, I was dizzy from the cold. Even a pushover has a breaking point. I refused to go back in the water and confronted Sierra. The director, reading the room, cleared the set. I started polite. “Ms. Sierra, have I offended you in some way?” Sierra maintained her haughty posture, scoffing. “You? You’re not qualified to offend me.” I smiled. “In that case, why make things difficult? It’s fine if I suffer a bit, but delaying the shoot wastes everyone’s time and burns your money.” Sierra looked me over again, her eyes full of scorn. “Elena Lin, you sure have a sharp tongue.” “Don’t pin this on me. I’m not making things difficult. Your acting is just trash, so everyone has to suffer through your retakes.” Seeing my silence, her mockery deepened. “There’s a wall between real talent and resource babies. Especially someone like you…” She paused deliberately, then smirked. “Who knows how many beds you climbed to get here?” I hate slut-shaming. Even a saint would snap! I didn’t care who she was anymore. If I endured this any longer, I’d end up in the hospital. I slapped her. Hard. Sierra’s face snapped to the side, a red handprint blooming on her pale skin. She looked at me in disbelief. “Elena, you dare hit me?!” “So what if I hit you? Since your mother didn’t teach you manners, I don’t mind stepping in.” Wrapped in my jacket, I looked at her coldly. “I have no beef with you. If you insult me again and treat everyone’s work like a game, I’ll hit you again.” Four degrees Celsius, dunking me in water repeatedly, insulting me—did she expect me not to fight back? I turned to leave. Sierra tried to grab me, but I shook her off. We were near the pool set, the ground covered in loose gravel. Sierra tripped and fell gracefully into the water. Me: … Chaos erupted. Filming was canceled. As Sierra was carted away by an ambulance, my assistant returned with the intel. I finally understood her malice. Sierra was Julian Blackwood’s childhood sweetheart, recently returned from abroad. And Julian Blackwood was my sugar daddy. 3 In three years with Julian, I had never heard of a “white moonlight” or childhood sweetheart. I was confused. I called him. Off. I called his assistant. No answer. I opened WeChat. Our chat history stopped two days ago. I remembered then—we had a fight before I left for the shoot. I had just finished a roadshow and had a rare few days off. Julian suddenly asked about my schedule for next April, wanting me to clear it for a trip to Northern Europe. But I had already booked an arthouse film for April. It was a huge production, vital for my career. Julian wanted me to drop it. I refused. He looked at me, eyes dark. “Elena, is your schedule always going to be more important than me?” “I can’t even book a slot four months in advance now?” “Do I need to take a number to see you in the future?” He sounded resentful. I was exhausted from working non-stop for a month. I cleared two days just to see him, and he was being passive-aggressive. My temper flared. “Julian, you said you wouldn’t interfere with my work.” “I told you, I will never give up my career.” The conversation ended unhappily. Julian took a call and left in a hurry. Then I went to the set. Looking back, I regretted it. I should have explained better. I was patient with everyone else, but for some reason, I was always willful with Julian. As my career took off, I had less time, and we argued more about the distance. But usually, Julian wouldn’t let a misunderstanding last overnight. He always accommodated my schedule. This was the first time we had lost contact for days. My chest felt tight. I called again. Still off. I left a message. [Ignoring me? You think you’re cool?] [I accidentally hit your childhood sweetheart today. Thoughts?] No reply. Annoyed, I stopped caring and went to sleep. 4 My agent’s call woke me up the next morning. It was a death knell I couldn’t ignore. “Elena Lin! When did you offend the Su family?” “Do you know they want to blacklist you?” “You really know how to cause trouble!” “Are you still sleeping? How can you sleep?!” I groggily checked my phone. The internet was flooded with dirt on me. Fake persona, pick-me girl, diva, sugar baby—every dirty label was thrown at me. It gave me heart palpitations. I explained the situation briefly. My agent was silent for a long time, then sighed. “The fake rumors, the company can send legal letters.” “The real problem is endorsements and scripts. I’ve received countless cancellation calls today. The Su family wants to bury you.” “Our small agency can’t fight them.” “Should you… ask Mr. Blackwood?” I scratched my head, frustrated. “Can’t.” “Cold war. He’s ignoring me. Assume we broke up.” “Plus, the person I hit was his childhood sweetheart. Who knows whose side he’s on.” Agent: … She sighed again, gave me some instructions, and went to do damage control. I lay in bed, suddenly exhausted. This was the second time I faced being blacklisted. The first was when I just entered the industry. I had no background but good luck, landing a few decent supporting roles. Then a nepo baby named Jason tried to “sponsor” me. I refused. He got angry and tried to blacklist me. Suddenly, rumors swirled, and I couldn’t get work. Young and reckless, I figured if I couldn’t eat this rice, I’d smash the bowl. I waited outside Jason’s usual club, put a sack over his head when he came out drunk, and beat him up. As I was dusting off my hands to leave, I turned and saw Julian. He was leaning against a Maybach, white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, an unlit cigarette in his fingers. In the night, he raised an eyebrow at me. “Nice moves.” I recognized him. I’d seen him at dinners, always surrounded by people. A man I couldn’t afford to offend. But in that moment, I had an epiphany. If I needed a backer in this industry, I wanted to choose my own. So, faced with fight or flight, I walked up to him. “Mr. Blackwood, I need a sugar daddy. Interested?” Julian paused. “Sugar daddy?” He tapped his fingers on the car window, chuckling. “Any other roles available?” I shook my head. I only needed a sugar daddy who could get me roles. Julian was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Alright.” So we got together. With him involved, all problems vanished. Not only did I get roles, but Jason walked the other way when he saw me. For three years, Julian rarely interfered with my work and never hid our relationship. I was the one trying to avoid suspicion. For a while, I refused his resources to maintain distance. He just said: “Elena, don’t play the noble card with me. Leaving my resources unused to suffer on your own? That makes you the idiot.” “Besides, is relying on me embarrassing? Am I unpresentable?” Julian was very presentable. But he was ignoring me now. Can’t rely on him if I wanted to.

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My arch-nemesis mocked me for being perpetually single, so out of spite, I pinched my own neck until it turned red. “See this?” I smirked, pointing to the mark. “My boyfriend gave me this.” He scoffed. “As if. What man would ever want you?” Later, as I sat crying outside the OB-GYN office, my nemesis appeared, his face dark as a thunderstorm. “Who is he? I’m going to beat him to a pulp.” “Stop crying. I’m taking you and the baby.” 1 I woke up naked next to a man. That wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that the man was none other than Lucas Chen, my mortal enemy. Everyone in the city knew we hated each other. Our feud was legendary. Last night at the bar, we lost a bet and were forced to kiss. Afterward, Lucas leaned back on the sofa, smirking lazily. “A little clumsy there, Princess. Was that your first kiss?” Furious, I snuck off to the bathroom and pinched my neck until a red hickey-like mark appeared. I flashed it at him triumphantly. “See this? My boyfriend gave it to me. He’s incredible. Way better kisser than you.” Lucas’s expression soured. He stared at the mark coldly. Then he sneered, “Please. What man would ever want you?” Maybe he was pissed about losing to me, but Lucas, who rarely drank, got absolutely wasted that night. I drove him home, planning to take embarrassing photos of him for blackmail. Instead, I ended up in his bed. Damn it! I bit my lip, trying to wiggle out of Lucas’s arms. The moment I moved, he tightened his grip, nuzzling his face into my neck. “Mianmian… be good… let me stay a little longer…” Mianmian? Great. He’s sleeping with me but dreaming about his ‘white moonlight,’ his first love. Jerk! It took everything I had to escape his embrace. My legs were so weak I almost collapsed when my feet hit the floor. The room was a disaster. Flashbacks of last night hit me. Lucas holding my ankles, gripping my waist… my ripped stockings on the floor… I wanted to slap myself for not resisting. But then I glanced back at the bed. That body. Those muscles. That… size. Honestly? Who could resist that? I’ll just consider it a free night with a high-end gigolo. An American-sized, top-tier gigolo. 2 In our circle of trust-fund babies, there’s a rule about sleeping around: Keep it secret. If anyone found out I slept with Lucas Chen, I’d never show my face in this city again. Ignoring the soreness in my body, I scrubbed the room clean of any evidence I was there. Lucas stirred a few times, and I had to sacrifice my dignity to kiss and cuddle him back to sleep. After sneaking out of his villa, I slumped onto a bench outside a convenience store to catch my breath. My phone rang. It was Lucas. His voice was raspy with sleep. “Zoe, where are you?” My heart skipped a beat. I couldn’t help but remember him whispering in my ear last night to relax. My face burned. “W-what do you want?” “Did you bring me home last night?” “Yeah… I was just passing by. Wanted to see you make a fool of yourself.” Lucas didn’t bicker like usual. He asked, his voice low, “Did you sleep here last night?” I lied smoothly. “…Yeah. I was drunk too. I crashed in the guest room and left early.” “You didn’t sleep in my bed?” “…No!” I gripped the phone, guilty as charged. “In your dreams! Who wants to sleep in your bed?” “…” Lucas went silent. Just then, a group of college guys walked past the store, bumping into my shoulder. I yelped. Lucas spoke up suddenly. “You’re with a guy?” I seized the opportunity. “Yeah! My boyfriend. We’re going on a date. What do you want?” Lucas’s voice went flat. “Nothing. Guess I was dreaming. Bye.” Dreaming? A… wet dream? Good. Let him think that. I knew he wouldn’t suspect anything. I have ten years of experience helping my dad cover up his affairs. I’m a pro at cleaning up messes. Just to be safe, after hanging up, I photoshopped a picture of myself with a faceless muscle guy and posted it on Instagram with three kissy face emojis. It worked like a charm. For the next month, silence. Lucas didn’t suspect a thing. He didn’t even contact me. Relieved, I threw a party to celebrate my freedom. But before I could even take a sip of champagne, I threw up everywhere. 3 Holding the test report, I was stunned. Pregnant. Is Lucas Chen a sniper or something? One shot, one kill? The doctor asked if I wanted to keep it. I just wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. But fate had other plans. Before I could even leave the clinic waiting area, my mom called. “Zoe! Your Aunt Karen just called. She saw you at the OB-GYN. Are you pregnant?” I felt a sudden urge to cry. “Mom… actually, I kind of want to keep—” She cut me off. “Get an abortion immediately!” “I’ve already found you a match. Come back, get married, and secure that land deal in the East District. We need to stabilize your father’s position…” I froze. It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. “Mom… you don’t even care how I am? Or who the father is? You just want me to abort it?” “Who cares who the father is? Your bastard half-brother is climbing the ranks in the company. That son of a mistress is trying to steal my inheritance!” “Is that all you care about? Am I just a tool for you to fight his mistress?” “Stop being dramatic! If you were a son, would I have to fight this hard? It’s my fault for having a useless daughter. I’ve treated you well, haven’t I? Just marry the man. How can you talk to your mother like this?!” “Just marry him? Mom, do you ever think about how I feel?” My hand shook as I gripped the phone. “Just like every time you needed money, you’d stage a ‘catch him in the act’ scene with Dad, pretending I was on his side so he’d pay me hush money!” “Mom, you might be willing to endure a twisted marriage, but I’m not!” Silence on the other end. Then, a cold voice. “I don’t care what you say. Zoe, you have one week. Get the abortion, come back, and get married. Or don’t call me Mom again, and don’t expect a single cent of the inheritance!” Click. She hung up. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed right there in the hallway. I dropped my phone and didn’t even care. Through my tears, I saw a pair of polished leather shoes stop in front of me. “Didn’t know the Princess cried so ugly.” A magnetic, mocking voice drifted down. I looked up. Lucas Chen. Narrowing his eyes at me. What the hell is he doing here?! Thinking of my ruined makeup, I wiped my face and turned away. “None of your business!” Lucas stood there, hand in his pocket, a smirk playing on his lips. “Where’s that muscle boyfriend you posted? Dumped you?” “Crying alone at the OB-GYN… people might get the wrong idea.” I jumped up. “Shut up! I’m not pregnant! I’m not here for that!” Just then, a nurse walked out. “Miss Zoe Zhuang? Are you scheduling the abortion? If not, we’re closing.” Me: “…” Lucas blinked, his smirk vanishing. His gaze sharpened. “Zoe, how far along are you?” He reached for the report I had left on the chair… 4 My heart stopped. I snatched the paper before he could touch it and hid it behind my back. If he sees the date, he’ll know. And he’ll force me to get an abortion. “Lucas! What are you doing? A woman’s uterus is… private! You can’t just look!” “Fine, I’m pregnant… 9 weeks! Happy? Want to laugh at me for being unwed and pregnant?” I glared at him, bluffing with all the acting skills I honed lying to my dad. Lucas stared at me for a long ten seconds. “9 weeks.” His expression darkened. The timeline didn’t match the night I took him home. He bought it. “Is it the muscle guy’s?” he asked abruptly. I looked down, guilty. “…Yeah.” “Does he know?” “…Why does he need to know?” I pretended not to care. “Call him,” Lucas said, his face void of emotion. “Tell him to get his ass here. Now.” “…” How do I summon a nonexistent person?! “He blocked me,” I lied through my teeth. “Blocked?” Lucas repeated the word, his voice dangerously low. “Zoe, usually you’re so loud and arrogant. Now you get dumped and bullied, and you just take it?” He sounded… angry? Wait, why is he mad? Even if we are enemies, mocking me right now is low. I bit my lip. “Who said I got dumped? I dumped him!” Lucas scoffed. “Oh? Then why are you crying?” “I… tears of joy! Okay?!” Lucas went quiet. I thought he’d leave after getting his laugh. Instead, he asked, “What are you going to do with the baby?” “I’m keeping it,” I blurted out. Talking to my mom earlier made me realize something. If I didn’t abort and marry for business, she really would abandon me. I was useless to her otherwise. Unloved children learn to be rational. This baby… might be the only family I’ll ever have. “Keeping it?” Lucas snorted, his tone stinging. “Zoe, you love that naked muscle guy that much? You’re keeping his kid after he blocked you?” “I didn’t know you were such a simp.” See? He just wants to mock me. Jerk! I didn’t want him to see me break, so I turned and walked away.

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I was born in a hospital toilet. My biological mother didn’t want me. She birthed me, flushed the toilet, and walked away without looking back. She thought I would be washed into the sewer and become a lump of rotting flesh. But I was lucky. My head got stuck in the opening. A nurse found me and pulled me out of the filth. The doctor said that although I survived, there might be sequelae in my brain, and the risk of cerebral palsy could not be ruled out. At that time, surveillance wasn’t perfect. After a week unclaimed, the hospital prepared to send me to an orphanage. But the moment the nurse handed me over, I, who had been quiet until then, cried my heart out. The nurse couldn’t bear it. She snatched me back. From then on, she became my mother. 1 Everyone said Sarah was a fool for adopting a child with brain damage, predicting endless hardship for her. But Mom would say, “What do you know? Holly is the best daughter.” She didn’t have maternity leave, so she had to bring me to work. To take care of me, she voluntarily applied for a transfer from the operating room to the general ward. Her salary was halved, and she had to work night shifts. The only benefit was that the neonatal ward had a supply of free formula. The nurses took turns getting some for me, and the head nurse turned a blind eye. But fate didn’t favor us. At six months, when normal babies can sit up, I couldn’t even roll over. Mom asked the pediatric specialist cautiously, “Holly is fine, right?” The specialist didn’t even look up as he ordered a brain CT scan. “Let’s do the scan first.” The radiologist frowned deeply upon seeing Mom. “Didn’t you tell him you work here? Why do a CT scan on such a small baby?” Mom bit her lip. She knew radiation could affect development, but the doctor had her cornered with one sentence. “If there is an abnormality in the brain, a day’s delay in diagnosis could lead to lifelong regret.” After the CT scan, the specialist studied it for a long time, adjusting his glasses. “The imaging results show no brain abnormalities.” Before Mom could sigh in relief, he continued, “But this is typical developmental delay.” “Without early intervention, it will affect her for life.” 2 Mom’s salary was barely $3,000 a month, and my rehabilitation fees alone were over $2,500. Even with rehab, the chance of me being like a normal child existed only in theory. Mom came out of the rehab center, her eyes red. Just then, I tilted my head in her arms and called out, “Ma… Mama…” Her eyes instantly lit up like morning stars. “I knew it!” “My Holly is the smartest!” She pressed her forehead against mine, secretly vowing, “I will cure you!” From that day on, Mom went to the rehab department after work to do odd jobs. She wanted two things: to reduce fees through labor and to learn the techniques secretly. The therapists didn’t understand why, but seeing she was a hospital employee, they turned a blind eye. But the Director of Rehabilitation, Dr. Zhao, was a principled woman. After kicking Mom out for the third time, Dr. Zhao warned her, “The hospital is for treating patients, not for pulling strings. If you come again, I’ll talk to your supervisor.” Mom slowly lowered her head, her hands clenched tight. The next day, she paid off all the arrears and didn’t enter the rehab room without permission again. During that time, she only ate two meals a day. “You spend all your money on her, what do you eat and use?” The nurses couldn’t stand it and shared their food with Mom. The head nurse quietly went to Dr. Zhao but was scolded back. Someone advised Mom, “Give up. She’s not your own flesh and blood. What if the rehab doesn’t work and she’s disabled? Are you going to support her for life?” Mom smiled. “Then I’ll support her for life.” The person didn’t persuade her anymore, only silently packing her child’s outgrown clothes for Mom. Neither of them noticed Dr. Zhao standing around the corner, listening to the entire conversation. 3 The next day, after rehab, Mom was about to leave with me. Dr. Zhao, passing by the door, suddenly stopped her. “We are short of a temporary logistics staff here. Not much work, paid, handle it after work. If you are willing…” “I am willing!” On the way back, Mom smiled. “Our Holly is a little lucky star. Even heaven is protecting you.” “My little baby will definitely get better.” From that day on, Mom went to the rehab room whenever she was free. Dr. Zhao, seeing this, deliberately lingered around her, teaching her hand by hand. Thanks to the rehab subsidy, our lives became much better. Mom finally didn’t have to rely on colleagues’ handouts to get enough to eat. In the rehab room, children cried inside, and parents cried outside. Only my mom was different; she could accompany me inside. Mom coaxed me, “Holly, let’s play a game here.” But the game wasn’t fun at all. It was painful and tiring, often leaving me sweating all over. I was young and didn’t know how to refuse. I just started trembling every time I saw the door of the rehab department. Whenever this happened, Mom’s eyes were bright, saying Holly wasn’t afraid, but her body trembled even more than mine. Finally, one day, Dr. Zhao told her, “You know everything for this stage. You can do it at home from now on.” Mom and I both breathed a sigh of relief. The corners of Dr. Zhao’s mouth turned up slightly. “I will regularly check the inpatient building.” Mom and I froze simultaneously. Dr. Zhao tucked her hair behind her ear, turned, and left, hiding her merit and fame. 4 Leaving the rehab environment, I wasn’t so resistant to “games.” At one year old, I stood up. Mom happily hugged and kissed me. At two years old, I learned my name—”Holly.” Mom picked me up and spun me around. “Everything will get better, it will get better.” But I saw Dr. Zhao behind her, looking at us with hidden worry. Three years old, kindergarten. Before going, Mom prepared small gifts for every teacher and greeted them. But I was advised to quit before I even finished a week. “She doesn’t understand instructions at all. Not only is her motor development lagging, but she also likes to hit people!” “How do you teach her at home? I think there’s something wrong with her brain!” The teacher’s sharp finger poked at my head. I almost subconsciously slapped it away. Slap! A red mark appeared on the teacher’s hand. She sneered, “Look! Look at this!” “Transfer her quickly, we can’t handle this.” Mom pulled me into her arms. I could clearly feel the rise and fall of her chest. “Apologize.” The teacher looked contemptuous. “In your dreams…” Mom looked up, her expression icy. “I recorded it.” “If you don’t apologize, I’ll play what you just said at the gate of your kindergarten.” “Let everyone evaluate your professional ethics.” The teacher’s face stiffened, but she still held her neck stiffly and didn’t speak. Mom continued, “I’ll post it on Facebook, send it to the class group chat, and let everyone admire it.” The teacher’s expression changed drastically, and she finally lowered her head. “So… sorry.” Mom took my hand, turned, and left. Back home, Mom asked me why I hit other kids. I said, “Because they all called me a little idiot.” Mom listened, was silent for a while, and told me firmly: “You are not wrong. They are wrong.” From that day on, I became an out-of-school child.

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