Author: Momo Chan

On the day his “depressed” step-sister threatened suicide for the ninety-ninth time, Liam abandoned me at the altar for the ninety-ninth time. “As a psychologist, I have a duty to my patients,” he said, adjusting his tie, not looking me in the eye. And just like that, the System declared my mission a failure. My punishment? Severe Major Depressive Disorder. The System stripped away my will to live, leaving only a hollow void. From that moment on, my only goal was to successfully kill myself so I could return to my original world. When Liam finally realized I was genuinely seeking death, he panicked. He used every trick in his psychiatric playbook. He tried to cure me. He tried to reignite a spark of love. He tried to forcibly tether me to this world. But he didn’t realize one thing. I didn’t want him anymore. 01 Just as Liam was about to slide the wedding ring onto my finger, his step-sister, Bella, called. Her voice was weak, trembling through the speaker. “Liam… my wrist is bleeding so much. My prince is gone, so I’m going to become the Little Mermaid and sleep at the bottom of the ocean forever…” “Will you think of me when you look at the sea, Liam?” Liam’s hand, which had been gripping mine, instantly went slack. His voice shook. “Bella, tell me where you are. I’ll watch the ocean with you, okay?” “Don’t do anything rash. I’m coming.” He hung up, his eyes darting to me with a practiced, apologetic look. “Bella is unstable again. I have to go find her immediately.” “Let’s postpone the wedding, okay?” “No!” I grabbed Liam’s sleeve, ignoring the whispers and gasps from the guests below. I was on the verge of losing control. “Are you the only shrink in New York? Why does she have to threaten suicide every single time we try to get married?” “This is the ninety-ninth time, Liam! Have you ever considered that maybe—just maybe—referring her to a different doctor would actually help?” Liam’s dark eyes turned sharp. His handsome face hardened into a line of displeasure. He looked at me coldl, as if I were the unreasonable one. Bella was his soft spot. Untouchable. Sacred. 02 I couldn’t help but think back to the first time I met Bella. She had stolen a handmade necklace Liam made for me. Before I could even get angry, Liam stepped in front of her like a knight in shining armor, explaining on her behalf. “Bella has developed kleptomania because of her depression. Please don’t blame her.” “I’ll make you an exact copy later. Since Bella likes this one, just let her have it.” I opened my mouth to argue that there are no two identical handmade items in the world. I wanted to ask: If Bella decides she likes you, do I have to hand you over to her, too? But I couldn’t say it. How could I, a mentally healthy person, hold a grudge against a depressed patient? While Liam went upstairs to get her antidepressants, Bella—who looked somewhat like me—smirked, her expression dripping with mockery. “You’re just a cheap knockoff of me. Liam only dates you because he can’t cross that moral line with me. He can’t bring himself to touch me.” “He only studied psychology for my sake. I will always be first in his heart. You’ll never win against me. Heehee.” She curved her eyes into a sweet smile, looking nothing like a severe depressive. Looking at Bella, I finally understood why Liam had fallen for me at first sight. Why he pursued me so relentlessly. I smiled politely, gently reminding her of the reality. “Of course. After all, you two are on the same family registry.” As long as they were legally siblings, and as long as Liam’s strict, old-money father was alive, he would never allow a scandal like theirs. When their father found love letters Bella wrote to Liam, his first move was to force Bella to legally change her last name to his. He wanted to cement their sibling status. Bella went on hunger strikes, took sleeping pills, and threatened to jump into the ocean. But the old man wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t until Liam introduced me to his father that the pressure on Bella eased. In wealthy families like the Peis, reputation is currency. Bella’s face darkened instantly. She suddenly lost control, grabbing a glass from the table and smashing it violently against the coffee table. Crash. Shards flew everywhere, slicing long, bloody gashes into her palm. I was startled and instinctively took a few steps back. Bella, however, seemed immune to the pain. She laughed maniacally. “Guess who Liam is going to blame for not taking care of me?” 03 Panic-stricken footsteps thundered down the stairs. Liam rushed down, knocking me to the ground in his haste. “Why weren’t you watching her?!” He scooped Bella into his arms, rushing her to the sofa to tend to her wounds. His eyes were ice-cold as he glared at me. “Don’t you know she has severe depression? She has suicidal tendencies!” My palms were embedded with glass shards from the floor, stinging sharply, but I didn’t dare make a sound. I was terrified of triggering Bella again. Bella wrapped her arms around Liam’s neck, burying her face in his chest. She sobbed in a baby voice, unable to hide the smugness in her tone. “Liam… it hurts so bad.” Liam sighed, looking down at her with pure heartbreak. He wiped her tears, held her injured hand, and gently blew on the wound. “I’ll blow on it, and the pain will fly away. Bella is a good girl.” In that moment, Liam didn’t even notice that I was bleeding onto the carpet, too. I kept comforting myself: Bella is sick. It’s only right he pays more attention to her. But later, I learned that Liam’s first choice would always be Bella. Bella threatened suicide ninety-nine times. And he abandoned me ninety-nine times. In desolate mountains, in blizzard winds, on busy highways, in the dead of night, at countless ruined wedding venues… Because of Bella’s “depression,” I never had the right to say “no.” This time, I didn’t want to compromise. No matter what Liam said, I gripped his sleeve, refusing to let go. Because last night, the System had given me a final warning. If Liam abandons you for Bella one more time, the mission is a failure. You will be erased. To relieve my psychological burden and make me fight for him, the System even whispered a secret to me: Bella is faking it. She will absolutely not kill herself. Liam looked anxious. “Bella is my sister. I can’t just ignore her.” “Besides, I’m a psychologist. I have to be responsible for my patients. We can have a wedding any day, but if something happens to Bella today, I’ll never forgive myself.” “I promise, next time, I’ll give you a perfect wedding.” I shook my head, my voice raspy. “Liam, if you leave now, there won’t be a next time.” Liam’s patience finally snapped. He pried my fingers off his sleeve, force by force. His brows furrowed, his tone dropping to absolute zero. “I will marry you, and I will save Bella. These two things aren’t mutually exclusive. Why are you being so difficult?” “This is a matter of life and death. Do you have to be so unreasonable right now?” The atmosphere froze. The guests’ mocking stares felt like needles. I opened my mouth to tell him Bella was faking it. That she wouldn’t die. But the words wouldn’t come out. The System said that revealing its intel counts as cheating. I opened my mouth again, wanting to tell him the truth about me. If you leave, I die. But before I could speak, Liam’s phone rang again. He answered it, speaking gently to Bella on the other end. Then, without hesitation, he left me. He didn’t look back. The next second, the System’s cold mechanical voice echoed in my head. [Host, mission failed.] [Punishment Mode Activated: Severe Depression.] [You may choose your method of exit. Once you die, you will be returned to your original world.] Return to my original world? Suddenly, that didn’t sound so bad. In my original world, I was sick, yes, but I had my mom who loved me. Here, aside from a healthy body, I had nothing. I thought for a moment and told the System: “Then let me truly fall into severe depression. Let me die by Liam’s hand.” If I have to die, I want Liam—the expert psychologist—to see what real severe depression looks like. Because it certainly doesn’t look like Bella. 04 After Liam left, the wedding descended into chaos. I didn’t force a smile to see off the mocking guests like I usually did. I just watched coldly as Liam’s stepmother (Bella’s mom) cried and accused Liam’s father. “Are you trying to kill Bella? You know how much she loves Liam!” “If anything happens to her, I won’t live either! Let’s see if your precious family reputation matters more than our lives!” Then, she glared at me and spat, “Shameless bitch!” She stormed off. As if I were the homewrecker in Liam and Bella’s twisted romance. Ironically, she was the mistress who climbed the ladder and drove Liam’s biological mother to suicide. Another secret the System told me that I couldn’t share. If only Liam knew his beloved step-sister was the daughter of the woman who destroyed his mother… I wondered what expression he’d make. Liam’s father sighed and came over to pat my hand. “You’ve been wronged. Bella’s illness will be cured one day. Just bear with it a little longer.” I pulled my hand back numbly. I didn’t nod. I didn’t react. Liam had said the same thing to me countless times. Just bear with it. Don’t argue with a sick person. I used to get angry, sad, desperate. But today, I didn’t care. The System said severe depression robs you of most normal emotions, strips away the will to live, leaving only endless pain and a determination to die. I asked the System, confused: “Bella’s depression is so different from mine. Why can’t Liam, a professional, see she’s faking?” The System was silent for a long time before saying: [How do you know he can’t see it?] My breath hitched. If Liam knew Bella was faking… Then he was just using “depression” as an excuse to spoil her without limits, using it to force me to back down, allowing Bella to cross line after line with him. Lies don’t hurt. The truth is the blade. My heart felt like it was being pricked by thousands of needles. I walked through the noisy crowd like a ghost and went home. I signed the organ donation forms. I swallowed a whole bottle of sleeping pills. I curled up under the covers, numbly waiting for the end. Death meant going home to Mom. People who really want to die do it quietly, alone. They don’t broadcast it to the world like Bella.

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After graduation, the entire senior class went a little wild. It was the season of confessions, the air thick with hormones and the scent of cheap cologne. But the main event—the one everyone was waiting for—was Shane, the school’s golden boy and quarterback, finally confessing to me, Nora, his childhood sweetheart. I stood by the back door of the classroom, my cheeks burning. Just as my fingertips were about to graze the powder-blue envelope in his hand, a man in a sharp, tailored suit barged in. He snatched the letter and ripped it to shreds. He claimed to be Shane from ten years in the future. Twenty-eight-year-old Shane. “Don’t tell Nora you love her. She isn’t the one,” the man said. He grabbed eighteen-year-old Shane by the arm and pointed toward a girl in the corner, wearing a faded, oversized hoodie. “See Sophie? In ten years, you’re going to love her with a passion that burns the world down. You’ll die for her. Since you’re destined to be with her, why waste the next ten years?” Teenage Shane looked at him like he was insane. He shoved the man away. “You’re crazy! I only love Nora!” But the confession was ruined. The older Shane stuck around, claiming he was there to help his younger self “see his heart clearly.” And gradually, I noticed Shane changing. When Sophie tripped in the hallway, Shane rushed her to the ER, forgetting that I had been waiting for him at the carnival for over an hour. At the team dinner, he instinctively remembered that Sophie hated peanuts, picking them out of the Kung Pao chicken—and putting them on my plate, forgetting that I was allergic. When it rained, his umbrella always hovered over Sophie’s head first, while I stood right next to him, getting soaked. These tiny shifts were like paper cuts on my heart, bleeding me dry one drop at a time. Then came the day we submitted our college applications. “Nora, I’m sorry,” Shane said, his eyes darting away, unable to meet mine. “I can’t go to Stanford with you. The new AI program at South State is a better fit for me.” My blood ran cold. I knew exactly why. South State was the only school Sophie’s mediocre grades could get her into. He grabbed my hand, using that pleading tone I used to find adorable. “Come to South State with me? That way we can still be together. I’ve always listened to you before, just let me have this one thing, okay? I’ll listen to you for the rest of my life after this.” His words felt like needles. I pulled my hand away silently and nodded. But the moment I turned around, I finalized my applications. I sent my acceptance letter to a top university in London. Shane, if your love isn’t exclusive, then I don’t want it at all. Chapter 2 The day my acceptance letter arrived, I felt an eerie calm. I pulled out the giant storage bin from my closet. It was filled with everything Shane had given me over the years. Childish crayon drawings, limited-edition sneakers, a necklace engraved with our initials, a thick stack of movie stubs, the study notes he’d stayed up all night to write for me… Once, these were my treasures. Now, I carried the box downstairs to the dumpster and threw it all in without hesitating. As I turned to leave, I saw two figures arguing nearby. Twenty-eight-year-old Shane, in his expensive suit, was gripping teenage Shane’s wrist. Young Shane, his white dress shirt billowing in the wind, looked furious. “Let go of me!” “Why are you looking for her?” The older Shane’s voice was strained. “You need to go be with Sophie! She’s the one you actually love!” “Bullshit!” The boy yanked his hand free, his face full of teenage defiance. “I only love Nora. Can you just disappear, you psycho?” “Really?” The older man sneered. “Then why did you give up Stanford and your future for Sophie?” The boy froze, his voice dropping. “Who said I did it for her?” I didn’t want to watch this absurd drama anymore. I turned to leave, but Shane saw me. He rushed over, grabbing my wrist, his voice instantly softening. “Nora! You said you wanted to see that new romance movie, right? I bought tickets. Let’s go, okay?” “No,” I said, my voice flat. Shane’s smile faltered, then he pleaded again. “Are you still mad about the college thing? You already agreed to go to South State with me. The program there really is good. Just this once, indulge me, please?” His eyes drooped slightly at the corners—his signature ‘puppy dog’ look. It used to work every time. Now, I just felt numb. Before I could answer, he half-dragged me into his new sports car. The older Shane followed, looking grim, and slid into the backseat. The atmosphere in the car was suffocating. Older Shane glanced around and spoke abruptly. “You just bought this, right? Change the air freshener. Sophie hates ‘Starry Night,’ she likes fruity scents. And the strawberry milk in the console—toss it. Sophie is lactose intolerant. Get soda crackers.” Teenage Shane’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “Are you done? I’m going to say this one last time. I only like Nora. I will never, ever like that Sophie girl!” Older Shane acted like he didn’t hear the outburst. “Is that so? Because later, you love her to the bone. You drink until your stomach bleeds for her. You wait outside her apartment all night. You even…” He listed every crazy, romantic thing the “future” Shane did for Sophie. I sat in the passenger seat, every word an ice pick to the chest. I looked out the window, the blurring streets matching the blur in my vision. At the theater, Shane bought a massive bucket of caramel popcorn—my favorite—and shoved it into my arms. During the movie, he leaned in to whisper jokes about the plot. The screen’s light reflected on his handsome profile. I watched him, feeling dazed. Memories flooded back. Three years old, dragging his pillow to my bed. Seven years old, fighting a bully for my hair clip. Twelve years old, skipping class to hold my hand when I had a fever. I couldn’t understand. How could this boy, who had carved me into his very existence, turn into the man in the backseat? How could he love a plain, manipulative girl like Sophie so desperately in ten years? But everything happening lately forced me to believe it. Suddenly, Shane’s phone buzzed violently. The name on the screen: Sophie. He glanced at it and hung up. It rang again. He hung up again. After the fifth time, Older Shane in the seat next to him grabbed his arm. “What’s the date?” “The 10th. Why?” Shane snapped. “Answer it! Answer it now!” The older man’s voice was frantic. “It’s today! Sophie gets cornered by a gang. To escape them, she jumps from the second floor and breaks her leg. She’s in the hospital for a month! Go!” Shane frowned. “What are you talking about? Even if something happened, it’s not my problem. We’re just classmates!” “If you don’t go, you will regret it! You will hate yourself forever!” Older Shane was practically growling. Teenage Shane scoffed. “If I leave Nora here alone right now, that is what I’ll regret!” He silenced his phone and flipped it face down on the armrest. Older Shane stared at him, his expression complex, before standing up. “Fine. You won’t go? I will!” He stormed out of the theater. The movie continued, but I could feel that the boy beside me was gone. He was jittery, tapping his fingers, his eyes constantly darting to the face-down phone that kept lighting up silently. Finally, after another buzz, he shot up. “Nora, I… I forgot to get you a Coke. Wait here, I’ll be right back!” He lied. He couldn’t even look me in the eye. He grabbed his phone and bolted out of the theater. I watched his retreating back, my heart sinking to the bottom of a frozen ocean. He wasn’t coming back. Minutes later, my phone buzzed. It was a video message from “28-Year-Old Shane.” Chapter 3 I clicked play. The video was shaky, filmed in a dim alleyway. In the frame, the boy I knew so well—my Shane—was red-eyed, fighting like a madman. He was beating a group of thugs with a brutality I’d never seen. Sophie was huddled in the corner, crying delicately. When Shane stopped, gasping for air, she threw herself at him, hugging his waist. “Shane, stop! I’m so scared…” Shane froze, panting, and looked back at her. His voice was a mix of fear and anger. “Are you stupid? Why didn’t you call the cops?” Sophie looked up, tears streaming. “I… I don’t trust anyone. I only trust you. I called you so many times, but you didn’t pick up. I was so scared…” Shane paused, looking at her total dependence on him. Finally, his voice softened. “Set me as your emergency contact. From now on… I won’t miss the call.” Set me as your emergency contact. That sentence was a poisoned dagger. Once upon a time, he had demanded that of me. When I accidentally dialed him in my sleep and didn’t answer, he took an eight-hour train ride just to check if I was alive. I thought that spot was mine forever. It wasn’t. The video ended. My heart throbbed with a dull ache. I stared numbly at the screen, unable to process the movie. The lights came up, the credits rolled, and the crowd began to shuffle out. Just as I reached the exit, a terrifying, grinding groan came from the ceiling. Then, screams. “The roof is collapsing! Run!” Boom! A massive crash, a violent tremor, and then darkness swallowed everything. I didn’t even have time to react before heavy concrete and debris buried me. Before I lost consciousness, a wave of bleak irony washed over me. Look, Nora. The Shane from the future remembered Sophie getting harassed by thugs. He forced his younger self to save her. But he conveniently forgot—or didn’t care—that on the same day, at the same time, you would be buried under a collapsing building. In ten years, he really, truly doesn’t love you anymore. I woke up in heavy darkness. “Here! We have a pulse! Hurry!” When I was pulled from the rubble, the sunlight blinded me. I felt myself being moved, heard the ambulance sirens wailing. When I woke again, it was to the smell of antiseptic. The anesthesia was wearing off. I was being wheeled out of surgery. The doctor was speaking. “Surgery was successful. Left leg fracture set, mild concussion, lacerations… just needs rest.” The gurney stopped abruptly. I struggled to open my eyes and met a pair of horrified, familiar eyes. Shane. He was walking out of a nearby room. Sophie was leaning weakly against him, a small bandage on her forehead. The older Shane was on her other side. When Shane saw me—wrapped in gauze, pale as a ghost, leg in a cast—the color drained from his face. He let go of Sophie instantly and rushed to my gurney. “Nora? What happened?” His voice was panicked. He reached out to touch me but pulled back, his hand trembling in the air. Older Shane steadied Sophie and looked at me with a flicker of surprise, which was quickly replaced by indifference. I was too tired. I closed my eyes. My doctor sighed and explained to Shane, “This young lady was pulled from the cinema collapse downtown. She was buried deep. Lost a lot of blood. If we’d found her any later…” Shane’s face went grey. He whipped his head around, glaring at his older self with lethal intensity. He turned back to the doctor. “I’m her boyfriend. I’ll take her to her room.” “She needs absolute quiet,” the doctor blocked him. “Wait before you visit.” As the nurse pushed me into the room and the door clicked shut, I heard the shouting match erupt outside. “You’re me from ten years in the future!” It was teenage Shane, voice shaking with rage. “You remembered Sophie getting harassed by some punks, but you didn’t say a word about Nora being crushed in a building collapse? She almost died!” “Why should I remember?” Older Shane’s voice was cold, impatient. “I only care about Sophie. Why would I remember the life or death of someone irrelevant?” “You bastard!” The sound of a fist hitting flesh, nurses screaming, Sophie crying… Inside the room, I lay still. Tears slid silently from the corners of my eyes, soaking the pillow. Someone irrelevant. Chapter 4 So, in ten years, that’s all I am to him. Two words. Irrelevant. Once, he remembered every trivial thing about me. He used to say, “Nora, I don’t want to forget a single thing about you.” When the commotion outside finally died down, the door opened. Shane walked in, radiating guilt and lingering anger. He sat by the bed, reaching for my hand—the one without the IV. I pulled it away. His hand froze. His eyes dimmed. “Nora, I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I really didn’t know… I just… I was afraid Sophie would actually get hurt. I didn’t want a classmate dying on my conscience. I lied about the Coke because I didn’t want you to worry… I never thought…” He apologized over and over. “It won’t happen again, Nora. I swear. Trust me.” I listened, my heart feeling like a block of ice cracking. I was leaving soon. Going to a place without him. His promises meant nothing now. So I pretended to sleep. For the next few days, Shane barely left my side. He peeled apples, poured water, and tried clumsily to make me laugh. But Older Shane haunted the hallway like a ghost. “Shane, think. Sophie is the one you love. She twisted her ankle, she’s alone. You shouldn’t waste time here. Nora has nurses. Sophie only has you.” Shane told him to get lost every time. “I only love Nora. Sophie needs care? Fine! I’ll hire three nurses. Now shut up!” But as evening approached, Shane would get restless. Eventually, he would look at me with conflicted eyes. “Nora… I’m still a little worried about Sophie’s situation. I’m just going to check on her, make sure she’s okay, and come right back. Wait for me.” He went. And he never came back that night. Late that night, my phone lit up. A message from Older Shane: Nora, face reality. The Shane of ten years from now belongs to Sophie. Let go. Save the eighteen-year-old me for her. I don’t want to miss a single minute with Sophie. Then, another video. In the video, Shane was sitting by Sophie’s bed, carefully peeling an orange, removing every single white string. “Shane,” Sophie’s voice was soft, “will Nora be mad that you’re taking care of me?” Shane paused, then spoke casually. “Nora is generous. She won’t be mad.” I watched the screen, my heart spasming. Yes. I was “generous.” Generous enough to leave. To let him have his destiny. The day I was discharged, Shane finally rushed in, looking exhausted. “Nora, sorry, things got complicated with Sophie. You look so thin. Come on, let’s go get some good food.” As we walked out, Older Shane appeared, supporting a fragile-looking Sophie. “You’re going to eat?” Older Shane raised an eyebrow. “Perfect. We’ll join. Sophie is hungry.” Shane frowned, but seeing Sophie’s timid glance, he didn’t refuse. At the restaurant, Shane rattled off a list of dishes—all my favorites. Older Shane knocked on the table. “Why are you ordering things Sophie hates?” “I don’t know what she likes,” Shane snapped. Older Shane sneered, grabbed the menu, and ordered several bland dishes. Then he shoved his phone in teenage Shane’s face. “Read this. This is what Sophie loves.” Sophie’s eyes widened. “How did you know?” Older Shane looked at her with undisguised adoration. “I told you. I am Shane from ten years in the future. And in the future, I love you more than anything.” “Enough!” Shane slammed his hand down, grabbing mine. “Nora! Don’t listen to him! I only love you!” Older Shane snapped. “What’s the use of being stubborn? You’re just infatuated with her now. Sophie is your soulmate! In the future, you drive across the state at midnight just to buy her a plushie because she can’t sleep! You wish you could take her pain when she’s sick! You will break Nora’s heart a thousand times for Sophie!” He opened the notes app on his phone again. “Look! Memorize it! Sophie’s likes and dislikes!” Shane looked at the list. Then he looked at the pale girl beside him. He went silent.

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Chapter 1 We were right on the cusp of college graduation when my boyfriend, Julian Thorne, suddenly dumped me. He handed me the keys to a Malibu beach house, a brand-new Bentley, and a cashier’s check for three million dollars. He called it a “thank you” for my companionship over the last four years. I was stunned. I just wanted to know why. His expression was cold, detached. “Vivian, in a family like mine, love and marriage are two different business transactions. I’m going back to handle a merger—a marriage merger. Do you understand?” My boyfriend was engaged. And the fiancée wasn’t me. When I rushed to the engagement venue, I saw Julian on the stage. He was wearing a bespoke tuxedo, onyx cufflinks glinting under the lights, looking every bit the handsome aristocrat. Standing opposite him was a woman who barely reached his chest. She was heavy-set, and her skin was slick with oil, covered in angry, ready-to-burst acne. My boyfriend was going to marry her? I thought back to last night. It felt like a different lifetime. Yesterday, I came back to the villa from my internship, and Julian had pressed me onto the bed. He leaned down, his voice raspy and desperate. “Babe, forget who we are tonight. Just let me love you.” It was intense. He loved me like it was the end of the world. But when I woke up, he was gone. His number was disconnected. His Instagram, his LinkedIn—all deleted. He had vanished from my world without a trace. Then, his lawyer showed up. The lawyer arrived exactly at noon. He said Julian had specifically instructed him not to come earlier, so as not to disturb my sleep. He handed me a file. It was a deed of gift. Julian had voluntarily transferred the house, the car, and the money to me as a parting gift for our four years together. So, he dumped me out of the blue, treated me like a kept woman, and tried to pay me off? The irony was, I didn’t need his money. When Julian and I first got together, I told him I was loaded. But he just smiled confidently and said, “No matter how rich you are, you’ll never have as much money as I do.” I didn’t bother arguing. I loved him. But why break up? Last night, he was so passionate, whispering that he loved me all night long. I forced myself to calm down. Using my family’s private channels, I found out everything in ten minutes. Then, I crashed the engagement party. I could tell Julian wasn’t happy. Was he being forced? “Kiss her!” someone from the crowd shouted. I watched the woman lunge for Julian’s hand. He instinctively recoiled, stepping back. The woman looked displeased. Her thick lips flapped as she spat, “Did you already forget what you promised me?” Julian’s face went pale, but he forced himself to take a step forward. He was definitely being threatened. I pushed through the crowd and screamed, “Julian! If you’re in trouble, tell me! Don’t do this to yourself!” Every eye in the ballroom turned to me. When Julian saw me, a flash of joy hit his cold eyes, instantly replaced by terrified frost. “Who is this bitch?” the woman on stage growled. She glared at me. “You call my fiancé ‘Julian’ pretty intimately, don’t you?” I was about to reveal my identity when Julian cut me off. He furrowed his brows, looking disgusted. “She’s just a simp. A gold digger I used to know. Kick her out, don’t bother with her.” A simp? A gold digger? I could feel the contempt in the room shifting toward me. Chapter 2 Yeah, nobody respects a gold digger. But I wasn’t one. Julian and I met at a club fair freshman year. I had just finished Muay Thai practice and was starving, so I stole some snacks from my roommate. My roommate roasted me and jokingly told me to call her “Mommy” as punishment. We were just messing around, so I actually did it. Julian stepped in to defend me. He lectured her, saying she shouldn’t bully people just because they were poor, and then lectured me about stealing food. He was always like that—a gentleman, obsessed with fairness. So, I played the part. I pretended to be poor and pitiful, clinging to him until we started dating. The whole school thought he was my “Sugar Daddy.” People called me a gold digger. I was afraid he’d lose face, so I told him my family was actually wealthy. He didn’t seem to care either way. We didn’t have a dramatic love story, just four years of honey-sweet stability. We barely ever fought. That’s why I couldn’t accept this sudden breakup. I walked toward the stage. Before I could speak, the woman blocked my path. She was so short I had to look down to make eye contact. “You have the nerve to come up here?” She jumped up, trying to slap me. I dodged easily, frowning. I looked at Julian. “You broke up with me to marry this?” “Shut your mouth!” Julian rushed forward and slapped me across the face. I dodged the woman, but I didn’t dodge Julian. He had been sick recently; I was afraid if I moved, he’d lose his balance and fall. He was marrying someone else, and I was still worrying about him. I was pathetic. I touched my stinging cheek, looking at him with pure sorrow. “You’re Julian’s college fling?” The woman walked over, sneering. “A money-grubbing slut daring to act tough in front of me? Do you know who I am? I’m Tiffany Gore. The Gore family owns this city!” I ignored Tiffany and kept my eyes on Julian. “Leaving without a word? That’s not fair to me.” “Fair?” Julian scoffed. “I gave you the villa, the Bentley, the cash. What more do you want?” “Stop making a scene, Vivian. We’re done.” He frowned deep. “You know people from families like mine… marriage is business. Thank you for the four years, but my wife can only be Tiffany Gore. Do you understand?” “I just want to know one thing. Do you love me?” I asked. I knew about arranged marriages. My parents had one, but they were lucky—childhood sweethearts who actually fell in love. As for me… I was supposed to have an arranged marriage, too. But my family’s status in the Capital was so high we didn’t actually need to merge with anyone to maintain power. “Love?” Julian laughed darkly. “Grow up, Vivian. I knew since I was a kid I’d be sold off in a marriage merger. I don’t believe in love.” “I dated you because you were pretty, poor, and easy to control.” He sneered. “Okay, you got your answer. Now get out.” So, everything I thought was love was just a delusion? Chapter 3 In Julian’s eyes, was I just a presentable, obedient canary? It was laughable. I nodded. If that was the case, fine. My heart hurt, but I knew when to fold. I came to salvage this. If it couldn’t be salvaged, I would let go. I looked at Julian and smiled bitterly. “Fine. I wish you happiness.” I turned to leave the stage. Julian clenched his fist and looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. But Tiffany blocked me again, grinning maliciously. “Since you’re here, stay and watch. Otherwise, you’re disrespecting me, disrespecting the Gore family, and disrespecting the whole city!” “That bold, huh?” I laughed. I’d heard talk like this before. The country is big, and not everyone knows my face. Occasionally, someone tries to flex on me. Usually, once I handle a few of them, the rest shut up. Tiffany didn’t catch the disdain in my voice. She clapped her hands. A dozen men in black suits emerged from the shadows, surrounding the stage. “Bitch, if I’m not happy today, you don’t walk out of this room,” Tiffany spat. Julian stepped forward, glaring at me. “Just get out of here! I don’t want to see you!” “Did I say you could speak?” Tiffany snapped at him. “Do you think I’m stupid? I see you trying to protect this slut.” Protecting me? I looked deeply at Julian. Beneath the cold exterior, his eyes were full of panic. Maybe what he said earlier was a lie. Julian shook his head. “I just don’t want ties to my past. Plus, having my ex here at our engagement? It makes us look bad. Think about your reputation, Tiffany.” His voice softened. “I’m thinking of you.” Tiffany’s face relaxed slightly, but she sneered, “I don’t care about reputation. In this town, I am the law.” She pointed at me. “Go sit down and watch!” I nodded, shot Julian a knowing half-smile, and walked off the stage. Immediately, four security guards surrounded me, escorting me to a corner table. They were terrified I’d bolt. From the stage, Tiffany yelled, “You watch closely. If I don’t say you can leave, you stay put.” “If you don’t let me leave now,” I said calmly, “when you want me to leave later, I might not go.” “Shut up!” Julian yelled. I smiled and stayed silent. If they wanted to play, we could play. Tiffany continued, “I heard you’re from the Capital? That’s cute. Later on, some real heavy hitters from the Capital are coming—real elite circle guys. I’ll introduce you. Help you see what the real world looks like.” “I’ll thank you in advance, then,” I chuckled. A group of young people walked over to my table. They looked arrogant, loud, and tacky. Definitely Tiffany’s entourage. “Little gold digger, do you have a death wish?” “You think Julian can protect you?” “Let’s be real, even if you didn’t crash this, Tiffany wouldn’t have let you go. She’d never let a woman who slept with her fiancé for four years live.” “I have a phone, want me to call the cops for you?” Chapter 4 They mocked me recklessly. I just looked down at my phone, ignoring them. But one thing was certain now: Julian was definitely protecting me. The ceremony ended quickly. Next came the reception—networking and drinking. Tiffany dragged Julian from table to table, toasting guests. Everyone fawned over her. I had done a quick background check on the Gore family. They were the richest in the city, sure, but they were “new money”—no class, no history. They gained power by leveraging a connection in the Capital to secure big contracts. But they had never broken into the true “Old Money” circle of the city. That meant everyone here was either a Gore family parasite or one of Julian’s family friends. Julian’s family, the Thornes, were Old Money, but they were in decline. This marriage was a transaction. The Gores wanted a ticket into high society—marrying a Thorne gave them that pedigree. The Thornes wanted cash to resurrect their business empire. I’d seen this dynamic a thousand times growing up. Mergers and acquisitions, using people as currency. Suddenly, a girl who looked about sixteen sat next to me. She was sweet, with a little baby fat on her cheeks, looking adorable. Her eyes looked just like Julian’s. “I’m Chloe Thorne. Your ex-man’s little sister.” “Don’t talk. Follow me. Now.” She looked cute, but her voice was icy. She grabbed my hand. I didn’t move. “Did your brother send you?” “What do you think?” Chloe frowned. “Hurry up, or you’re stuck here!” Several men in black suits stepped closer. Chloe sighed, let go of my hand, and slumped back into the chair. She knew it was too late. “You shouldn’t have come,” she whispered. “If it weren’t for you, my brother wouldn’t have been forced to marry that pig, Tiffany Gore!” Because of me? Before I could ask, a commotion erupted at the entrance. Tiffany and Julian rushed to the door, signaling everyone to stand. Seven or eight people walked in. Young men and women, dressed impeccably, carrying an air of effortless power. Especially the leader—a guy in his early twenties who walked like he owned the building. “Sebastian! You finally made it. The party felt dead without you,” Tiffany gushed, reaching out to shake his hand. Sebastian Vance didn’t shake her hand. He didn’t even look at her. He stared intently at Julian. “You’re Julian Thorne?” Julian paused, then nodded. Sebastian’s attitude softened slightly. He smiled. “She hid you too well. Otherwise, we would have met a long time ago.” Tiffany thought the “she” referred to her. She turned to the room. “Everyone, this is Sebastian Vance, the Prince of the Capital! The Vance family is the Gore family’s biggest backer!”

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My sister, Vanessa, fell for New York’s most notorious heir, Damian Ellison, at first sight. To create an opportunity, she was willing to do anything—even drug him at a gala. Not only did I not stop her, I was the one who delivered the tainted champagne to him. I even booked a luxury suite for them, a thoughtful touch. In my past life, when I saw her preparing the drug, I had tried to talk her out of it. The Ellison family’s influence stretched across both high society and the murky underworld; they weren’t people we could afford to cross. That night, Damian found another woman to quench the fire in his veins. The next day, he announced their engagement. Vanessa said nothing at the time, but on the drive home, she shoved me off a highway overpass. I died instantly, crushed to a pulp by a speeding semi-truck. Before I fell, she screamed at me, accusing me of ruining her one chance to marry into a dynasty. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the gala. This time, I was morbidly curious to see just how deep a grave she could dig for herself. 1 I watched as Damian Ellison drained the glass of champagne. From across the ballroom, a calculating glint flashed in my sister’s eyes. Two minutes later, the drug hit him. An unnatural flush crept up his neck and onto his chiseled face. His personal security team immediately materialized at his side, flanking him as they guided him upstairs. I gave Vanessa a subtle ‘OK’ sign and slipped the keycard into her hand. I was about to melt into the crowd and disappear, but she grabbed my arm, her fingers digging into my skin like claws. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re plotting,” she hissed, her voice low and menacing. “You’re not going anywhere until this is done!” “Stay by the door and keep watch. If any of Mr. Ellison’s men show up, you know what to say and what not to say.” She expected me to protest, to try and reason with her like I had before. But this time, I simply pried her fingers off my arm. I glanced at the bodyguards who had already clocked her presence from afar and offered a placid smile. “Of course, Vanessa. You’re my sister. Who else would I help?” I said sweetly. “Just don’t forget your dear little sister when you’re Mrs. Ellison.” In our last life, she was convinced I had sabotaged her shot at wealth and left me for dead. This time, I wouldn’t just stand by; I would give her a helping hand. Let’s see how spectacular the fallout would be. Vanessa didn’t overthink it. She just lifted her chin, smug. “Glad you know your place. Once I’m married into the Ellison family, I’ll find you a position as a driver or a secretary. It’ll be enough to keep you comfortable for life.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now get up there and keep your mouth shut. If anyone asks, you’re a hotel staff member waiting for Mr. Ellison’s orders. Dare to screw this up for me, and you know what will happen.” She shot me a venomous look, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me upstairs with her. The bodyguards stood like statues outside the suite. Vanessa used the excuse of delivering fresh water to get inside. A moment later, I heard the heavy thud of something—or someone—hitting the floor. I hid at the end of the long, opulent hallway, keeping a close watch on the room. It wasn’t long before the door opened again. Vanessa was unconscious, being dragged out. Five bodyguards, lecherous grins spreading across their faces, pulled her into the room next door. Seeing this, a wave of relief washed over me. I dusted off my hands, ready to leave. But in the next second, a blunt force struck the back of my head. My world went black. When I came to, my limbs were bound to the bedposts with silk ribbons. Hovering over me was the sweat-drenched face of Damian Ellison. My eyes widened, and I opened my mouth to scream. His lips crashed down on mine, silencing me. “Don’t think I didn’t know there was something wrong with that drink,” he growled against my mouth, his voice a low rumble. “You delivered it. You can deal with the consequences…” My screams were swallowed by breathless gasps. I fought against him, but the struggle drained every ounce of my strength. I have no idea what kind of drug Vanessa had gotten her hands on, but Damian was a man possessed, relentless until the first light of dawn broke through the windows. My body ached with a deep, throbbing pain. As soon as he fell into a deep sleep, I managed to untie the ribbons and scramble into my clothes. Damian Ellison had a reputation for being ruthless. I wasn’t an idiot like Vanessa; I wasn’t going to wait around for his revenge. After wiping away every trace of my presence in the room, I fled. On my way out, I glanced at the door to the room where they’d taken Vanessa. It was cracked open. The clothes of five different men were strewn across the floor. She was lying on the bed, dead to the world. I didn’t make a sound. I just turned and walked away. The moment I got home, Mom and Dad rushed to the door. When they saw I was alone, their faces fell. “Chloe, where’s your sister? Why are you back by yourself?” I remembered how, in my past life, this family had blamed me for ruining Vanessa’s chance, how they hadn’t even bothered to claim my body from the morgue. My expression hardened. “Maybe the dose was too strong,” I said flatly. “Mr. Ellison must still be busy.” My mother’s furious expression instantly blossomed into a wide, greedy smile. “I knew it! I knew Vanessa had what it takes! Not like some people, completely useless. Twenty years we’ve raised you, and you’re still just a money pit!” My father didn’t even look at me. He was already urging Mom to go brew some herbal tonic, convinced it would guarantee Vanessa would bear a son. I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I sank onto the sofa, exhausted. Just as the tonic began to simmer on the stove, the front door opened. It was Vanessa. She was walking with a pronounced limp, her neck covered in a constellation of angry purple bruises. She clearly had no idea who she’d really spent the night with. The moment she saw me, she launched into a tirade right in front of our parents, listing my supposed crimes. She accused me of abandoning my post as a lookout and of not even thinking to buy her a morning-after pill. That was all Mom needed to hear. Her hand cracked across my face. “I knew you were useless!” she shrieked. “You worthless thing! Why did I ever raise a daughter like you!” “Your sister finally gets a golden opportunity, and you don’t just refuse to help, you sneak back home alone! You wouldn’t know how to catch money if it fell from the sky! You’re destined to be a broke wage slave your whole life!” I cupped my stinging cheek, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “At least when I work, I earn my money honestly. I could never bring myself to sell my body like that.” My father flew into a rage. He grabbed the heavy glass ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it at my head. Blood instantly soaked the collar of my shirt. He didn’t even seem to notice, his voice booming with fury. “Work, work, that’s all you know! If we had to rely on your pathetic salary, your mother and I would be dead and buried before we ever saw a day of comfort!” “You’ve got no ambition, and you dare criticize your sister? Look at yourself! You’re completely useless!” “I should’ve just sold you off years ago! Would’ve saved me the damn headache!” “Marrying some broke guy for a few thousand bucks? What do you take me for, a charity?” I pressed a tissue to the gash on my forehead, but the bleeding wouldn’t stop. The last shred of hope I had for this family shattered. “I am your daughter!” I shot back, my voice trembling with rage. “Not a piece of pork on display at the butcher’s shop! If you’re so desperate to have your daughter sell herself, why don’t you just open a brothel?” “Every cent I earn is my own. What’s wrong with making a living on my own terms?” “If you despise me so much, why did you even have me?” A flicker of panic crossed both of their faces. Before they could erupt again, Vanessa spoke up, her voice dripping with triumph. “Just ignore her. Once I have this baby and marry into the Ellison family, she’ll come crawling back to me on her knees, begging.” With that, my parents forgot all about me. They crowded around Vanessa, eagerly asking for every detail of the previous night. Vanessa put on a shy, demure act. “You have no idea. Damian Ellison is nothing like the rumors say. He’s not cold at all. He kept me up all night… I’m still so sore.” “He was gone when I woke up, though. He just left a credit card on the nightstand.” “After all that? I’m definitely pregnant. The position of Mrs. Ellison is as good as mine!” My parents roared with laughter, already picturing themselves hobnobbing with New York’s elite. They had no concept of what the Ellison family truly represented, what power their name held. Trying to trap Damian Ellison? They’d be lucky to know how they died when the time came. My first priority was to cut ties with them, and fast. They were now treating Vanessa like a queen, praising her for being so ambitious and clever. They plied her with tonics and supplements, as if they could will a baby into existence right then and there. I took the opportunity to sneer at their blatant greed. As expected, they were instantly enraged. My father kicked me off the sofa. He stormed over to the desk, pulled out the family register, ripped my page out of it, and threw it at my face. “Get out! Get out right now! I have no daughter as pathetic as you!” My mother stared at me with pure disgust. Vanessa, rubbing her sore legs, smirked. “I was going to offer you a job as a secretary so you could have a taste of the good life. But since you love working so much, you can move out. Just don’t come crying to me when you get fired.” My mission was accomplished. I smiled as I picked my page up from the floor. “One day, you’ll understand that the Ellisons are not as simple as they seem.” “You dared to scheme against Damian Ellison. When the time comes, we’ll see who’s on their knees, begging.” I spent the night in a cheap hotel, buying antiseptic wipes and bandages from a pharmacy to clean the wound on my head. The next day at work, the office was buzzing with gossip. “Did you hear? Someone drugged Mr. Ellison last night! Slept with him and then vanished. He’s been tearing the city apart looking for her!” “Is this person insane? You don’t mess with Damian Ellison! The last person who tried something like that has been pushing up daisies for years!” “Doesn’t he have a marriage arrangement with the Caldwell family? Their daughter went missing years ago, but the engagement was never officially called off.” As they spoke, my boss, Leo Caldwell, appeared behind us. “Do you all have nothing better to do?” he asked, his voice cold as ice. “Is your work finished? Gossiping about Mr. Ellison… are you trying to get yourselves blacklisted?” My colleagues scattered like mice. Leo’s gaze fell on me, and he studied me for a long moment, a faint, unreadable smile playing on his lips. He and Damian had grown up together; their families were old allies, their bond unbreakable. Leo’s own ruthless efficiency in the business world was a clear reflection of the kind of man Damian was. Vanessa was doomed. Remembering what my coworkers had said, I went back to my desk and immediately typed up my resignation letter. I couldn’t fight him, but I could run. My boss approved my resignation without asking a single question. Terrified of being found by Damian, I rented a small, anonymous apartment and holed up for a week before daring to go outside. Vanessa did the opposite. She spent her days loitering around the Ellison Corporation headquarters, practically begging for Damian to recognize her as the woman from that night. But Damian’s security detail passed her countless times without giving her a second glance. Finally, Vanessa got desperate. She created a public social media account and started posting, each update vaguely alluding to the gala. After ten posts with no response, she took a picture of the black credit card he’d left and posted it online with the caption: “Found this. Does it belong to anyone?” This time, she got a bite. Damian Ellison himself replied to her post: “That’s mine. Could you please provide your contact information? I’d be grateful to retrieve it in person.” His comment detonated online. Screenshots went viral, hitting the top of every trending list. The internet interpreted the famously cold CEO’s rare moment of politeness as a spark of romance. Speculation ran wild that this “good Samaritan” who found his card was about to become the city’s newest Cinderella. Eagle-eyed netizens quickly tracked down Vanessa’s address from her other posts and connected her to the woman who drugged Damian that night. Before Damian could even show up, opportunists were already knocking on our parents’ door. A talent scout offered Vanessa a contract, praising her “pure and innocent” look and promising stardom. Businessmen hoping to curry favor with the Ellisons invited her to lavish dinners, begging her to put in a good word for them with Damian. The rumors swirled, with many placing bets that Damian would finally break his long-standing engagement with the Caldwell family. In a single day, Vanessa gained ten million followers and became an overnight internet celebrity. At the height of the frenzy, she coyly posted a message asking everyone to please stop spreading rumors, cementing her image as a demure and reluctant star. This only fueled the fire, and the gossip spread even more wildly. I couldn’t wait any longer. I rushed to City Hall and officially had my name and records removed from my family’s household. When I went back that evening to pack my things, my parents were practically floating on air. They were glued to their phones, cackling at the online comments, already seeing themselves as part of the Ellison dynasty. I said nothing and started to head to my room to pack. My mother let out a disdainful snort. “Can’t even recognize good fortune when it’s handed to you. Destined to be a poor workhorse for the rest of your life. What a waste.” My father sighed dramatically. “If you had just half of your sister’s drive, we’d be living next door to the Ellisons by now!” Vanessa emerged from her room, a thousand-dollar facial mask plastered to her face. She sauntered over to me, her voice dripping with condescension. “I bet you haven’t heard. Mr. Ellison already messaged me. He wants to meet.” “He must have figured out I was the one who helped him that night. He’s not even mad. He was probably interested in me all along!” “And I just took a test. Two pink lines.” “You can still start sucking up to me now, you know.” “You are my sister, after all. Once I’m married, I suppose I could find a spot for you as one of the maids. It wouldn’t be too difficult.” Hearing “two pink lines,” my heart stopped. I subconsciously placed a hand over my own stomach. “You’re the one who started all these rumors, aren’t you?” I said, my voice low. “Do you have any idea how ruthless the Ellison Corporation’s legal team is? You’re not helping Mom and Dad. You’re dragging the entire family down with you.” As if on cue, my mother saw it on her phone. The Ellison Corporation had issued a formal statement, clarifying that they would pursue legal action against anyone spreading malicious rumors. The comment sections that had been buzzing with excitement moments before were suddenly shut down. All of Vanessa’s posts were taken down by the platform, and her account was suspended. Panic finally flickered in her eyes. Still trying to play it cool, she opened her chat with Damian but hesitated, not knowing what to say. Just as our parents crowded around her, frantic, a new message from him came through. “I’m sending someone to pick you up. Be downstairs in five minutes.” The corner of Vanessa’s mouth, which had been drooping, curled back up into a triumphant smirk. She waved the phone in my face. “See? The Ellisons are a huge corporation, of course they have to be discreet. My husband is just eager to explain everything to me in person.” “With your timid, pathetic attitude, you’re not even worthy of polishing my shoes! Get out of my way!” She shoved me aside and swept into her bedroom to change. My parents immediately turned on me. “You don’t have your sister’s talent, yet you still try to bring her down! What good are you to us?” “If you’re going to leave, then leave now! Don’t stand here being an eyesore!” My mother was so excited she had tears in her eyes. “This gamble was the right move! We might be moving into a mansion tonight!” My father laughed, holding up the positive pregnancy test like a trophy. “I never would have dared to dream this big! The Ellisons! We’re going to be high society!” “Honey, quick, what do you think? Should I wear this suit to the wedding? I don’t want to embarrass our daughter.” “And what should we get the baby when he’s born? We can’t let our in-laws look down on us!” Watching their ecstatic performance, I silently went to my room and packed my suitcase. When I left the apartment, I trailed a short distance behind them. Downstairs, a crowd of neighbors had already gathered, surrounding them. Their voices were a chorus of envy. “Oh, you are so blessed to have a daughter like Vanessa! I saw the news online. If my daughter could marry into the Ellison family, I’d be smiling in my sleep!” “Look at you two, you’re glowing! You look ten years younger!” “If I’d known it was this easy, I would have had my daughter give it a shot. I always thought Mr. Ellison was untouchable, but I guess he’s just a man like any other.” A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, and I had to fight the urge to gag. My parents were beaming, promising everyone they would be invited to the wedding. In the midst of the chatter, the piercing wail of sirens cut through the air. Several police cars screeched to a halt beside the building. The lead officer stepped out, flashed his badge, and spoke in a calm, authoritative voice. “Excuse me, which one of you is Miss Vanessa Reeves? She’s a person of interest in an investigation involving the dissemination of false information and the illegal use of controlled substances. We’re going to need you to come with us.”

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I have the Midas touch. All I have to do is sit in an office, and deals start rolling in. The vice president treated me like a queen, terrified I’d jump ship. But then, the CEO’s childhood sweetheart parachuted into the company, taking the VP’s job. She stormed up to my desk, picked up her coffee, and dumped it over my head. “It’s working hours. Who gave you permission to nap? It’s because of corporate parasites like you that this company is failing!” “Your bonus for this month is gone. And I want a five-thousand-word self-criticism on my desk by tomorrow morning.” I stared at her, utterly bewildered. The whole situation was absurd. I was tired because I’d spent all night closing a ten-million-dollar deal. My manager had specifically told me to catch a nap during the day if I needed it. I hadn’t even been asleep for two minutes, and now I was being branded a parasite? Before I could even form a defense, she had already clicked away on her high heels. My manager, Mark, hurried over, his face etched with sympathy. “Aria, that’s the future Mrs. CEO. She has a thing against pretty girls. I’m afraid things are about to get rough for you.” So that was it. Well, that made things simple. I’d just leave. I had plenty of other companies trying to headhunt me. This one wouldn’t be a loss. 1. The moment I got home, I contacted the CEO of Hudson Corporation. They had previously offered me a seven-figure salary, but I’d turned them down out of loyalty to the vice president who had mentored me. Now that she was gone and this lunatic was in charge, it was time to get out. I sent a message and got an immediate reply. “Handle your transition. You start next month. I’ll add another fifty thousand to your original offer. I look forward to working with you.” My reputation as a business magnet wasn’t just talk. When I’d first joined this company, it was a second-rate firm that couldn’t land a major contract to save its life. After I arrived, not only did the deals start pouring in, but investors came knocking too. But on any day I took off, the company couldn’t close a single deal. The former VP, Ms. Miller, had even half-jokingly consulted a fortune teller who told her I had the Midas touch, better than any lucky charm. She did everything in her power to keep me, practically chaining me to my desk. Unfortunately, she couldn’t fight the powers that be. A parachute promotion pushed her out. I walked up to Stella’s office with my resignation letter in hand. She didn’t let me in right away. Instead, she sat there, primping in a compact mirror while video-chatting and giggling with her friends. I stood outside her door for a full thirty minutes before she finally deigned to speak. “Come in.” As I held out my letter, she looked me up and down with disdain. “Your name is Aria Lin, right? This is a place of business, not a brothel. Who are you trying to seduce, dressed like that?” “No wonder you have the most deals. So this is how you do it—with cheap tricks. Let me tell you something. My fiancé’s company doesn’t do dirty business.” In my twenty-plus years, I had never been spoken to like that. I couldn’t stop myself from retorting. “Ms. Xia, I’m wearing the standard company uniform. And I landed those deals with my own skills. If you continue to insult me, we can settle this in court.” Stella’s eyes widened in fury. She grabbed a teacup from her desk and threw its contents at me. Thankfully, I was ready for it and dodged sideways, avoiding the splash. 2. “You little tramp, you dare to dodge? Don’t think you can do whatever you want around here just because you have a pretty face. Landon and I are engaged. I am going to be Mrs. Lu, and there’s nothing you can do about it!” “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get on your knees and apologize right now. If you do, I might consider letting you stay. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you can never work in this city again!” She was screaming like a madwoman, her finger practically in my nose. I took a few steps back, disgusted, and tried to treat her ranting like a yapping dog. Just then, Mark, my manager, rushed in. He shot me a sympathetic look before turning to Stella respectfully. “Ms. Xia, Mr. Hayes is on the phone. He says he has a deal he’d like to discuss with Aria.” He leaned in and whispered, “Ms. Xia, there’s something special about Aria. She’s like a good luck charm. The company’s success has been riding on her since the day she got here. I know you don’t like her, but…” Stella rolled her eyes and cut him off. “Are you insane, Mark? What kind of superstitious nonsense is that? I refuse to believe this company can’t function without this little tramp!” She glared at me, her voice shrill. “So you’ve even seduced the manager. You really are shameless, aren’t you? You’ll jump into bed with anyone who can give you an advantage, is that it?” The sheer venom was baffling. I felt a throb in my temples. I told myself a million times not to argue with an idiot, but I couldn’t help it. “With all due respect, if you don’t have anything intelligent to say, you should probably keep your mouth shut. You start spouting filth the moment you wake up. Were you a sewer in a past life?” “All you talk about is seduction and vixens. Anyone would think I stole your husband.” “Then again,” I added, “if I looked like you, I’d probably feel insecure around beautiful people too.” Screw it. I was quitting anyway. Stella’s face contorted with rage. “So that’s it!” she spat. “No wonder Landon is always talking about you at home. You have been shamelessly throwing yourself at him!” Aha. So Landon was the one who threw me under the bus. Stella stared at me as if she wanted to tear a chunk out of my flesh. She turned to Mark. “From now on, all of Aria’s accounts are to be handed over to someone else. Her new job is cleaning the bathrooms. No pay until they’re spotless!” Mark looked horrified. Who makes their top salesperson clean toilets? It was financial suicide. “Ms. Xia, Aria’s clients are all long-term partners. If we suddenly switch their contact, I’m worried they’ll…” Stella cut him off impatiently. “They’re long-term clients, so they won’t mind a new contact person. Just do as I say.” She shot me a triumphant look, her eyes falling on the letter in my hand. A smirk played on her lips. “Is that the self-criticism I asked for? I don’t feel like reading it today. Go back and write twenty thousand words. By hand. I’ll be checking it personally.” This woman was certifiable. I was done. I placed the resignation letter on her desk. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t have time for that nonsense. I quit. This is my resignation.” 3. Mark looked like he was about to have a heart attack. “Aria, you can’t!” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “You’ve been with us for years, working so hard. You haven’t even gotten your year-end bonus yet! Don’t be impulsive!” Stella tsked, picking up the letter with two fingers. She glanced at it and scoffed. “Quitting? What kind of act is this? Who else besides Lu Corp is going to pay you a million-dollar salary? I think we’ve spoiled you, made you think you can threaten me with leaving.” For a top sales rep of my caliber, other companies were starting their offers at one and a half million. If it wasn’t for my history with Lu Corp, I would have been gone long ago. I didn’t bother arguing. “I will ensure a smooth handover of my work. My last day will be the first of next month.” Stella’s look was pure mockery. “Fine. I’d love to see who’d want a piece of trash like you who only knows how to sleep her way to the top.” Mark looked like he was about to cry. The company’s golden goose was leaving. The company was doomed. He decided then and there to start looking for a new job. I walked out. As soon as I got back to my desk, a colleague leaned over. “Aria, are you okay? I heard Ms. Xia yelling. She sounded vicious.” I shook my head. “It’s fine. Let her do what she wants. I’m leaving next month anyway.” A collective gasp went through the office. “You’re quitting? Oh god, we’re all finished!” “Is Ms. Xia crazy? She’s kicking out her own money-maker!” “Alright everyone, you heard her. Time to polish up those résumés. Let’s get out of here while we still can.” The sounds of despair from the office reached Stella’s ears. Her face flushed with anger, she stormed out. “Who said you could gossip on company time? I’m docking everyone’s pay by a thousand dollars! If I hear it again, I’ll double it!” Her eyes landed on me, and she gritted her teeth. “Aria Lin, get your ass over to Mr. Hayes and sign that contract. If you fail, you can forget about your commission for this month.” She was clearly panicking. Mr. Hayes must have rejected her proposal to switch contacts and insisted on me. This month, I’d closed seven major deals. The commission alone was over three hundred thousand dollars. I’d just bought a new penthouse and my savings were a little thin. With that in mind, I grabbed my bag and headed for the restaurant. Mr. Hayes beamed when he saw me. “Ms. Lin, you’re finally here! I have to tell you, the day after our last meeting, my company’s stock jumped several points.” “It’s a shame you’re always so busy. It’s impossible to get a meeting with you.” He pulled a box from his pocket and handed it to me. Inside was an exquisite Imperial Green jade bracelet. Other clients gave me gifts, but this was on another level. It was far too valuable. I tried to refuse, but he feigned anger. “Ms. Lin, are you trying to disrespect me?” Put like that, it would have been rude to decline. I accepted the bracelet and we signed the contract. Back at the office, I went to the finance department to file my expense report for the meal. The accountant was about to process it when Stella, like a bad omen, burst in. She snatched the receipt and her brow furrowed. “What kind of meal costs over three thousand dollars? Did you conspire with the restaurant to skim money from the company?” Was she serious? It was a multi-million-dollar deal. Was I supposed to take the client to a street food stall instead of a five-star hotel? Before I could respond, the accountant explained, “Ms. Xia, Mr. Lu’s policy is that any deal over half a million dollars can be celebrated at a five-star restaurant. Aria hasn’t broken any rules.” Being contradicted sent Stella into a rage. “Who are you to question me? I see this little tramp has bought you off too!” The accountant stared, aghast. “Ms. Xia, how can you say that?” Stella sneered. “Accuse you? You’re not even worth the effort. You’re fired. Pack your things and get out. Now.”

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1 The night before my sister was set to marry into the prestigious Ashton family, she finally spoke her mind. “Lindsay,” she began, her voice soft as ever, “I don’t think you should be my maid of honor tomorrow.” I was in the middle of fastening a bracelet I’d strung myself onto her wrist, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. Her voice was a familiar, fragile whisper. “I know you’re my only sister, but… the vitiligo on your face…” She let the words hang in the air. “People will talk. I don’t want Liam to think I’m like a flawed gem.” She finally dropped the act. “Frankly, having you stand next to me is embarrassing.” My hands froze. I never imagined she could think of me that way. Our mother draped a cashmere shawl over her shoulders, her silence a clear endorsement of Rachel’s words. “You’ve been good to me, Lindsay. You’ve always given me everything since we were kids,” Rachel continued, as if that made it better. “But tomorrow is the most important day of my life.” “Liam’s family is so prominent. I can’t have his friends mocking him… saying my family isn’t presentable.” … My gaze fell to the bracelet in my hand, a string of one hundred and eight lustrous pearls. I had chosen, polished, and threaded each one myself. It was supposed to be a part of her dowry, a gift from my heart. Now, it seemed, it was just another imperfection. Slowly, I unclasped the bracelet from her wrist and placed it back into its velvet box. “Alright,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. Rachel let out a visible sigh of relief. “Oh, Lindsay, you’re the best. I knew you’d understand.” Mom stroked Rachel’s long, silky hair, her eyes brimming with pride. “That’s enough standing around. Go get some rest. You need to be the most beautiful bride tomorrow.” I quietly gathered the accessories I had prepared for the bridal party, packing each piece away. I should have been used to it by now. It all started when I was thirteen. That summer, after a severe illness, a coin-sized white patch appeared on my left cheek. At first, my parents were frantic, taking me to every specialist they could find. But six months later, my eleven-year-old sister, Rachel, noticed a similar patch on her back while bathing. The atmosphere in our home turned heavy overnight. The doctors called it an autoimmune disorder. The treatment would be long, expensive, and offered no guarantee of a cure. I was thirsty late one night and overheard my parents arguing in their room. “Treat them both?” my father’s voice was strained. “The business is barely off the ground. Where are we going to find that kind of money?” My mother’s reply was a low, chilling whisper. “Then we choose one.” “Rachel is still so young. Her life is just beginning.” “Besides,” she added, “hers is on her back. It’s hidden. The chances of a full recovery are much higher.” “And Lindsay?” my father asked. “Lindsay… she’s the older sister. She’s sensible. She should let her sister have this.” Her voice dropped even lower. “And honestly, hers is on her face. The damage is done. Why throw good money after bad?” The glass of water slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. I didn’t cry. I just cleaned up the shards, went back to my room, and pulled the covers over my head. From that day on, I was the sensible older sister. Every resource, every ounce of attention, was funneled toward Rachel. All I ever got was the same tired refrain: “You’re the older sister. You have to look out for Rachel.” As I was ignored, the patch on my face grew from the size of a coin to cover nearly half my cheek, like a permanent flaw carved into porcelain. Snapping back to the present, I put the last piece of jewelry away. “Mom, I’m heading out.” She finally glanced at me, a slight frown on her face. “Be here early tomorrow to help. Even if you’re not the maid of honor, there’s still a mountain of things to do.” “I know.” I walked out of my sister’s room. In the living room, my father was laughing with his future son-in-law, Liam Ashton. When Liam saw me, his smile faded slightly. He gave a curt nod, a silent acknowledgment. His eyes flickered to the patch on my face for less than half a second before darting away. We had grown up together, inseparable childhood friends. Before he left for college abroad, he’d held my hand and promised, “Lindsay, wait for me.” But when he returned, he found a me with a scarred face, and a brilliant, beautiful sister by my side. He was disappointed. And I never explained that the groundbreaking proposals at the company, the ones that made Rachel shine, had all originated on my desk. Because, as my mother always said, the older sister has to support the younger one. I stepped out into the night. The wind was cool against my skin. I looked up at the moon. It was bright, round, and perfectly whole. 2 I arrived the next day before dawn. Even stripped of my title, my duties were endless. From the final check of the floral arrangements to confirming the details of the banquet menu, to running through the guest reception protocol one last time, I was a spinning top wound tight, never stopping for a moment. My mother was pleased with my compliance. She pulled me into the dressing room, directing the makeup artist on Rachel’s final touches. “Our Rachel is a natural beauty. Look at that skin. A little makeup and she looks like an angel.” She turned to me, a tight smile on her lips. “Lindsay, you should have the artist put some concealer on you, too. There will be a lot of guests today. Don’t let it be too obvious.” The patch on my face was too large. No amount of concealer could hide it; it only made my skin tone look uneven and more jarring. I’d tried once and given up. “It’s fine, Mom. I have to be backstage. There’s no time.” I could feel the pity in the eyes of the makeup artist and the other bridesmaids. I pretended not to notice. When the ceremony began, I stood in the darkest corner of the ballroom, a walkie-talkie in my hand, ready for any emergency. Rachel, wearing the gown I had picked for her, walked down the aisle on our father’s arm, toward Liam waiting at the center of the stage. She was breathtaking, a true princess. When my father placed Rachel’s hand in Liam’s, his eyes were red. He choked back a sob. “Liam, I’m entrusting you with our family’s most precious treasure. You have to take care of her.” The hall erupted in applause. I felt like a complete outsider. Every detail of this wedding had consumed the last six months of my life. Even the down payment on the red sports car Rachel received as a wedding gift came from my savings. My parents had told me the family’s finances were tight after years of paying for Rachel’s treatments. They couldn’t look cheap in front of the Ashtons. You’re the older sister, they’d said. It’s your duty to help out. But in this moment, no one remembered me. The officiant’s voice boomed from the stage. “Our beautiful bride, Rachel, is not only stunning but also one of Mr. Ashton’s most capable executives! She has single-handedly spearheaded several of the company’s most critical projects. A true talent!” I looked down, a bitter taste in my mouth. Those projects, those sleepless nights… they had all become jewels in her crown. During the reception, they moved from table to table. When they reached Liam’s friends, one of them let out a low whistle. “Hey, Liam,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “your new sister-in-law is… something else.” His eyes landed squarely on my face. A hush fell over the room. Rachel’s face went pale, her hand tightening on Liam’s arm. My mother quickly jumped in, forcing a laugh. “Oh, she’s always been a tomboy, all work and no play. The workhorse of our family.” Liam raised his glass, his gaze sweeping over me with a cool indifference. “Don’t be an ass. This is Lindsay, my wife’s sister.” I picked up my own glass, drained it in one go, and offered a thin smile. “Enjoy yourselves. I’m going to check on the kitchen.” As I walked away, I heard the whispers behind me. “Such a shame. I heard Liam and the older sister were childhood sweethearts…” “Yeah, but who would marry that? It’s humiliating to even be seen with her.” “The younger one is gorgeous and capable. She and Liam are a perfect match.” I slipped into the empty backstage area, finally able to breathe. My phone screen lit up with an old photo of Liam and me from high school. In it, the patch on my face was still small enough to be covered by makeup, and I was smiling, fearless. Liam’s eyes in the picture were full of me. “Lindsay, you… you weren’t like this before.” That’s what he’d said when he came back, after seeing my face and meeting my “talented” sister. He was right. I wasn’t. The bright, defiant girl I used to be had been murdered long ago by my parents’ mantra: You’re the older sister, you have to give way. I deleted the photo, erasing a memory that had already rotted away. 3 Rachel and Liam spent two weeks honeymooning on a private island. For those two weeks, the office was blissfully quiet. I poured all my energy into my new project: the ‘Aura’ smart home system. The day Rachel returned, she walked straight into my office. “Ugh, the honeymoon was so exhausting,” she complained, though her tone was dripping with pride. “Liam insisted on dragging me everywhere.” I nodded. “You should get some rest.” “Rest? No time for that.” She sat down across from me and picked up my project proposal. “Liam says the Aura project is critical. It’s the company’s core strategy for the second half of the year. There can’t be any mistakes.” A cold dread washed over me. “And?” I asked. Rachel looked up, flashing an innocent smile. “And so, Liam has decided that I will be taking the lead.” “Lindsay, you have so much experience. You can be my second-in-command, help me steer the ship. Okay?” My fingers clenched into a fist, my nails digging into my palm. On what grounds? The words burned in my throat, but I couldn’t force them out. I looked at her, and her eyes held the same entitled glint as they did when she was ten, snatching the only imported doll I’d ever owned from my hands. Back then, my mother had said the same thing: Rachel wants it. You’re the older sister, just let her have it. “Is this a company decision, or Liam’s decision?” I asked numbly. “Is there a difference?” Rachel laughed, clutching the proposal to her chest. “Don’t worry, sis. When the project succeeds, I won’t forget your contribution. We’re family. What’s yours is mine. Why draw lines?” She swept out of the room, leaving me alone in the suffocating chill. That evening, I went home. My parents were on the couch watching TV. “Did you eat?” my mother asked without looking up. I cut straight to the point. “The company gave Rachel the lead on the Aura project.” My mother paused, then a wide smile spread across her face. “Really? That’s wonderful! Our Rachel is so capable. Such a huge responsibility right after getting married. Liam really knows how to pick them.” My father nodded in agreement. “Rachel has the drive, and with her big sister helping her out, the project is sure to be a success.” My heart sank into a black abyss. “I was the one who developed that project. From start to finish.” “I know,” my mother said, her tone infuriatingly matter-of-fact. “But you’re her sister. Isn’t it your job to support her? She’s the boss’s wife now. If she’s secure, your life at the company will be easier too. Why can’t you see the big picture?” “The big picture?” I laughed, a hollow sound. “Is my ‘big picture’ just handing over everything I’ve ever worked for to her?” “Lindsay!” my father’s voice was sharp, his face darkening. “Is that any way to speak to your mother? After all the sacrifices this family has made for your sister over the years, you can’t handle a little setback to help pave her way?” He stood up, his voice rising. “Has that disease on your face twisted your personality, too? Made you this bitter and jealous?” I stared at the two people I called my parents, and they felt like complete strangers. They couldn’t see my hard work, couldn’t see my pain. All they saw was my flaw, and Rachel’s perfection. I took a deep, shaky breath, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Fine. I get it.” I turned to leave. “Where are you going?” my mother called after me. “Work.” I didn’t look back. I couldn’t let them see the tears in my eyes. I stayed at the office all night. I compiled every core file, every piece of research for the project, and I bundled it all into an email to Rachel. At the very end, I wrote a single line: This is the last time I will ever step aside for you. 4 For the next month, I was Rachel’s subordinate. I watched as Liam’s eyes filled with admiration and love every time he looked at her. Occasionally, his gaze would pass over me, and the disappointment seemed to deepen. Then one day, my father called, his voice frantic. “Lindsay, get to the hospital, now! Your mother… she collapsed!” By the time I arrived, my mother was already in the emergency room. My father was pacing outside, his face ashen, while Rachel sobbed in Liam’s arms. A doctor emerged, his expression grim. “She’s in acute liver failure. She needs a transplant immediately.” “A transplant?” My father’s voice trembled. “But… a donor?” “We’ve registered her on the national network, but there’s no telling how long the wait will be,” the doctor explained. “The best option is a live donation from a relative. Her blood type is B-negative, RH-negative. It’s extremely rare. Are any of you a match?” We all looked at each other. Dad was Type A. Liam was Type O. Rachel and I were sent for blood tests. Every second in that waiting room felt like an eternity. Rachel clutched my hand, her palm icy and shaking. “Lindsay, I’m so scared…” I squeezed her hand back, patting it gently. An hour later, a nurse returned with the results. “Who is Lindsay?” “I am,” I said, standing up. “Your blood type is a perfect match with the patient’s. After a preliminary evaluation, you are a viable donor.” Every eye in the room fixed on me. Rachel’s hand slipped from mine as she let out a long, shuddering breath of relief. The nurse then turned to her, her tone clinical. “Miss Rachel, your blood type is B-positive. You are not a match.” Rachel froze. We all knew Mom had what they called ‘golden blood,’ the rarest type. We’d always assumed at least one of us had inherited it. No one ever imagined the lucky one would be me—the flawed, forgotten daughter. My mother was moved to the ICU. The surgery was scheduled for the next morning. I went in to see her beforehand. She was a frail figure in the hospital bed, hooked up to a web of tubes. When she saw me, her clouded eyes brightened, and she weakly reached out her hand. I walked over and took it. She opened her mouth, her voice a faint rasp. I leaned in close, my ear next to her lips. “Rachel, my sweet girl… I knew… I knew you would save me…” She called me by my sister’s name as she squeezed my hand. In that instant, I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins. At death’s door, the only person in her heart was her perfect, flawless daughter. I wasn’t even worthy of being named. Slowly, deliberately, I pried her fingers from my hand. I looked at her, my face a blank mask. When I stepped out of the room, my father and Liam rushed toward me. “Lindsay, how is she?” Seeing the same desperate hope on their faces, I almost laughed. “The surgery can happen,” I said, my voice clear and cold. “But I have a condition.”

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1 The day my wife, Evelyn, discovered I had a Rebirth System, she started killing me. Over and over, all for him—her long-lost love. The first time, it was a carbon monoxide leak while I slept. The second, a hit-and-run she arranged. Every death was different, but one thing never changed: we both looped back to the beginning, to the same starting point. When I confronted her, my heart shattering with each word, her explanation was a chillingly simple blade to the gut. “Leo isn’t like you, Ethan. You have endless chances to come back. He only gets to live to twenty-two.” And so, every time, in the very moment Leo’s last breath rattled in his chest, she would end my life to reset the clock. I tried to run, to escape her, but I wasn’t from this world. No matter how far I fled, Evelyn always found me. But after my one-hundredth death, something new happened. I unlocked an achievement. “Host, you only need to die one more time to return to your original world.” Evelyn was already plotting the next reset, completely unaware that for us, there would be no ‘next time.’ … My eyes snapped open. I was back in the house I shared with Evelyn. There was no joy, only a hollow numbness as I stared at the enormous wedding photo hanging on the wall. In it, we were cheek to cheek, the very picture of devotion. Back then, the city’s elite all whispered the same story: Evelyn Hale, the heiress to a fortune, was madly in love with me. She had to be. Her grand gestures were the stuff of legends. She’d bought out every luxury car dealership in the city to serve as my personal garage and sunk a billion dollars into my fledgling startup just to see if it would float. I believed she loved me, too. Wholeheartedly. But everything changed the day Leo returned to the country. Just then, the front door flew open. Evelyn’s eyes scanned the living room before locking onto me. She strode forward, collapsing into my arms. “Ethan, you’re still here. Thank God.” Her arms tightened around me, a crushing force, as if trying to merge our bodies into one. Anyone else would have thought it was an embrace of relief, of affection. But I knew the truth. She was terrified of losing her chance to complete her list of “a hundred little things” with Leo. Just as quickly, she pulled back, her hand gently tracing the brow bone above my eye. Her touch was a phantom of the last death. She’d dosed me with something powerfully addictive and locked me in the bedroom. The withdrawal was agony, and my only relief was smashing my head against the wall, again and again, until my skull fractured and my brain gave out. Of all the ways I had died, that was the most brutal, the most torturous. “Ethan, can you just wait a little longer? Please?” she pleaded, her voice soft. “There are only a few things left on the list. Once I finish them with Leo, I promise, it will just be you and me. We can have a good life together.” This was the promise I had once yearned for. Now, her words were just ashes in my mouth. I subtly eased away from her touch. “The housekeeper made dinner. Are you staying tonight?” I asked, my voice flat. I already knew the answer. It was a token question. Evelyn seemed to sense my new distance. She knelt, taking my hands in hers, her eyes wide with a performer’s sincerity. “Ethan, was it too painful last time? I’m so sorry.” “Don’t worry,” she promised, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “This time, I’ll make it quick. I won’t let you suffer for long.” A bitter, silent laugh echoed in my soul. Did she even see me as a person anymore? Or was I just a machine, a reset button for her tragic love story? Seeing my lack of response, she opened her mouth to say more, but the shrill ring of her phone cut her off. It was Leo. She shot me an apologetic glance before stepping away to take the call. It was always the same. Any moment we had alone was inevitably shattered by him. I was used to it. Even from across the room, I could hear Leo’s choked sobs through the phone. Evelyn’s face melted with concern, her voice a low, soothing murmur as she comforted him. After hanging up, she turned to me. “I can’t stay for dinner. Something’s come up with Leo. I have to go to him right now.” I knew it was coming, but my heart still gave a painful lurch. I gave a curt, noncommittal nod. “I understand.” She grabbed her cashmere coat from the sofa and headed for the door, then paused, as if just remembering I was there. She glanced back. “You just wait for me at home, okay?” Then she was gone, her departure as swift and final as all the other times she’d left me behind. But this time, a genuine smile touched my lips. This time, I was the one leaving her. It wasn’t long after Evelyn left that I began to plan my own exit. I wandered aimlessly into the kitchen, my eyes landing on the long, gleaming blade of a chef’s knife. It was a custom piece, commissioned by Evelyn from a master craftsman, all so her sashimi would have the perfect, clean cut. It had also been the instrument of my tenth death. She’d been clumsy then, new to the act of killing. Each cut had been a slow, agonizing torment that lasted for what felt like an eternity. My gaze drifted to the deep, stainless-steel sink. She’d held my head under the water in that sink once, the life bubbling out of me in a desperate, silent scream. I’d experienced a grim variety of endings—I’d even been thrown from a skyscraper. To avoid a public spectacle, I decided on the cleanest, quickest method I could think of: a handful of pills with a bottle of vintage red. I’d just pulled the wine from the rack when my phone began to buzz with messages from mutual friends. “What the hell is going on with Evelyn? She’s all over the gossip sites with Leo.” “I thought you two were inseparable. Is something wrong?” Mixed in with the concerned texts were the sneering ones, telling me my dream of marrying into wealth was over and it was time to wake up. I clicked the link one of them sent. News alerts exploded on my screen. The internet was flooded with paparazzi photos of Evelyn and Leo. Holding hands under a sky full of fireworks. A passionate kiss in public. I knew what it was. Number ninety-eight on their list: flaunt their love for the world to see. It didn’t matter how reckless they were. One reset, and the world’s memory would be wiped clean. Just then, a new text came in. It was from Leo. “Ethan Foster, I’m never giving Evelyn back to you.” It wasn’t the first time he’d sent a message like this. After a hundred loops, I had the words memorized. I could even picture the smug look on his face, could anticipate what was coming next. Sure enough, three seconds later, an image appeared. It was their list. “A Hundred Little Things.” Scanning down, I saw that items one through ninety-eight were crossed out in bold red ink. Number ninety-nine was ‘Experience every position,’ and number one hundred was ‘Have a child together.’ This was the first time I had ever seen the actual list. I stared at it, a brief shock giving way to a profound, chilling calm. In an earlier loop, after discovering the truth, I had begged her to show it to me. She’d refused, her eyes evasive, insisting they were just “silly, unimportant things.” Unimportant things. Every single one was an intimate act meant for lovers, for a husband and wife. A dry, humorless sound escaped my lips. I didn’t reply. Leo’s body wouldn’t last long enough to see a child born, and besides, none of it mattered anymore. Soon, I would be free. With a newfound sense of purpose, I uncorked the wine and washed down half a bottle of pills. The effects were swift. My vision blurred. The room began to spin. My breath hitched, each gasp a desperate struggle for air. I collapsed to the floor, my consciousness fraying, drifting away like smoke. Through the haze, I heard frantic footsteps. The sound of the door crashing open. “Ethan!” A strong grip hauled me up, my body feeling as weightless as a kite in the wind. Evelyn’s fingers dug into my arms, her voice laced with a raw, unfamiliar panic. “Ethan! Ethan, wake up! Look at me!” My scattered senses slowly reassembled. I managed to force my eyes open, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were wide, red-rimmed with a fear I’d never seen before. “Are you insane?!” she shrieked. “Trying to kill yourself in my house?” “Let me tell you something,” she hissed, her face close to mine. “Your life belongs to me. You don’t get to die without my permission!” A faint, tragic smile pulled at my lips. Evelyn rushed me to the hospital. I was so close. So close to going home. But she mobilized the city’s top medical teams, sparing no expense to drag me back from the brink. When I woke up, she was there. She gripped my face, forcing me to meet her eyes. “Was this because of Leo?” she demanded, her voice cold steel. “Were you jealous?” My lips were cracked, my throat raw. “No,” I rasped. My reaction seemed to catch her off guard. The hard lines of her face softened slightly. “I know I’ve been distant,” she murmured. “I’ll spend more time with you from now on, okay?” She leaned in, her lips aiming for mine in a kiss devoid of any warmth or emotion. I turned my head, and the cold press of her mouth landed on my cheek instead. A humorless laugh escaped her. “Don’t you dare refuse me, Ethan.” She pinned me against the headboard, her body caging mine. The cold metal bars of the hospital bed bit into my back. A flurry of desperate, bruising kisses followed. She fumbled with the buttons of my hospital gown, tearing it open and exposing me to the cold air. I felt a wave of shame, of utter humiliation. Her hands explored downward, relentless. “See?” she whispered against my skin, her voice a hot breath. “Your body doesn’t lie. You still want me.” She had always been so gentle in our intimacy, so careful not to push me. Now, it was a frantic, almost violent act of possession. I wasn’t a lover; I was an object, a territory to be reclaimed. I closed my eyes, and the very last ember of affection I held for her was extinguished, washed away by a single, silent tear. Afterward, she carelessly threw a blanket over my body, hiding the marks she’d left. She dressed with a detached air, the last traces of passion fading from her face, leaving it a cold, beautiful mask. “I’m posting guards outside your door,” she announced, her voice flat. “You’re staying here. And don’t even think about trying to die again.” Her idea of “guards” was a dozen stone-faced bodyguards stationed outside my room around the clock. They watched my every move. I couldn’t even close the bathroom door. It wasn’t a hospital stay; it was a prison sentence. My plan was delayed, but I knew my chance would come. On Leo’s birthday… she would still kill me, just as she always had. No matter how I died, I would finally go home. The thought of waiting, however, was a gnawing frustration. When I was finally discharged, Evelyn abandoned all pretense. She had me bound like an animal and thrown into a small, dark storage room in the basement. A maid brought my meals, spooning them into my mouth as if I were an infant. I ate, slept, and relieved myself in that one small space. There was no escape, no visitors. After a few days, I could smell the sour stench of my own filth clinging to me. The maid would pinch her nose every time she entered, her eyes filled with disgust, as if I were a pig waiting for slaughter. Evelyn rarely visited. Once, in a moment of sheer desperation, I begged her. “When can I die? Just tell me when.” Death was no longer a terror; it was my only hope for liberation. Her reply was a casual, devastating blow. “When I’m pregnant with Leo’s child.” Again and again, she ground my dignity into the dust. Somewhere outside my prison, they had completed number ninety-nine. Now only the final act remained. She knew better than anyone that Leo would never live to see his child born, not in this lifetime or any other. But her obsession was a fire that consumed everything, and she was determined to make everyone pay the price for it. The room had no windows, only a single, dim bulb overhead. My days bled into one another—eat, sleep, eat, sleep. I lost all track of time, of day and night. One day, the maid was forcing food into my mouth when a wave of nausea hit me. I retched, spitting the food onto the floor. She cursed, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and shoved the spoon back in my mouth, forcing it down my throat. The nausea intensified, and I could only curl into a ball, vomiting until nothing but yellow bile came up. Seeing me heave until I was empty, she finally panicked and called the family doctor. Suddenly, the tiny room was filled with people. But Evelyn was not among them. With me too weak to struggle, the maid finally untied my ropes. My body was limp, and I slumped against the wall, letting them prod and examine me. After a series of tests, the doctor spoke in a low, somber voice. “Mr. Foster has late-stage liver cancer.” Liver cancer? The words struck me like a physical blow. A tremor ran through me, all other emotions replaced by pure, unadulterated shock. This had never happened in any of the previous hundred loops. This time, I had a terminal illness. The shock quickly curdled into a deep, crushing despair. It seemed fate itself was conspiring to keep me here. I closed my eyes, a tear tracing a path through the grime on my cheek. A wild thought flickered through my mind. If Evelyn knew I was sick, truly dying… would this time be different? After the doctor left, the maid sneered at me. “Still think you’re the high and mighty Mr. Foster? Don’t think getting sick will earn you any pity from Miss Hale. Let me tell you, she and Mr. Leo are inseparable these days. She hasn’t thought about you once.” She punctuated her words with a vicious kick to my side. I instinctively curled tighter, protecting my abdomen from the searing pain. When she was finished, she leaned down, her voice a venomous hiss. “You keep your mouth shut about this, and I might just make your last days here bearable.” I nodded weakly, and I saw the relief on her face. The staff, terrified I would use my illness to regain Evelyn’s favor and expose their abuse, conspired to keep my diagnosis a secret. From that day on, the food they brought me was barely edible. But I forced it down, choking back the nausea, determined to stay alive long enough for Evelyn to finish her gruesome task. She never came. An eternity seemed to pass. I started to believe I would rot in that basement forever. Then, one day, the heavy door creaked open. The sharp, rhythmic click of high heels on concrete grew closer. It was Evelyn. I lifted my head, a flicker of desperate hope igniting in my chest. She took in my filthy, emaciated state, but her expression didn’t so much as flicker. She walked over and, without a hint of disgust, helped me to my feet. “What have you done to yourself?” The maids standing by stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence. Before I could answer, she took my hand and led me out of the darkness. As we passed through the grand foyer, I saw a calendar. I had been in that room for a month. She led me to our bedroom and sat me down in front of a mirror, where she began to gently wash my face with a warm cloth. “How about I give you a bath?” she murmured, her voice unnervingly tender. “And when you’re clean, we’ll have dinner together.” Her gentleness was a ghost of a happier time, a cruel reminder of what we once had. I forced myself to remain cold, detached. “Why are you doing this? Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?” It was too much, too kind. She had to have a motive. Evelyn didn’t seem bothered by my suspicion. Her voice remained a soft caress. “It’s our anniversary, Ethan. Did you forget?” Our anniversary. For a moment, I was stunned. I had forgotten. Completely. In a hundred lifetimes, we had never once celebrated it. She finished combing my tangled hair, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror, a look of deep affection on her face. “It’s okay. I remembered for both of us.” After the bath, she dressed me in soft, silk pajamas. We sat across from each other at the dining table, the scene so deceptively normal it felt like a dream. She even carefully cut my steak into small, manageable pieces for me. I looked at her beautiful face, and despite everything, my resolve wavered. I was about to tell her—about the cancer, about everything. Then, her eyes still lowered to her plate, she spoke, her voice calm and even. “I’m pregnant.” The words were a lightning strike, sending an icy chill down my spine. She continued, her tone conversational. “When Leo found out, he was so happy he had a heart attack. He’s in the ICU now.” She looked up, her eyes meeting mine. “His body is failing. He won’t even make it to his birthday this time. So…” Her sentence hung in the air. With a slow, deliberate motion, she slid the steak knife she’d been using across the table until it rested in front of me. She picked up her napkin, dabbing delicately at her lips, and pronounced my death sentence. “This time, I won’t do it myself. You can do the honors.” My vision blurred, my eyes stinging with tears. It was happening again. I couldn’t remember which death it was, but I had died at this very table before. She had strangled the life out of me with her bare hands. To think, after all my waiting, I was expected to end it myself. The last fragile thread of hope inside me snapped. “Aren’t you afraid?” I asked, my voice a ragged whisper. “What if this is the last time? What if, after I die, there’s no more rebirth?” A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. She reached across the table, grabbing my hand and forcing the knife into my grip. She guided the point until it rested directly over my heart. “Don’t be dramatic. We’ll see each other again in the next life.” I let out a shaky laugh. “No, we won’t.” And with that, I closed my hand over hers, driving the blade deep into my chest. Blood bubbled up, spilling from the corner of my mouth. With my last, fleeting breath, I looked into her shocked eyes and offered one final, taunting truth. “Congratulations, Evelyn. Your child is now fatherless.”

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I took my coworkers out for drinks, only to realize I didn’t have enough money to cover the tab. Desperate, I walked up to the hottest guy in the VIP booth. “Hey, can you pay this for me? I’ll Venmo you later.” The guy tried to play it cool. “Miss, do we know each other?” I snatched the drink right out of his hand. “We don’t. But ask your bodyguard how many times he’s called me for a favor.” “I’ve saved your ass enough times. Can’t you return the favor once?” The man looked confused, but his bodyguard immediately covered his face with his hand. “Boss… it’s true. Every time you get blackout drunk, you attack anyone who comes near you. Except her.” “I’ve called her multiple times to beg her to take you home.” 1 The group of guys sitting around him perked up, looking at me like I was a unicorn. “Wait, for real? When Lu gets wasted, he’s like a rabid dog. No one can touch him.” “Yeah, I tried to help him to his room once and he nearly snapped my arm in half.” “Same. They say Lu is possessed by demons when he drinks. I didn’t believe it, tried to out-drink him, and ended up in the hospital for two months with multiple fractures.” “The doctor said it’s hyper-defensive instinct. He trusts no one when his inhibitions are down, so he attacks on sight. What makes this girl so special?” “I don’t buy it. Unless she proves it right now.” I raised an eyebrow and pulled out my phone, flashing my QR code. “Sure. Transfer me five hundred bucks first, and I’ll give you a show.” Someone actually whipped out their phone and sent me the money. Ding. Payment received. I pointed to the bar. “I’m gonna go pay my tab. Get him wasted, then come find me.” The whole booth started cheering and jeering. Only the man in the center, Luke Vance, narrowed his eyes at me dangerously. I wasn’t scared. I’ve seen him hugging a toilet bowl. I have photos. Heh. Look at him now, sitting there like a king in his VIP booth, all elegant and refined. A total fraud. I’d already seen him at his worst. I paid the bill and sent my coworkers home. Then I walked back to the booth. Hey, I took the five hundred, I had to deliver the show. Luke’s friends were trying their hardest to pour drinks down his throat. But Luke wasn’t having it. He grabbed my wrist, dragged me out of the club, and shoved me into his Maybach. Slam. The door shut so hard the car shook. Like a shaken soda bottle finally popping its cap. I rubbed my nose. “Hey, it’s not my fault you only trust me when you’re drunk. It’s annoying for me too, you know?” 2 It all started six months ago. I was leaving work late when I saw a guy sprawled out in the middle of the street, using a Citi Bike as a blanket. It was hilarious. Being terminally online, I had to take a video. But when I got closer… damn, what a face. Too bad he was wasted. Reeking of alcohol. He was muttering about being thirsty. I took out my water bottle and poured him a cup. He was surprisingly obedient, gulping it down. I tried to wake him up. “Hey, you can’t sleep on the street.” “Where’s your phone? I’ll call your friends.” He ignored me, snoozing away on the asphalt. I had no choice but to pat him down. Found his legs were incredibly long. Like, model long. I found his phone, unlocked it with Face ID (easy when they’re asleep), and FaceTime-d the first contact on his list. I pointed the camera at his face. “Hello? This phone’s owner is sleeping on the street. If you’re his friend, come get him.” The guy on the other end didn’t even ask for a location. He just screamed, “BACK AWAY FROM HIM! FIVE FEET! NOW!” I thought he was worried I was going to rob the hot guy. I scoffed. “Relax, I’m not interested in drunks.” “I’m sending you the location. Hurry up.” The guy yelled again, “Do not ignore me! Unless you want to die!” Psycho. I hung up. Then I sat on the curb to guard the guy. He decided my thigh was a better pillow than the bike. He slept like a baby under the moonlight. Ten minutes later, the friend arrived and looked at us like he was seeing a ghost. I swore, “Look, I didn’t touch him inappropriately.” As soon as I spoke, the guy shifted. He wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach, treating me like a body pillow. I couldn’t pry him off. I pulled his ear. “Hey! Wake up! Your friend is here. Let go!” He didn’t budge. I looked at the friend. “Help me out here. I can’t move his arms.” The friend stood five feet away, refusing to move. I was pissed. “Why are you just standing there?” He said, “I don’t want to die.” Me: “…” What? 3 The guy explained he wasn’t a friend, but a bodyguard. He pulled his car up, parking exactly five feet away. “You have to get him into the car.” “Are you sick? He’s your boss, not mine! I called you out of the goodness of my heart, and now I have to do the heavy lifting?” The bodyguard refused to help. He stood there with his arms crossed. I was furious. I took it out on the drunk guy, dragging him like a sack of potatoes. The bodyguard, probably afraid I’d damage the merchandise, finally stepped forward to help. Suddenly, the man who was dead to the world sprang up. Faster than I could blink, he pulled a Swiss Army knife from his belt. He shoved me behind him and slashed at the bodyguard in one fluid motion. The speed. The aggression. If the bodyguard hadn’t dodged, there would have been blood. I stared, jaw on the floor. What the hell? The bodyguard was back at the five-foot mark, smiling awkwardly. “See? That’s why I didn’t help.” “When the Boss is drunk, no one can get close. His defense mechanism is extreme.” I touched my neck instinctively. Okay, I’m out. But the drunk guy just put the knife away and rested his heavy head on my shoulder, falling back asleep. Me: “…” The bodyguard was baffled. “You are the only person I’ve ever seen get close to him when he’s like this.” Are you blind? He’s leaning on ME! I wanted to cry. “So what do we do?” “You have to put him in the car and drive him home. Can you drive?” “Ideally, yes. In practice… maybe?” “Please.” “Are you guys pranking me? Why only me? What about his parents?” “His parents died a long time ago. He only has a grandfather, and even he can’t get close.” This was insane. I had to use every ounce of strength to wrestle a 6’2″ man into a car and then drive him home. Afterward, the bodyguard added me on WeChat, saying he might need me again. “Get lost! Never again!” He transferred me five thousand dollars. I immediately typed back: “My pleasure! Call me anytime! But this is the rate every time.” 4 Two weeks later, late at night, the bodyguard sent me five thousand. [Miss Lin, emergency. Please come. Location sent.] I followed the GPS to the most exclusive club in the city. I opened the door to the VIP room and saw several powerful looking men knocked out cold on the floor. Paramedics arrived and wheeled them all out. The only one left was Luke Vance, holding his Swiss Army knife, backed into a corner, eyes bloodshot and scanning the room for threats. Honestly, he looked like a demon ready to kill. I didn’t dare approach him. My legs were shaking. I tried to return the money. “Nope. Can’t do it.” The bodyguard immediately sent another fifty thousand. “Understood. Danger pay. Is this enough?” “…” I didn’t mean that. But fifty grand! I’m just a corporate slave. I cannot say no to fifty grand. So, I walked up to him. Gently patted his shoulder. “Hey, don’t kill me. Put the knife down.” I really didn’t expect him to listen. He looked at me with blurry eyes for a long moment, then folded the knife away. Then he swayed and collapsed right into my arms. Oof! He was heavy. I lost my balance and we both went down. Luckily, right before we hit the floor, he twisted his body and became a human cushion. I landed softly on top of him.

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My brother and I are professional simps. He’s obsessed with a cold, ascetic CEO. I’ve been secretly in love with the city’s brooding “Crown Prince” for years. Then, the news broke: both of our crushes were getting engaged to other people. My brother and I stared at each other in silence for a long time. Then we ran away. Later, hiding out on a tropical island, we were tracked down by two very angry, very powerful men. That’s when I found out my idiot brother had posted a status update right before we fled: [Me and my sister are off to start our new life together. Incest is wincest! Bye, losers!] 1 When I heard Julian was getting engaged, my brain short-circuited. I thought I was prepared for this. I knew he was out of my league. But when the day actually came, I realized I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. It hurt. Maybe it was because we’d gotten closer recently. Just last week, we went to a symphony together. It was his favorite orchestra. I begged a friend for tickets and nervously asked him if he wanted to go. I even had a speech prepared: If you don’t want to go with me, you can take the tickets and go with someone else. But Julian said yes. I was floating on pink clouds. I did my makeup, wore my best dress, and memorized facts about Mozart. And then… I fell asleep. I had been too excited to sleep the night before. Ten minutes into the second movement, I was out cold. Not just dozing—I was drooling on Julian’s shoulder for a solid thirty minutes. If the applause hadn’t woken me up, I probably would have started snoring. I looked at Julian, mortified. He was rubbing his shoulder. “I am so sorry… is your arm dead?” “It’s fine,” Julian laughed, looking amused. “Not dead yet.” We walked out of the concert hall. Just as we reached the exit, someone called his name. A gorgeous girl ran up to us. “Julian! It really is you!” She looked thrilled. “Are you here alone?” “Hey, Chloe.” Julian gestured to me with his chin. “I’m here with her.” Chloe looked at me with bright, curious eyes. “Hi! Are you Julian’s girlfriend?” My brain, still foggy from the nap, rebooted slowly. Julian didn’t say anything. He just looked at me. I decided honesty was the best policy. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Just a friend.” Julian’s expression didn’t change. Chloe didn’t press. Instead, she turned back to Julian. “Did you drive? My ride bailed halfway through. Can you drop me off? We live close anyway.” Ouch. They were close. Julian looked down at me. “Is that okay?” Chloe looked hopeful. “Sure,” I said. “Of course.” “Okay then.” Julian started walking. “Let’s go.” “Wait—” I called out. “I just remembered I need to stop at Target. You guys go ahead.” I didn’t need anything from Target. I just didn’t want to be the third wheel in his car. Julian stopped. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you sure? You’re okay with me taking her home alone?” “Yeah, totally!” I waved, pretending to be breezy. “Bye!” “Right.” Julian turned around. Before he walked away, he dropped one last sentence. “Sarah, you’re very generous.” I had a feeling I messed up. After that night, his texts were cold. I didn’t know how to fix it, so I stopped texting first. Then came the engagement news. I bought a six-pack of beer and sat in my backyard, trying to drown my sorrows like a character in a sad movie. Halfway through the second bottle, a voice boomed behind me. “HOLY SHIT!” My brother, Sam, looked horrified. “You’re drinking?! Did you forget graduation night when two glasses of wine made you puke on my shoes?” Me: “…” Sam continued, “What could possibly be this bad? Don’t tell me you’re heartbroken over Julian getting hitched!” Me: “…” Me: “Yes.” Sam: “…” 2 I’m Sarah. My brother is Sam. We are three years apart. We have a lot in common. We are both pathetic simps. He’s chasing Adrian, a stoic business tycoon. I’m chasing Julian, the wealthy heir to a real estate empire. Our second commonality: We both like men. Yes, my brother is gay. When he came out, our parents almost had a stroke. Thankfully, Sam has been a chaos agent since birth, so their tolerance was high. They eventually accepted it. My mom looked at me with deep concern. “Sarah, are you also…” “No, Mom,” I said. “I’m just like Sam.” Mom grabbed her chest. “You’re a lesbian too?!” “No! I mean, I also like men.” Mom put down the Xanax. Our third commonality: We are terrible at dating. I’m shy and slow. Sam is a flamboyant butterfly. He’s been throwing himself at Adrian for months, but Adrian is an iceberg. Different methods, same result: Failure. Sam sat next to me. “Forget him! There are plenty of fish in the sea. I’ll find you some hot guys!” “No,” I said. “Your hot guys are all gay.” “Not all of them!” Sam paused. “Okay, most of them.” “No.” “Why are you so stubborn?” Sam started trash-talking Julian. “He’s not even that great! He looks polite, but he’s actually a manipulative sociopath! Haven’t you heard of ‘white on the outside, black on the inside’?” I defended my crush. “Oh, and Adrian is better? He’s just an ice cube. Black on the outside, black on the inside.” Sam flicked my forehead. “Hey! I’m trying to comfort you!” I ignored him. “I told you your method wouldn’t work,” he lectured. “You’re too subtle. You make him homemade sandwiches and say you bought them. You go to boring galas just to see him, hide in a corner, and wait for him to say hi first.” Me: “…” “You have to be direct! Like me!” “But you failed too,” I whispered. “At least Adrian isn’t engaged!” Sam shot back. Ouch. I checked my phone. A text from my best friend, Zoe. Zoe: Sarah! Big news! That tycoon your brother is obsessed with? He’s getting engaged too! Zoe: What is in the water? Is there a BOGO sale on engagement rings? Zoe: Is your brother making fun of you? Roast him back! I looked at Sam. He shivered. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Are you… pitying me? You got it backward, sis.” I kept staring. Sam’s smile faltered. “No…” I nodded. “Yes.” Sam grabbed his phone. He typed furiously. Five minutes later, he put the phone down, eyes glassy. “Pass me a beer.” I opened one for him. “Sam, are you okay?” “Don’t comfort me.” “I wasn’t going to. I was going to say thanks. I feel much better now.” Sam flipped me off. We drank in silence. “Sarah,” Sam said suddenly. “Yeah?” He looked like a mad scientist who just had a breakthrough. “Kid, let’s run.” “Huh?” 3 “Run where?” “A private island in Southeast Asia. No visas needed. We disappear for two weeks. No phones, no heartbreak. Just sun and booze. What do you say?” I had vacation days saved up. Sam was a freelancer. It sounded… perfect. “Let’s do it.” Sam booked the tickets immediately. “We leave the day after tomorrow!” But I was weak. Before we left, I wanted to see Julian one last time. I heard he was attending a charity gala. I put on a dress and went. As usual, I hid in a corner, scanning the room like a creeper. Five minutes in, Julian walked in. He looked like a Greek statue in a tuxedo. I shrank back into the shadows. Was his fiancée here? She must be so happy. The thought made my chest ache. I decided to leave before I saw them together. But I got caught. “Sarah?” It was Kyle, one of Sam’s friends. “Kyle,” I smiled weakly. “Here alone? Where’s Sam?” “He’s not here.” “Heading out?” Kyle noticed me edging toward the door. “I’ll give you a ride. I’m leaving too. Just let me say bye to someone.” Before I could refuse, Kyle walked off. I looked around. Julian was gone. “Who are you looking for?” I spun around. Julian was standing right behind me. He always did this. He always found me. “No one,” I lied. “You’re here.” He smiled. “I am.” “Are you… alone?” I asked carefully. “Yes,” he said. “Who else would I be with?” The words Where is your fiancée? stuck in my throat. I reached into my purse and pulled out a small box. “This is for you.” “What is it?” “A tie clip.” I had bought it weeks ago. If I didn’t give it to him now, I never would. It was custom engraved with his initials. Julian opened it. “Thank you. I like it.” “Do you want to try it on?” “Sure.” He handed it back to me. Me: “?” “Aren’t you going to put it on me?” He stood there, chest out, totally natural. I hesitated, then stepped closer. My hands shook as I slid the clip onto his tie. I looked up. He was staring down at me. “How does it look?” My heart was drumming against my ribs. “Good.” He smiled. I was mesmerized. “Sarah?” Kyle was back. “Ready to go?” “Bunny?” Julian interrupted. (Note: My family nickname). His smile was polite but terrifying. “It’s my nickname,” I explained quickly. “Ah. You two must be close if he knows your nickname.” Julian was smiling, but the air felt cold. “He’s my brother’s friend.” Kyle extended a hand. “Kyle. Nice to meet you.” Julian shook it. “Julian.” I felt like I was suffocating. “Kyle, let’s go.” Julian looked at me. “Kyle?” He was turning into a parrot. “I’m leaving now,” I said. Julian didn’t speak. “Oh,” I took a deep breath. “Happy engagement.” I whispered it. Julian frowned. “What did you say?” I didn’t have the guts to repeat it. I grabbed Kyle and ran. When I got home, Sam was drunk. “Went to see Julian again? You sneak.” I didn’t deny it. “You never learn,” he sighed. “Still a coward. No wonder he’s marrying someone else.” “You went to the bar again?” I countered. “Yep.” “You never learn,” I shot back. “Still a slut. No wonder Adrian is marrying someone else.” Sam: “…” 4 We flew out the next night. Waking up to the crystal blue ocean helped. Sam was thriving. Within two days, he knew every bartender on the island. I sat on the beach and stared at my chat history with Julian. Three days. No messages. Sam snatched my phone. “Stop looking at him! Look at the menu! I found you some options.” He swiped through photos of hot guys he’d secretly taken. “This one is rich. This one is foreign—practice your English!” “No,” I pushed him away. “You keep them.” “You think I don’t want to?! They’re straight!” Sam sat down next to me. The sea breeze rustled the palms. “Sam,” I said softly. “Don’t be sad.” “Sad? Me? Ha! I’m a catch. Adrian is blind.” “Yeah. He is.” Sam looked at me like I was possessed. “Did you tell Mom I killed her succulent?” “No. I mean it.” People think Sam is a player. But I know the truth. He flirts with everyone, but he’s only ever loved one person. Adrian just couldn’t see past the glitter. Sam sighed. “Let’s go to the bar.”

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I was the Sinclair’s real daughter, the one they swapped at birth. But when the imposter and I were tied up on a skyscraper rooftop, and they were forced to choose one of us, I was the one they let go. Chloe was saved. I was pushed off the eighteenth floor. By some miracle, I survived. And in that moment, any lingering hope I had for them died. Then, almost overnight, everything changed. My parents, who had treated me with nothing but disdain, started cautiously asking about my favorite foods. My brother, who had once wished me dead, began sending me expensive jewelry. Even my fiancé, who swore I’d never measure up to Chloe, started planning our wedding. I had no idea what was going on. 1 I was dragging my suitcase down the marble entryway when I ran into Eleanor Sinclair—my mother—returning home with Chloe. A uniformed driver followed them, his arms laden with shopping bags from high-end boutiques. They were arm in arm, the picture of a perfect mother-daughter pair. Chloe’s eyes landed on my suitcase, her expression a mask of manufactured surprise. “Audrey,” she said, her voice dripping with false concern. “Don’t tell me you’re running away just because Mom forgot to pick you up a little something from her trip.” I dropped the handle of my suitcase. “A gift?” I stared at them. “You already gave me my eighteenth birthday present. You stood by and let them push me off an eighteen-story building.” I let a bitter smile touch my lips. “Now that’s what I call a generous gift.” A familiar wave of irritation washed over Eleanor’s face. “Audrey, that was an accident,” she snapped. “The kidnapper forced our hand. Did you want us to just stand there and watch Chloe die? Besides,” she added, her voice chillingly dismissive, “you’re standing right here, aren’t you?” Standing right here. After being pushed from a rooftop, even landing on the firefighters’ airbag meant three months in a hospital bed before I could even learn to walk again. Not one of them came to visit me. Not once. These were my people. My blood. I was their daughter, but because Chloe’s parents had switched us at birth, I was the one who suffered fifteen years of starvation, abuse, and humiliation. Even after the truth came out, they still poured all their affection onto Chloe, the girl who had stolen my life. For me, there was only criticism and suspicion, a constant assumption that I had some ulterior motive. It used to break my heart. Now, it didn’t stir a thing. I had already found an apartment to rent. I had a little money saved up, enough to last me until I graduated and could leave this city for good. From now on, Audrey was going to have a good life. I shouldered my backpack and grabbed my suitcase. “Chloe couldn’t die,” I said, my voice steady. “But I wanted to live, too. Since you made your choice back then, you can just consider Audrey dead from this day forward. I won’t bother you again.” A flicker of triumph crossed Chloe’s face before she could hide it. She opened her mouth to offer some empty, placating words, but Eleanor cut her off, her expression turning to ice. “You said that, Audrey. Not us,” she warned. “Don’t you dare come crawling back to this house one day, because I won’t let you in.” I nodded, my voice crisp. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t step foot in this house again if I were dying on the doorstep.” “Audrey, have you thought about how much this will hurt Dad and Evan?” Chloe chimed in from beside Eleanor, her tone dripping with feigned sincerity. “It all happened so fast. They were just panicked and worried about me. And after all, the Sinclairs have provided for you all these years.” It was a veiled reminder, as always, that I was an outsider. A charity case. Chloe had used this tactic a hundred times, and every time before, I had lost control, screaming at them, demanding to know why I, their real daughter, didn’t deserve a single drop of their love. Chloe lived in a bright, luxurious suite of rooms, with a staff to cater to her every whim. I was given the small, dark utility closet under the stairs, so cramped it couldn’t fit a desk or a proper dresser. The only sunlight I ever got was a narrow sliver that cut across my cot for an hour when the sun was at its highest. I was their flesh and blood, yet I lived like a rat in the walls, scurrying to survive in the shadows of their grand life. But finally, I was done hoping for more. “Provided for me?” I looked straight at Chloe, then at Eleanor. “I lived in a storage closet. I ate whatever was left on the catering trays after one of your parties. You never bought me a single article of clothing. I paid for my own school fees and living expenses with part-time jobs. For three years, you haven’t spent a dime on me. In fact, considering all the housework I did, I’d say you owe me back wages.” “That’s enough!” A sharp voice cut through the air from behind me. 2 My father, Robert Sinclair, and my brother, Evan, had just gotten out of their car. They were both glaring at me. “All this drama just for money,” Robert sneered, his voice laced with contempt. “Chloe has never been as crass and materialistic as you. We never should have acknowledged you in the first place.” I couldn’t help but laugh, a hollow, bitter sound. “Acknowledged me? As your daughter? Who in all of South Crest even knows I’m your daughter? You think I’m materialistic, that I only care about money?” I gestured wildly. “That’s because Chloe never has to think about it! She doesn’t even have to ask. You just pile jewelry and houses and trust funds on her. Me? All I get from my ‘family’ is my own brother accusing me of being a thief!” My gaze fell on Evan, who stood silently to the side, and a wave of nausea rolled through me. When I first came to the Sinclair mansion, I was an enemy to everyone. Everyone except Evan. He was the only one who showed me any kindness. He would ask about the scrapes on my knees, inquire about my grades, and secretly press a piece of candy into my palm when no one was looking. “It’s a big brother’s job to make his little sister happy,” he’d said with a warm smile. I was so naive. I believed he genuinely cared. I let my guard down completely, so when he gave me a delicate silver bracelet, I accepted it without a second thought. Until the day Evan called the police, reporting that a custom bracelet he’d bought for Chloe was missing. In front of the entire family, the police searched my tiny closet and found it tucked away in my things. I tried desperately to explain, to tell them that Evan had given it to me himself. Eleanor’s hand cracked across my face. “You are so cheap, Audrey,” she hissed. “Evan barely speaks to you. Why on earth would he give you a bracelet? Especially this one, which he had made specifically for Chloe.” I crumpled to the floor, my hand pressed to my stinging cheek, staring up at Evan in disbelief. And in that moment, everything clicked into place. Evan was already involved in the family business, the heir apparent Robert and Eleanor were grooming. If he had truly wanted to protect me, why would he let me live in a closet? Why would he stand by and watch me get hurt, time and time again? Every single one of our “kind” interactions had taken place in secret, where no one could see. Later, after the police had left, Evan cornered me, his face twisted into a cruel smirk. He told me everything. The scrape on my knee wasn’t an accident; he’d paid another student to push me down the stairs. The candies he gave me were laced with something to make me feel sluggish and sick, all to ensure my grades would never surpass Chloe’s. “You know, Audrey, there was one thing I said that wasn’t a lie,” he whispered, his voice like poison. “It’s a big brother’s job to make his little sister happy. It’s just a shame my only sister is Chloe. What the hell are you?” At sixteen, I had been stabbed in the back by the person I trusted most. Looking back now, it feels like I was under some kind of spell, desperately clawing for a shred of affection that was never there. But after falling from that building, I finally understood. Nothing is more important than being alive. Their love was like candy laced with arsenic—tempting on the outside, but designed to drag you into a world of pain. Facing their collective annoyance now, I felt nothing. The will to fight, to argue, to plead, was gone. “You know,” I said, my voice quiet but firm, “you were right about one thing. My return was a mistake. So I’m leaving. Let’s put everything back the way it was.” Without another glance at the Sinclairs, I picked up my suitcase, adjusted my backpack, and walked out the door. The heavy oak door slammed shut behind me. And just like that, the invisible chains that had bound me for so long simply fell away. I walked down the long, manicured driveway, a strange lightness in my step. I found myself humming a tune as I dragged my suitcase toward my new, rented life. The apartment wasn’t big—just one bedroom, a living area, and a bathroom—but it was a palace compared to that closet. After I finished unpacking, I collapsed onto the bed, exhausted but content. I was just drifting off to sleep when my phone buzzed violently on the nightstand, jolting me awake. I grabbed it and answered without looking. Leo Prescott’s impatient voice filled my ear. “Audrey, what is it this time? Hasn’t Chloe given up enough for you? Do you really have to push her like this, running away from home to threaten everyone?” His voice softened into a condescending sigh. “What happened to the sweet, understanding girl I used to know?” “She’s dead,” I said, sitting up. My voice was calm, detached. “You all gave up on her. You watched her fall, remember? And besides, Leo, didn’t you always want me out of the Sinclair house? Why are you pretending to care now?” 3 I met Leo Prescott when we were kids, after I saved him by chance. He was the sole heir to the Prescott fortune, and in the middle of a rebellious phase, he’d gotten into a fight with the wrong crowd. I’d just been thrown out of my adoptive parents’ house and happened to be passing by. I faked a call to 911, and the boys scattered. To “repay” me, he insisted on transferring to my school. He’d even hang around while I worked my after-school job at a diner. I helped him with his calculus homework, and he protected me from bullies, even getting into a fight once to defend me. But the moment Leo found out I was the true Sinclair heiress, everything changed. He accused me of being selfish, of not considering Chloe’s feelings. He was convinced I was just a gold digger, after the Sinclair fortune. I couldn’t understand it. “Those are my real parents, Leo,” I had argued, my voice breaking. “The life Chloe has was supposed to be mine. Her parents stole me, and my adoptive parents abused me. All I want is my identity back. How is that my fault?” It wasn’t until later that I learned the truth. Leo had known who I was from the very beginning. Our meeting wasn’t an accident. The Prescotts and the Sinclairs had a long-standing marriage agreement between their children. Leo’s parents were old-fashioned; if they knew I was the real Sinclair heiress, they would have forced him to marry me, not Chloe. His plan had been to get close to me, earn my trust, and then convince me to leave South Crest forever, securing Chloe’s position. He never expected me to discover the truth on my own and march straight to the Sinclair’s front door. After I found out, I tried to break off the engagement countless times. Even Leo, theatrically threatening to kill himself, declared he would never marry me, shouting that I wasn’t worth a fraction of Chloe. But his parents wouldn’t budge. Perhaps that’s why, on my eighteenth birthday, when the kidnapper held us both on that rooftop and demanded they choose, he didn’t hesitate for a second. He chose Chloe. I was pushed. That was the closest I have ever been to death. But fate, it seems, had other plans. The emergency airbag saved my life. But what good was surviving? My parents, my brother, my fiancé—they were all fussing over a traumatized Chloe, some of them even muttering that it would have been simpler if I had just died. That way, even if the truth about Chloe’s identity got out, she would still be the one and only, beloved daughter of the Sinclair family. “I’ve cut all ties with the Sinclairs,” I said into the phone, my voice flat. “Our engagement is void. Don’t bother me again.” I hung up before he could reply. I slept better than I had in years. The next morning, I gathered my things and headed to school. After three months in the hospital, I only had a little over a month until the SATs. If I could score high enough to get the state scholarship, my college tuition would be covered. My teachers at Northwood High were incredibly supportive. They had printed out all the materials I had missed and even compiled notes for me. Free from the constant stress of the Sinclair household, my health and spirits improved dramatically. Even my classmates commented that I seemed more alive than ever before. Life was quiet. Peaceful. Until the day I walked into my homeroom and was met with a sea of strange looks. Before I could ask what was wrong, my friend Maya rushed over. “Audrey,” she whispered, “Ms. Peterson just told me your brother is here to see you. You don’t have a brother, do you? This has to be some kind of scam.” Hearing this, other students crowded around my desk. “Yeah, exactly!” “You’ve been on your own for years, no one ever cared. Now that you’re about to ace the SATs, some long-lost ‘family’ shows up?” “Don’t worry, Audrey. We’ve got your back. No one’s going to bully you.” “That’s right! You’re our future valedictorian!” Listening to them all stand up for me, a genuine smile spread across my face. “It’s okay, guys,” I said. “It’s probably just some lunatic. My parents died in a car crash three years ago, and I lost touch with all my other relatives.” This was the story I had told everyone at Northwood. When my adoptive parents found out I was going to the Sinclairs, they had tried to stop me. They’d sped after me, lost control of their car on a bridge, and died on impact. It was a grim truth I preferred to keep to myself. My classmates looked relieved. “Okay, then I’m going to go tell Ms. Peterson to kick that creep out,” Maya declared, standing up decisively. Just then, a voice called out from the doorway. “Audrey.”

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