Author: Momo Chan

I woke up in a room I didn’t recognize, the air thick with a rising heat that had nothing to do with the temperature. I was drugged. And I wasn’t alone. The red pinpricks of high-definition cameras in the corners confirmed the nightmare: a live feed, streaming right now, straight onto the darkest corners of the internet. The viewers—thousands of them, the digital leeches of the dark web—were buzzing, placing bets on how long we could hold out. I had two choices laid out for me in this agonizing space. I could let the drug burn me alive from the inside out, a fever of chemical torture. Or I could sacrifice every shred of my dignity, and put on a show for the anonymous masses with the man standing a few feet away. 1 “Heh heh, welcome, everyone, to ‘How Long Can They Last?’” “Tonight, we feature the famously aloof artist and the notoriously untouchable CEO!” “We’ve been planning this event for an entire year! Hope you enjoy the show!” The synthetic, electronically processed voice echoed off the concrete walls. With a sharp clack, the enormous screen mounted on the wall flickered to life. Four brutal, industrial spotlights immediately skewered my vision with blinding white light. The searing pain made me hiss in discomfort. “Awake?” The man’s voice was rough, like gravel had been dragged across his vocal cords. I turned my head and my breath hitched, then stopped completely. It was Ethan Rhys. The heir to the Rhys BioPharma empire in Boston, known for his utterly impenetrable aloofness. We’d only met twice before, briefly, at a gallery reception for the new packaging illustrations I’d done for his company’s latest drug—an approval I’d just secured. We hadn’t exchanged more than three complete sentences. “Mr. Rhys, where are we?” “An abandoned warehouse. And we’re being streamed, live.” He spoke, then immediately shuffled backward, retreating into the farthest corner he could manage, his breathing heavy. “Does it feel hot in here to you?” I fanned myself nervously, taking in the scene. He shot me a look of pure, mortifying awkwardness, his lips moving as if to speak, but he said nothing. Odd. But he wasn’t wrong. It was a broadcast. HD-800 models—a dark web favorite, meaning the transmission distance wasn’t great, maybe a couple of miles. A peculiar, unwelcome heat was beginning to rise under my skin. I forced myself to breathe deeply, trying to distract my mind from the intensifying sensation. “Mr. Rhys, how did you get caught up in this?” It was easy enough to target an independent artist like me, with no security. But Ethan Rhys? Surrounded by security and corporate muscle? Taking him down would have required a massive operation. Why us? Why the two of us together? A suppressed groan of agony escaped Ethan’s throat. “Someone set me up…” “Who’s the bankroller? The person behind the curtain?” Anyone who could pull this off against him must have invested a fortune. “I don’t know,” Ethan ground out, each syllable a struggle to escape his gritted teeth. “But I will.” 2 On the massive screen, a dense, frantic scroll of comments flashed. [WTF! Isn’t that Sienna the Illustrator? The one they call the ‘Untouchable’?!] [Heard half of Boston’s A-list has chased her, and she’s shot them all down.] [Yep, notoriously hard to get!] [And the other one is the Hermit CEO, Ethan Rhys? They’re playing for real stakes!] [Holy hell, I’m so stoked!] [Dark web is killing it! They managed to snag these two for a live stream!] [Rumor is, they planned this for a year!] [The Ice Queen meets the Hermit. Perfect pairing!] [Heh heh, I love watching the ‘prim and proper’ finally get ‘down and dirty’…] Those comments felt like dirty, invisible hands, stripping me bare and tossing me onto the street. “Let us out of here! This is illegal!” I instinctively curled my body inward, but my voice still came out in a terrified tremor. The synthetic voice gave an exaggerated, mocking laugh. “Help me! I’m so scared!” “Heh heh, friends, guests! The countdown starts now: 30 minutes! Place your bets! Let’s see how long they can resist the urge. And… who gives in first~~~” The comments grew more brazen, more vile. [Oh, spare us the high-and-mighty act. When the drug hits, you’ll be crying for him.] [They’ve been locked up for almost half an hour. Why hasn’t the show started yet?] [Is this a fake?] [I bet twenty minutes! The girl’s dose hasn’t fully kicked in.] [Both of them are total smoke shows. Worth every penny.] [Stop messing around! Get on with it! I’m putting $200k on them not lasting.] The drug? The drug? The one I’d only read about in trashy romance novels? I risked a glance at Ethan Rhys. He was in far worse shape than I was. Cold sweat beaded on his temples. He was propped against the wall with one hand, his knuckles white and protruding. The muscles in his exposed forearm were taut and subtly shaking, like he was wrestling a silent, invisible beast. I finally understood the meaning of his earlier, hesitant look. He couldn’t speak. He was beyond opening his mouth for a casual chat. I ran to the heavy iron door and started beating on it like a maniac. “Is anyone out there? Open up! Open the door!” “Stop, Sienna… that will only make the drug take hold faster.” Ethan’s voice cut through my panic. It was raspy, yet possessed a dangerous, compelling magnetism. His breathing was ragged and hot. In this suffocating, drug-fueled situation, his voice was like a lethal aphrodisiac. A mortifying thought flashed through my mind: If he lunged at me, would I fight him, or… I shivered, realizing I had already started spiraling into the forbidden thought. I kicked the door harder. “It’s been welded shut…” Ethan spoke again. I spun around to face him, my heart hammering in my chest like a runaway train. “Then what are we supposed to do? Wait to be burned to death by this chemical torment? Or couple like animals in front of a thousand people?” The words were out before I could stop them, and I instantly regretted it. The bloody redness in his eyes flared, but he bit down hard, turning his face away. His Adam’s apple convulsed violently, almost tearing through the skin. He was clearly struggling far more than I was. My words sounded like an accusation that he would take advantage of me. “I’m sorry,” I looked down, my voice catching on a sob. “I’m just… terrified.” “Don’t worry,” Ethan said, his fists clenched so tight his skin stretched white. Sweat was pouring down his forehead, soaking the back of his shirt. “I will not touch you.” 3 “Too loud! Hmm, seems like my hospitality was lacking. I didn’t give you enough of the good stuff!” The electronic voice was cold and sinister. The next second, a cloud of rose-tinted gas hissed from the ventilation duct. It smelled sickly sweet, like melted honey and a chemical burn, snaking its way into my nostrils. My fingertips immediately started to tingle with a terrifying, delightful numbness. Ethan spun around violently, his eyes fixed on me, pupils contracted to pinpricks. My heart seized. My body trembled uncontrollably, and I felt a surge of utterly shameful anticipation. “Don’t inhale!” He roared and lunged, moving so fast he was a blur. His hand, burning hot, clamped over my mouth and nose. His touch was scalding. The calluses on his thumb grazed my lips, an act of sheer, terrifying aggression. I instinctively recoiled, but ended up driving my head straight into his chest. His face was inches from mine. His breath, erupting in ragged bursts, was a fiery, medicated inferno. The comments section exploded: [Finally! Mr. Rhys, hold her tight!] [Look at his hand! He’s about to crush her face!] [Get on with it! Stop pretending to be a gentleman!] Ethan’s fingers suddenly tightened, and I let out a sharp, muffled cry of pain. “Sorry.” He seemed to snap out of a trance, abruptly releasing me. He stumbled back a huge step, his body slamming violently against the iron door. BAM! A low, guttural moan of pain ripped from his throat. A shard of sharp, upturned metal on the door sliced a deep gash into his forearm. Blood instantly gushed out, streaming down his arm and dripping onto the pale concrete floor—a shocking, aggressive red. I gasped in horror. “Don’t be afraid!” He retreated to the corner, and I watched, paralyzed, as he dug his own fingers into the fresh wound on his arm. He let out a suppressed roar, a sound of pure, tearing agony. He was using the pain to force himself awake, to force himself away from me. The comments instantly turned crueler: [Oh, look! He’s actually bleeding! Is he trying to look pathetic? Trying to make the girl pity him?] *[Get her to lick the wound! And get it on!] * [He’s about to blow, but he’s still playing the saint. Give it up, Romeo!] 4 My own condition was no better. The earlier struggle, the panic, and now the second dose had sent the drug racing through my bloodstream. It was a waking beast, consuming my will. I bit down hard on my tongue until I tasted metal. The coppery scent of my own blood filled my mouth, a feeble attempt to use pain to fight off the shameful, burgeoning desire. Worse, my body had already surrendered. A million invisible ants seemed to crawl beneath my skin, urging me toward that specific source of pure, overwhelming male energy. Ethan’s wound was still bleeding, staining half of his shirt sleeve crimson. I gathered the last of my strength and ripped the lace trim from the hem of my cocktail dress. “Use this to tie it up.” My legs were jelly, my voice trembling and unrecognizable. I stumbled two steps and held it out to him. Ethan’s body instantly froze. He turned, his eyes bloodshot and feral, like a beast on the verge of losing control. His gaze dropped first to the scrap of fabric I offered, then slowly moved up, locking onto my face. The intensity of his stare terrified me. I instinctively tried to pull my hand back, but he suddenly clamped down on my wrist. His fingertips brushed my skin, sending a jolt of electrifying numbness up my arm. My rational mind screamed at me to push him away, but my body was a shameful traitor. All I wanted was to burrow into his arms, to feel his heat. “Please…” I bit my lip, my nails digging into my palm, clinging to the last sliver of control. “Don’t, Ethan.” The comments section went completely insane: [He finally put his hands on her! Pin her against the wall!] [The girl’s melting! What’s with the act?] [I bet they don’t last 10 seconds. Wager: $100k.] [Go! Go! Go! Stop wasting time!] A sob escaped me, and a single, scalding tear rolled down my cheek, splashing onto the back of his hand. He flinched violently, as if my tear had burned him. He abruptly let go, gasping as he staggered two steps back. “I’m sorry!” He averted his eyes, a flicker of panic in his voice. “Thank you, but I don’t need the bandage.” We both knew the score. If we gave in to this physical need, we would be reduced to rutting animals, coupling under the jeers and scorn of countless strangers. The dark web would record our humiliation and sell it. The price of a momentary surrender would be a lifetime of shame and regret. 5 Having been denied the spectacle they craved, the comments hissed like venomous snakes, dripping with malice: [Oh, he actually refused? What a pretentious gentleman!] [Loser! Can’t even get a girl when she’s doped up!] [Look at Mr. Rhys’s back! He must be rock-hard. Why the saintly act?] [Damn it! I’m out hundreds of thousands because they’re dragging their feet!] [The girl should stop faking it! Her face is flushed—she definitely wants it!] [Go jump him! Solve the problem for both of you! We’ll light up the rockets!] Just then, the warehouse loudspeaker boomed to life. The same cold, synthesized voice spoke: “Heh heh, now entering the ‘Close Proximity Challenge’ segment.” “Rule: Do what I say, or we will release more ‘Pink Bubble Air.’” Ethan’s head snapped up. Like an enraged bull, he bellowed into the speaker. “Go ahead! I’d rather die than let you scumbags get what you want!” “And what about Miss Sienna?” The voice was playfully taunting. I was riding the peak of the drug’s effect, fueled by the rush of male hormones. I could barely speak, using every ounce of my diminishing strength to hold myself together. I just shook my head violently. The electronic voice suddenly turned chilling. “It seems you two aren’t getting the hint. Very well. Miss Sienna, they say a man pursuing a woman is like climbing a mountain, but a woman pursuing a man is like pushing aside a veil. How about you take the initiative?” “Don’t rush to refuse. Do you… recognize this?” The image on the screen abruptly switched from our live feed to a close-up shot—a pink hair tie with a tiny, silver rabbit charm dangling from it. My heart sank like a stone. It was my sister Layla’s hair tie. I’d given it to her for her birthday last year, and she wore it every day. The electronic voice carried an awful, malicious chuckle: “If you don’t want anything to happen to her, you’ll kiss him. And don’t tell me you don’t want to kiss him right now.” The comments section went ballistic: [Aha! Time for the big guns!] [Kiss! Kiss! Quick!] [Whose life is more important, your sister’s or your virginity?] [Hurry! I’m betting on the position already!] [I’m betting $500k on the missionary position.] 6 Staring at that familiar hair tie, the blood ran cold in my veins. Layla was the most important person in the world to me, second only to my father. I felt like I was going insane. The last flicker of my sanity was being extinguished. “Who? Who paid you to do this?” Ethan ground out, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles twitching. The synthetic voice remained cheerfully indifferent: “That’s none of your concern, Mr. Rhys! We take people’s money; we deal with people’s problems.” “I’m starting the countdown now. If you don’t complete the task in ten seconds, I will kill the little girl! Heh heh…” I shuddered, my mind clearing slightly. “Stop! That hair tie might look like the one I made, but there are similar ones! How do I know Layla is actually with you?” The electronic voice let out a sinister laugh. The screen flashed, cutting to a new image: a familiar figure tied to a chair, gagged with cloth. Seeing the camera, she shook her head frantically, tears streaming down her face. “Layla!” I screamed, trying to rush forward, but Ethan pulled me back instantly. “Ten… Nine…” The screen instantly returned to the live feed, and the synthetic voice started counting. “Ethan!” I pleaded, my voice choked with sobs and completely shattered. “Please…” I had broken. Under the dual torment of the drug and the threat, I abandoned my last shred of struggle. Ethan looked up at me sharply, his eyes wide with shock, and a trace of barely concealed heartbreak. The comments section was in a frenzy: [She’s finally come around!] [Mr. Rhys, stop standing there! Kiss her!] [Kiss her, then go straight for it! No holding back!] [Go! Go! Go!] “Eight…” But Ethan didn’t move. He turned his head away, biting down hard, trembling slightly. We both knew what that one kiss would lead to.

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Five years into my marriage with Adrian Lopez, his long-lost love, Marilee, miraculously came back from the dead. She moved into my home, kissed my husband, and my son even started calling her “Mommy.” Adrian told me she had cancer and that he needed to make it up to her. He told me to be the bigger person. My son, Leo, said to me, “You’re just not as gentle or pretty as her. And she doesn’t have any scars.” So I gave them what they wanted. I faked my own death and disappeared, finally starting the quiet life I’d always longed for. More than a decade passed in a blur. Then, Leo Lopez enrolled in the university where I teach. He found me, his eyes red-rimmed with tears, and demanded, “If you never wanted me, why did you even have me?” 1 It was the break between classes, and the grounds below the lecture hall were swarming with students. Leo ignored the curious stares, his fingers clenching the fabric of my sleeve. The heat of his gaze made me feel like I was being roasted over an open flame. I lowered my eyes, fighting to appear calm. “You must have the wrong person, young man. I’ve never been married, and I don’t have children.” His voice was deceptively steady. “Really?” he shot back. “The same face, the same build, even the same first name. Did I get it wrong, or are you just too scared to admit who you are?” It was a dramatic twist of fate. After faking my death, I fled the country and ran into the Reeds, a couple mourning the recent loss of their daughter. They saw the resemblance between us and asked me to take on her identity. By some cosmic coincidence, her name was also Ava. Sometimes you just have to accept that another “you” exists somewhere in the world. As Ava Reed, I finished my doctorate abroad and eventually became a university professor. When Mr. Reed passed away, his final wish was to be buried back home, so I returned to the States with his wife. Not long after, she passed away too. Once again, I was alone in this vast world. As for Leo, the child I had left behind, I never imagined I would see him again. His sudden appearance caught me completely off guard. I used to imagine what he’d look like when he grew up. But standing here, he didn’t seem to resemble me or Adrian. I searched my mind, but the image of his younger self was already a blur. When I walked away from the Lopezs, I left with nothing but the clothes on my back, a clean, sharp break. Every photograph I had cherished, every memory I’d saved—all of it had been turned to ash in the fire. My thoughts were a chaotic whirl. Leo’s grip on my sleeve tightened, as if he feared I would vanish the moment he loosened his hold. A colleague I knew passed by on her way to class and, seeing the situation, came over to intervene. “Mr. Lopez, I think you’ve made a mistake,” she said gently. “It’s just a resemblance. You shouldn’t hold up Professor Reed’s lecture.” Doubt flickered across Leo’s face, and his grip slackened. I seized the opportunity, pulling my arm free and hurrying up the stairs. At the landing, I glanced back. Leo stood there, a lonely, dejected figure. He was as striking as Adrian, the kind of person you could spot in a crowd instantly. He looked heartbroken. But I felt no pang of sympathy. I just told myself, Ava, you can look back, but you can never, ever go back. 2 Teaching always consumed me, and I quickly pushed the morning’s interruption to the back of my mind. Back in my office, the heating was on full blast. I took off my coat but left my scarf on. A new professor in the office across from mine pointed it out kindly. “Professor Reed, you forgot to take off your scarf.” I just smiled without a word. I prepped my lessons, reviewed a thesis, ate lunch, and settled in for a nap. Leo’s appearance hadn’t disrupted my life. My routine was unshakable. At least, that’s how it seemed. I reclined my chair, pulled a thin blanket over myself, and checked that my alarm was set. I closed my eyes, the familiar drowsiness creeping in. But I had underestimated the psychological toll of Leo’s sudden return. For the first time in years, I dreamt of Adrian and Leo. My marriage to Adrian was a business arrangement. My father had done a great favor for Adrian’s father back in the day and never asked for anything in return. But then my father’s business ran into trouble, and he had no choice but to turn to the Lopezs for help. Mr. Lopez agreed, on the condition that our families be joined by marriage. Back then, I had a secret crush on Adrian. But I knew he was in love with a girl named Marilee Sterling, so I never dared to reveal my feelings. In the world we lived in, marriage was rarely about love. When I found out I was going to marry him, I was so ecstatic I couldn’t sleep all night. I thought I could work my way into his heart, slowly, patiently. But halfway through our wedding ceremony, news broke that the plane Marilee was on had crashed. She had been leaving the country, heartbroken, and the flight went down into the ocean. No survivors, no remains. Adrian calmly let the wedding proceed. But I knew a wall had just been erected around his heart. And the eternally young, eternally perfect Marilee was now enshrined within it forever. I suggested we live as husband and wife in name only. Instead, he descended on me with a chilling darkness, without a hint of tenderness. He whispered venomously in my ear, “Does it hurt? Good. Suffer. Marilee is dead because of your family. You all brought this on yourselves.” The night after that, my family’s company went bankrupt, and we vanished from the city’s high society. My father, in his despair, jumped from his office building. My mother suffered a mental breakdown and was committed to a sanatorium. I remember the night my father died. Adrian came home, staggering drunk. He stormed into my bedroom and ravaged me like a man possessed. “Ava,” he snarled, “I’m going to make you hurt a hundred, a thousand times more than I do.” I thought about ending it all. But Adrian saw right through me. “If you don’t want your mother to suffer, you’ll stay alive,” he threatened. “You know I have my ways.” I was trapped. I couldn’t die, but living was agony. 3 My marriage to Adrian was a suffocating, airless prison. In public, we were the perfect, loving couple. We attended galas and entertained guests, always by each other’s side. The media often snapped photos of him buying me luxury brands or bidding on priceless jewels at auction, dubbing him the ultimate doting husband. But behind closed doors, he would take out his rage on my body, hissing that I was no better than a whore he’d paid for. After each time, he would toss the expensive jewelry at my face. “Here’s your service fee,” he’d sneer. “At least you’re a high-class one.” I didn’t know when this life would end, or how much longer I could endure it. Then, a small mercy: my mother’s condition improved, and she was discharged. I didn’t want her to worry, so I’d tell her how thoughtful and considerate Adrian was, what a wonderful man he was. But no matter how well I acted, how could a mother not see the truth? She left me a letter, telling me to find my freedom. Then she followed my father. My spirit shattered completely. I stopped eating, stopped drinking. No tears, no outbursts. I just faded. Soon, I fell into a coma, my vital signs slipping away. My mind, however, was crystal clear. I developed a sick, twisted craving for death. It was the only way out, the ultimate release. But Adrian wouldn’t allow it. Every time I drifted close to the edge, a pair of hands would pull me back. I could hear Adrian’s voice in my ear, choked with sobs. He spoke with a gentleness and desperation I had never heard before. He said he had lost. He said that through the endless, torturous days, he had somehow fallen in love with me. How absurd. After being revived yet again, a doctor gave me the news: I was pregnant. A fruit had grown from the flower of my suffering. I felt like my life was now shackled forever. I didn’t want this child. I secretly scheduled an abortion at a different hospital. But Adrian found me. He locked me away, with guards watching me twenty-four hours a day, until I gave birth to Leo. 4 The dream was long and torturous, pulling me back into the depths of my old pain. Thankfully, my alarm went off, yanking me back to reality. After my afternoon lecture, I headed to the parking garage. As I passed the athletic fields, a basketball came flying straight at my head. My mind went blank. I instinctively threw my hands up to shield my face. The impact I braced for never came. I opened my eyes. Leo stood in front of me, clutching his head where the ball had hit him. I found myself in a tangle of emotions. As much as I wanted nothing to do with him, I couldn’t just walk away from a student who had just protected me in front of everyone. I took him to the campus clinic. After he was patched up, I turned to leave. “Professor Reed,” Leo called out. “I helped you. Don’t I deserve a thank you?” I stopped and turned back. “I already said thank you.” “A verbal thank you is so boring. How about something more tangible?” He sauntered over to me. “It’s my birthday today. Could you… could you have dinner with me?” His words unlocked a flood of memories I had kept sealed away. Though I hadn’t wanted Leo’s birth, perhaps it was the agonizing, difficult labor, or perhaps it was just maternal instinct, but I came to love him fiercely. Once, when he was a toddler, he almost knocked over a kettle. Without a second thought, I lunged forward and wrapped him in my arms. The entire pot of boiling water cascaded down my neck and chest. Afterwards, to soothe the terrified child, I held him and sang to him for four hours straight. I missed the optimal window for treatment. The burn left a permanent, ugly scar. I didn’t care about the scar. All that mattered was that my son was safe. For him, I put on a performance, playing the part of a loving wife to give him a happy home. And we were, for a time, happy. Until he turned four. That was when the facade was ripped away. After Leo was born, Adrian had grown to love our family life. He’d often suggested having another child, but I always refused. As a result, he doted on our only son. Leo’s birthday parties became more extravagant each year. For his fourth, he invited Leo’s entire preschool class to a private amusement park and ski slope that his grandfather had built specially for him. Halfway through the party, an unexpected guest arrived. It was Marilee Sterling. I had seen her photos on Adrian’s phone. She was beautiful and elegant, and now she had an added layer of mature grace. Perhaps the shock of seeing a ghost was too much, because Adrian just stood there, staring in disbelief. It was only when she called his name that he instinctively dropped my hand. It turned out Marilee had missed her flight that day, rebooking on a later one and escaping the crash. She said she hadn’t wanted to disrupt Adrian’s life, so she had stayed away. A recent job transfer had brought her back to the city, and she just wanted to see him. Old friends reunited. There was much to catch up on. Adrian set Marilee up in one of his private apartments. He didn’t come home that night. I knew my life was about to be thrown into turmoil again. I just didn’t expect that the one thing I held onto—my only anchor—would be taken from me too. 5 A confused Leo once asked me who Marilee was. I didn’t know how to answer. “Let’s wait for Daddy to tell you, okay?” I said. The next morning, Adrian came home, his steps weary and unsteady. Leo, a milk mustache on his upper lip, asked the question again. Suddenly, Adrian’s temper flared. “You’re disgusting, Ava! Using our son to manipulate me!” he yelled. “Marilee has cancer! What’s wrong with me taking care of her? You already have so much! Why can’t you just be a little more generous, a little kinder?” I glanced at the faint, tell-tale red mark on his collar and said nothing. His outburst sent Leo into a fit of terrified tears. Sanity returned to Adrian, and he apologized. I remained silent. Marilee’s company had business with Adrian’s, so they started seeing each other more and more. Without me realizing it, Leo had also grown attached to her. I first noticed something was wrong one night as I was reading him a bedtime story. After only a few sentences, he started fussing, insisting that he wanted Marilee to read to him. I had no choice but to let him have his way. It was only later that I realized the three of them had built a whole world behind my back. Soon after, Marilee invited us to her birthday dinner. Fueled by alcohol, she wept as she recounted the hardships she had faced over the years. Leo, his face etched with sympathy, walked over, took her hand, and kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t cry, pretty lady,” he said. “Mommy stole Daddy from you, so Leo will give himself to you.” A cold premonition washed over me. I sensed a distance growing between me and my son. But I clung to a sliver of hope—he was my child, born from my body. That bond was unbreakable. That last sliver of hope was shattered the day I heard Leo call her “Mommy.” 6 It was an ordinary Friday. I made sweet and sour pork ribs, Leo’s favorite. I simmered a chicken soup, the kind Adrian loved. I waited for my husband and son to come home. Instead, all three of them walked in together. Marilee and Adrian were holding Leo’s hands, laughing and talking as they entered. A perfect, happy family of three. “Mommy, I was a good boy at school today! You promised you’d give me a reward.” I froze. I didn’t remember making any such promise. A moment later, Marilee’s gentle voice drifted over. “Of course, sweetie. Mommy already has it ready for you.” Adrian looked up and saw me. My expression must have been ghastly, because he felt the need to walk over and explain. “Marilee took Leo hiking the other day,” he began. “They stopped at an old monastery, and a monk there said that Leo and Marilee were mother and son in a past life. So I had Leo officially recognize her as his godmother. Don’t worry, no matter what, you’ll always be his real mother. That will never change.” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. What a flimsy excuse. And it had changed. “Godmother” and “Mommy” were worlds apart. Leo pouted. “If you don’t like it, Mommy, I can just use their names when I talk. You can be Mommy Ava, and she can be Mommy Marilee.” I rose from the sofa. “Don’t bother. From now on, you only have one mother.”

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My first day in the book, I was kneeling in the Great Hall with other new ladies before I even knew the palace layout. The King, unlike his “patient and wise” reputation, pointed at the pale girl beside me and roared, “Ill omen. Kill her!” Trembling, I watched her be sentenced. When my turn came, the tyrant smiled cruelly at my fear. “This one stays.” That night, he dragged me to his chambers and tormented me endlessly. Afterward, he used me wherever he pleased. I suffered silently as his plaything. Then, the day I gave birth, I saw a furry wolf cub between my legs. Shock overwhelmed me. A court drama, not a fantasy zoo! Was this heaven’s way of ending me? 1. Fear sent my mind into overdrive. Shaking, I frantically dug through my hazy memories of the original novel. The book had an unfinished, rushed ending. The main character, King Cyrus, presented a facade of a diligent and benevolent ruler. In reality, he was a dark, violent tyrant who killed without a second thought. And the original owner of this body, Clara—which was now me—was nothing more than insignificant cannon fodder. After her first night with the King, she had secretly drunk a contraceptive tonic. Cyrus caught her in the act. “Since you love your medicine so much,” he’d said, his voice cold as ice, “We shall let you drink your fill.” And so, the original Clara was forced to drink an entire barrel of the bitter tea until her stomach literally burst. The bloody lesson was seared into my brain. To survive, I had spent the last year being utterly, meticulously obedient. If he wanted a bed warmer, I’d be silent as a stone. If he commanded me to submit, I wouldn’t dare resist. If he wanted me on my stomach, I wouldn’t dream of turning over… I had tried so hard. I had been so compliant! And for what? Staring at the furry little wolf cub between my legs, I managed a weak, desperate smile. This wasn’t just deceiving the Crown; this was corrupting the entire royal bloodline. This was witchcraft. A dark omen that would throw the kingdom into chaos! Would that damn King feed me to the wolves? Or worse… tie me and this little cub to a stake and burn us alive? Was this my punishment for trying to change the plot? My mind was a tangled mess. I watched as the little cub clumsily rolled over. It stuck out a tiny pink tongue and began licking its soft fur. He was… almost cute? No! Get a grip, Clara! That thing is your death sentence! Just as I was staring at the “evidence” on the bed, paralyzed with terror, a voice from outside sent a chill down my spine. “How is Lady Clara?” “Your… Your Majesty, the child is born, but…” The servant’s voice trembled like a candle flame in the wind. “As long as the child is born, that is all that matters!” Cyrus’s voice actually sounded… pleased. Almost eager. Don’t tell me he was excited to be a father. “All that matters?” If you knew what I gave birth to, you’d be saying, “As long as they’re both dead!” The footsteps grew closer. My body was as taut as a drawn bow, my heart hammering against my ribs. 2. There was no time for maternal bonding. With the fastest hands I’d ever had, I snatched the wolf cub by its tail and shoved it deep under the bed. “Be a good boy,” I whispered frantically. “Don’t you make a sound, or the royal kitchens will be serving a new special tonight! Wolf stew, and you’re the main course!” The cub let out a tiny, wounded whimper and then, miraculously, fell silent. Cyrus strode into the room. Though he was in his plain robes, the oppressive aura around him was as potent as ever. His eyes scanned the empty bed, a flicker of impatience crossing his features. “Where is the child?” Lie? Lie to this man, whose face could silence a crying child? I couldn’t do it! “The… the child… didn’t… didn’t…” The gruesome image of the original Clara’s death played on a loop in my head. The fear was bone-deep. My lips trembled like dead leaves in a gale. The words “make it” were caught in my throat, refusing to come out. Cyrus’s brow furrowed in annoyance. He closed the distance between us in a single step and grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Well? I asked you a question. Where is the child?” His fingertips were like ice, sending a shiver through my entire body. I squeezed my eyes shut, swallowed hard, and summoned every ounce of acting talent I possessed. “It is my fault, Your Majesty,” I sobbed, my voice cracking with anguish. “I was too weak… I couldn’t save our child…” Cyrus froze. The light in his eyes instantly died. I knew that look. I knew it all too well. The royal family had always struggled to produce heirs. A new child was a matter of national importance. Cyrus had been selecting new ladies for his court for years, yet at over thirty, he was still childless. To finally have a child, only to have it “not make it”… Of course he was devastated. CRASH! A deafening sound exploded next to my ear. The disappointment on Cyrus’s face vanished, replaced by a storm of cold, violent rage. He sneered and kicked over a nearby wardrobe with brutal force. “Good! Excellent! A fine job!” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Couldn’t save him, you say…” The King’s fury was a terrifying thing. Outside the room, a chorus of shrieks and pleas for mercy erupted. “Your Majesty, calm your anger! Please!” A cold sweat drenched my body. I was paralyzed by a fear so profound it felt like I was drowning. Then I heard Cyrus let out a sharp, chilling laugh. His voice dropped to a frigid whisper. “You have the face of an angel, the body of a goddess… but you’re just as useless as the rest.” Tears streamed down my face. Useless? Who was it that held me all night, taking me seven times without stopping? Now that he’s pulled up his trousers, he doesn’t recognize the work I put in? The room fell into a deathly silence. The Lord Chamberlain spoke up, his voice trembling. “Your Majesty, what shall be done with Lady Clara…?” Cyrus didn’t even bother to look at me again. He released my chin, his tone as flat and lifeless as stale water. “Since she is so useless that she cannot even secure a royal heir… leave her here. Let her rot.” A massive weight lifted from my chest. Thank God! My life was spared! Let me rot? Wonderful! No more early morning greetings, no more bed-warming duties! And no more dealing with this unpredictable, terrifying man! I fought to keep the corners of my mouth from turning up into a grin and bowed my head to the mattress. “This servant… thanks Your Majesty for his grace.” 3. Within half a day, the Rose Pavilion was stripped bare, as if it had been looted. As for the terrified midwife, I had worried she would talk. But Cyrus had acted first. She was executed for “incompetence,” leaving no loose ends. And so, clutching the furry little wolf cub in my arms, I officially began my life in the forgotten North Tower. At first, it was grim. The food was barely fit for pigs. But my spirits were high! No bed-warming, no boss to please, and I could sleep in every day! It was the retirement I’d always dreamed of! Then, one night about a month later, a guard on patrol knocked on my door. His name was Ethan, and he had been my childhood sweetheart before I was brought to the palace. His eyes were full of a complex mix of emotions as he looked at me. I learned he was now married, with a child of his own. Though things had changed, Ethan was a good man. Seeing my difficult situation, he started leaving a basket of hot food outside my door during his nightly patrols. It was risky, but the temptation of a decent meal was too much to resist. Besides, with some proper food, the little wolf cub could grow strong, couldn’t he? I named the cub “Howl.” Howl was incredibly smart and grew astonishingly fast. Before he was even a year old, he was already the size of a large puppy. He seemed to understand everything I said. He would trot over with pretty flowers in his mouth to cheer me up and would sleep dutifully at the foot of my bed when I was scared at night. The North Tower was deserted, so as long as Howl didn’t make too much noise, he went unnoticed. The days drifted by peacefully. More than half a year passed, and it felt as if the tower and its inhabitants had been completely forgotten. Until the Harvest Moon Festival in August. The moon outside was huge and perfectly round. As I lay on the hard wooden bed, a strange unease crept over me. Howl was unusually quiet tonight, already curled up asleep on his straw mat in the corner. Drowsiness eventually won. I yawned and closed my eyes. In the hazy space between waking and sleeping, I thought I heard a long, mournful wolf’s cry. Before I could make sense of it, the rickety door to my room was kicked open with a violent BANG! A tall figure, reeking of alcohol, stumbled inside. It was Cyrus. He stood by my bed, his eyes bloodshot, radiating a familiar, predatory aggression. I shot upright, my heart pounding. He lunged forward and tied a silk ribbon over my eyes, plunging my world into darkness. I shifted nervously, instinctively reaching to tear it off. “Touch it, and you die.” Right. Got it. Blindfolds. The damn King had learned a new trick and decided to practice on me in my exile. My mind raced with sarcastic comments, but my body was frozen in fear. His movements were rough and urgent, leaving no room for refusal. I could only bite my lip and endure. To be fair, though the King was a tyrant, he was… well-endowed and technically skilled. A rare specimen of the dominant-yet-restrained type. After half a year of a vegetarian diet, this was a feast. My head was spinning, and I soon found myself lost in the heat of the moment. Just as I was completely surrendering to the dizzying pleasure, my hand brushed against something soft and furry. The texture… it was unmistakably Howl’s fur! What was Howl doing on the bed?! A violent tremor shot through me, and a cold sweat trickled down my spine. 4. “Your… Your Majesty! Wait!” I gasped, pushing against his chest. “Hmm?” Cyrus murmured against my lips, not slowing down in the slightest. I twisted my body, struggling with all my might. “Not tonight… we can’t!” In a panic, I tried to rip the blindfold off, but he caught my wrist in a crushing grip. His voice was a low growl, laced with lust and annoyance. “Can’t what? Are you hiding something?” I had always been docile in his bed. This was the first time I had ever fought back. My voice trembled. “No… nothing, it’s just that this place is so dirty, I fear…” Before I could finish, a steady knock came from the door. It was my kind-hearted childhood friend, Ethan. “Clara? It’s the festival today. I brought you some mooncakes and roasted meats.” He must have been confused by my silence. After a pause, his voice took on a worried tone. “Clara? Are you asleep? Is everything alright?” When he still got no answer, the door creaked open. “Cla—” He only managed to get one syllable out before an enraged Cyrus sent him flying with a vicious kick. In the next instant, Cyrus dragged me from the bed and threw me to the floor. “Hah…” He stared down at me, a horrifying, cold smile on his face. “No wonder you were so content to rot in this tower. You had a lover!” he snarled. “Bringing you food in the dead of night? How touching!” I hit the ground so hard that my vision went black. It was over. It was completely and utterly over. “No… it’s not…” I shook my head desperately, coughing until tears streamed from my eyes. “Not?” Cyrus’s voice was laced with ice. “If I recall correctly, this is the boy you were promised to before you came to the palace, is he not? Can’t forget your old flame, can you? Daring to carry on right under my nose!” A massive wave of terror seized me. I crawled forward and clutched the hem of his robe, my voice shaking. “It’s not like that! He was just… just bringing me some food! We’ve done nothing wrong!” Ethan scrambled to his knees, banging his head on the floor. “Your Majesty, I swear! There is nothing between Lady Clara and myself! I was only—” “Silence!” Cyrus roared, kicking the delicate food basket and sending its contents scattering across the floor. “A man and a woman, alone in the middle of the night! Do you take me for a fool?” His chest heaved with fury. The murderous intent in his eyes was unmistakable. “Guards! Seize this adulterous pair!” Two guards immediately entered, their swords drawn. Cyrus leaned down, his icy fingers digging into my chin. “Clara, the one thing I despise above all else in this world is being deceived.” At that critical moment, a small, childish voice cut through the tension. “Don’t you bully my mommy!” Everyone froze. A small boy, no older than two or three, rushed out from the shadows of the antechamber. He was wearing the little tunic I had sewn for him, his face tight with anger. He bravely planted himself in front of me, glaring defiantly at Cyrus. Staring at this child who had appeared out of nowhere, my mind went completely blank. “H-Howl?” I whispered in disbelief. Howl glanced back at me, his voice ringing with courage. “Don’t be scared, Mommy! I’ll protect you!” Cyrus’s gaze darted between me and the boy. First came shock, then a dawning, terrible understanding. “So that’s it… no wonder you were so desperate to get rid of me!” He laughed, a sound that seemed to crawl up from the depths of hell itself. He lunged down and wrapped his hand around my throat, his voice a demonic whisper. “You were afraid I would discover that you and your lover… had already produced this… this abomination?!” “No… it’s not…” I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. The injustice and terror were suffocating me. “Bad man! Let my mommy go!” Seeing Cyrus choking me, Howl leaped forward and sank his teeth into the King’s arm. Cyrus grunted in pain. The fury in his eyes intensified, and with a powerful wrench of his arm, he flung the boy across the room. “Ah—!” Howl’s small body hit the far wall with a cry of pain. The moment he landed, something impossible happened. A brilliant silver light erupted from his body, flooding the room like liquid moonlight. Within the light, his small form shifted and changed— In the blink of an eye, he had transformed into a wolf cub, his fur the color of pure, polished silver. Its fluffy wolf ears twitched with rage, and a long, gray tail stood erect behind it. It bared its fangs, snarling viciously at the King. The entire tower was plunged into a dead, terrifying silence.

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1 I was out shopping with my best friend this morning when I saw him—Kris Lockwood, my cool and composed husband, standing at the Chanel counter. He was buying the very haute couture gown I’d had on reserve for weeks. That evening, the gown appeared on his executive assistant. I didn’t make a scene. Instead, a playful, dangerous smile touched my lips. I had every identical Chanel gown from every boutique in the city delivered and piled up in front of him. Let him buy them all. My best friend, Nicole, had already drafted the divorce papers for me overnight. I have the money and the looks. The one thing I’m not short on is men. At the annual company gala, I drifted through the crowd, a glass of red wine in hand, laughing with the division heads from our various branches. The dance floor was just starting to fill as the music swelled. That’s when Kris made his grand, belated entrance, his assistant on his arm. I watched, from across the hall, as he stopped at the entrance to adjust the Chaumet brooch on Cathy’s dress. A faint smile played on his lips, his eyes full of doting affection, clearly pleased with his handiwork. Kris always did have an impeccable eye for detail; with that small adjustment, Cathy’s delicate features were instantly elevated, making her almost worthy of the Chanel gown she was wearing. In that single moment, every fantasy I’d clung to shattered. When I’d seen him leaving the boutique that morning, I’d been so sure he was picking up the dress for me. My heart had felt so full, so happy. I’d even had my makeup artist create a look specifically to match it. But as the minutes ticked by and the gala began, the dress never arrived. I called him, my tone light and probing, asking if he had a surprise for me. He brushed me off with a few words about being busy, but I caught it—the sweet, saccharine voice of another woman in the background. “Mr. Lockwood, do you think Mrs. Lockwood will be upset?” “Don’t worry,” he’d replied. “She has enough clothes to open her own boutique.” It was then I understood. The man I married was no longer purely mine. Now, Cathy stood before me, her face tilted up in a sweet smile, a pair of familiar, charming dimples deepening in her cheeks. “Mrs. Lockwood, you look stunning tonight.” Her compliment did nothing to soften my gaze. My eyes turned cold, raking over her from head to toe. “That’s a lovely dress. It’s the same model I had on order from Chanel.” We were all smart people here. Some things didn’t need to be spelled out. A fresh college graduate, not even a year into her first job, couldn’t possibly afford a twenty-thousand-dollar gown. My stare made her squirm. Cathy bit her lip, her hands twisting nervously in front of her as she shot desperate glances at Kris. Kris met my eyes, his expression as placid as ever. “Anna, don’t misunderstand. Cathy mentioned she’d never been to a gala like this, never worn couture.” He gestured vaguely. “She’s been working so hard, showing so much initiative. I just grabbed it for her on a whim.” I arched an eyebrow and nodded, then gave my assistant a subtle signal. A moment later, a line of thirteen Chanel sales associates, all dressed in immaculate uniforms, marched into the hall. Each carried an identical gown, and they advanced in a formidable, smiling line until they stood before Kris. He looked at me, confused. I leaned against a carved pillar, my arms crossed, a smirk playing on my lips. “Time to pay up.” I let my gaze sweep over the other executives in the room. “All thirteen of our division heads brought their assistants tonight. Every single one of them is hardworking and full of initiative. You wouldn’t play favorites, would you, Kris? Not and give a gift only to your own assistant?” Cathy knew I was publicly humiliating them. The color drained from her face, leaving it a stark white. When she spoke, her voice was thick with unshed tears. “Mrs. Lockwood, please don’t make things difficult for Mr. Lockwood. It’s all my fault. I’ll return the dress right now.” Listen to that. As if I was the one making a scene, the cruel wife tearing apart two innocent lovebirds. “Cathy, is it?” I said, my voice dangerously soft. “You’re overthinking things. Thirteen dresses is hardly ‘making things difficult.’ Kris grew up with someone to pick the bones out of his fish for him. It’s perfectly normal that he wouldn’t understand the implications of a man giving a woman a dress.” My eyes narrowed. “But you’re his personal assistant. You’re supposed to be more aware of these things. Didn’t you know better?” Cathy dropped her head in panic, mumbling apologies. Kris Lockwood—his looks, his family, his career—was the complete package. He was a star, brilliant and untouchable for most of his life, with countless women vying for his attention. Yet, for years, he’d maintained a cool, detached independence. Any woman who tried to get too close was met with nothing but a cold, distant stare. He was the one who had held me in his arms on countless nights, whispering softly in my ear that I was the only thing in his world worth cherishing. But everything had changed. Now, I could see it in his eyes: a flicker of pity and protectiveness for another woman. With a faint, resigned smile, Kris shook his head. He pulled a black card from his jacket and handed it to the lead sales associate. Then he walked over to me, his arm sliding around my waist, his gaze locking with mine. Over the swell of the music, his deep, pleasant voice murmured in my ear. “It’s just a dress, Anna. I didn’t realize you cared so much. Scaring the poor girl is one thing, but I’d hate to see you get so worked up. It breaks my heart.” His tone was light, almost joking, as if this were all a trivial misunderstanding. He effortlessly shifted the focus away from Cathy. A cold smirk spread across my lips. My fingers, pale and slender, curled around his silk tie, and I pulled him closer, inch by inch. “Cathy has a crush on you. You’re a smart man, Kris. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.” I paused, letting the words hang between us. “I know a couple million is nothing to you. But this is the first time something like this has happened. I expect it to be the last.” The employees around us, assuming we were flirting, erupted in a chorus of good-natured hoots and whistles. We were so close I could feel his breath on my skin. A flush crept up Kris’s neck, and the first crack appeared in his carefully composed facade. He frowned, a hint of discomfort in his eyes. “Anna, not here. What will the staff think?” “There’s nothing between Cathy and me besides a professional relationship. You’re imagining things.” I let out a soft scoff and released his tie. Humiliating him here would be easy, but it wouldn’t do me any favors either. Getting into a public feud with some bland, watery girl was beneath me. I’d made my point. For now, I decided to let it go. Besides, I had no concrete proof of an affair. Taking his arm, I walked with him to the stage to deliver the annual address on our company’s stellar performance this year. The other executives’ assistants, all savvy women, delightedly collected their new gowns. They made sure to parade past Cathy on their way out. “We have you to thank, sweetie. If it weren’t for you, we’d probably never get to wear something so expensive in our lives.” “To Mr. Lockwood, giving away a dress is like handing a piece of candy to a child. You’re not going to get any silly ideas about him, are you?” “My, those eyes… and those dimples… they look so familiar. No wonder Mr. Lockwood took a special interest in you.” One after another, their faces were masks of mockery, their words dripping with warning. Cathy had probably never been humiliated like this in her life. Her head sank lower and lower, as if she wished the floor would swallow her whole. Fat tears splattered silently onto the marble. As soon as the crowd thinned, she fled the hall with red-rimmed eyes. She didn’t come back. After the dinner, we made a tactful early exit, leaving the younger employees to enjoy the rest of their night. The moment I got in the car, I knew something was wrong. My passenger seat had been adjusted. And stuck to the corners of the sun visor were several cute anime girl stickers. No one but me ever dared treat Kris as a chauffeur, and no one was clueless enough to sit in my seat. I knew exactly who had been here. A sudden, inexplicable rage ignited within me. I hated to admit it, but in that moment, my scalp tingled with fury, my reason slipping away. Finding out he’d given my dress to Cathy had been one thing—a waste of a good gown. But this—her leaving a trace of herself in my private space—was a declaration of war. In five years of marriage, I had never been this angry. I wanted to slap him across the face, kick him out of the car, and then drive at top speed to wherever Cathy was and give her a piece of my mind. I was about to confront him when his phone rang. Kris, completely oblivious to my simmering rage, answered the call. It was Cathy. I started yanking at the seat controls, my movements jerky and aggressive. “Okay, don’t worry,” I heard him say. “I’m on my way.” My hand froze. I slowly lifted my head and stared at him. He frowned slightly. “Cathy’s at the boutique trying to return the dress, but she doesn’t have the receipt. I need to go.” He was already looking past me, his mind elsewhere. “Anna, I’ll call the driver to pick you up. You go on home.” The words caught in my throat. “You’re leaving me here? For something so trivial?” “Anna, don’t make this difficult,” he sighed. “The girl’s pride is wounded. After what you did, she cried until her voice was raw. All she wants now is to return that dress.” “Is her pride wounded, or is she just provoking me in front of you? Couldn’t she just come and get the receipt herself?” Kris rubbed the bridge of his nose, his voice weary. “Anna, is it really necessary to torment a new hire like this? When did you learn to throw your weight around? This isn’t like you.” The white-hot anger that had been consuming me vanished, replaced by a wave of crushing disappointment. It was almost laughable. “Throwing my weight around?” I echoed. “Kris, you have never, not once, defended another woman to me—not even your own mother. This is a first.” A flicker of confusion crossed his handsome face. “When we got married,” I continued, my voice dangerously calm, “we made a deal. For the sake of both our families’ reputations, you wouldn’t play around, and I wouldn’t waste my nights in clubs. Are you really going to break that rule for her?” His gaze turned deep and cold. He was silent for a long moment before finally dialing the number for our family driver. Then, he leaned over, unbuckled my seatbelt, and spoke in a flat, even tone. “You’re always so forceful, Anna. We’re husband and wife, not just strategic partners. Outside of work, can’t you be a little more like other wives? Can’t you try to rely on me, to yield just a little?” He pulled back, his decision made. “I’ll handle things with Cathy, then I’m going to spend the night at my parents’ estate. I think we both need some time to cool off.” So that was it. He was tired of me. Bored. And now he was desperate to feel his masculine power with some other woman. He used to tell me he admired my decisiveness, my sharp, take-charge attitude more than anything. What a pathetic, high-minded excuse to pin all the blame on me. I got out of the car without another word, watching the black Maybach disappear from sight. I had given him a chance. He didn’t take it. I pulled out my phone and dialed my best friend. “Nikki,” I said, my voice steady. “Draft the divorce papers.” I never wanted it to come to this. Our families, the Lockwoods and the Archers, had been friends for generations. Kris and I were childhood sweethearts, though we’d lost touch for about a decade when he went abroad for his studies. We reconnected at the dinner our families arranged to discuss our engagement. He was polished and charming, handling the elders’ questions with an easy grace. In the years he was gone, I’d thrown myself into the family business, but I’d also spent my fair share of nights at high-end clubs, decompressing with male models. I thought things would be awkward between us after so long, but when we were alone, I discovered a witty, humorous soul hidden beneath his composed exterior. That old, familiar feeling from our youth came rushing back. We were both ambitious, at the peak of our careers. We admired each other, and soon, we were engaged and married. Our union was more than a marriage; it was a merger. Lockwood Industries and Archer Enterprises became intertwined, our stocks mutually held. Divorcing him would be a financial nightmare. Back at home, I showered, drank a glass of warm milk, and prepared for bed. My phone buzzed with a message from Kris. Goodnight, it read, followed by a kissing emoji. Even in the midst of a cold war, he never failed to perform the perfunctory duties of a husband. The next morning, as I was walking into my office building, a young man with bleached-blond hair nearly knocked me over. My Hermès Himalaya bag slammed onto the pavement, scuffing the exotic leather. The coffee and breakfast he was carrying flew through the air, splashing all over the hem of my cashmere coat. The two security guards at the door saw what happened and rushed over, scolding the kid for not watching where he was going. Panicked, he scrambled to pick up my bag and tried to wipe the coffee stains off my coat with a napkin. When he saw it was hopeless, he dropped to his knees, begging me to forgive him. It was the dead of winter, and he was only wearing a thin jacket and sunglasses, which didn’t quite hide the dark bruises under his eyes. I ignored the ruined coat, my heart aching as I frowned and gently wiped at the scuffed leather on my purse. And of course, Kris, who always arrived at work at the same time I did, saw the whole thing from across the street. Lockwood Industries was just opposite Archer Enterprises. He stood there, watching silently, his face a mask of stern disapproval. For the first time, I saw disgust in his eyes. He probably thought I was on another power trip, enjoying this poor kid groveling at my feet. I ignored his silent judgment. I took a step back, waved off the approaching guards, and pulled the young man to his feet. “I don’t know what you’re going through,” I said, my voice firm but not unkind, “but a man’s dignity is precious. You can lose anything, but you can’t lose your spine. That’s the only thing that truly belongs to you.” He mumbled a stream of apologies and thank yous as he cleaned up the mess on the ground, then scurried away. Just as he rounded the corner of the building, he shot a quick look back over his shoulder, a strange, unreadable smile on his face. Back in my office, I sat at my desk and examined the damaged bag. The scuff wasn’t large; you wouldn’t even notice it if you weren’t looking for it. But once a flaw appears, it can never be perfect again. It was so valuable that even this tiny imperfection would be nearly impossible to repair. Harder to fix than my bag was my marriage to Kris. The look in his eyes that morning was a thorn lodged deep in my heart. Our lunch was a long-standing ritual. The Lockwood family chef would prepare it and have it delivered to my office, and Kris would come over to eat with me. Today, I waited until one o’clock, assuming he wasn’t coming. Just as I opened the container, he walked in. Cathy trailed behind him. Her eyes were red and swollen, and she kept her head bowed, looking meek and fragile. I put down my chopsticks and simply watched them. Kris sat down beside me and sighed. “Because of last night, Cathy is being targeted and ostracized at the office.” I picked up my spoon and began to ladle some soup into my bowl, not even bothering to look up. “Is that so? She’s the President’s executive assistant. Can’t she handle a little office drama?” His voice grew tight. “What I mean is, I want you to call your people off. Stop tormenting a young girl!” It was an unspoken rule of our corporate marriage: we each had our own loyalists planted in the other’s company. He was accusing my people of defending my honor by going after Cathy. Last night’s gala was a joint event; nearly every employee from both companies had been there. It was inevitable that Cathy’s behavior would become a topic of gossip. I stirred my soup and took a sip. “First,” I said calmly, “I haven’t instructed anyone to target your assistant. You should know that’s not my style. Second, whatever she’s facing today is a direct result of her own lack of boundaries. Kris, you still don’t understand people. Your special treatment, your tolerance for her behavior—you’re the one making her a target. You are the one who will ruin her, not me.” Cathy, who had been standing silently, suddenly took two steps forward. “It has nothing to do with Mr. Lockwood,” she blurted out. “Mrs. Lockwood, I know what happened yesterday was my fault. It was the first time I’d ever received such an extravagant gift, and I got carried away. I offended you, and I sincerely apologize.” I paused, then laughed. “Kris, your assistant is fascinating. She doesn’t seem to understand plain English, but she’s certainly quick to defend you.” I didn’t accept her half-hearted apology, nor did I intervene to stop the office gossip. Cathy’s tears and victimhood finally snapped something in Kris. For the first time in our relationship, he lost control. He slammed his soup bowl onto the floor at my feet, the porcelain shattering. He demanded that I apologize to Cathy. I had done nothing wrong. Why should I apologize? That day, we parted on the worst terms imaginable. That very afternoon, Kris left on a business trip, taking Cathy with him, away from the toxic environment he had created. That night, I was drinking with Nicole. She complained that I was too sharp, too intimidatingly competent. That’s why a “dumb beauty” like Cathy had managed to catch Kris’s eye. My mother died when I was young, and my father never remarried. I was raised to be the heir, groomed from childhood to carry the weight of the entire Archer family on my shoulders. Feminine softness was a luxury I couldn’t afford; it was a weakness that would only hold me back. I could stick to my principles for thirty years without wavering. Why couldn’t he? In the end, it was simple. He just didn’t love me anymore. And I have no interest in things that don’t belong to me. “I actually went to Lockwood Industries today to get a look at this famous assistant,” Nicole said, swirling the ice in her drink. “And wow. At first glance, she’s practically a knock-off Annabelle doll. Especially her eyes and those dimples—they’re just like yours. I don’t get what’s going through Kris’s head. Why ignore the real thing to coddle an imitation? Does he love you, or does he not?” Her words cut through the alcoholic haze, sobering me instantly. No wonder I’d felt a strange, foggy sense of familiarity when I first saw Cathy. I let out a bitter laugh. “Who knows? Maybe the knock-off is gentler. More understanding.” My head was pounding. Nicole drove me home, her driving exceptionally smooth because she knew I was feeling sick. “The divorce papers are ready,” she said as she pulled up to my villa. “When are you going to give them to him?” “Mid-month,” I said. “He’ll definitely be back for the family dinner with his grandfather.” Every month, without fail, we would go to the Lockwood family estate for dinner with his grandparents. Divorcing Kris was no small matter. I needed this time to secure my position and prepare for every possible outcome. Cathy, meanwhile, wasn’t staying quiet. Her social media was a constant stream of updates. Breakfast with the handsome CEO. Working late into the night together. Standing atop the city’s tallest skyscraper, looking down on the world. Her first time skydiving, her first time seeing a real coral reef, her first time witnessing the ethereal beauty of the Northern Lights. This business trip was giving her a lifetime of experiences she could never have dreamed of, and her feed could barely contain her joy. I used to be the only one who did those things with Kris. Now, the looks my colleagues gave me were a mixture of pity and caution. Kris was allowing her to use this to humiliate me. It was a flawlessly cruel, soul-crushing move. For the next few days, Nicole practically lived with me, helping my legal team sort through the financial entanglement of my marriage. One afternoon, she stormed into my office, her face a mask of fury, clutching a manila envelope. “Anna, that bastard Kris has gone too far!” I was signing a contract and looked up, startled by her rage. “What is it? Is he back?” Nicole slapped the envelope down on my desk. A memory card and several photos slid out, showing Kris and Cathy in a hotel suite. Kris was shirtless, and the angry red marks on his chest were a glaring accusation. “He’s not back,” she seethed, “but his sex tape is!” My shoulders, which I always held so straight, slumped. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, each beat a throb of pain. With a trembling hand, I picked up the memory card and inserted it into my laptop. The video showed a rooftop terrace at dusk. Kris was holding Cathy’s face in his hands, gazing at her with an almost obsessive look. Behind them, the sky was a fiery orange, the sunset weaving a tapestry of color behind them, lovers embracing against the sky like a scene from a romantic painting. Just as their lips were about to meet, I snapped the laptop shut. My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Who sent this?” “It was couriered. The front desk signed for it.” I took a deep, shuddering breath and slowly let it out. Methodically, I gathered the photos and put them back in the envelope, tucking them away in a desk drawer before I could regain my composure. “Don’t say a word about this to anyone. Find out who sent it.” “Who else could it be?” Nicole spat. “That shameless homewrecker is desperate to climb the ladder!” The angle of the video looked like it was secretly filmed, not staged. But it didn’t matter. What mattered was that Kris, my husband, was now truly tainted. Tomorrow was the middle of the month. It was time for all this rot to end. The next day, Kris returned to the office. The first thing he did was hold a company-wide meeting where he made an example of three employees, firing them on the spot. They were the ones who had been most vocal in mocking Cathy. Two of them were my people. I wasn’t surprised that he would defend her so brazenly. After all, they were sleeping in the same bed now. What did surprise me was that he brought her to the family dinner that evening. Cathy had brought a pile of expensive health supplements and gifts for my mother-in-law, clearly having done her homework. She charmed her completely, and Kris’s mother was beaming. When I arrived, my mother-in-law sent someone to fetch my father-in-law and Kris from the study, telling them it was time for dinner. She took my hand and began chattering away about trivial things. Kris entered the dining room, glanced at me once, and then looked away. Cathy followed close behind him and, without a moment’s hesitation, sat down in the chair next to him—the seat that had always been mine. Kris froze for a second, but said nothing. We weren’t divorced yet. We were still legally husband and wife. Yet here he was, with his assistant by his side, bringing her home to the family estate, letting her occupy the seat that had always been mine.

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I left the window open on purpose, letting the Don hear me with other men all night. The next morning, his face was dark. He asked how many there were, and if there was room for one more. But I was already in the arms of my companions and refused him coldly. His eyes were bloodshot, but he didn’t dare come closer. Why? After ten years of fighting to win him his empire, he was marrying some college girl instead of me. Even his crew defended me, reminding him how I stood by him. But Cain Thorne just stroked the matching ring he wore with his new love and sneered, “Kira? She’s covered in blood. The thought of her repulses me.” When warned that I might turn on him, he scoffed, “So what if I lose her?” He never knew I heard every word. I dropped the medical supplies I brought for him into the trash and texted his enemy: “Cain’s turf and his life. Want them? They’re yours.” 1. I was in the middle of arranging for a speedboat to get me off the island when Cain found me. “There’s a big shipment arriving the day after tomorrow. I need you to personally oversee the pickup with your best men. And clear out your house. I need it.” He gave the order in his usual deep, serious tone, but all I could feel was a bitter, rising laughter. To marry his sweet Lily, he was willing to throw me to the wolves. He’d let our main stronghold be vulnerable to Silas’s attack, just so I could risk my life to bring his little flower back to him. He really was madly in love. He needed my house? For what? To give to Lily, of course. I replied with a cold, flat, “Okay.” My lack of reaction clearly annoyed him. He scowled. “What’s with the attitude now? The only reason I haven’t made our relationship public is because things are unstable. Silas is watching our every move. I can’t let the whole crew drop their guard for one person.” He always did this, twisting things to make it seem like my fault. “Your most important job right now,” he continued, “is to help me break Silas’s blockade.” I used to think this was his way of protecting me. It made me fight harder for him, scheme for him, bleed for him. Now, it just sounded pathetic. I placed the requisition form for the boat on the desk in front of him. “There’s no attitude,” I said tonelessly. “I’m used to it.” He sensed something was off. A flash of irritation crossed his eyes, and he signed the form with such force that the pen tore through the paper. “Kira! What’s with the damn face? It’s just a house! Everything on this island belongs to me. Even your life belongs to me. Are you telling me I can’t even give you an order anymore?” He threw the paper at my face. “And from now on, don’t bother me with trivial crap like supply runs. I don’t have time for you.” He’d misunderstood the form, but I didn’t bother to correct him. I just gave a noncommittal nod, turned, and walked out. Seeing the signed paper that guaranteed my escape, a slow, genuine smile spread across my face. I’d been with Cain for ten years. We were childhood friends, partners who’d trust each other with our lives, and passionate lovers. I had always dreamed of marrying him. He’d even hinted at it himself—once he had Port Sterling in the palm of his hand, he’d give me everything I wanted. But I saw the truth now. It was all a lie, woven from my own foolish hopes and his calculated manipulation. And now, he was marrying someone else. That night, a team of heavily armed mercenaries escorted Lily to the island. She was a vision in a flowing white dress, her innocent eyes shining with a smug, triumphant light. “You’ve worked so hard for Cain for over a decade, Kira. You deserve a reward.” She smiled sweetly. “I’ll be sure to have him promote you. Maybe get you a few boy toys, too. We can’t let your personal life suffer, can we?” She sighed dramatically. “Unlike me. Cain just couldn’t wait another second. He insisted we get married tomorrow. Can you believe it?” My hand tightened on the grip of my pistol. It took every ounce of my self-control not to put a bullet between her eyes. “Let’s go,” I said, giving her a dismissive glance and turning to leave. But she stepped in my way, pulling a diary from her purse. “These are all the love notes Cain wrote for me over the years, whenever he missed me,” she said with a sly little smile. “It’s getting a bit heavy to carry around. Would you be a doll and throw it out for me?” With a final, triumphant swish of her skirt, she walked away. I stood there, the cold wind whipping off the rocks, and with trembling fingers, I opened the book. April 12th, 2024. The day I shielded him with my body as we fought our way out of an ambush. He had written: “Lily, if I make it out of this alive, I’ll marry you.” August 5th, 2023. The day I heard Silas had ambushed him on a business trip. I’d grabbed two cleavers and charged into the enemy camp alone to rescue him. He had written: “My darling, you smelled so sweet today.” January 24th, 2021. The day he was arrested, and I was about to take the fall for him. He had written: “If it were you, my love, I would never let you suffer like this.” Every word was a knife in my heart, twisting and turning, leaving me bleeding. How many times had I begged him to marry me? He would always just kiss my forehead and say, “Wait for me, Kira. Just a little longer. I have too many enemies. I need to clear the way for you first. Once I own all of Port Sterling, I’ll marry you. Okay?” But my pleas were always met with empty promises. Just then, my phone buzzed with a reply. Two short words, but they were a point of no return. “Deal.” My finger hovered over the screen. I had to know. I typed back to Silas: “August 5th, 2024. Was it you who ambushed Cain?” The reply was instantaneous, practically screaming with indignation: “I was framed! So that’s why you chased me for nine blocks with two damn cleavers? It wasn’t me!” A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped me. So, I was just a clown in Cain’s eyes. A toy to be played with. If that’s all I was, why should I stick around for their amusement? I finalized the details with Silas and started walking back, only to overhear Cain talking with his men by the yacht. “Boss, the wedding dress has arrived. It’s the one from the Royal Auction, just like you wanted. Ten million dollars.” “I’m just worried about Kira… if she makes a scene and exposes our location, we could all be wiped out…” Cain was dismissive. “I love Lily. She will be my only wife. Tomorrow’s wedding has to be perfect. I won’t allow any interruptions. Not even from Kira. I’ll make sure she stays quiet.” His voice dropped, turning deadly. “And watch your damn mouths. If a single word of this leaks, I’ll feed whoever spoke to the sharks.” Even though I’d already made my decision, hearing the man who once swore he loved me more than life itself deceive me, belittle me, and cast me aside… it still hurt. A thousand tiny needles piercing my heart. Back in my room, I packed a bag. Aside from my ID and passport, I looked around at the arsenal of knives and guns that filled my closets and realized Cain had never given me anything else. He only ever gave me weapons, telling me to protect him. I had asked for dresses and jewelry once. He’d scoffed. “Kira, you could be wearing a gown and diamonds and you still wouldn’t look like a woman. Don’t waste your time.” But Lily’s luggage contained a truckload of jewels and beautiful dresses. Why could she wear them, but I couldn’t? I dug through my closet and found it—a red dress, buried at the very bottom. I put it on, slipped on a pair of high heels, and even did my makeup. Just then, the door burst open and Lily strode in. “Kira, you’ve read the diary, haven’t you? Cain’s favorite…” Her words died in her throat when she saw me. My transformation from a hardened enforcer to a dangerously beautiful woman left her speechless. When she recovered, her brow furrowed in a sneer. “I thought you’d have some dignity. I thought you’d just quietly disappear once you knew he didn’t love you. But you’re actually trying to seduce him? You shameless bitch! I’ll rip your face off!” She lunged at me, but her movements were clumsy. I sidestepped and slapped her hard across the face. “Kira! How dare you hit me! Cain will make you pay for this!” she shrieked. I crossed my arms, watching her tantrum with amusement. “Thanks for the compliment. I’m definitely prettier, and we both know it.” The second the words left my mouth, she dropped to her knees and started slapping her own face. “It’s my fault, Kira! I’m the worthless one for marrying Cain! Just please, don’t ruin the wedding! You can beat me, kill me, whatever you want!” I was staring at her, utterly bewildered, when a vicious kick came flying at my head. “Kira! Did my words mean nothing to you? You dare touch Lily?!” Cain’s kick was filled with rage. If it had connected, it would have taken half my head off. So this is what I was to him. A attack dog he could pet one minute and beat the next? An outlet for his anger? I dodged just in time, but the high heels sent my ankle twisting beneath me. A sharp pain shot up my leg, and I winced, gritting my teeth as I looked up at him. Cain rushed to help Lily up, his cold, hard eyes fixed on me. But when he got a clear look at my face, at the red dress and the makeup, his expression flickered. His eyes lit up for a fraction of a second, but his words were as cold as ever. “Even dressed up like this, Kira, you’re not half the woman Lily is.” Lily sobbed, clutching his arm. “Cain, she kept pushing me, asking questions… I couldn’t keep the secret any longer. I’m so sorry…” He pulled her into his arms, his voice softening to a tender murmur. “It’s nothing, my love. No one’s blaming you.” I had to laugh. A second ago, he was ready to kill his own men to keep the wedding a secret. Now that Lily had spilled the beans, it was “nothing.” She really could do no wrong in his eyes. He doted on her completely. And what did that make me? A fool? “So you’re really marrying her?” I stared at him, my gaze unwavering. A desperate part of me needed to hear how he would explain this. I thought he would at least look guilty, flustered. That he would beg me to let go of the past and accept their love. But Cain just frowned, completely unfazed. “Yes. The wedding is tomorrow. You can come, but you are not to cause a scene. Don’t force my hand, Kira.” In that instant, the last shred of hope I had for him died. It’s not the right time to get married, he’d told me. But that was only because the bride was me. Now that it was Lily, the dangers, the enemies, the blockades—none of it mattered. He was even magnanimously granting me permission to attend their wedding. How could a person be so cruel? I fought back the tears stinging my eyes, my voice a raw, bitter whisper. “Get out.” But Lily pushed her luck. “Cain, darling, I don’t know many people here. I was hoping Kira could be my maid of honor, but I didn’t want to impose…” At the sight of his beloved’s careful, pleading face, Cain’s heart melted. He turned to me, his voice now a command. “Kira, since you already know, it’s just being a bridesmaid. You wouldn’t mind, would you?” “I don’t want to see either of you! Get out!” My anger finally exploded. I grabbed a steel rod from the corner of the room and advanced on them. “Get out!” Slam! I threw the door shut and collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. A single, hopeless tear escaped and trailed down my cheek. As I sat there, lost in my grief, my phone lit up. A message from Silas. I opened it, my mood foul, but the words made my face flush. “The red dress suits you. You’re beautiful.” A second message followed. “Take off the heels. Put some medicine on that ankle.” I was stunned. How did he know my ankle was swollen? Medicine? As I was wondering, a small drone buzzed up to my window, a little box tied to it. I opened it. Inside was another red dress, and a tube of medicated balm. So, he’d known where Cain’s stronghold was all along. He’d just been waiting. I’d definitely picked the right ally. After rubbing the balm on my ankle, I was about to get ready for bed when Cain came back. He swept me up in his arms and gently laid me on the bed. He was holding a different tube of ointment. “Shhh, it’s okay. Let me put this on for you.” It must have been raining outside; he was soaked to the bone. But he carefully dried his hands before he touched me, his fingers gently massaging my ankle. I used to be terrified of pain. When I first started fighting for him, the smallest scrape would have me crying for hours. Whenever I got hurt, no matter how bruised and beaten he was himself, he would stay by my side, letting me bite his arm to get through the pain. Those years were hard, but I always felt safe. But then, one day, he just stopped coming. I faced death countless times after that, collected scars big and small, and he never spared me a second glance. I wasn’t afraid of pain anymore. And now, here he was, fussing over me again. A guilty conscience? “Kira, you’ve lost weight,” he said, his voice full of apology. “I’ve been neglecting you. I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you about the wedding because I was afraid you’d overthink it. Lily saved my life, and she was targeted because of me. I have to protect her. But don’t worry, I won’t touch her. I only love you. As soon as I deal with Silas, I’ll divorce her and marry you properly. Okay?” He kneaded my swollen ankle while my eyes were fixed on the wedding band on his ring finger. I looked up at him, my gaze filled with a desolate sorrow. “Cain,” I asked, “in all these years… did you ever love me?” He froze for a second, then dropped to one knee, pulling me into a desperate, passionate embrace. “Yes. I only love you, Kira. Only you.” Then, he handed me a glass of milk he’d brought. “Here. Drink this. Get some sleep. If you want to come to the wedding tomorrow, I won’t stop you.” But I could taste it. The milk was laced with a sedative. Enough to keep me unconscious for the entire next day. My throat closed up, the betrayal suffocating me. He was still lying. All of this was just to make sure Lily could marry him without a hitch tomorrow. So this was what he meant by “making sure I stay quiet.” I drained the glass. A tear welled and fell as my heart turned to ash. But Cain smiled, a brilliant, relieved smile. I closed my eyes under his gentle gaze. He didn’t know. All those years of fighting for him had left me with chronic insomnia. I’d developed a tolerance to sleeping pills long ago. A short while later, I heard Lily’s breathy moans next to my ear. “Cain, you were gone so long, I thought you were staying here tonight.” I heard the sound of a passionate kiss. “Never. She’s just a human shield. Silas is still out there, so I need to keep her around. He has a soft spot for her. He won’t go for the kill as long as she’s by my side.” “Your hands are wandering,” Lily purred playfully. “Naughty…” “Yes… very naughty…” Cain’s voice was a low, husky growl. The rustle of clothing grew more frantic, their kisses more desperate. A searing pain tore through my chest, as if a blade had been driven straight through my heart. I had always submitted to Cain unconditionally, but he had never been this tender, this wild, with me. It was always, “Kira, can you take the fall for me?” or “Kira, I’m in a firefight with Silas. Get over here.” And I would always say yes, even if it cost me my life. Finally, they left. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. At dawn, I slung my backpack over my shoulder and walked out. The island was deserted. Everyone was at the wedding. At the docks, I handed the requisition form to the man in charge. “I need a speedboat.” He looked surprised. “Kira, it’s dangerous out there right now. What if you get spotted? The boss told us not to let you leave the island alone. Besides, with you gone, there’s no one in charge here. Things could get messy.” Cain had promised that once he took Port Sterling, he would make me Mrs. Thorne. To make that day come sooner, I worked day and night—fighting for turf at night, managing the island’s affairs by day. I ran myself ragged for him. But if he had truly loved me, would he have let me work so hard? Would he have ignored everything I did for him? He didn’t love me. So everything I did was for nothing. “Does the boss know you’re leaving?” the man pressed. He was one of the few who knew the true nature of our relationship, who knew how much Cain valued me. Cain had never shown me any special favor in front of his men—he’d even beaten me half to death once in public to assert his authority—but the dock master still hesitated. My leaving on Cain’s wedding day felt wrong. “He knows,” I said, tapping the paper. “That’s his signature.” He was still reluctant, but at my insistence, he finally gave me the boat. As I sped away, the cold, salty wind whipping at my face, the reality of my escape finally began to sink in. This was it. I was betraying him completely. I was taking all his secrets and delivering them to his mortal enemy. I wondered what his face would look like when he found out. The thought brought a vicious, satisfying smile to my lips. As I crossed a stretch of open water, I saw it: a massive luxury yacht, anchored in the distance. A wedding was taking place on the deck. A helicopter circled overhead, showering the sea with a cascade of rose petals. The music was so loud I could hear it clearly even from this far away—Cain’s voice, pouring his heart out to Lily. “Lily, you once told me that people in our line of work should never have someone they love. So I hid my feelings for you, terrified that you would become my weakness, terrified you’d get hurt. But now, I just want to tell the world: you are my weakness, but you are also my armor! I’ve waited seven years to marry you. This has been my plan all along, and today, my dream has finally come true…” Yes. He loved her. So he hid it from everyone, including me. Every loving word he spoke to her now made his promises to me a bitter joke. I glanced over and saw them on the deck, a man and a woman standing together, a picture of pure, romantic bliss. For a second, it felt like his eyes met mine across the water. He faltered. “Kira?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. He looked overwhelmed by a sudden, intense feeling of dread, as if he were about to lose the most important thing in his life. Lily took his hand, her voice a sweet, reassuring murmur. “Darling, you must be seeing things. You gave Kira the drugged milk, remember? She’s fast asleep right now.” The confusion on Cain’s face faded. He made a silent promise to himself to make it all up to me when he got back. He would spend the rest of his life making amends. He didn’t know that my speedboat was already carrying me further and further away. “Mr. Thorne, do you take Miss Lily to be your lawfully wedded wife, for richer or for poorer…” The priest’s solemn voice was suddenly cut off. “Boss, we have a problem!” A low-level thug came running onto the deck, shouting in a panic. “Boss, it’s Kira… she’s gone!”

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On our seventh anniversary, my husband Jake and I played the happy couple at a product launch. He kept checking his phone, so I teased, “Worried your girlfriend is jealous?” He dismissed it as an act. On the big screen, a video from our early days played—showing his tearful proposal and a vow: “If I ever break my promise, may lightning strike me down.” Moved, he reached for my hand and reminisced about our shared dreams. I cut him off softly. “Jake, let’s divorce. As your wife, I can’t just watch you get struck by lightning, can I?” 1 The conference hall was buzzing. Reporters, media, and our own employees held their breath, waiting for the unveiling of the new product. It was a serious, high-stakes occasion. Which made it all the more jarring when I saw Jake secretly checking his phone. Honestly, it was just a glance. But the screen was bright, the contact name impossible to miss: Maya, followed by a little kissing emoji. It seemed my husband’s little girlfriend wasn’t thrilled about us playing the perfect couple for the press. So, I leaned in, my voice a low murmur. “You look a little on edge, Mr. Croft.” I let a beat pass. “What’s the matter? Worried your little girlfriend might get jealous?” He shot me a look, his jaw tightening. “Watch yourself, Stella. Don’t go looking for trouble.” I hadn’t expected him to be so fiercely protective of Maya Lane. Acknowledging my defeat, I shut my mouth. Just then, the host walked on stage, breaking the tense silence. “And now, please join me in welcoming our CEO, Mr. Jake Croft, to unveil our exciting new product!” Jake stood, smoothed his suit with practiced ease, and walked to the podium, his expression once again cool and commanding. He began his presentation, expertly navigating the features of our new app. Cameras flashed from the audience as reporters documented the moment. After the presentation, the floor opened for questions. “Mr. Croft, what was the inspiration behind this new product?” a reporter asked. Jake answered eloquently, his gaze finally settling on me in the front row, his expression turning warm and affectionate. “And I have to give special thanks to my wife, Stella Shen,” he said, his voice ringing with sincerity. “Without her initial concept and guidance, this launch would not have been nearly so successful.” A wave of applause and cheers swept through the room, and all eyes turned to me. I smiled, a picture of grace and poise, and gave a small nod to the crowd. He wasn’t lying. I had been deeply involved in the product’s development. It was a lifestyle app, designed to help friends and couples document their shared experiences. I’d proposed the idea years ago. We’d been so poor when we started out, Jake and I. We’d missed out on so much. When I looked back, trying to piece together the story of our relationship, I realized with a pang of sorrow that we had almost nothing to show for it. No photos, no keepsakes. Jake had agreed it was a great idea, but he’d never gotten around to it. In the end, I had taken charge of the project myself. A sharp voice cut through the applause. “Mr. Croft, you and Ms. Shen seemed to be having a rather tense moment on stage earlier. Will that affect the project’s future?” The reporter wasn’t finished. “And another thing—rumor has it your marriage is on the rocks, and that you’ve been seen quite often with the actress Maya Lane. Do you have any comment?” Jake’s face darkened. He was about to speak, but I beat him to it. “That was just a little inside joke between us,” I said smoothly, my voice calm and reassuring. “It won’t affect a thing. Now, if we could all please focus on the product, instead of baseless gossip, I’m sure we’d all appreciate it.” My words silenced the room. The host quickly stepped in, steering the conversation back to the app. Thankfully, the lead product designer took over Jake’s spot, and as the buzz of conversation resumed, Jake sat back down next to me. “Well said,” he murmured, a rare compliment. I didn’t smile. My eyes were fixed on an LED screen across the room. It was playing the VCR from seven years ago, from his public proposal. He looked so young then, the rawness of a recent graduate still clinging to him. His eyes were wet with tears, his emotions genuine. The hands holding the ring box and the microphone were shaking. He’d said, “Stella, I love you. Without your unwavering support, I would never have made it this far. Will you marry me? I swear I will love you and cherish you for the rest of my life. You will be the only one for me, always. If I ever break this vow, may lightning strike me down where I stand.” A few reporters noticed us watching the screen and turned their cameras our way. Jake, ever aware of the press, instinctively took my hand, his gaze complicated. “Stella,” he started, “we always talked about creating a product just like this, to record the moments of our lives…” This time, I didn’t have the patience to hear him out. I cut him off gently. “Jake, we’re husband and wife. I can’t just stand by and watch you get struck by lightning.” His face froze, but the cameras were on him, so he forced a smile. I smiled back, my eyes full of sincerity. “What I mean is,” I said, my voice clear and steady, “let’s get a divorce.” 2 Of course, Jake didn’t agree. He made a flimsy excuse and bolted from the press conference. A few minutes later, my phone buzzed with a text from him. [Stella, if you think you can threaten me with a divorce, you can forget it. I’m not playing your games.] [Who’s going to want you after me? Do yourself a favor and go back to being the quiet, supportive wife. Know your place.] I let out a bitter laugh and turned off the screen. He had no idea. This time, I was serious. But before I could make a move, Jake made one of his own. He announced to the public that Maya Lane would be the official brand ambassador for our new product. He had made a unilateral decision about my project, without even consulting me. Suppressing a wave of fury, I drove straight to the office. When I arrived, I found Maya herself there, handing out bubble tea to the staff. She saw me and walked over, a cup in her hand. “You must be Stella Shen, the project lead. It’s a pleasure. Here, have a drink. My treat.” Her smile was saccharine sweet, and it set my teeth on edge. I stood my ground, my eyes cold, and made no move to take the cup. Her smile widened. She raised her voice so everyone could hear. “What’s wrong, Stella? You’re not going to be rude in front of everyone, are you?” God, the passive aggression was suffocating. My colleagues were all pretending to be busy, but I could feel their curious stares. “I’m sorry,” I said, my own smile just as bright, “but I don’t like bubble tea. Forcing me to drink it seems a little rude, don’t you think?” Two can play at that game. Maya’s expression faltered for a second before she put her innocent mask back on. “Oh, of course not! I was just worried you were upset about me being the ambassador. I’m so glad that’s not the case. I told Jake I’ve never endorsed a tech product before, that I wasn’t the right fit. But he insisted. He said the app was practically made for me. Isn’t that funny?” My fists clenched at my sides. I leaned in close, my voice a whisper in her ear. “You really think this spokesperson deal is set in stone?” The color drained from her face. “What do you mean?” I pulled back with a fearless smile. “Nothing. Just a joke. Can’t you take a joke?” She glanced around, saw the watching eyes, and quickly composed herself, transforming back into the cheerful, bubbly starlet. “Of course I can. Besides, it’s not like you have any real power in this company, right? You couldn’t even say no to me being the ambassador.” I gritted my teeth. “I have enough power for that. But…” “Oh!” Suddenly, the bubble tea in Maya’s hand “slipped,” splashing all over her pristine white dress. Her face was a mask of shock. “Stella, why would you do that?” And right on cue, a familiar voice boomed from behind me. “What’s going on here?” 3 I turned to see Jake striding towards us, his face a thundercloud. What a tired, old cliché, I thought. The moment Maya saw him, her eyes welled up with tears. “Jake,” she sobbed, “I was just trying to be nice and give Stella some tea, but I guess she didn’t want it. It was my fault for being so thoughtless.” I rolled my eyes. The surrounding colleagues suddenly became incredibly absorbed in their work. It was no secret in the office that my relationship with Jake was not what it seemed. And with Maya in the picture, no one wanted to get caught in the crossfire. Jake’s gaze, full of accusation, landed on me. “Stella, no one forced you to drink it. Why would you do that?” “If you weren’t blind, Jake,” I retorted, my voice dripping with ice, “you’d have seen that she did it herself. What right do you have to stand there and accuse me?” I turned my glare on Maya. “And you. If your hands are that weak, go see a doctor. Don’t stand here framing people.” Maya just sobbed harder. “Jake, don’t blame her. It was my fault. I was clumsy.” Jake put a comforting arm around her shoulder, as if they were the married couple. “Don’t worry. She won’t hurt you.” Then he turned his fury back on me. “Stella, you will apologize to Maya. Now.” My hands were shaking with rage. I couldn’t believe he would be so blatantly biased. I looked at the two of them, the cheater and the homewrecker, a perfect match. “Apologize?” I spat. “For something she did herself? When did you become so incapable of telling right from wrong, Jake? You’ll believe her without question, but what about me?” His voice was cold, detached, as if I were a stranger. “Stella, don’t be unreasonable. This is my company, and what I say goes. Apologize.” I stood my ground, my eyes locked on Maya. She shivered like a frightened deer and buried her face in Jake’s chest. I was the clown in this circus, exposed for all to see. I don’t remember how I left the office. All I remember is the shame, and the feeling of being utterly, completely alone. 4 That night, I called my best friend and went out for drinks. They say alcohol drowns your sorrows, so I tried to drown myself in it. My heart was full of a bitter poison I couldn’t spit out, so I drank, swallowing it down with every sip. My friend knew better than to try and stop me. She just sat with me, letting me vent, and then made sure I got home safely. The apartment was dark, except for a dim light in the living room. I could just make out a figure sitting on the couch. It was Jake. A rare sight. He watched my stumbling entrance, his voice cutting through the silence. “Where have you been, out making a fool of yourself? You come back this late, drunk, when we still haven’t dealt with the scene you made at the office today.” I squinted, trying to focus on him. “What’s it to you? And who let you in? This is my place. Get out, or I’m calling the police.” He stood up and crossed the room in three long strides, catching me as I swayed. “Look at the state of you!” He looked furious. Good. He was probably here to demand justice for his precious Maya. I didn’t even want to look at him. I shoved his hands off me, nearly losing my balance. “The state of me?” I yelled, pointing a finger at his chest. “What about you? You blame me without a second thought, every single time! Do I owe you something, Jake?” He grabbed me again, his grip too strong to break. “You caused a scene at the office! Do you have any idea how that looks?” The injustice of it all exploded inside me. Tears streamed down my face. “And you, siding with your mistress in front of the entire company? How does that look? Jake, you—!” Before I could finish, his hands were around my throat, pinning me against the wall. “Stella, it’s not like this is the first time I’ve cheated, is it? Why couldn’t you just pretend you don’t know, like you always do? Why did you have to make it public this time?” I laughed, a broken, hysterical sound. My tears dripped onto his wrist. “You want me to just keep tolerating it? I stayed quiet because I thought you would change. But all you ever do is disappoint me, again and again. I’m done tolerating it.” He was silent for a moment. He released his grip, his voice softening slightly. “Can’t you bring your grievances home? Do you have to air our dirty laundry in public? Is this your idea of dignity?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I screamed at him, a raw, primal sound. “Stop lecturing me, Jake! I don’t want to hear it! I just want to know why! Why would you take the project I poured my heart and soul into and just hand it over to your lover? You didn’t even ask me! Do you have any idea… any idea that this was the project we dreamed of, seven years ago…?” My voice trailed off. I sank onto the couch and buried my face in my hands, sobbing. He stood there in silence. Finally, he let out a long sigh. “If that’s what you want to believe, I can’t stop you.” My tears stopped as if a switch had been flipped. My heart was dead. I wiped my face. “Jake,” I said, my voice empty. “Let’s get a divorce.” He frowned. “Stella, I told you, I don’t like this. Can you stop throwing that word around?” I looked him straight in the eye. “I’m serious.” He couldn’t meet my gaze. He looked like a cornered animal, desperate for an escape. “You’re drunk,” he said, backing towards the door. “We’ll talk about this another time.” I watched him flee, a cold smile on my lips. He was running, not from me, but from the wreckage of our marriage. But when I set my mind to something, I see it through. A divorce. It wasn’t far off now.

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Will Orlando’s love for me was once an ocean. Now, the tide has gone out. To be with another girl, he had me hypnotized—tricked into falling for his best friend, Adrian. I broke up with him, just as he planned, my heart supposedly belonging to Adrian now. But now, he’s desperate to undo it all. What he doesn’t know is, the hypnosis never worked. I just… I really don’t love him anymore. 1 I was standing just outside the private lounge, listening to Will and Adrian talk. “You’re actually going to have Lara hypnotized?” That was Adrian’s voice, sharp with disbelief. “Lara and I are engaged,” Will replied, his tone chillingly casual. “But the thought of spending the rest of my life with just one woman… it’s starting to feel claustrophobic. So, I’ll have a hypnotist make her think she’s fallen for you. She’ll break up with me.” He paused, the sound of ice clinking in a glass. “Then, when I’ve had my fun, we’ll reverse it, and things will go back to the way they were.” “Right,” Adrian said, his voice unreadable. “And you want her to fall for me?” “Of course. You’re the only one I can trust. I know you’ve never liked her, and you wouldn’t touch her even if she threw herself at you. If she fell for anyone else, I couldn’t be sure they’d keep their hands to themselves.” Will’s logic was as flawless as it was cruel. “How thoughtful of you,” Adrian scoffed. “Just itching to go public with that little intern, aren’t you?” “You get it,” Will said, a smirk in his voice. I backed away from the door, my movements silent, and walked away. 2 Will brought me to an office with a view of the city skyline, saying we were meeting a friend. I found myself settling into a plush recliner. Then, I was asleep. When I woke up, two handsome faces were looking down at me. Will and Adrian. “Lara, you fell asleep,” Will said, reaching for my hand. I pulled away, my eyes finding Adrian’s across the room. I held his gaze, letting him see the deep affection I was supposed to be feeling. Will and Adrian exchanged a look. It worked. I saw the tension leave Will’s shoulders in a quiet sigh of relief. … That night, we were in a private club with Will’s friends—the usual crowd of city heirs and trust-fund kids. Adrian sat across from us, nursing a drink. I was still seated next to Will, but on his other side was Lily, the new intern from his company. The way they leaned into each other, the small space between them, it was clear they were the couple. I was the third wheel. During a party game, Lily had to take a dare. One of the guys, Wes, grinned, knowing exactly what to do. “Pick someone in the room and kiss them for a full minute!” A blush crept up Lily’s neck, a perfect performance of innocent charm. She glanced at me, her eyes wide. “Lara, I really only know Will well… would you mind if I chose him?” “Oh, come on, it’s just a game! Of course she won’t mind,” Wes chimed in, shutting down any potential protest. “And once you’re picked, Will, you can’t say no.” The old me would never have allowed my fiancé to kiss another woman. But in the eyes of everyone who knew the plan, I was already in love with someone else. I just smiled and shrugged. Lily looked at Will with a shy, girlish hesitation before leaning in. He smirked, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her into a deep kiss. The room erupted in cheers, fueling the spectacle of our breakup. When they finally pulled apart, Lily buried her face in Will’s chest, the tips of her ears bright red. He held her close, stroking her hair. “Hey, nothing to be embarrassed about,” he murmured, his voice laced with a tenderness I hadn’t heard in years. Then, still tucked in his arms, Lily looked at me. “I’m so sorry, Lara,” she said, but her eyes shone with the unmistakable light of victory. The next round, I lost. Same dare. A hush fell over the room. Everyone watched me, waiting. Who would I choose? 3 Will kept his arm around Lily, pointedly not looking at me. He was practically begging me not to pick him. Across the room, Adrian shifted, a flicker of something uneasy in his expression. I played my part. My gaze landed on Adrian. “Can I choose you?” I felt Will relax beside me. Adrian looked at me, a slow smile spreading across his lips. He nodded. I walked over to him, and he stood to meet me. My hands went to the back of his neck, and I had to stand on my toes to reach him. He dipped his head, meeting my lips with his. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him, deepening the kiss. Another round of whistles and hoots filled the air. For me, the minute stretched into an eternity. When the time was up, I pulled away. I caught a glimpse of Will’s face—a flash of irritation he couldn’t hide. Good. “Well, guess I should give you two some space,” Wes said, getting up from his spot next to Adrian and sliding into my old seat beside Will. I sat down next to Adrian. For the rest of the night, Will doted on Lily. And my eyes, for all the world to see, never left Adrian. The party was a stage, and we all played our parts perfectly. Late that night, the four of us stood outside the club. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the diamond ring Will had proposed with a year ago. The promises of forever, once so vivid, now felt like a distant memory. I held it out to him. “I think it’s time I gave this back to you.” Will managed a smile and took it. “If this is your decision, I respect it. We can still be friends.” I nodded, my gaze flickering to the girl clinging to his arm. “I’ll come by to get my things tomorrow.” “Tonight, then…” Will started, then looked at Adrian. “My man, you wouldn’t mind putting her up for the night, would you?” Adrian gave a noncommittal shrug. “Plenty of room.” “Alright, we’re heading out.” Will gave Adrian a look brimming with trust, then wrapped his arm around Lily and led her to his car. I stood there, watching the man I had loved for years drive away with another woman, until their taillights blurred into nothing. “Second thoughts?” Adrian’s voice beside me was laced with curiosity. I turned to him. “Who I’m thinking about? I thought that was made pretty clear tonight. Just like it’s clear who Will is thinking about.” A corner of his mouth lifted. He led me to his car, and we drove to his place. 4 We arrived at a mansion in the city’s most exclusive neighborhood. He led me upstairs, and the moment the door to the hallway closed, he spun me around and kissed me. I froze, turning my head away. “What are you doing?” He raised an eyebrow. “What, you agree to come back to my place, and you don’t know what’s going to happen?” I blinked. Wasn’t I supposed to be the one in love with him? And didn’t he always hate me? Was this another test? A way to prove to his friend that the hypnosis was a complete success? I lowered my eyes. “I’m just… surprised. I thought you didn’t like me.” He pulled me back against him, his fingers tilting my chin up. “You’ve been staring at me all night. I’m just giving you what you want.” He studied my face. “Or am I wrong?” I held his gaze for a long moment, then lowered my head and kissed his fingers where they rested on my chin. I saw a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he swept me into his arms and carried me into his bedroom. That night, my body and my memories split apart. I remembered the year I’d spent caring for a bitter, broken Will after his accident, when he’d driven everyone else away with his rage. The day he finally walked again, he held me so tight I could barely breathe. I knew we were from different worlds, but he’d sworn he’d disown his family before he let me go. The year my mother died, he held me and promised he would always be there for me. Last year, he lit up the entire night sky with fireworks and asked me to be his wife. This year, he grew tired of me. He had my mind altered so I would fall for another man, just so he could sleep with someone new. He held a younger, prettier girl and said goodbye. … Sometime in the dead of night, I woke up thirsty. The dim light filtering through the window showed an empty space beside me in the bed. I padded barefoot out of the slightly ajar door and heard voices coming from the living room downstairs. 5 “Shouldn’t you be tucked in with your little bunny right now? Why are you calling me?” It was Adrian. “It’s just… weird,” Will’s voice crackled through the phone. “Not having Lara next to me. I’m not used to it.” “Is she okay over there? She’s in a guest room, right?” “Of course,” Adrian chuckled dryly. “Can’t have her sleeping on the couch, can we?” “Thanks, man. Seriously. But I have to admit, seeing her kiss you today… it didn’t feel good. I remember when she was a blank canvas, you know? And I was the only one who ever got to paint on it.” “Tsk. Getting sentimental? Your new canvas isn’t so bad, or you wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble,” Adrian shot back. “It’s different, Adrian. My subconscious just knows that Lara belongs to me, body and soul. So if she gets too close, you need to keep your distance. You don’t even like her, so it’ll just make you uncomfortable anyway.” “Relax. You know me. You, on the other hand, might want to hang up. Your girl might wake up and wonder why you’re on the phone asking about your ex-fiancée.” “Right. Talk later.” I turned and slipped back into the room as silently as I’d left. A moment later, the door opened and he came in. He saw me sitting up. “What’s wrong? Need the bathroom?” he asked, his voice soft as he walked toward me. “I’m thirsty,” I said. “Stay put. I’ll get you some water.” He returned with a glass, and I drank it down. He set the empty glass on the nightstand, then gathered me into his arms, his fingers gently tracing the line of my jaw. He leaned in, his lips brushing mine. “Since you’re awake,” he murmured, “how about another round?” He pressed me back against the pillows. My eyes were wide open. Will had just said those words on the phone. And his best friend was now doing this. Will had no idea that the brother he trusted with his little scheme was tangled up in the sheets with me on the very first night. 6 Adrian said he was taking me to a birthday party. It wasn’t until we arrived that I realized it was for Lily, hosted by Will. The lavish ballroom was a fantasy of fresh flower petals and balloons. All of Will’s friends were there, celebrating her. Lily, in a pristine white dress, looked like a princess, basking in the glow of adoration. She tugged playfully on Will’s arm, pulling him down to her level. She whispered something in his ear, then gave him a quick, darting kiss on the cheek before hiding her face, all innocent shyness. She was the perfect picture of a pure, harmless little bunny. Will was clearly smitten, giving her nose a playful tap. Then he looked up and saw me walking in with Adrian. His smile froze. For a split second, I saw a flicker of panic in his eyes before he masked it. “Oh, Adrian, Lara! Thank you so much for coming to my party!” Lily called out, her voice bright and cheerful. A moment later, a cascade of fireworks erupted over the lake outside. Will had arranged it for her. Lily gasped, her eyes wide with delight as she watched the sky. The other guests pointed and murmured in appreciation. These were the same friends who had been there last year, on my birthday. Will had set off fireworks for me, too. And as I’d watched them, overwhelmed with joy, he had dropped to one knee. He held up a ring. “Lara,” he’d said, his voice thick with emotion, “twenty-something years ago, your mother brought you into this world and gave you a past. Today, I want to take over for her. I want to be the one to love you and take care of you in your future.” I had cried, letting him slide the ring onto my finger. Now, he had made me a spectator, forced to watch him give all of that to someone else. “Do you like it?” he asked Lily softly. “Yes!” she nodded emphatically, leaning into his embrace. “I’m so happy, so incredibly happy. I wish this moment could last forever.” Will hugged her, stroking her hair. “Silly girl,” he chuckled. Suddenly, a jacket was draped over my shoulders. I turned to see Adrian beside me. “It’s getting cold,” he said simply. When the fireworks faded, we all went back inside. I was on my way back from the restroom when I heard voices from the stairwell. 7 “Adrian, why are you being so considerate, putting your coat on Lara?” It was Will. “Funny,” Adrian shot back. “In a moment like that, you had time to notice?” “I’m just surprised. Since when are you so thoughtful?” Will’s voice was laced with suspicion. “She’s staying at my place, isn’t she? If I don’t look out for her and she gets sick, am I supposed to take care of her? Or are you volunteering?” Adrian retorted. Will was silent for a moment. “You two looked pretty happy tonight,” Adrian continued. “Lily really seems to brighten you up.” “Yeah,” Will said, his voice softening. “Being with her feels like it did with Lara in the beginning. She’s sweet, she’s uncomplicated. It makes me want to spoil her.” “Lily’s another blank canvas for you. You’ve been with Lara for years, you’re bored. Why not just let this be the new reality? Let Lara find her own happiness somewhere else,” Adrian suggested. I didn’t wait for Will’s answer. I walked away. … Back at Adrian’s place, he pulled me into another kiss the moment we were through the door. Later, in bed, he was toying with my hair as I lay with my back to him. “I found an apartment,” I said suddenly. “I’ll move out tomorrow.” He went still. He turned me over to face him, his eyes narrowed. “You’re moving out? After all this?” I looked at him. “It’s not right, for us to be living like this…” He cupped my jaw. “So it was right to live with Will, but now that you’re my woman, it’s not right to live with me?” “I just… I remember you used to hate me,” I said, confused. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face. “Aren’t you in love with me? I’m just making your wish come true. If we’re not together, you broke up with Will for nothing, didn’t you?” I stared into his eyes. “You’re so kind. What if this makes me love you even more?” A genuine smile broke across his face, and he kissed me hard. This man, it seemed, was genuinely happy that I loved him. I let him have his way, my mind already spinning, planning. 8 That weekend, the whole crew went to a villa on the coast. Lily brought along two of her old college friends, a move Will seemed to indulge without a second thought. I was lounging on a sofa chair by the shimmering pool, the vast blue ocean stretching out before me. I reached for the bowl of cherries on the table beside me. Just as my fingers brushed the fruit, the entire bowl was snatched away. “Lara, my friends and I were just craving these. You don’t mind if I take them, do you?” Lily asked, already walking away with the bowl in her hand. I watched as she took it over to where her friends were sitting. “Lily, isn’t she Adrian Vance’s girlfriend?” one of them whispered, clearly thinking it was a bold move. Lily scoffed. “Girlfriend? Please. After Will broke up with her for me, he felt sorry for her, so he asked his friend Adrian to look after her. Adrian can’t stand her.” Her friends’ eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, so that’s how it is.” “You’re amazing, Lily. We’re so lucky to know you.” “Seriously, getting to hang out in a place like this, meeting all these powerful, handsome men… it’s all thanks to you.” “We always knew you were destined for great things, Lily. And look at you now, with Will Orlando so in love with you. You’re going to be a lady of society.” “She could kick her out of that chair and no one would say a thing. She’s just Will’s ex. Lily’s being merciful by even letting her sit there.” The two friends fawned and flattered, echoing Lily’s own contempt. She sat there, preening under their praise, popping cherries into her mouth like a queen. It was so transparent—she’d brought them here to show off, to be admired. I shook my head slightly and settled back into the chair, too bored to care. Just then, Adrian walked out of the villa. “Oh, Adrian!” Lily called out sweetly. He ignored her completely and came straight to me. He leaned down, gently stroking my cheek. I wasn’t asleep, so I playfully pushed his hand away. He just chuckled, then lifted me up and settled me onto his lap. I rolled my eyes and slid off, but the lounge chair was big enough for two. I shifted to give him space. He sighed in mock defeat but settled for tucking me into the crook of his arm. He glanced at the empty table, frowned, and snapped his fingers. A server appeared instantly, and Adrian ordered a platter of fresh fruit. As Lily and her friends watched Adrian intimately nestle me against him and feed me a slice of mango, I saw them whispering again. “Lily, didn’t you say…” Lily’s expression soured. But then she saw Will approaching. “Will,” she cooed, her voice instantly soft. He walked over, but his eyes were fixed on me and Adrian. I saw his jaw tighten as Adrian held a grape to my lips. 9 He walked over to Lily’s side. She immediately shooed her friends away, and they scurried off. I took the grape from Adrian’s fingers and touched it to my own lips before playfully offering it to him. I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he opened his mouth to take it. At the last second, I pulled it back and popped it into my own mouth, laughing. “Lara…” Adrian groaned, then leaned in to steal a kiss. “Stop,” I giggled, turning my head. As I did, my eyes met Will’s. He was staring, his face a thundercloud. “Will?” Lily was trying to offer him a piece of fruit, but he wasn’t paying attention. He tore his gaze away from us, his lips a thin, hard line. I turned my back to him and took a bite of the strawberry Adrian was now offering me. It was true. There was a time when I was only ever like this with Will. I only laughed in his arms, only shared these playful moments with him. Now, it was time to learn how to give them to another man. … I went inside the villa to charge my phone and, once again, overheard a conversation from the stairwell. “Adrian, what the hell? Why are you suddenly all over her? We had a deal,” Will hissed, his voice tight with anger. “Will, don’t forget, you’re the one who made her fall in love with me. Her feelings for me are uncontrollable,” Adrian said calmly. “And since she’s living with me, did you really expect us to have zero contact? What am I supposed to do, keep her locked in my house as a platonic roommate? If she feels unwelcome, she’ll leave. And the next thing you know, while you’re off playing with your new toy, some other guy will have swept in and taken her.” I had to suppress a laugh. Adrian was a master manipulator. And Will was falling for it. “Just… keep your distance. You hate her, don’t you? You used to complain every time you saw her with me. So why are you acting so close now?” “You know how I am,” Adrian said with a dismissive wave in his voice. “Better the devil you know. Why sweat the small stuff?” There was a pause. Then Adrian added, “Of course, if you feel like she’s been… tainted, no longer pure enough for you, you could always choose to make a permanent change…” “Shut up, Adrian,” Will snapped. … Later that afternoon, we all went down to the beach. I was wearing a light, white button-down shirt over my bikini, my feet bare on the warm sand. Adrian had gone back to the villa to grab my phone. “Ouch!” Something sharp dug into the sole of my foot. I cried out, stumbling. Will, who was walking with Lily nearby, rushed over and grabbed my arm to steady me. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” I pulled my arm away and checked my foot. Just a sharp shell, no blood. “What the hell is that on your collarbone?” Will’s voice was suddenly low and dangerous, his eyes locked on my chest.

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The whole world knew my marriage to the A-list actor was a disaster. They were all just waiting for me to get publicly humiliated on the new reality show, Second Chances. But on the very first night, the famously aloof Rashawn Croft had a near-total breakdown when the producers assigned him a separate room. During a heart-to-heart, he tearfully complained to the entire world that I never spent his money. In a romance challenge, my one-off, playful “hubby” sent his heart rate skyrocketing to 140. And when he was handed a fake divorce agreement, he completely lost his composure, cried his eyes out, and threatened to sue the production company. The internet went wild: 【Dude, we get it. Turns out you were the miserable trophy wife all along.】 【OMG they baited us with a divorce drama and switched it to a romance! I am OBSESSED with this!】 【Elara, honey, stop smiling and look at your husband! He’s about to short-circuit and die over there!】 1 I’m a polarizing starlet who clawed her way up from nothing. My talent? My looks. My acting skills? My looks. My special abilities? You guessed it, my looks. I was comfortably floating in the C-list until the news of my secret marriage to superstar Rashawn Croft broke, and the internet had a collective meltdown. Besides the Grand Canyon-sized gap in our social and financial status, there was another reason for the shock: everyone in the industry knew Rashawn had a… subtle animosity toward me. At an awards ceremony, our eyes met by accident across the crowded hall. I was still in fan-service mode, flashing my brightest, sweetest smile. The man’s expression, however, twisted into something deeply uncomfortable. He instantly wiped the smile off his face and, in a moment of panic, actually rolled his eyes at me. When the clip went viral, everyone was baffled. Rashawn Croft, though famously cold and reserved, was known for being an impeccable gentleman. Composed. Emotionally stable. Yet, with me, his disdain was utterly undisguised. Later, fans dug up the few other times we’d been caught in the same frame. No matter how brightly he’d been smiling a second before, the moment he saw me, his face would freeze over. Combined with my naturally soft voice and penchant for being playful, the internet painted a picture of me as a desperate social climber, constantly fawning over a man who was repulsed by me. Now that our secret marriage was out, those old clips were trending again. Netizens jeered that his aversion to me was so visceral it was making his face turn red with rage. Hordes of anti-fans tagged the producers of Second Chances on my social media: 【Please, for the love of God, get a divorce. Let Rashawn go.】 【This girl’s got nerves of steel. My husband looking at me with that much disgust every day? I wouldn’t be able to smile.】 【I feel so bad for Rashawn. He’s normally so chill, but she’s pushed him to the point of rolling his eyes. Imagine how miserable his life must be.】 … Spurred on by the public outcry, Second Chances officially invited us onto the show. Rashawn and I had been forced together by our grandfathers; there were no feelings involved. Our daily interactions were no different from those of strangers. I was sick of our dead-water life. I accepted the offer without hesitation, ready to cash one last big check before the divorce. As I was happily counting the zeros on the contract, I noticed Rashawn staring at it with a complicated expression, his pen hovering over the signature line. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “My pen’s out of ink,” he mumbled, looking down. “There’s another one right there.” “That one’s broken, too…” I could tell he was reluctant. Figuring he didn’t want to waste his precious time on me, I leaned in, using my most coaxing tone. “It won’t mess up your schedule too much. Come on, please? For me?” “Well… alright. Fine.” Stammering, a faint blush creeping up his ears, Rashawn dazedly signed his name. 2 The show featured three couples and was broadcast live 24/7. Before filming, the director had given each couple a rough script outlining their conflicts and narrative arc. But considering my decade of consistently mediocre acting and Rashawn’s A-list status, the director ultimately decided to just let us play it by ear. The moment I trudged into the frame, wrestling with two small suitcases, the live chat exploded: 【Here we go! The main event has arrived!】 【LMAO, the other couples showed up holding hands or walking side-by-side. Rashawn not only walks separately from Elara, he makes her carry her own luggage.】 【So what if she schemed her way into a wealthy family? She’s still just the hired help with no dignity. They never even officially announced the marriage. The Croft family probably doesn’t even acknowledge her.】 The online roasting was brutal, but it wasn’t just online. Sophie, another actress on the show, noticed my struggle and took a subtle jab. “Elara, a woman’s hands are delicate. Marcus never lets me carry anything heavy. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were Rashawn’s assistant.” Sophie and I debuted around the same time. She’s fiercely competitive and loves to show off. After marrying the director Marcus, she spammed her social media for weeks, flaunting her marriage into a “prestigious” family. Of course, compared to the Croft empire, Marcus’s family was small potatoes. So it was understandable that she was a little bitter when my marriage to Rashawn was revealed. Whatever. I was here for the money, not the drama. I ignored her. The show’s panel of experts, having clearly done their homework, had already accepted the narrative of me being the unwanted, long-suffering wife. Seeing my silence, they assumed I was swallowing my pride, their eyes filled with pity. The chat continued: 【Seriously? Sophie and Marcus are on a divorce show because he’s ‘too possessive’? Are they sure they’re not just here to flex? That gold-digger must be so jealous seeing how happy our Sophie is.】 【Serves Elara right for clinging to that old family arrangement. She made her bed, now she has to lie in it.】 Just then, the camera panned. Rashawn Croft was not, as everyone assumed, relaxing somewhere off-screen. He was struggling toward us, pushing five enormous, interconnected suitcases. The other guests, who had been whispering and watching the spectacle, fell silent. They all stood up to help him. “Rashawn, I thought you were a minimalist,” one of them joked. “Getting a little high-maintenance, are we? You want me to toss that garbage bag for you?” Rashawn coolly sidestepped their hands, his expression sour. I pushed through the crowd. “Uh, those are all mine,” I explained. “And that’s not a garbage bag. That’s Rashawn’s luggage.” The live chat erupted again: 【I’m dead. So Rashawn is the ‘assistant’!】 【So real. When my husband and I travel, all his stuff fits in one plastic bag too.】 【What’s so funny? Look at his face, he’s furious. It’s written all over him. Only Elara could piss off an Oscar-winner this badly.】 【Don’t hold back, Rashawn! Let it all out! I’m here for the daily dose of him being disgusted by Elara.】 The show wasted no time stirring the pot. For our first night, they decided we would draw lots to see if we’d sleep in separate rooms. I started to say, “Can we just skip the draw? Rashawn and I will just choose—” The words “separate rooms” were still on my tongue when the silent man beside me cut me off. “I’ll draw.” Sophie put on a show of sympathy. “It’s okay, Elara. I know you want to use this chance to stay with Rashawn. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” The chat found this hilarious: 【Look at how disgusted he is by her all the time. I bet they’ve never even shared a bed. No wonder she’s so desperate. Poor little rich girl.】 【Did anyone else notice Rashawn secretly glaring at Elara like five times in the last ten seconds? If looks could kill, she’d be dead. This is amazing.】 3 Rashawn nervously unfolded the slip of paper. He saw the word “SEPARATE.” The live chat and I let out a collective sigh of relief. 【Thank god they don’t have to share a room. Rashawn must have been terrified.】 【Okay but… Elara is stunningly beautiful. And her voice is so sweet. If I were Rashawn I’d be obsessed with her.】 【^^ Are you insane??!】 The host went around asking if we were happy with the results. Sophie, who had also drawn “separate,” looked sadly at Marcus. “I’m not used to sleeping alone. I’m worried I won’t be able to sleep.” The host turned to me, a glint in her eye. “Elara, you must be used to sleeping alone quite a bit, right? Any tips you can share?” I fired back with a saccharine smile. “Sorry, I rarely sleep alone.” No one would ever guess. Rashawn Croft had the face of an ascetic who was tired of the world, but behind closed doors, he had a bigger appetite than anyone. That “gentlemanly” reputation his fans loved so much? It mostly consisted of him driving me to the brink of exhaustion while playing dumb. Thinking back, I kind of regretted the hormonally-charged night I’d slipped on a bathrobe, walked into his bedroom, and sat on his lap, declaring, “Even if it’s a contract, we still have to fulfill our marital duties.” One of the main reasons I was so eager for this divorce was that my body just couldn’t handle the frequency anymore. When it was Rashawn’s turn to answer, his thick, dark lashes fluttered. His voice was low and cold. “If I’m not satisfied, can I change it?” The host, not expecting this, was momentarily stunned. “The rules say you can’t.” Rashawn took a deep breath. “Can I draw again?” The host shook her head helplessly. “No.” A flash of raw anger crossed the man’s already brooding features. I gently tugged on his sleeve. “Just follow the rules.” Rashawn nodded stiffly and walked away, his arms and legs moving in awkward, uncoordinated synchrony. The chat was confused: 【Is it just me or is Rashawn acting super weird? Does he… want to share a room with Elara?】 【No way. He’s probably just trying to save face for her in front of the cameras.】 【Oh no. I think I’m starting to ship them. Elara said one soft thing and he instantly obeyed.】 【Was that obedience or was he just disgusted into silence? The man was so rattled he forgot how to walk.】 Without Rashawn plowing his field, I slept like a baby and woke up feeling refreshed. The next day, I was up early. Sophie was in the kitchen making breakfast for Marcus. They were bickering over whether to have boiled or fried eggs. The argument somehow ended with them in a passionate embrace. Sophie even shot me, in all my bed-headed glory, a triumphant look, as if to say, “So what if you married a Croft? My husband loves me. Yours doesn’t.” A camera suddenly swung toward me. “Today is the couple’s chemistry challenge! Pop quiz: What does Rashawn like to drink for breakfast?” “Iced Americano?” I guessed randomly. After our marriage, Rashawn had started taking over his family’s business and was semi-retired from acting. He was up and off to the office before dawn every day. How was I supposed to know what he liked? A moment later, the host cornered Rashawn as he returned from his morning run. “Rashawn, what’s your favorite breakfast drink?” “Hot latte.” The host smirked. “And what’s Elara’s favorite breakfast drink?” “Iced Americano,” Rashawn answered without a second’s hesitation. “But I worry that drinking cold things all the time is bad for her, so I often switch it to a hot one for her.” I stared at him, completely shocked. “Rashawn, why didn’t you tell me? I always thought the housekeeper was getting my order wrong! Hot Americanos are disg—” I caught myself, realizing I was about to offend someone, and swallowed the rest of the sentence. The host was even more surprised than I was. “Rashawn, do you usually make breakfast for Elara?” Rashawn gave a slight nod, a hint of pride in his expression. “She’s so tired every night. She needs to rest in the morning.” Sophie, who had been enjoying the show, froze. The spatula clattered from her hand to the floor. The panel of experts watched with knowing, maternal smiles. 4 The host, determined to get some drama, fired off a dozen more chemistry questions. The final score: Rashawn answered every single question about me correctly. I managed to guess one correctly about him. I was still in a daze when the evening campfire chat began. Even though we lived under the same roof and had our fair share of… intimate contact, Rashawn and I rarely talked. We were both busy with our careers, and besides, Rashawn was the textbook definition of an earth sign: introverted, reserved, and impossible to read. I’d wanted to ask him about those viral clips of him glaring at me, to ask if he really hated me that much, but he always managed to sidestep the conversation before it even began. And yet, here he was, acting like he knew me better than I knew myself. The chat was buzzing: 【This is insane. Even the ultimate doting husband Marcus got a question about Sophie wrong. Rashawn got them ALL right. This can’t be scripted, can it? It’s kinda sweet.】 【Look at Elara’s shocked face. It has to be real. Her acting isn’t that good.】 Me: Thanks a lot, that’s a real backhanded compliment. 【I’m so curious. If Rashawn really despises Elara like everyone says, why would he make her breakfast? But if he likes her, why do they act like total strangers?】 【Agreed. This couple is so fascinating. The others feel like old married couples, but these two have this weird, electric ambiguity.】 The theme for the night was “Money.” The moment I saw the topic, I knew this segment was aimed squarely at me. The host started with Marcus and Sophie. “In your pre-show questionnaires, you both mentioned having some conflicts regarding family finances.” Sophie huffed. “Well, there’s that popular saying, ‘Where the money is, the love is.’ But Marcus still hasn’t given me his bank cards.” The female rapper from the third couple teased, “But at least Marcus loves to spoil you, Sophie. I always see you posting pictures of those thousand-dollar bags and jewelry. My man won’t even add me to his Amazon Prime account.” Sophie lowered her head shyly. “It’s not that big of a deal. I value emotional connection more than material things. But Elara is the one who really married her way out of poverty. She probably has more to say on this topic.” I caught the insinuation in her voice and gave her a sweet smile. “Marrying a rich man is pretty great. You’ll get it once Marcus reaches Rashawn’s level.” Sophie’s smile faltered. See? She brings it up, but she can’t take the answer.

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Because I was born with a “blessed fate,” Kevin Rowley’s mother paid me to be a companion for her son. Publicly, I was his adopted sister. Privately, I was his cherished, secret girlfriend. The diamond ring hidden in his drawer made me believe he was going to propose. Then I overheard him joking with his friends: “It’s been five years. The fate you stole for Abby is stable now. Isn’t it time you compensated your little girlfriend by marrying her?” “Who would marry a cursed-luck plaything?” “Aren’t you afraid she’ll get her heart broken and leave?” Kevin’s voice was laced with contempt. “She’ll be on death’s door if she leaves me. Unless she can find a man with a stronger fate than mine, she’s stuck with me for life.” So that was it. He cherished me not out of love, but to steal my life force for his one true love. He wanted me to be his personal battery, his plaything for life. I stumbled home in a daze, pulled out the original agreement, and laid my cards on the table with his mother. “I won’t be renewing the contract. Our arrangement is over.” 1 Mrs. Rowley was stunned. “Aria, you know what happens. Every time you’re away from Kevin for more than three days, your luck turns. Minor incidents end in blood, major ones in the hospital. Why can’t you just stay with us and be my daughter? We don’t need a contract anymore. Why do you have to go?” Just then, Kevin strode in, snatching the papers from her hand. His brow furrowed. “Who said you had to leave just because the contract is up? It’s not like the Rowleys can’t afford to feed you.” “I want to go back to the mountains,” I said, my voice steady. “I’ve been away for so long. It’s time I went back to see my master.” Kevin’s face darkened with disapproval. “What’s there to see in that backwater? You’ve been gone for years, and has your so-called master ever once contacted you? Every time you were sick, who was the one taking care of you?” Perhaps my gaze was sharper than usual today, because he met my eyes for a second and fell silent. He knew exactly why my luck always turned. As for why my master had become unreachable, that was a mystery to me, too. A deep-seated instinct told me his disappearance was connected to my stolen fate. After dismissing his mother with a few quick words, Kevin ignored my protests, swept me into his arms, and carried me into his bedroom. The moment the door closed, he pinned me against a cabinet, his mouth crashing down on mine. “Aria, what is it? Am I not good enough to you? Is my mother not good to you? You’d rather throw away the life of a princess to go back to that shithole and see some old man?” He was as domineering as ever, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste filled my mouth, just as the scent of another woman—Abby’s perfume—filled my nostrils. My body had no resistance to Kevin, but it had even less to Abby. If Kevin was a sun that drew me in, Abby was a fatal-force magnet. I’d always known she was special to him, but whenever I saw her, I felt an inexplicable joy, a happiness that far surpassed what I felt for Kevin. I’d even started to question my own sexuality. Now I knew the truth. I was drawn to her because she held a piece of me. She had stolen my fate. “Aria, the Rowley estate is your home,” he murmured, his voice softening. “It doesn’t matter if you’re an orphan or a jinx. My mother and I will always treat you like family. Why would you risk everything to go back and see someone who doesn’t even care about you?” “If you really want to go, I’ll take you when I’m less busy.” Every word was a carefully crafted trap, designed to sound like he cared. But knowing the truth, I saw the cracks in every single one. I fought against my body’s instinct and pushed him away. “Fine.” He didn’t love me. Even if I stayed, I would just waste away and die young. It was only a matter of when. My compliance seemed to ignite something in him. A dark desire flickered in his eyes. “Aria, this is what I love about you. So obedient. Like a little rabbit, makes me want to devour you whole…” He reached for my clothes. I clutched the collar of my shirt and shoved him back, stopping his advance. If my fate was a flame, then I was the lamp. Abby had stolen the flame, but until it fully merged with her, she couldn’t risk “breaking a taboo”—or all her efforts would be for nothing. That was why Kevin couldn’t touch her. And his insatiable desire for me? It was because I was the lamp. He couldn’t have the flame, so he took out all his frustrations on me. My rejection stunned him. Usually, all he had to do was stand there, and my body’s instinct would do the rest. Without my fate, I needed his proximity to feel warm, to feel that indescribable rush of happiness. He gripped my chin, a smirk playing on his lips. “Playing hard to get? Trying something new today, are we? I like it…” I watched with cold eyes as he leaned in to kiss me again. “This is the master bedroom,” I reminded him, my voice flat. The desire vanished from his face. For five years, I had been the woman he tangled with every night, but I had never been allowed to sleep in his bed. I’d never even been near it. He was afraid my bad luck would taint the room, and by extension, the Rowley family’s fortune. As Kevin hastily pulled me out of the room, his mother was coming down the stairs. “Kevin, where are you dragging your sister off to in such a hurry?” He didn’t miss a beat. “We have something important to discuss.” Mrs. Rowley looked at us suspiciously. “You two are always so secretive. You’re not up to something you shouldn’t be, are you?” 2 Kevin’s grip on my hand tightened. He pushed me into my own room before rushing to heat a glass of milk for his mother. “Mom, just drink this and go to bed.” Mrs. Rowley loved when he did this for her. It always helped her sleep through the night. “I’d like some too, Mom…” I started to say. Kevin shot me a venomous look. I’d always suspected there was something wrong with the milk, but I couldn’t believe Kevin would drug his own mother. It wasn’t until earlier today, when I found the sleeping pills hidden in his room, that I knew for sure. I decided to let it go. This devoted son drugged his mother every time he wanted to spend a night with me. What was one more time? Once I was gone, he’d stop. If I exposed him, it would only ruin their relationship, and I’d gain nothing. Half an hour later, Kevin tried to sneak into my room, only to find the door locked. He was furious. He actually called a locksmith to pry the door open. After sending the man away, he stormed over to me, his voice dripping with irritation. “It’s not your period, so don’t play the virtuous maiden with me. Aren’t you usually like a starving wolf? It’s only because I’m patient that I put up with you. Don’t push it.” He pulled a scandalously sheer piece of lingerie from a hidden compartment in my closet and tossed it at me. “Change into this. Stop wasting my time.” When I didn’t move, he became rough. Looking into his eyes—eyes that could show deep affection even to a dog—I was struck again by the cold, hard reality: he had never, ever truly cared for me. Who would fall in love with a tool to warm their bed? He yanked at my shirt, and the fabric tore, exposing my chest to the cool air. I fought down the overwhelming urge to press myself against him. For the first time, I didn’t throw myself into his arms. “I’m tired. Some other time.” My repeated rejections had pushed him over the edge. He grabbed my wrists, about to restrain me, when his phone rang urgently. Hearing the panicked sobs on the other end, Kevin rushed out to get Abby. Terrified that I would lose control and follow them like a lost puppy, I slammed the door shut. But Kevin kicked it back open. “Abby has a fever. Get over here and take care of her.” I looked at her chapped lips and flushed face. “You should take her to a hospital,” I said coldly. Abby came and sat next to me, taking my hand and pouting. “Aria, I don’t want to go to the hospital. I just want to be close to you. I don’t know why, but I feel warmer when you’re near.” She rested her head on my shoulder. Every cell in my body screamed with a traitorous joy at her touch, but I took a deep breath and shoved her away. “If you’re cold, have Kevin warm you up.” The thought of her stealing my life force while I’d been dancing around them like a fool sent a chill through me. Abby’s body began to tremble uncontrollably, her face a mask of pathetic misery. “Aria, why are you being so mean today? Kevin, I feel so sick…” She clutched her chest, her breathing shallow. Kevin immediately rushed to her side, gathering her into his arms. But I didn’t miss the strange, knowing look Abby shot me over his shoulder. A deep sense of unease settled in my stomach. 3 After settling Abby in his own room, Kevin came back and ordered me, “You’re sleeping with Abby tonight. And don’t forget, obeying orders is your job.” He was right. That was my job. But the employment contract had expired two years ago. When I first left my master in the mountains, I was naive and worldly. I was scammed out of all my money and ended up at a temple, desperate for food. That’s where I met Mrs. Rowley. The temple’s abbot told her I had a blessed fate and that forming a connection with me would greatly benefit her son. A devout believer, Mrs. Rowley immediately offered me a contract: “One million dollars for three years. Be my goddaughter.” My master always said that every meeting was fated. Starving and desperate, I couldn’t refuse. When I first arrived, Kevin despised me. But on my birthday, after he learned my birth chart, he suddenly warmed up to me. After accompanying him on a trip abroad to meet Abby, I found myself completely infatuated with him. Every glance made my heart pound. I wanted to be near him constantly. When I finally “won him over,” I was ecstatic. Now, I realized it was all a setup. After that trip, my luck began to turn. I became prone to illness and accidents. Kevin found a renowned monk to help me, but nothing worked. The monk’s only advice was to stay by Kevin’s side for my own safety. “Aria Sterling! What are you still standing there for? Get over there, now!” The more frantic he was, the more I suspected tonight was not going to be simple. He tried the same trick again, bringing me a glass of warm milk. If I drank it, I’d be out cold, just like his mother. “Didn’t you say you wanted some? And you’re always complaining about wanting to sleep in my room. Here’s your chance.” I picked up the glass and, when he wasn’t looking, poured most of it into the bedding. I hoped the few sips I’d have to take wouldn’t put me under too deeply. But as I raised the glass, I caught a familiar scent. The milk was just a distraction. This was the same fragrance that had knocked me out that night abroad. I bit my tongue hard, mentally chanting the complex passages my master had taught me to fight off the drowsiness. As I pretended to pass out, Kevin caught me and carried me to his bed. “Kevin, are you sure this will work?” Abby’s voice was a nervous whisper. “Her fate is strong. Stealing it completely will cure you for good.” “But I’m worried about the backlash…” “Don’t be. She loves me. As long as she gives it willingly, I won’t be harmed. The backlash will fall on her.” Lying in the bed I had once dreamed of, my heart turned to ice. My consciousness was fading, but the rage in my chest burned hot and fierce. When I woke up, Abby was completely revitalized, her cheeks rosy with health. I, on the other hand, felt drained and sick. It took all my strength just to sit up. “Aria, you’re awake! I told you, if I’m with you, I don’t even need medicine to get better.” A person who should have been dead long ago had stolen my life, and last night, she had used my body to solidify her hold on it. It was no different from borrowing my very life. In that moment, I hated myself for being so blind, for not learning a single one of my master’s skills. I had been a fool for years, completely unaware. I forced a smile, and my cracked lips immediately started to bleed. There was no point in arguing. All I wanted was to get out of this viper’s nest. But Kevin steadied me, his face a mask of concern. “Aria, you look terrible. I’m taking you to the hospital.” Too weak to struggle, I let him. After a series of tests, the doctor’s face was grim. “Her body’s systems are aging rapidly. We need to admit her for further observation.” I spent the entire day at the hospital, feeling my life force slowly slipping away. Kevin only remembered I existed after confirming that Abby was perfectly healthy. He came to my room, full of apologies, asking how I was feeling, but there wasn’t a trace of genuine worry in his eyes. Suddenly, Abby pointed at his arm and gasped. “Kevin, what is that? It wasn’t there this morning…” 4 Kevin tried to rub off the dark spot on his arm, but the skin underneath looked like it was about to peel away. I looked away, then down at the identical spots appearing on my own skin, and gave a bitter smile. Kevin’s hand trembled as he glared at me. “Aria Sterling, did you cheat on me? Did you get some disease and give it to me?” He could blame me for anything, couldn’t he? Didn’t he understand this was karma? The backlash wouldn’t kill him, but it would certainly make his life a living hell. The moment I learned the truth, I had decisively cut off all the love I had for him. He stared at the matching spots on my arm, his expression turning thunderous. As if remembering something, he grabbed me and dragged me out of the hospital, not even sparing a glance for Abby. The moment we were in the car, he pushed me down against the seat, his kisses landing sloppily on my neck. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. He looked at me, his face a picture of wounded betrayal. “Aria, you don’t love me anymore? I know I shouldn’t have said that, but… you used to love being close to me, didn’t you?” So that’s what this was about. He was testing me. Trying to see if I still loved him. And what if I did? He didn’t understand. The karma he deserved had already arrived. I shook my tingling hand and pointed out the window.

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My roommate, Sienna, has five boyfriends. My crush, Ethan, is one of them. She gave Ethan to me. She’s such a good person. Oh, wait. No. It was a dare. Give up one boyfriend. But that wasn’t dramatic enough for her. She had to take it a step further and try to set me, the only single girl in our dorm, up with Ethan. Our other roommates laughed, trying to smooth things over. “You don’t have to go that far. Look at her, she’s a total ice queen. She’s not the dating type.” Sienna just smiled, her tone breezy. “True. Good girls don’t date in college. I was just…” joking. I looked Sienna straight in the eye, my expression earnest. “I’ll do it.” 1 Sienna’s smile faltered. “Fine. I’ll send you his contact info.” The other roommates went silent. I knew it was awkward. But this was the guy I’d had a crush on for three years. From the moment I first saw him on stage at the freshman orientation, he’d captured my full attention. I held up our dorm’s star-shaped string light, my voice sincere. “You really don’t have to. It’s just a game. You can just take a shot as a penalty.” Sienna scoffed. “Me? Lose? I’m the queen of the nightlife!” “You think I’d lose a stupid game like this to a nerdy good-girl? Who do you think you’re talking to?” “Just you wait. In two weeks, I guarantee you’ll know exactly what it feels like to be in love.” I just said, “Oh,” and dropped it. It was just as I expected. Sienna would never allow herself to lose, not even in something so small, and certainly not to a bookworm like me. The other roommates couldn’t contain their curiosity. “Why Ethan? He’s handsome and rich.” In the soft glow of the starlight, Sienna’s face was grim. “I have my own money, and my other boyfriends spoil me too. He has a personality defect.” At this thought, her expression seemed to clear a little. “He’s rigid, boring, a total traditionalist. Barely says a word.” I nodded to myself. A quiet man is a good thing. Handsome, rich, smart, and quiet. His traditionalism meant he’d be responsible. No wonder he was my crush. A man who talked too much was an instant turn-off. He was total catnip for a sapiosexual. It was just a shame his taste in women was so poor. 2 A day passed. My friend request on social media was still pending. I sent it again, pausing for a moment before adding a note: Sienna’s roommate. Sienna watched me staring at my phone, a hint of amusement in her voice. “What, he hasn’t added you yet?” I nodded. A second later, a notification popped up. Ethan has accepted your friend request. Sienna’s expression soured. “I added that I was your roommate,” I explained. “That’s when he accepted.” Her face seemed to get even darker. But hadn’t she always said she dated so many guys to prove how desirable she was? Here was one of her exes, still clearly hung up on her, and she was… unhappy? 3 Sienna, who had promised to help me win over Ethan, made no move to do so. My chat with him remained stuck at our first exchange: Hello. Can I help you? I thought for a long time about what to send him first. Should I tell him Sienna had lost him to me in a dare? After much deliberation, I asked him why the core question behind this year’s Nobel Prize in Economics was so deceptively simple. He wrote back at length. He forwarded me article after article. Paper after paper. He even included some analysis from popular commentary blogs. It was thorough. Rational. Brilliant. He had access to information I could never find on my own. I found myself completely engrossed, reading on my bed. Suddenly, the dorm room door was thrown open violently. Sienna’s sharp voice cut through the air. “She’s such a slut. Who picks up their best friend’s cast-off boyfriend?” “She’s even worse. She practically begged for him.” Our other two roommates chimed in with agreement. I didn’t get it. They were the ones who had started this challenge. Sienna was the one who had upped the stakes. It just happened to align with my own secret wish, so I’d agreed. How did it turn into this? What if I’d said no? Would they have found another way to mock me? Look at her, we even offered her our richest, hottest boyfriend and she’s still a boring old stick-in-the-mud. My mom was right. Never argue with a fool, and don’t spend too much time around them. It messes with your energy. Find a partner who is smart. While they were in the middle of their tirade, I pulled back my bed curtain and smiled, a picture of innocence. “Are you guys talking about me?” Sienna crossed her arms, her eyes dripping with disdain. The other two roommates gave awkward laughs, trying to salvage the situation. “No, of course not. We were just talking about a character from that show we’re all watching.” And just like that, the matter was dropped. No one ever mentioned it again. After all, we still had to live together for another year. 4 Discussing academic questions, Ethan and I grew closer. He was the first man I’d spent a month with without getting bored. “Rigid and traditional” was just another way of saying self-disciplined. But today, Ethan was acting strange. He was distracted, his answers to my questions absentminded. “Is something wrong?” I asked. He frowned, thinking for a long time before his cool voice finally emerged, laced with conflict. “Did Sienna see that post on the school forum? Does she misunderstand what’s going on between us? She hasn’t spoken to me in a month.” I was a little surprised. Sienna… hadn’t told him they’d broken up? Or about the dare? And more importantly, our “relationship” was already gossip on the school forum? Meanwhile, the fact that Sienna was successfully juggling five boyfriends was nowhere to be found online. I furrowed my brow. “She didn’t tell you?” “A month ago, she lost a dare. She lost you to me.” Ethan’s brow furrowed even deeper, as if he couldn’t comprehend this kind of game. “So,” I added, “you’re my boyfriend now.” His mind seemed to short-circuit, unable to process the information. I sighed. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him he wasn’t Sienna’s only boyfriend. It wasn’t just that it would shatter his old-fashioned worldview. It was that slandering my new boyfriend’s ex felt… cheap. He might think I was making it up, and that would create a rift between us. After all, I had no proof. 5 I thought it would take Ethan some time to process the truth. I was wrong. The very next morning, he was standing outside my dorm building, holding the tackiest bouquet of black-gauze-wrapped red roses imaginable. Just as Sienna and one of her more “fun” boyfriends walked out. “With taste that tacky, who could possibly want you?” Sienna said, her voice dripping with scorn. I was on my way to the library. “Me, maybe?” I offered. Sienna shot me a look of pure disgust, then turned to her boyfriend and cooed, “Baby, you see? We have a boyfriend-stealer in our dorm. I’m so scared she’ll steal you away one day. Why don’t you rent an apartment for me off-campus?” I was… speechless. Utterly, completely speechless. But the stage was set. If Ethan didn’t take the opportunity, there was nothing I could do. I sighed and turned to leave. Maybe Ethan and I weren’t meant to be. I’d only taken a few steps when a massive bouquet of roses was thrust into my arms. The same tacky roses Sienna had just mocked. “Let’s be together,” he said. I gave a slight nod. He wasn’t a completely lost cause. There was room for improvement. That night, a new post appeared on the school forum. #StudentPursuesCampusQueenWithoutSuccess,SettlesForRoommate It was a picture of Ethan shoving the roses into my arms. The rumors flew. I was cast as the homewrecker who had stolen her roommate’s boyfriend. The perpetrator, Sienna, had already moved out of the dorm to live a life of blissful coupledom with her boyfriends. I didn’t really care. Ethan, however, was wracked with guilt. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have to deal with this.” I nodded, smiling faintly. “So, you’ll have to be extra nice to me from now on.” “Okay,” he said. His voice was stiff, but resolute. He was so easy to fool. Was his reputation for being a genius just a marketing ploy? My smile faded. “How did you and Sienna get together in the first place?” I asked quietly. Ethan seemed flustered, his clear eyes filled with confusion. “She asked me out.” “What did she say?” I pressed. He paused. “Is this a required part of dating? Asking about the ex-girlfriend?” “No,” I shook my head. “I’m just curious. Sienna doesn’t seem like the type to chase after anyone.” “She didn’t, really,” he corrected, ever the literalist. “She just happened to confess her feelings first. I wasn’t against the idea, so we got together.” He was a total rookie who’d run into a master of the game. No wonder he’d fallen so hard. Sienna was always talking about creating “tension” with her boyfriends. This didn’t feel like a time for tension. It felt like a time to actually build a relationship. “Ethan, let’s go on a date tomorrow.” The hand that had been scribbling equations on a notepad stilled. A soft “Okay” escaped his lips before he immediately returned to his work, as if I had imagined the whole thing. 6 “100 Things for Couples to Do.” It was the best dating guide I could find. First up: an escape room. Ethan was late. When he arrived, he was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, not a single crease on it. Even his hair was meticulously styled. He had clearly made an effort. The walk from campus to the escape room wasn’t far, but we turned a lot of heads. He looked so out of place standing there with me, a beacon of precision and formality. The girl working at the counter couldn’t stop staring at him. “Is your boyfriend a cosplayer?” she finally asked. I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yep,” I nodded. “I don’t know which robot he’s supposed to be, but he’s really committed to the character. Never breaks.” Ethan looked lost. After a long moment, he asked, “Are you two speaking in code?” I smiled. “She said we look good together.” He nodded, and didn’t ask again. The escape room, which was supposed to bring us closer, was, in our opinion, full of logical fallacies. The only result was that Ethan’s suit got a few wrinkles. “You’re not having fun,” he stated. “It was a novel experience,” he said, his tone flat. “I look forward to our next date.” But his eyes were distant. He didn’t look forward to it at all. We worked our way through half of the “100 Things” list, but our relationship remained stagnant. He was always cooperative. Never argued. Never seemed to care. Wasn’t this exactly what my mom had said I needed? A partner who was perfectly, completely rational? He was perfect. Maybe too perfect.

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