Author: Momo Chan

1 Because of my scars, my brother and my fiancé forbade me from ever taking off my veil. Every stunning profile shot the media managed to capture of the mysterious pianist was attributed to my sister. Everyone believed she was the prodigy, the genius behind the alias Luna. But tonight, I decided to finally take off my veil at the awards ceremony and reveal my true self. My brother blocked my path. “Darcy, can you just let your sister accept the award for you? She doesn’t have much time left. Her only wish in this life is to stand in the spotlight just once.” A cold chill settled in my chest. This was the fifth year in a row he had used that exact excuse. I turned to look at my fiancé, hoping for some support. Instead, he frowned. “What? You’re not willing to do this for her?” “Kelly’s illness is so severe. Why can’t you just make her dream come true? You can always explain the truth to the public later.” He handed me a small jewelry box. “Actually, I was planning to propose to you tonight. If you let your sister have her moment, this ring is yours.” “Darcy, don’t be so selfish.” My lips twitched into a bitter smile. I held the tiny, pathetic diamond ring in my palm, remembering the drawer I had accidentally opened in my sister’s room two days ago. Inside was a ring identical in design, but ten times the size. I took a step back. This time, I was done giving things up. Hank raised his voice in front of all the backstage staff. “Darcy, say that again?” I met his gaze. “I said, I’m going up there to accept my award myself.” Hank took a step forward, towering over me. His finger practically brushed the tip of my nose. “Your sister has one final wish, and you won’t even give her that? Darcy, do you have a single shred of decency left in you?” Kelly rose slowly from her makeup chair. She wore a champagne-colored silk gown, her long hair pinned up in an elegant, intricate bun. She looked like she had spent hours preparing for this very stage. She dabbed her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “Hank, don’t press her,” she said softly. “It’s just my bad luck. I shouldn’t have expected so much from life anyway. We all have to leave this world with some regrets.” Her head dropped, her shoulders trembling with quiet, delicate sobs. Hank’s eyes welled with tears of pity. He pulled her into a tight, protective embrace. “Don’t talk like that! You are not going to die. I’ll find you the best doctors in the world. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, and if you want to stand on that stage, I will make sure you do!” He glared back at me, his eyes full of cold authority. “Darcy, you’re young. You’ll have plenty of chances to win awards in the future. Does this single night really matter to you? Your sister doesn’t have that luxury.” Does this single night really matter? I had heard that exact line for five long years. Last year, I fell in love with an antique necklace at an auction. Kelly saw it and said she liked it too. Without a second thought, Hank took it and clasped it around Kelly’s neck. “Darcy, you look beautiful in anything. Let your sister have this one. She’s sick and depressed, let’s just make her happy.” When our parents passed away and left me their house, Kelly casually mentioned she wanted to live there. Hank took my keys and handed them to her on the spot. “Darcy, Kelly’s health is fragile. Living in the old house makes it easier to get to the hospital. Just let her have it. Does it really matter where you sleep?” For years, every time I yielded, Kelly’s illness would miraculously improve for a couple of days. Then, it would take a sudden turn for the worse, repeating the cycle until my next sacrifice. It was an endless, exhausting drain, squeezing every drop of life out of me. “Darcy!” Another voice cut through the air. Jared, my fiancé, stormed over and grabbed my wrist. “Have you lost your mind?” His grip was so tight my bones ached. “I am perfectly sane,” I replied, staring him down. “Look in a mirror! Have you forgotten what you look like?” He scoffed. “Who else could ever stand looking at a face like yours? If you go out on that stage, are you accepting an award, or are you just trying to humiliate both of us?” I froze. He called me ugly. He called me an embarrassment. But who was the reason my face was scarred in the first place? 2 Ten years ago, on a sweltering summer afternoon, Jared took me out to the countryside to paint. We stood on a crumbling, abandoned stone bridge. He was busy capturing the scenery, while I watched from his side. The bridge had been neglected for decades. Suddenly, the stone beneath his feet gave way, and he began to slip backward over the edge. Without thinking, I lunged forward and shoved him toward safety. He tumbled onto the grass, scraping nothing but his knees. I plunged into the jagged ravine below. A rusted iron rod tore through my left cheek, ripping the flesh open from my cheekbone down to my jaw. Blood soaked the earth. The surgeon had to use thirty-seven stitches to put my face back together. After that day, a hideous, jagged scar became a permanent fixture on my left cheek. Jared had knelt by my hospital bed, weeping, swearing he would love me forever, that he would never care about my scars, and that he owed me his life. But promises fade. Human hearts rot. I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “Jared, you’re using my face to hurt me?” A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by his usual, patronizing coldness. “I’m only looking out for you. The internet will tear you to pieces. You’ll be crying before the night is over. Darcy, try to have some self-awareness.” I trembled, my eyes burning with unshed tears. I forced them back. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out the velvet box, popped it open, and looked at the cheap, pathetic ring inside. The diamond was so small and poorly cut it resembled a piece of broken glass. I laughed softly, tossing the box back into his chest. “Think whatever you want,” I said. “I don’t want to marry you anymore anyway. And tonight, I am going up on that stage to claim my own award.” I turned on my heel. Jared lunged, grabbing my arm and pulling me back so hard I nearly lost my balance. “What the hell is wrong with you? There’s a limit to how much of a tantrum you can throw!” I sneered at him. “Jared, tell me the truth. Did you actually buy this ring for me? Or did you buy a real one for Kelly and just toss me the free gift?” His face stiffened. The ring was indeed laughably tiny. Two days ago, I had found an identical box in Kelly’s vanity. But the diamond in her drawer was ten times the size of mine. At the time, I found it strange. But later, I saw an advertisement for that exact jewelry store. The Collector’s Edition. Limited to one piece worldwide. Value: Eight million dollars. Limited to one piece. That meant the eight-million-dollar ring was sitting in Kelly’s drawer, while the scrap of glass in my hand was likely nothing more than a complimentary token. Exposed, Jared’s expression turned defensive, but he quickly assumed his usual high-and-mighty posture. “What are you talking about? I just thought your features were… a bit delicate, too understated to carry such a massive stone. It would look out of place on you. I didn’t mean it as an insult. Delicate is a compliment. Stop acting up. If you really want a big one, I’ll buy you one later.” He dismissed it so easily. Of course he would. He was rich enough to throw money around without a care. Last year, when Kelly claimed she was having trouble breathing, he spent fifty million dollars to charter a private jet and fly in a world-renowned team of respiratory specialists. The doctors spent three days running tests only to conclude there was no physical issue, suggesting she simply needed rest. Fifty million dollars, gone in the blink of an eye. The year before that, Kelly wanted to see the Northern Lights. He leased a private jet and flew her halfway across the globe. When they returned, Kelly claimed she was exhausted and her condition had worsened, prompting him to spend tens of millions more on consultants. Again, they found nothing. Over the years, he had poured over a hundred million dollars into Kelly’s endless whims. But for me, he couldn’t even buy a proper engagement ring. Seeing my stubborn refusal, Kelly chimed in from behind, her voice dripping with artificial distress. “Darcy, please don’t be mad at Hank and Jared. It’s all my fault. I’ll tell them right now that I don’t feel well and won’t go on stage. Jared… my chest feels so tight… I think it’s happening again…” Frantic footsteps scrambled behind me. The steps leading to the main stage were right in front of me. I lifted my foot to take the first step— Suddenly, a rush of cold, viscous liquid poured over the back of my head. It drenched my collar, trickled down my neck, and soaked my entire back. The sharp, chemical stench of red paint filled my nose, clinging thick and heavy to my skin. I froze. Hank stood behind me, holding an empty paint bucket. “Hank?” My voice was choked, barely a whisper. “Now you don’t have time to go on stage, do you?” Hank’s eyes reflected my pale, paint-streaked face. “Just let Kelly take your place. The credit is still yours, and since Kelly is beautiful, everyone will praise Luna as a goddess. Even if you explain the truth later, the public will only admire you for being such a loving, supportive sister.” He patted my shoulder gently. “I’m older than you, Darcy. I’ve walked more roads than you’ve eaten grains of salt. Stop being so stubborn. Listen to your brother and go change your clothes.” 3 I couldn’t understand when my brother had become such a monster. When we were kids, he had climbed over a tall brick wall just to get me a candied apple, scraping his knee raw in the process. I remember crying and asking him, “Does it hurt, Hank?” He hadn’t shed a single tear. He just pressed the sweet treat into my hands and grinned. “Not at all. As long as Darcy is happy, it doesn’t hurt.” Later, to buy me a birthday present—a giant, expensive teddy bear—he worked grueling shifts at a construction site, hauling drywall until his hands were covered in bloody blisters. He never complained. Now, a stage manager wearing a headset ran over. Seeing me drenched in red paint, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Miss Darcy? What happened to you? Thank goodness we still have time. The awards ceremony has been delayed by an hour due to a technical glitch. Let me find you a spare dress to change into.” He turned to fetch a dress, but a heavy hand gripped his shoulder. Jared had walked up, his face dark with fury. “Who told you to interfere?” Jared grabbed the manager by the collar, pulling him so hard the veins on the man’s neck bulged. “Mr. Jared, I… I was just trying to help Miss Darcy. Her dress is ruined.” “Go to HR and collect your final paycheck. You’re fired,” Jared said, pointing toward the exit. “Now get out of my hotel.” This venue belonged to one of Jared’s luxury hotels. Here, his word was law. The stage manager realized there was no point in arguing. His lips trembled, but he slowly took off his vest, bowed his head, and walked away. Before he walked out the door, he turned back to look at me. There was no anger in his eyes—only a deep, sorrowful pity. I clenched my fists. “Jared, you fired an innocent man just to coddle Kelly? This is his livelihood! He has a family to support!” Before Jared could snap back, Kelly pressed a hand to her forehead, groaning softly. “Please, don’t fight because of me. I really don’t feel well. I don’t want to go up there anymore. Darcy, let me take you back to the dressing room so we can clean you up and rest.” As if possessed, I followed her into the private suite. “Take a seat, Darcy.” I remained standing. Kelly walked over to the vanity, picking up a bottle of expensive perfume and casually spritzing it. Her movements were smooth and graceful, showing none of the weakness she had feigned moments ago. “Darcy, stop fighting it. We’re only doing what’s best for you, aren’t we?” She stopped in front of me, reaching out a hand as if to touch my scarred cheek. I flinched away. “Kelly, they’ve favored you for years. Why do you have to steal the only thing I have left?” Her hand hovered in the air before slowly dropping back to her side. The sweet smile on her face flickered for a brief second, then returned, sharper this time. “Because I hate you.” Before the words fully left her mouth, she suddenly stumbled backward, throwing herself to the floor. With a dull thud, she crashed onto the carpet, clutching her knee and letting out a piercing, agonized shriek. Before I could even process what she was doing, the door to the dressing room was thrown open. 4 Jared and Hank rushed in. Seeing Kelly sprawled on the floor, their faces twisted in panic. “Kelly!” “What happened? Are you okay?” Kelly clung to Jared’s chest, her tears flowing freely. “It was my fault… I lost my balance and tripped… It has nothing to do with Darcy…” Despite her words, her fingers gripped Jared’s sleeve so hard her knuckles turned white, her body shivering like a leaf in a storm. Jared looked up at me, his eyes burning with venom. “Darcy, have you lost your mind? Your sister is incredibly sick, and you pushed her?” “I didn’t touch her.” “I saw it with my own eyes!” Hank roared. “You were standing right next to her! Who else could have pushed her?” One wiped her tears, while the other patted her back. It was a pathetic, rehearsed drama they had performed a thousand times. “Darcy,” Hank said, picking Kelly up in his arms, his eyes filled with pure disgust. “Heaven knew how ugly your soul was, and that’s why it gave you such a hideous face.” Jared supported Kelly’s other side, murmuring softly to soothe her. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Everything is going to be fine. If you don’t get better, I won’t even think about marriage. I’ll put my wedding with Darcy on hold. Don’t worry about it.” Kelly offered a tearful, delicate smile, her voice soft as silk. “Don’t say that, Jared. Darcy will be heartbroken.” “Then you need to get well quickly,” Jared said, squeezing her hand. “I can’t have my wedding without my beautiful maid of honor.” Their voices drifted down the corridor. Under the harsh hallway lights, their three shadows stretched and merged into one, looking like a perfect, exclusive family. I stood alone in the empty dressing room, staring at my reflection. The sticky red paint was drying on my hair, my veil, and my dress. I looked like a stray dog drenched in blood. The scar on my left cheek stood out prominently, looking like a jagged, red centipede crawling across my skin. Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. A junior staff member walked in, carrying a fresh dress. “Miss Darcy… it’s time for you to go on stage. Let me take you to the washroom to clean up first.” I wiped my face and followed him. He led me down one corridor after another, turning into increasingly isolated, dimly lit wings of the building. The crowds vanished. I stopped walking. “Where are you taking me?” The staff member turned around, his face tight with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Miss Darcy. Mr. Jared ordered that this door remain locked until the ceremony is completely over.” He pushed open an unmarked wooden door, revealing a dusty utility closet packed with old sound equipment, discarded backdrops, and cardboard boxes. “Please wait here. It won’t be long.” With a heavy click, the door locked from the outside. 5 I sat on a dusty box, my knees pressed against my chest, staring blankly at a small monitor mounted on the wall. It was a backup screen connected to the security feed of the main stage. The lights dimmed, and the host took the microphone. Under the dazzling spotlight, to the sound of thunderous applause, Kelly walked out onto the stage. She wore my dress. She wore my veil. With effortless grace, she accepted the crystal trophy, bowing elegantly to the crowd. The moment she unveiled her face, a collective gasp echoed through the auditorium. “My God, she’s gorgeous!” “An absolute angel!” “No wonder she kept her face hidden. What a waste to keep that beauty in the dark!” “We love you, Luna!” They chanted my name, but they cheered for her face. I felt as though every drop of blood had been drained from my body. I slumped to the cold floor, entirely hollow. The ceremony wrapped up quickly. Wiping the tears from my face, a sudden realization struck me—I couldn’t just sit here and take this. I reached into my pocket. My phone was still there. I opened my social media app, logged into the official account that had millions of followers, and began to type: My name is Darcy. The person who just accepted the award was my sister, not me. I am currently locked in a backstage utility room, and this was all planned by— Before I could hit post, the door was thrown open. Hank charged in, snatching the phone straight out of my hands. He stared at the draft, his face turning an angry shade of purple. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to ruin your sister?” “I am taking back what belongs to me!” I screamed, utterly hysterical. “Hank, you can’t just steal my life and hand it to her!” “I never said you couldn’t clarify things later!” Hank bellowed back. “But you have to wait! If you post this now, the entire world will tear her apart! She can’t handle that kind of stress! She’ll die, Darcy! How can you be so heartless to your own sick sister?” “What about me?” my voice cracked. “I’m locked in a closet like trash! Does anyone care about me?” Hank scoffed. “Can’t you just wait a little while? You’ve waited years, what’s a few more weeks?” “I’m not waiting another second,” I said coldly. He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Fine.” “If you insist on posting this, Jared and I will both go public and call you a liar and an impostor. Who do you think the world will believe?” My vision blurred, the room spinning around me. My own brother was willing to commit perjury just to destroy my reputation and protect her lie. Jared stepped into the room behind him, looking thoroughly annoyed. He took the trophy from Kelly, who had slipped in behind them, and tossed it carelessly at my feet like a piece of garbage. “Isn’t this what you wanted anyway? Now you have it. What more do you want?” “If you want to throw a fit, do it here. We’re going out to celebrate.” The door slammed shut, and the utility room plunged back into darkness. I don’t know how much time passed before an elderly cleaning lady opened the door with a master key to clear out some trash. Seeing me sitting on the floor, she gasped in horror. “Oh, child! What on earth happened to you?” My eyelashes fluttered, heavy with dried paint. “Could I borrow your phone, please?” Without hesitation, she handed it over. I opened a travel app and booked the very next flight to Europe. The moment the booking was confirmed, a single tear fell onto the screen, smudging the digital ticket. I thanked her, using the wall to pull myself up. “Wait, dear.” The cleaning lady stopped near the corner, bending down to pick up the crystal trophy. She wiped the dust off with her rag and looked up. “Is this yours? Don’t leave it behind.” My name was engraved on the base. The gold letters glinted under the dim hallway light. I stared at it. “I don’t want it anymore.”

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Transmigrated into the body of a ridiculously wealthy heiress, my billionaire mother sent me out to collect rent. Miguel had just finished a brutal underground boxing match. He was covered in bruises. “Money is a little tight right now. Can you give me a two-month grace period?” I shot down the request without blinking. “No way. If you don’t have the rent by tonight, pack your bags.” The man turned around in silence and walked into his room to pack. Right on cue, a mechanical voice chimed in my head. “System online. Host, your mission is to conquer him.” Miguel was a professional boxer. According to the plot, he was destined to win countless gold belts and become a legend. Right now, he was just at rock bottom. I closed the front door behind me, walked up to him, and casually poked his rock-hard abs. I offered him a wicked smile. “How about you pay off your rent with yourself?” 1 “Your lease expires today. If you want to renew, you need to pay next year’s rent upfront.” I pulled up the payment link on my phone and held it up to Miguel. “Oh, and my mom said the rent is going up by ten percent. That makes it forty thousand dollars for the year. You can just scan this.” Miguel was a pro boxer who had literally just stepped out of the ring. Judging by the fresh purple bruises blooming across his ribs, he had lost. His face was battered, a split lip and a bruised cheekbone, but none of it managed to dull his rugged, heart-stopping good looks. He pulled a bottle of ice water from the fridge and casually pressed it against his bruised jaw. “Money is a little tight right now. Can you give me a two-month grace period?” Two months? That was way too long. Two or three days, maybe. But asking for two whole months right out of the gate? I shut him down instantly. “No way. If you don’t have the rent by tonight, pack your bags. We have a waitlist of people dying to move into this building.” Miguel grabbed another bottle of water and handed it to me. “One month, then?” Standing at six-foot-three, he loomed over me, radiating a dark, overwhelming presence. He was wearing a skin-tight athletic shirt that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Every carved inch of his chest and abs was practically demanding attention. I couldn’t help but wonder what all that muscle felt like. Suddenly, my mouth went completely dry. I twisted the cap of my water bottle, trying to look unbothered. “No. The best I can do is let you pay half a year upfront. You can pay the rest next month.” Before I even finished my sentence, Miguel took the bottle from my hands. I had been struggling to open it. I thought he was going to snap at me. Instead, he effortlessly twisted the cap off, handed it back, and said in a low voice, “I’ll go pack my bags. I’ll be out by tonight.” He turned and walked toward his bedroom. Wow. He really was broke. Are boxers really this poor? He couldn’t even scrape together rent money? Or maybe he was just going through a really rough patch? The System’s voice suddenly echoed in my mind. “Please initiate the conquest of this target, Host.” “Pfft.” I choked on the water I had just taken a sip of, nearly spitting it all over the floor. 2 Three months ago, I woke up inside a steamy romance novel as a filthy rich heiress. The package deal included this so-called Conquest System. This was the very first mission it had ever given me. A shiver ran down my spine. “He looks a little too intense. I don’t think I can handle a guy like that.” The System let out a sleazy, robotic chuckle. “Oh, once you get a taste, you’ll be begging for more. Trust me.” Miguel walked out of his room and headed to the balcony to gather his laundry. He was holding a pair of boxer briefs in his hand. As he walked past the living room, he stopped and looked at me. “Why are you still here?” The System chimed in again. “Scanning target. Measurements confirm he is packing an XL. You are in for a treat, Host.” The tips of my ears burned bright red. What the hell did XL mean? Nope. I was playing dumb. I absolutely refused to be corrupted by an AI. The System wasn’t done. “New directive. Please go poke his chest.” Excuse me? You can’t just walk up and poke a guy’s chest like he’s a piece of meat on display. What if he got mad and snapped my neck? But before my brain could process the danger, my body was already moving. I stood up from the sofa and walked right up to him. I reached out a single finger and pressed it against Miguel’s chest. Wow. Solid as a rock. I kind of wanted to do it again. Miguel froze. A faint flush crept up his neck and tipped his ears. He looked at me like I was an alien species he had never encountered before. “What exactly are you doing?” Before I could come up with a lie, the System issued another order. “Directive updated. Now poke his abs.” I had no explanation for poking his chest. Now I had to poke his abs? I was going to die today. Swallowing my pride, I reached lower, trailing my finger over the ridged muscles of his stomach. I looked up at him through my lashes and flashed a wicked, sultry smile. “How about you pay off your rent with yourself?” Miguel’s eyes darkened instantly. His voice dropped an octave, turning rough and gravelly. “What did you just say? Repeat that.” 3 The System was practically cheering. “The more times you conquer the target tonight, the higher your rewards will be. Good luck, Host.” I swallowed hard, letting the adrenaline take over. “I said, you can use yourself to pay the rent.” “You said money was tight, right? Say yes, and you won’t have to pack your bags tonight.” “One time equals one month of rent.” “How many months you want to pay off is entirely up to you.” That last sentence came out as barely a whisper. But Miguel heard every single word. His gaze swept over me, dark, predatory, and burning with a sudden, intense heat. “Are you sure about this?” I nodded slowly. “Yeah. I’m sure.” In the blink of an eye, he scooped me up by the waist and dropped me onto the plush sofa behind us. His large, calloused hands gripped my waist. He leaned down, his voice thick with meaning. “It’s not too late to back out.” I forced myself to hold his gaze. “I’m not backing out.” Without breaking eye contact, Miguel grabbed the hem of his athletic shirt and pulled it over his head. Up close, his physique was nothing short of a masterpiece. Before I could even take it all in, his mouth crashed down on mine, hungry and desperate. A drop of hot sweat rolled off his sharp jawline and landed perfectly on my collarbone. Like a storm tearing through a quiet town, he kissed the heat right off my skin, leaving me trembling. Every nerve in my body was buzzing. His voice was a husky, intoxicating rasp against my ear. “I need a shower. Care to join me?” The System yelled in my head. “Host, say yes.” My cheeks were on fire. I looked up at him, my voice completely soft and ruined. “The tiles are slippery. You’ll have to carry me.” 4 The bathroom was thick with steam, clouding the mirrors and making my eyes glisten like a siren drawing a sailor to the rocks. Miguel was like a man who had been wandering in a desert for years, finally stumbling upon a lush oasis. And true to his profession, his stamina was absolutely terrifying. By the time he carried me out of the bathroom, I just wanted to curl up in the corner of the sofa and pass out. He pressed a lingering kiss to my lips, coaxing me awake. “Don’t fall asleep yet.” I stretched like a lazy cat. “That was two months of rent right there. We’re good.” Miguel knelt over me on the sofa, a raging wildfire burning in his dark eyes. “Two months isn’t nearly enough.” I was speechless. “By the way,” he whispered, trailing kisses down my neck, “I still don’t know your name.” “Hazel. Hazel Harrington.” The night was intoxicating. A warm breeze drifted in from the balcony, rustling the blooming wild roses he kept in a pot by the railing. The next morning, I stumbled out of Miguel’s apartment. He had left for the gym at the crack of dawn. His energy levels were insane. The System booted up immediately. “Congratulations, Host. Target successfully conquered last night. Please claim your rewards.” “Reward: Lost three pounds. Applied.” “Reward: Skin brightened by one shade. Applied.” “Reward: Beauty stat increased by ten. Applied.” “Reward: Charm stat increased by ten. Applied.” “Reward: Cup size increased by one. Applied.” “Reward: Physical flexibility increased by ten. Applied.” “Reward: Bank balance increased by $77,777. Transferred.” Listening to that rapid-fire list of perks sent a rush of pure dopamine to my brain. Honestly, the money and the looks were great, but as a professional dancer, that plus-ten flexibility stat was gold. I could pull off routines I hadn’t even dared to try before. The System snickered. “Hehe, you can definitely pull off a lot of high-difficulty positions now.” I ignored the dirty joke. If these were the rewards, I was fully on board for more missions. The second I got into my car, my mom’s name flashed on the screen. “Hazel, honey,” she said cheerfully. “How did the rent collection go?” I did a quick mental tally. “Got almost everyone. Just one unit left.” My mom didn’t miss a beat. “Beverly Grove, Building 1, Unit 1101, right? Perfect. Someone just offered double the asking price for that place. Tell the current tenant he has two days to pack up and leave.” My mind flashed back to the steamy night on the sofa, and my face heated up instantly. “Mom, no. We can’t kick him out. He’s pre-paid for at least seven months.” My mom was confused. “Seven months? I thought his rent was completely overdue.” I spotted Miguel walking out of the building, heading straight for my car in the parking lot. I panicked and rushed to get off the line. “Mom, something just came up. I’ll call you back later.” I hung up just as Miguel stepped up to the driver’s side window. He looked like he had something to say. “Everything okay?” I rolled the window down. He held up a small tube of medical ointment. Without a word, he opened the door, effortlessly picked me up from the driver’s seat, and deposited me into the spacious backseat. “You got scraped. Let me put this on for you.” 5 Last night in the bathroom, my lower back had accidentally slammed into the sharp edge of the marble sink. It was just a minor scrape, nothing serious. But sitting in the cramped backseat brought back vivid memories of being pressed against his crowded sofa. I cleared my throat and looked away. “You really need to wash those sofa cushions.” He hummed in agreement. “Yeah. Need to change the bedsheets, too.” My face felt like it was on fire. I pressed my face into a plush throw pillow and refused to look at him. Miguel gently lifted the hem of my shirt. His breathing hitched slightly. “You’re so delicate. Your skin bruises if I even breathe on it.” I buried my face deeper into the pillow. “Stop talking.” He squeezed some of the cooling gel onto his fingertips and carefully massaged it into the scraped skin on my lower back. “Were you serious last night? Seven months of free rent?” He was being incredibly gentle, but the moment the medicine touched the broken skin, it stung. I hissed in pain. “I was serious,” I mumbled. A satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of Miguel’s mouth. He gently rolled me over so I was facing him. I caught his gaze slowly dropping lower. I immediately pulled the throw pillow to my chest to cover myself. “That’s enough. Get out of my car.” He chuckled, letting it slide. He pulled out his phone and handed it to me. “Give me your number. I have a fight coming up. You should come watch.” “Fine.” I typed my number in and handed it back. 6 When I got home, I collapsed onto the living room sofa. The housekeeper immediately brought out a plate of freshly cut fruit. My mom walked down from the second floor, looking deeply stressed. “Hazel, I just got off the phone with the police. Dexter broke out of prison. You need to be incredibly careful when you go out. I’m terrified he’s going to come after us.” My mom owned a ridiculous amount of real estate, and a lot of the properties were rented out. Dexter used to be one of our tenants. He was a man with a violent, twisted mind. According to the original plot of the book, three years ago, I went to his apartment to collect rent. When I stood outside his door, the hallway reeked of copper and blood. His shirt was stained crimson. When I stared at it, he offered a chilling smile. “Just butchering some chickens in the kitchen. Want to come in and take a look?” “Is your wife home?” I had asked, leaning slightly to peek inside. The place felt empty. “She went to the grocery store to buy some soy sauce. She’ll be back any minute. Why don’t you stay for lunch?” Dexter had swung the door wide open, his eyes gleaming with something terrifying. Every instinct in my body screamed that something was horribly wrong. “No, I’m good. My mom is waiting for me for lunch. Gotta go.” I practically sprinted down the hallway. When I got home, the sickening dread wouldn’t go away, so I called the cops. When the police busted down Dexter’s door, he had already finished dismembering his wife and was boiling her bones on the stove. He was sentenced to a decade in prison, and he blamed me entirely. As they dragged him away, he screamed that the day he got out, he would hunt me down. A chill ran down my spine. “He actually broke out? That’s insane.” My mom was trembling. “Cancel your dance performance next week. I won’t be able to sleep if you’re out in public like that.” My actual career was as a professional dancer. In two weeks, I was scheduled to perform as the lead backup dancer for pop idol Tedd’s solo arena tour. Tedd and I went to the same university. Getting a gig like this was a huge career milestone, and I absolutely refused to breach the contract. Besides, Dexter was a fugitive on the run. The entire police force was hunting him. He was probably scrambling to survive. Coming after me right now would be suicidal. Still, better safe than sorry. An image of Miguel’s massive, imposing frame flashed in my mind. My eyes lit up. “Mom, what if I just hire a bodyguard?” My mom instantly looked relieved. “That’s brilliant. Actually, one isn’t enough. Hire four. I’ll wire the money to your account right now.” 7 A few days later, I texted Miguel. [What are you up to? Busy?] He must have been training because it took him half an hour to reply. [Just finished a round on the heavy bag. Want to come over?] [Send me the address. I’m on my way.] I needed to see just how good he actually was. If he had the skills to back up all that muscle, I was going to hire him to keep me safe. Miguel sent me the location for Apex Gym. When I pulled up and walked into the training area, Miguel was in the middle of a brutal sparring session with another fighter. The other guy was Jax, a former regional champion who had retired and opened this gym to work as a coach. I stood by the ropes, watching quietly. Miguel caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye, and it was like someone flipped a switch. His intensity skyrocketed. Within three rounds, he delivered a devastating hook that sent Jax crashing to the mat. I clapped softly, genuinely impressed. He really is that good. The System sounded smug. “Of course he is. Miguel is destined to win every major title in the sport. His legacy will dwarf Jax’s. Why do you think I picked him for you?” So he really was a future world champion. Then he was definitely overqualified to be my bodyguard. I grabbed a fresh bottle of water and walked over to hand it to him. Jax picked himself up from the mat, wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked at me. “Your girlfriend?” “Yeah,” Miguel nodded smoothly. He grabbed my hand and led me toward the locker rooms. 8 Inside the private locker room, Miguel grabbed a towel and started wiping the sweat off his chest. I couldn’t help but stare. The man was a walking work of art. I forced my brain to reboot. “Since when did I agree to be your girlfriend?” Miguel stepped into my personal space, his voice a low, magnetic hum. “Do you want to be? When I win the championship belts and all that prize money, you can have it all.” Well, that was direct. I was just here for a good time, and he was already talking about handing over his life savings? I cleared my throat, shifting gears. “Alright, let’s be serious. I came here today for a reason.” His expression hardened instantly, slipping into a cold, professional mask. “What is it?” “I want to hire you as my personal bodyguard. Name your price.” “I’m a fighter, not a security guard.” He paused, his dark eyes trailing over my face. “But if it’s for you, I’ll do it.” Before I could ask about his rate, he added, “And I don’t want your money. You’re letting me live rent-free, right? Consider this returning the favor.” Wow. A free, world-class bodyguard. I hit the jackpot. “Take a seat. I need to take a quick shower and change. Then I’m taking you to dinner.” I was just about to nod when the System crashed my thoughts. “New mission. Ask Miguel to teach you self-defense.” I replied internally, Sure, makes sense. The System added, “And he has to teach you inside the shower.” My jaw almost hit the floor. Are you kidding me? Of all the places to learn martial arts, you want me to do it in a slippery, cramped glass box? This System was completely unhinged. I argued back. What’s the reward for this? “For every move you master, your Defense stat increases by ten. No limit.” With a literal serial killer on the loose, a higher defense stat could be the difference between life and death. Even if Miguel was my bodyguard, he still had training. He couldn’t physically be glued to my side twenty-four-seven. If push came to shove, I needed to be able to protect myself. Screw it. I’m doing it. I grabbed Miguel’s hand before he could walk away and pointed toward the row of showers. “Can you teach me some self-defense right now?” 9 “Sure.” Miguel led me straight into the furthest shower stall and locked the door behind us. It was his idea of situational training—teaching me how to break free if an attacker cornered me in a tight, inescapable space. Miguel stood behind me, wrapping his massive arms around my waist to simulate being grabbed from behind. “What have you been eating? Papaya and cream?” he muttered, his voice rough. “Your waist is so soft. If I squeezed too hard, I’d break you in half.” “What kind of lotion do you use? Your skin is flawless.” He was supposed to be playing the bad guy, but his whispered commentary was doing terrible things to my heart rate. After showing me the hold, he walked me through the escape. Following his exact instructions, I spun around and threw an elbow right into his ribs. He hissed, genuinely startled by the impact. Learning actual self-defense was no joke. Miguel walked me through multiple scenarios. He was incredibly patient, and I focused intensely on every single movement. Half an hour later, there was a heavy knock on the locker room door. Jax’s voice echoed through the room. “Miguel, I gotta head out early. Lock up the gym for me, will you?” The gym was officially closed. The other fighters had already cleared out. I held my breath in the damp shower stall. Miguel didn’t miss a beat. “Got it.” We heard Jax’s heavy footsteps fade away down the hall. The lesson continued. By the time I had mastered every move he showed me, I was drenched in sweat and completely exhausted. After a quick rinse, Miguel wrapped me tightly in a massive, fluffy towel. “Don’t catch a cold. Let’s go get some food.” I offered a tired smile. “Okay.” By the time we walked out of the dark, empty gym hand-in-hand, the sun had completely set. The System buzzed happily. “Congratulations, Host. Mission accomplished. Please claim your rewards.” “Defense stat +10. Applied.” “Defense stat +10. Applied.” A total of twenty defense points. Not bad at all. I felt significantly safer walking out into the night. 10 Miguel took me out for a massive steak dinner. Once we were completely stuffed, he drove me back to my sprawling estate. Standing right by the front gates, he pulled me in, demanding a kiss. I went up on my tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. I tried to pull away, but his arm snaked around my waist, pulling me flush against him. What followed was a deep, breathless, soul-stealing kiss. By the time I finally stumbled inside, my mom was practically waiting by the door. “Hazel, who was that stunning man dropping you off? A new boyfriend? Why on earth didn’t you invite him inside?” She saw everything. I scrambled for an excuse. “That’s the new bodyguard I hired.” “Oh… just a bodyguard.” My mom sounded visibly disappointed. She tried a different angle. “Well, since you’re single, how about I set you up on some blind dates?” “No thanks,” I waved her off, practically running for the private elevator. “Mom, I’m exhausted. Going to bed. You should sleep too.” Between the intense training and the non-stop “conquering” of Miguel, my legs felt like jelly. The last thing I wanted was a blind date. I face-planted into bed and slept like the dead. I slept so hard I completely missed the string of late-night texts Miguel fired off. [Are you asleep?] [I can’t sleep.] [Thinking about you.] [Every time I close my eyes, you’re right there.] [You looked incredible today. Completely intoxicating.] [I can’t get enough of you.] [What time are you leaving tomorrow? I’m coming to pick you up.] He even sent a short video of himself casually wiping sweat off his abs. When I opened it the next morning, I almost dropped my phone. The chest. The V-line. It was a masterpiece. The System chimed in, munching on digital popcorn. “Oh, he has got it bad for you.” I picked up my phone and silently watched the video three more times. After showering and picking out an outfit, I headed downstairs for breakfast. To my shock, Miguel was already sitting in our opulent living room. He was wearing a sharp, tailored black suit and dark sunglasses, looking like something out of a James Bond movie. With his broad shoulders and towering height, the suit made him look incredibly elegant, distant, and intimidatingly professional. But it was all a facade. Only I knew how wild and feral the man beneath the tailored wool really was. My mom was beaming at him. “Hazel, I just had the loveliest chat with Mr. Sinclair here. Knowing he’s looking after you makes me feel so much better. I told him he can keep his apartment rent-free permanently. I’m taking it off the market.” “Great.” I nodded, grabbing a piece of toast. After breakfast, Miguel drove me to the Downtown Studio for rehearsals. He didn’t have training today, so he was on full-time bodyguard duty. While I danced, he sat quietly in the corner, his dark eyes tracking my every move. When practice wrapped, I walked over, panting, and took the water bottle he held out for me. His eyes were blazing as his large hand settled casually on my waist. “Hazel, it makes sense now. You’re a dancer. That’s why you’re so unbelievably flexible.” The System had absolutely zero chill. “Location: Dance Studio. Prop: Wall-length mirror. Action: Conquer. Reward: Defense points. Do we have an understanding, Host?” Yeah. I understood perfectly. Over the next few weeks, my Defense stat rocketed from 20 to 80. But a gnawing anxiety was building in my chest. I couldn’t shake the creeping sensation that eyes were watching me from the shadows. 11 Before I knew it, it was the night of Tedd’s massive arena tour. I was scheduled to lead the opening number and perform a solo during the grand finale. After wrapping up the explosive opening act, I had a brutal two-hour wait in my private dressing room. Miguel had been my shadow all day. As soon as the opening act ended, I practically sprinted back to my room. I was wearing a gorgeous, glittering mermaid-style gown, but I needed to change out of it for the intermission. I stepped behind the velvet privacy curtain to unzip it, but I couldn’t reach the clasp between my shoulder blades. I pulled the curtain back just a fraction and peeked out. I curled a finger at Miguel. “Hey. Come help me with this zipper.” Miguel had been slouching in a leather armchair. He stood up instantly and closed the distance. He stepped up behind me. He was a full head taller. He rested his chin softly on the top of my head, and his arms wrapped securely around my waist. His dark eyes met mine in the reflection of the vanity mirror. The air in the tiny space crackled with electricity. He lowered his head, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “Hazel, you are an absolute vision.” The stubble on his jaw tickled my neck. I squirmed slightly in his grip. “Funny you say that. The solo I’m performing tonight is literally titled ‘The Vision.’” Miguel’s voice dropped to a dangerous rasp. “Stop moving. If you keep grinding against me, I can’t guarantee I’m going to behave.” I stood perfectly still, a smirk playing on my lips. “Just unzip the dress. I need to change.” “Right.” The zipper slid down, exposing the smooth, pale skin of my back to his burning gaze. The sight of it shattered whatever restraint he had left. “I’m going to go find some ice water.” Miguel gritted his teeth, tearing his eyes away and turning to leave the changing area. The System screeched. “Emergency Mission: Perform a private dance for Miguel in this dressing room.” My eyes widened. What? Right here? Behind the curtain? There was barely enough room to spin, let alone do an actual routine. While I hesitated, the System added, “The reward tonight is a massive Defense boost. You are going to need it, Host. If you fail this mission, you will regret it for the rest of your life.” The sinister warning made my blood run cold. Was the System trying to tell me I was going to be attacked tonight? My Defense stat was sitting at 80. I just needed 20 more points to max it out. Now was not the time to play it safe. I grabbed Miguel’s wrist before he could pull the curtain aside. “Wait. Don’t go.” Miguel turned back, his eyes dark and heavy with unspoken desire. “What? I thought you were changing.” I went up on my tiptoes, pressing my lips dangerously close to his ear. “Do you want to see me dance?” Before the words even left my mouth, a massive, scalding-hot hand gripped my waist. “Yes.” 12 “The Vision” was a highly emotional, sensual contemporary piece designed to be performed alongside Tedd playing a grand piano. The entire premise of the routine required the dancer to use every ounce of her allure to tempt and seduce Tedd while he played. Tedd was the biggest pop star in the country. His brand was built on being the cool, untouchable prince. The choreography was supposed to show him remaining completely unfazed while a breathtaking siren tried to break his focus. The small velvet loveseat in the changing area became the piano. Miguel sat down heavily on the cushions. I pulled out my phone and hit play on the instrumental track. Miguel reached up and loosened his black silk tie, his eyes locked onto my body as I began to move. Every beat, every sway of my hips, every agonizingly slow body roll felt like I was plucking the strings of his sanity. As the music swelled to a climax, the cold, composed bodyguard persona completely shattered. His eyes were practically black. “You’re going to go out there and do this right in front of Tedd?” I nodded slowly, still holding a pose. “Yeah.” He let out a low, rough breath. “I’m going to lose my mind with jealousy. You’re going to have to make it up to me.” “I will,” I whispered, closing the distance and throwing everything I had into keeping him happy. It worked flawlessly. I lost track of time. Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the hallway outside. Panic seized me. I threw myself into Miguel’s arms, my voice trembling. “Someone’s coming.” “Relax. Why are you shaking?” Miguel’s lips curled into an arrogant smirk. How was I supposed to relax? The heavy dressing room door swung open, and Tedd’s voice filled the room. “Hazel? Are you in here?” The velvet curtain of the changing area didn’t touch the floor. There was a two-inch gap at the bottom. If he looked closely, he would see four feet instead of two. My heart hammered against my ribs. I forced my voice to sound casual, though it shook slightly. “I’m changing! Do you need something?” “You dropped an earring during the opening number. One of the stagehands found it. I figured I’d bring it to you before I have to go back on.” Tedd’s footsteps moved closer to the velvet curtain.

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1 On the hundred and eighth time Garrett asked for a divorce, I was reborn. His exhausted voice drifted to my ears: “There is nothing left between us. Dragging this out is only draining both of us.” In my past life, I was consumed by bitter denial, clinging desperately to my title as his wife. It was not until his illegitimate child was born, and I threw a massive, screaming scene, that he had me locked away in a psychiatric ward. Only when I was on my deathbed did he deign to see me one last time. “If I had known you were this unhinged, I would never have married you.” So in this life, what obsession could possibly be worth more than my own survival? “She is pregnant,” Garrett said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can have anything you want, except my last name. If we can’t settle this today, we can talk next time. We’ll keep talking until you are ready to…” I cut him off. “No need to wait for the hundred and ninth time. I agree to the divorce.” The moment the words left my mouth, Garrett’s eyelashes fluttered. He sat across from me, wearing that same weary, long-suffering expression. It was as if I had been the one throwing endless, unreasonable tantrums for the past three years, while he was the saint who patiently endured me. Now, he finally had the answer he wanted. “I am glad you have finally come to your senses.” He gave a slight nod, a trace of relief slipping into his tone that even he didn’t seem to notice. Then, he pulled a set of papers from his briefcase and slid them across the table to me. “Three properties, twelve percent of the company’s shares, the Maybach, and forty million in cash. Take a look. Let me know if you want to add anything.” He spoke with effortless fluidness, as if he had rehearsed this pitch a thousand times. His tone was sincere, carrying a patronizing touch of: I am doing this for your own good. I looked down at the contract and felt a sudden, bitter urge to laugh. I knew that what he had secretly given to my adopted sister, Audrey, was worth far more than this pittance. Without a word, I picked up the pen and signed my name. Garrett watched me finish. A strange, unreadable emotion flickered in his eyes. The news traveled fast. By that afternoon, my social media feed had absolutely exploded. Isabella finally came to her senses. Garrett is finally free. They should have divorced ages ago. Why drag him down for so long? Someone even texted the group chat: Garrett, let’s get drinks tonight. Time to celebrate. His friends were raising their glasses, cheering because he was finally rid of that suffocating woman. I scrolled through the messages one by one. I felt no rage, not even sadness. Seven years of marriage, reduced by outsiders to a single word: liberation. Nobody thought to ask me: Does it hurt? My phone vibrated. It was my close friend, Beth. She asked in a tentative, cautious voice, “Isabella, are you really letting him go?” I leaned against the window, watching the bleak, gray sky. “What choice do I have? Some people cannot be kept, no matter how tightly you hold on.” She fell silent for a few seconds before letting out a soft sigh. “I guess this is it then.” “Yeah, this is it.” I hung up, opened my gallery, and began deleting Garrett’s photos one by one. Our marriage certificate photo: he had a faint, polite smile, while I looked incredibly foolish and ecstatic. Our honeymoon by the ocean: his arm wrapped tightly around my waist as the wind whipped my hair. Our anniversary dinner: him cutting my steak while I secretly snapped a picture of his sharp profile. The last photo: our wedding day, him gently adjusting my veil. The sunlight streamed through the stained glass of the church, bathing his face in a warm, gentle glow. My finger hovered over the screen for a long, quiet second before I pressed delete. Seven years of memories, erased in three seconds. I closed my eyes, but my mind betrayed me, flooding with memories of my past life. When I found out Audrey’s child was born, I had gripped the metal rails of her hospital bed, screaming and weeping, asking why she had stolen my husband. Security guards had slammed me to the floor. With my cheek pressed against the freezing tile, I heard Garrett’s voice from above: “Send her to the asylum. I have had enough of this.” He didn’t even look back. I screamed, I wept, I begged, but nobody listened. Right before I drew my last breath, he finally visited. He stood by my bedside, wearing the dark gray wool coat I had bought for him, looking as handsome as ever. Looking at my emaciated, unrecognizable body, his final words to me were: “If I had known you were this unhinged, I would never have married you.” I opened my eyes. Night had fallen outside. In this life, I will never let myself end up like that again. I will make them pay for every drop of blood they took from me. 2 The next day, I went back to our penthouse to pack my things. I pushed the door open to find Audrey lounging on the living room sofa, cradling a maternity pillow. She was wearing Garrett’s oversized cashmere cardigan. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders, and her face was painted with complete smugness. Seeing me, she smirked and stood up slowly, deliberately flaunting her six-month-pregnant belly as she swayed toward me. “You’re finally here, Isabella. I thought you weren’t even going to bother packing your things. I already sorted through everything for you. Have a look and see what you want to take.” Her voice was soft and sweet, like honey laced with arsenic. As she brushed past me, she lowered her voice to a venomous whisper. “This place is massive. The baby and I are living so comfortably here. Oh, by the way, I replaced the bed in the master bedroom. The old one; Garrett and I felt it brought bad luck.” Every word was a calculated stab. She spoke with the same familiar tone I had used when I first welcomed her into my home. Audrey was my adopted sister, raised in my household since childhood. My parents had treated her even better than they treated me. After I married, I felt terrible about her living alone, so I offered to let her stay with us in our new home. I had held her hand and told Garrett, “This is my sister. You must treat her well.” He had smiled and promised he would. And what did he do? She wound up in my bed wearing my nightgown, with my husband sleeping right beside her. I stared at Audrey’s round stomach, and flashes of my previous life crossed my mind. It was after this child was born that Garrett lost the last of his patience. Bound to a metal frame in the asylum, I had heard that Garrett had transferred all his assets to this newborn son. I couldn’t even cry. Pure hatred surged through me like molten lava. My nails dug deep into my palms, drawing blood. I wanted to rip her lying face to shreds and force her to suffer the exact agony she had inflicted on me. But I couldn’t. I hadn’t been given a second chance just to end up locked in a padded cell again. I drew a deep breath and began packing with an emotionless expression. There wasn’t much: a few clothes, some books, and an old picture frame. That was the entirety of my seven-year marriage. Seeing my utter lack of reaction, Audrey grew agitated. “Why aren’t you saying anything, Isabella? Is your heart breaking?” I looked up, the corners of my mouth curving into a chilling smile. “Audrey, what do you expect me to say? Should I congratulate you?” She froze. “You can have this house,” I continued. “I hope you enjoy living in my shadow.” I grabbed my suitcase and walked out. Before leaving, I glanced subtly toward a hidden corner of the study. Tucked away was a wireless spy camera I had installed the very day I signed the divorce papers. In my last life, I lost because I had no evidence. In this life, I will calculate every single move. That night, Garrett met me to sign the final financial addendum. He glanced at the papers I handed over and remarked, “Isabella, you’ve gotten a lot more sensible.” I set my pen down and looked him in the eye. “Garrett, you think this is me being sensible?” His hand hovered over his coffee cup. “Don’t play the victim,” I continued. “Sleeping with your wife’s adopted sister isn’t exactly going to look great if word gets out, is it?” His brow furrowed, but he kept his temper in check. I knew he wouldn’t lash out over a little sarcasm. Right now, his greatest fear was me making a public scene. He needed me to walk away quietly and gracefully. He needed the world to believe our divorce was an amicable split due to irreconcilable differences, rather than him knocking up my sister. I had read him perfectly. You see, I knew him inside and out. But he never truly knew me. Just as I was about to leave after signing, Audrey suddenly walked in. She clutched her belly, her voice thick with tears. “Garrett, the baby keeps kicking. It hurts so much…” Garrett slammed his coffee cup down and rushed to her side. He wrapped one arm around her waist while gently placing his other hand on her stomach, his voice melting into an incredibly tender tone. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m right here.” The raw anxiety and tenderness on his face was something I had rarely seen in our seven years of marriage. Standing in the foyer, watching the display, a laugh bubbled up in my chest. How pathetic. This man treated me like a lunatic, yet offered his absolute gentleness to her. And he didn’t even suspect that the child she carried wasn’t even his. I pushed the door open, letting the cold night wind rush past me. Garrett’s voice drifted from behind: “Get home safe.” Why bother acting like you care now? 3 The next morning, I went to my design studio. The lock had been pried open. The interior was completely trashed. My hand-drawn sketches were shredded and scattered across the floor, my equipment smashed, and the wall defaced with bold red spray paint: WHORE, GET OUT. Those designs had taken me three grueling months to prepare for next month’s exhibition. Now, they were ruined. Before I could process the devastation, I heard the neighbors whispering nearby. “Did you hear? Isabella finally agreed to the divorce.” “Garrett is such a nice guy, Isabella must have done something awful to make him leave.” A wave of dizziness hit me. How incredibly familiar. It was exactly like my previous life. To shield Audrey, Garrett had spread rumors that I was mentally unstable, calling me a delusional stalker who refused to let him go. Back then, I had torn away their polite facade, storming into his corporate headquarters to expose their dirty secrets. And what happened? Everyone labeled me a psychopath. Garrett seized the opportunity, signing the commitment papers while I was screaming at the hospital. The medical report read: Paranoid Personality Disorder. Inpatient treatment recommended. Signed by Garrett. Shaking off the ghosts of my past, I marched directly up to the whispering neighbors. “You call me a mistress. Tell me, who exactly is my lover?” Startled by my sudden appearance, they stammered and looked away, unable to answer. Right then, Audrey appeared at the far end of the hallway. She glided over, her face wearing that familiar, innocent smirk. “Isabella, as for who your lover is, only you would know that.” Her eyes gleamed with absolute triumph. I looked at her with a deadpan stare. “Out of everyone standing here, only one of us is an actual homewrecker. Care to take a guess who?” Audrey’s smug grin vanished, her face turning pale. The onlookers gasped, murmuring among themselves. At that moment, Garrett rushed into the hallway. He stepped protectively in front of Audrey, glaring at me. “Isabella, the divorce is finalized. Stop targeting Audrey.” I stared back. “So you admit you are the ones behind these rumors?” He didn’t deny it, nor did he confirm it. He simply said, “You’ve crossed a line.” “I’ve crossed a line?” I turned my gaze to Audrey. “Tell me, Audrey, have I ever mistreated you? Since we were children, did I ever deny you anything? I paid for your college tuition. I got you your job. I welcomed you into my home. And this is how you repay me? By sleeping with my husband?” Audrey bit her lip, her eyes pooling with tears as she played the helpless victim. I turned back to Garrett, letting every syllable sink in. “You destroy my life behind closed doors, then play the savior in public. You are the most repulsive creature on this earth.” Garrett’s eyes turned icy. Yet, his calm, patronizing demeanor remained intact. “Isabella, you’re being hysterical. Calm down before you make things even uglier.” That was him: always composed, always protecting his image. I stood tall, speaking with cold precision. “Garrett, if you think this is crossing the line, then buckle up. I am going to show you what crossing the line actually means.” I had returned from the dead to save myself and watch them burn, not to be their punching bag. I spun around and walked out, leaving behind Audrey’s quiet whimpers and Garrett’s soft whispers: “Shh, don’t cry, sweetie. It’s bad for the baby.” I quickened my pace, never looking back. 4 I didn’t expect them to move so quickly. A handful of gossip bloggers were live-streaming outside my apartment, pointing their phone cameras at my front door. Someone had dumped trash bags, splashed red paint across my doorstep, and spray-painted HOMEWRECKER across the wall. Standing a short distance away, the sheer absurdity of the scene washed over me. The betrayed wife was being publicly branded a homewrecker, while the actual mistress slept peacefully in my ex-husband’s bed. I pulled out my phone and texted Garrett: Who dumped the trash at my door? No reply. Ten minutes later, a bank notification popped up. A wire transfer with a brief note: Compensation. I stared the sum and laughed. Compensation, again. He always thought money could resolve any crisis, as if my humiliation could be swept under the rug with a wire transfer. I vividly recalled the first time he sent me “compensation.” It was the day I found Audrey’s lace underwear at the foot of our bed. I had returned early from a business trip, opened our bedroom door, and saw her bra lying right there. Garrett had just stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still wet. When I demanded an explanation, his face didn’t even twitch. “It’s exactly what it looks like,” he had said. I screamed, threw things, and broke down like a madwoman, demanding to know why. He remained entirely silent. Finally, he transferred a large sum to my account and said, “We can divorce.” But why? Why did I have to be cast aside when this was my home too? He stared at me for a long time before saying, “Isabella, given your colorful past, I was the only man willing to look past it and marry you.” The room had fallen into a heavy, agonizing silence. That was the first time he used my trauma to stab me. The incident in college wasn’t my fault, yet in his mouth, it became the reason I wasn’t worthy of him. He apologized later, claiming he spoke in anger. But I knew better. It wasn’t an outburst; it was his truth. He had never actually accepted me. Coming back to the present, I stared at the transaction on my screen. I didn’t accept the money. Instead, I took a screenshot and saved it. Every single cent of his compensation was a paper trail. Then, I forwarded the screenshot directly to Audrey. The very next morning, a vicious rumor exploded online: Isabella’s premarital affairs exposed. My name, my photos, and the trauma I had buried deep inside were splashed across gossip blogs and video essays. I couldn’t believe Garrett had shared my deepest wounds with her. What was I to him? A conversational piece? A token to please his new lover? I stared at the flood of vile comments. Why? Why did the wrongdoers get to strut around like royalty while the victim was hunted down? Why did Garrett and Audrey get to walk away unscathed, while I was stripped bare for public amusement? My phone buzzed. It was Beth. Isabella, I have all the files. I replied: Perfect. Another notification popped up on my screen: In three days, Garrett and Audrey will host their engagement gala at the InterContinental Hotel downtown. I made a call. “Get me an invitation to the grand ballroom at the InterContinental.” Three days later, dressed in a sleek, floor-length black dress, I walked through the grand entrance of the ballroom. Audrey clung to Garrett’s arm in a white trailing gown, smiling as if the entire world owed her its blessings. I pulled out my phone and started a live stream. “Hello, everyone. I am Isabella.” I walked toward the stage, my heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. Garrett finally spotted me, his pupils contracting instantly. “Today, I’m taking you all on a live tour of my ex-husband and my adopted sister’s engagement gala.”

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1 When I divorced, I walked away with absolutely nothing just to secure sole custody of my daughter. To give her a decent life, I worked myself to the bone. I never imagined she would turn on me for a deadbeat. Even less did I expect her to conspire with him to paralyze me, strip me of my wealth, and eventually kill me. But now, granted a second chance at life, I decided to give her the exact freedom she begged for. … “Just because your own marriage was a failure, you want to ruin mine too?” I opened my eyes to the sight of my daughter, Amber, violently smashing my favorite clay teapot onto the hardwood floor. Her eyes were bloodshot, staring at me with a pure, unadulterated venom that made her look more like a mortal enemy than my child. A sharp fragment of the clay sliced across my shin, leaving a thin crimson trail. I stared at the bleeding cut, utterly dazed. How was this possible? Just a second ago, I was in a hospice room, watching this love-blind girl rip the oxygen tube from my face. How was I suddenly back in my own living room? Seeing my silence, Amber’s rage only intensified. Vicious words poured from her mouth. “No wonder Dad left you! You deserved it! You deserve to grow old and die alone! Nobody could ever love a monster like you!” Just as in my memory, she grabbed a glass mug from the coffee table and hurled it down. The shattering sound was incredibly sharp and real. I had actually traveled back in time. Perhaps even the heavens thought my previous death was too pathetic, granting me a chance to rewrite my fate. This time, I would not walk down the same path of self-destruction. I looked up at Amber, the child I carried for nine months and cherished above my own life. Years ago, when her father cheated on me, I sacrificed every penny of our marital assets just to keep her. In return, she plotted with a parasite to ruin me, ultimately pushing me into an early grave. The sheer coldness of it shivered through my bones. In this timeline, I had locked her inside the house to stop her from moving in with Jared. That was why she was throwing this tantrum. In my past life, I had refused to let her go. She had grabbed a wooden chair, struck me over the head until I blacked out, and fled. If the neighbors hadn’t found me in time, I would have bled out right there. This time, I was going to hand her the freedom she craved. I pinched the bridge of my nose and said coldly, “Quiet, Amber. Let me ask you one last time. Are you absolutely determined to be with Jared? Even knowing he is a lazy fraud, a parasite who only wants you for your family money, you still want him?” She shrieked in response. “He is not like that! You are just a bitter, hateful woman who projects her own misery onto everyone else! I am going to be with him! If you try to stop me, I’ll end my life right in front of you!” In my previous life, that threat had terrified me. I had begged her, pleaded with her to see the truth, but she only spat in my face. “Fine. This is the absolute end of the line, Amber. If you walk out that door with him, you are willing to cut all ties with me?” A spark of excitement flashed in her eyes, almost disturbingly bright. “Yes! I don’t want a suffocating, controlling mother anyway! Let me go, and whatever happens to me from now on has absolutely nothing to do with you!” My heart had already died in my previous life. Hearing these words again brought nothing but a numb silence. “Very well. Go. From this day forward, you are no longer my daughter. I believe you already drafted the termination of parental rights agreement? Hand it over. I’ll sign it right now.” In my past life, after spending two days in the hospital, I had returned to find a blood-stained agreement lying on the floor where I had collapsed, already signed by Amber. Hearing my words, Amber snatched the document from her bag and shoved it into my hands. “Sign it! Hurry up!” It was a standard dual-copy agreement. I signed my name without a single second of hesitation. “Go on then. Chase your happily ever after. You got what you wanted, Amber. You no longer have a mother.” “As if I care. I still have my dad.” 2 After she slammed the door, I sat on the couch for a long time, slowly digesting the reality of my rebirth. Over the next few days, I put the house on the market. Since it was in a prime neighborhood, it sold quickly at a fair price. I moved into a smaller apartment close to my company. I had originally bought that apartment as a graduation gift for Amber, intending to hand it over to her along with a share of the company stock once she finished college. She still had six months until graduation, but she had officially forfeited her right to any of it. Three months later, the security guard from my old building called me. He said Amber was throwing a massive tantrum at the front gate, screaming that it was her home and demanding that I come down to explain myself. I told the guard simply, “I do not have a daughter.” A video of Amber’s scene was posted online. She looked thinner than when she left, and her long hair had been chopped into a messy bob. Seeing her like that dragged up memories from my past life. Around this exact time in my previous life, she had run back to me wearing those same clothes, sporting that same hairstyle. She had thrown herself onto my couch, sobbing that Jared was mistreating her. “He refuses to work! He pawned my designer bags and clothes! He even hit me and forbade me from calling you! I had to sneak out! Mom, I was so wrong! I promise I’ll listen to you from now on!” My heart had broken for her. I had held her close, cried with her, and immediately wired her fifteen thousand dollars to buy new clothes and get back on her feet. But the moment the money hit her account, she vanished again. I had panicked, thinking she had been kidnapped. I searched the entire city, calling her repeatedly, nearly dialing the police. Then a colleague called to say they spotted Amber at a high-end club. I drove through a torrential downpour to find her, only to open a private booth door and see her wrapped around Jared, kissing him passionately on a velvet sofa. Furious, I slapped Jared across the face and tried to drag Amber out, warning him to stay away from her. But Amber, seeing me strike her precious boyfriend, spun around and lunged at me. Her nails tore across my cheek, leaving three deep, bleeding gashes. She shoved me away and threw herself back into Jared’s arms, caressing his cheek with tearful eyes. “Jared, baby, are you okay? She is insane, just a crazy woman. Ignore her.” My blood had run cold. I had spent twenty-four hours without sleep searching for her, only to be branded a lunatic and physically assaulted by my own child for the sake of a deadbeat. Jared had smirked at me then, his eyes dripping with calculated malice. Yet, fool that I was, I still worried about her future. I practically begged her, “Amber, please come home with me. I only want what is best for you. This man will destroy you.” But she behaved as if she were under a spell, clinging to his neck and screaming at me. “You are so annoying! Get lost! Are you just jealous because I’m happy?” Dizzy with shock, I had stumbled back, barely keeping my footing. Jared had pulled her close, offering me a greasy smile. “Ma’am, Amber and I are deeply in love. Just let us be happy.” Unable to tear them apart, I had capitulated. Hoping Jared would at least treat her decently if he had a career, I gave him a job at my firm. Despite his lack of qualifications, I paid him a generous salary, hoping he would learn the ropes and eventually help Amber run the business. I had grossly underestimated the depth of human greed. In the video from the security guard, Amber was desperately trying to force her old key into the lock of my former home, sobbing at the top of her lungs. “Mom! Mom, open the door! It’s Amber! How could you change the locks? Have you abandoned me?” A neighbor passing by spoke up. “Amber, your mother sold this place weeks ago. Didn’t you know?” Amber shrieked, “Impossible! This is my house! She has no right to sell it!” I let out a cold laugh. Her house? I had worked eighteen-hour days, drank myself to stomach ulcers during client dinners, and collapsed in my office multiple times to afford that home. It had absolutely nothing to do with her. It was my property, and I could sell it whenever I pleased. Because she refused to leave, the new owner eventually called the police, and she was forced to slink away in embarrassment. I hired a private investigator to keep tabs on her. It turned out she went straight back to Jared. The investigator sent me a video clip, adding a brief note, “Ma’am, you raised a viper.” A viper indeed. If she had even a shred of decency, she wouldn’t be plotting with her boyfriend on how to bleed me dry. The video showed Amber returning to Jared’s dingy, single-room rental. It was a filthy space with a tiny bed and a peeling desk cluttered with greasy takeout boxes and empty beer cans. Amber kicked the side of the bed where Jared lay scrolling through his phone. “That old witch sold the house,” she muttered, clearly frustrated. “Her number is blocked too. Your plan isn’t working.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Jared’s face, quickly masked by greed. “Your mother is heartless. What kind of mother does that to her own child? That place was huge, it must have fetched millions.” Amber flopped onto the bed, resting her head on his shoulder. “Of course. It’s prime real estate. Easily three million.” The greed in Jared’s eyes became almost palpable. He wrapped his arm around her, his voice dripping with false warmth. “You poor little fool. Her money is supposed to be your money. Selling the place without your permission proves she doesn’t care about you at all. She probably has some guy on the side, maybe even had another kid. Amber, I’m the only one who actually looks out for you. You can’t let her walk all over you. That wealth belongs to you, you have to claim it.” “She’s just a bitter, menopausal old woman. No man would ever want her,” Amber scoffed. “My dad has the patience of a saint and even he couldn’t stand her. Her things are mine. When she dies, everything comes to me anyway.” Jared licked his lips, casually asking, “Your mom is only in her forties, right? By the time she dies, you’ll be an old lady yourself.” “Please,” Amber laughed. “She ruined her health giving birth to me, and then she practically drank her liver to death running that company. She won’t last long. Soon enough, her business, her money, her cars, they’ll all be ours.” She sighed with anticipation, as if visualizing a glorious future. “I honestly can’t wait for that day.” A chill crept down my spine. She had been wishing for my death all along. What a wonderful daughter I had raised. It was true that during my pregnancy, her father had been sleeping with my best friend. When I caught them, a physical altercation ensued, and he pushed me to the floor. The severe hemorrhaging nearly cost me my life. Though I survived to deliver Amber, my health was permanently damaged. To ensure my daughter grew up like a princess, I had worked myself to the bone, only to have her eagerly await my demise. I had still held a tiny sliver of hope in my heart, telling myself she was merely brainwashed by Jared. But no, she was inherently rotten. In the video, they began planning to corner me at my office. Their goal was simple: extort enough money to buy themselves a house. 3 The next morning, the receptionist called to inform me that Amber was downstairs making a scene. I had already instructed my staff that she was no longer associated with me, so no one was letting her up. I sent my assistant down to handle it, telling her to have security throw Amber out if she became too disruptive. Then, I quietly signed off on a charitable scholarship program. A few minutes later, my assistant rushed back into my office, pale and breathless. “Ma’am, Amber pulled out a pocket knife and slashed one of the guards across the arm. How should we proceed?” “Call the police,” I replied, my voice flat. “Do I really need to teach you how to handle a violent trespasser?” Startled by my coldness, the assistant didn’t ask further and immediately went to place the call. As the police escorted Amber out in handcuffs, she shrieked like a maniac. “I am Valerie’s daughter! This company is mine! Those guards are my employees! I can do whatever I want to them! Let go of me!” Fool. Because she was causing such a massive scene, I finally walked down to the lobby. She tried to lunge at me the moment she saw me, but the officers held her firmly. “Mom! Mom, save me! They’re trying to arrest me!” I looked at her as if she were a complete stranger. My gaze drifted to the plastic evidence bag containing the pocket knife. I remembered her conversation with Jared from the video. “I’ll bring a knife tomorrow. If she doesn’t give me the money, I’ll hold it to my throat and force her.” And Jared had fondly replied, “Smart girl.” “Mom, what are you standing there for? Tell them to let me go!” Amber demanded. I offered a polite, apologetic smile to the officers. “I am sorry for the trouble, officers. Please handle this strictly by the book. This girl signed an agreement severing our relationship weeks ago. Even if she were still my daughter, no one is above the law.” Amber panicked. When she panicked, she lost all filter, just like her father. “Valerie! You bitter old hag! You just hate seeing me happy! You’re trying to force me to crawl back to you! I would rather die than call you my mother! Even when you’re on your deathbed, I won’t come to see you!” Her venomous words no longer had any power over me. “Don’t worry,” I said softly. “You won’t have to.” Shortly after she was taken away, my private investigator sent a photograph. It showed Jared lurking in the shadows outside my building, recording a video of the arrest on his phone. I sneered. They were playing the exact same card as in my past life. Did they honestly think I would yield to public pressure this time? In my previous life, there had been no arrest, so there was no video. Instead, Amber had posted a fabricated sob story online along with a few carefully staged photos, accusing me of extreme maternal abuse. She had claimed that I controlled her entire life, from what she ate to what she wore, and that I denied her basic personal freedom even as an adult. She wrote that when she fell in love, I went into a psychotic rage, beat her, locked her in a room without food, and tried to force a breakup. She labeled me a monster, a lunatic, a woman unfit to be a mother. She declared that she hated me more than anyone on earth, and that she would have been infinitely happier living with her father. With a few pictures of self-inflicted bruises, she painted me as the ultimate villain. I couldn’t remember how viciously the internet had torn me apart back then. All I remembered was the crushing, suffocating pain in my chest when I read her words. I had genuinely believed she was being held hostage and coerced by Jared. So I had called her, begging to know if she was in danger. The moment the call connected, Jared snatched the phone. He told me that if I wanted my daughter back in one piece, I needed to wire him two million dollars. I hadn’t hesitated. As long as my daughter was safe, I would have given him everything. He warned me not to involve the police, threatening her life. Terrified for her safety, I kept transferring funds. Every time I heard her weeping on the phone, begging me to save her, my heart broke into a million pieces. Eventually, Jared demanded that I transfer the ownership of my company to his name before he would release her. I agreed, believing that as long as we were alive, we could always rebuild. I gathered the legal documents and went to meet Jared. Just as I was about to sign, I spotted Amber hiding behind a pillar. Blinded by maternal instinct, I hadn’t noticed how relaxed she looked. I ran to her, weeping, pulling her into my arms. “Amber, thank God you’re safe. Mommy is here.” She had shoved me away with a look of pure disgust. “You smell like sweat. Get away from me. Just sign the papers, we’re in a hurry.” I froze. “What?” Jared dropped his act, chuckling as he stepped forward. “Ma’am, Amber and I are getting married. You want her to be happy, don’t you? Sign the papers so we can go get our marriage license.” “Oh, and she’s pregnant,” he added. “If I don’t marry her, she’ll be a ruined woman.” I stared at Amber in utter disbelief. She patted her stomach, looking at me with immense impatience. “Just sign it. It’s all going to be mine eventually anyway. What’s the difference if you hand it over now?” I hadn’t signed. I took the papers and walked away, utterly shattered, her sharp, demanding voice ringing in my ears. My own daughter, cursing and blaming me for her own choices. It was a tragic joke. The morning after Amber’s arrest at my office, the familiar smear campaign made its debut online. The edited video of my cold response to the police went viral, accompanied by Amber’s sob story. She also posted photos of fresh cuts and bruises, claiming I had beaten her. I had never raised a hand against her. In reality, she was the one who had physically assaulted me several times for Jared’s sake. My investigator sent over another video. To make the photos look convincing, Jared had physically beaten Amber at her own request. This girl, pampered her entire life, had willingly let a man bruise her just to destroy her own mother. I began to wonder if there had been a mix-up at the hospital. How could a child of mine carry such deep, senseless malice? With my secret assistance behind the scenes, the scandal gained massive traction, topping the trending charts within three days. Amber and Jared even went on a local talk show, playing the role of tragic young lovers torn apart by an abusive, tyrannical matriarch. They wept on camera, begging for their freedom. “I couldn’t breathe in that house,” Amber sobbed to the interviewer. “She treated me like a possession, not a human being. I just want to escape her shadow and live my life with the man I love.” My office phone rang off the hook with angry callers. My well-trained staff remained calm, politely stating, “Please reserve your judgment. Valerie will address the matter publicly this afternoon.” Before the broadcast, I agreed to meet Amber and Jared one last time. I had unblocked her number specifically to receive this invitation. We met at the same quiet cafe from my previous life, choosing a secluded booth in the corner. The moment they arrived, they ordered nearly half the menu without a hint of courtesy. Amber didn’t even bother calling me Mom. “Valerie,” she said, leaning across the table. “I assume you’ve seen the news?” “I have,” I replied calmly. “And what is it you want?” “This scandal is tanking your company’s stock, isn’t it?” she sneered. “If you want us to take the videos down and clear your name, you do exactly what I say.” “Go on. I’m listening.” “First, wire ten million dollars to my account. Then, sign the company over to me. As for real estate, you can keep a small condo, but all your other properties must be transferred to my name.” Their greed had grown even larger than in my previous life. I looked at my own reflection in the darkened window, my eyes cold and dead. “And what else, Amber? What else do you want from me?” She turned to consult Jared. He nudged her, whispering urgently, “The cars! Demand the cars!” “And your cars,” Amber parroted. “All of them…” Jared interrupted, his voice hushed but demanding, “We agreed to split it down the middle! The cars go to you, but the house and the company go under my name!” I watched their frantic calculations, a silent sneer curling inside my chest. Amber hesitated for a moment, but Jared quickly smoothed it over, coaxing her. “We’re getting married anyway, baby. What’s mine is yours. Let’s just get the assets secured first.” Amber turned back to me. “The cars too. Don’t bother keeping them, you won’t be able to afford the maintenance anyway. I’m giving you twenty-four hours, Valerie. Have the paperwork ready by tomorrow, or things are going to get very ugly for you.” “Ugly? How so, Amber? Lest you forget, you forced me to sign a parental waiver. Your name has been legally removed from my household registry. In the eyes of the law, you are a stranger to me.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Who cares about being your daughter? I just want the assets.” “If you aren’t my daughter, what right do you have to demand my life’s work? Why should I give you a single cent?” Her face contorted, her voice rising to a screech. “Because it belongs to me! You should have handed it over years ago! When you die, it’s all mine anyway! If you don’t want to be utterly ruined online, you’ll hand it over. Trust me, I can make your life a living hell.” She leaned in, a malicious grin stretching across her face. “You wouldn’t want me to leak the real reason you and Dad divorced, would you? I know all about your disgusting past, Valerie.” I stood up, looking down at her with absolute detachment. “Let’s get a DNA test, Amber. I truly doubt you’re my flesh and blood. How can anyone be this vile?” She scoffed, entirely unbothered. “You brought this on yourself by withholding what is rightfully mine. I can ruin you, and I will.” I nodded slowly. “Understood. From this moment on, any remaining shred of affection I held for you is gone. I have no daughter.” I turned and walked away. She screamed after me, “You booked this table! Pay the bill!” I kept walking. People like her didn’t deserve a single dime of my money. I stepped into my waiting car and instructed the driver to take me directly to the studio of the city’s most influential media outlet. My assistant and investigator were already there waiting. I was ready for my live interview.

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The motion-sensor light outside the apartment I shared with my boyfriend, Mason, was always broken. After fixing it once or twice, he completely gave up on it. I told him, “Mason, I have night blindness. I literally can’t see in the dark.” He just looked annoyed. “Doesn’t your phone have a flashlight? Stop being so dramatic.” I didn’t tell him that for someone with severe night blindness, a tiny phone flashlight didn’t do much. Until today. I was fumbling in the pitch black, trying to get to our door, when I tripped over some clutter left in the hallway. I fell hard, scraping my knee so badly that the skin ripped open. When I looked closely, the clutter was an empty box for a light fixture. For a second, I felt a spark of hope. I thought Mason was finally going to fix our light. But then, the light in the opposite hallway flickered on. I instinctively looked up. Through the glass, I saw Mason clearly. He was in the opposite building, busy installing a brand-new light for his childhood best friend, Lilah. We had lived here for three years. I had tripped and fallen in this dark hallway seventy-two times, and he never cared. Yet, the light outside Lilah’s door was never allowed to go out because of him. Maybe the noise of my fall was too loud. My elderly neighbor, Mrs. Gable, opened her door and rushed over to help me. “Oh my god, sweetie! That’s a huge cut on your knee!” she said, her heart breaking for me as she helped me up. “Where is your boyfriend? Why isn’t he helping you?” I forced a smile and said, “We broke up.” I was moving back to my hometown next month. I wouldn’t have to walk in the dark anymore.

I stumbled into the apartment, turned on the lights, and pulled out the first-aid kit. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Mason on Snapchat. “You home yet? I’m not coming back for dinner tonight.” I looked out the window. Across the courtyard, I could see him cooking in Lilah’s kitchen. In our seven years together, he had always complained that cooking was too much trouble. He had never made a single meal for me. I snapped a picture of my bloody, torn knee and sent it to him. He replied with a meme of a guy giving a sarcastic thumbs-up. I let out a bitter laugh and closed the app. In our apartment building’s Snapchat group, neighbors were complaining again. “When is management going to fix the hallway lights? This is getting ridiculous.” While the landlord stayed silent, Lilah jumped in to play the savior. “Everyone, let’s be understanding. It’s not that hard to fix it ourselves. No need to make a big deal out of it.” Her comment immediately triggered another neighbor. “Lilah, of course you’d say that. You have a ‘bestie’ who fixes everything for you. Some of us have to pay handyman fees every single time. Do you know how expensive that is?” Other neighbors quickly chimed in, agreeing. Soon, Lilah posted a voice note. I tapped it. It was Mason’s voice. “Hey everyone, please don’t be mad. Lilah is just being sweet. I’ve always taken care of her, so she doesn’t really know how hard these things can be. I apologize on her behalf. I’m taking a day off tomorrow, and I’ll personally go door-to-door to fix everyone’s lights, okay?” I poured rubbing alcohol over my cut. The burning pain flared up, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. Seven years ago, I had packed my bags and moved to New York just to be with Mason. Now, reality was breaking me into pieces. When we were looking for a place to buy as our future home, I had researched dozens of condos. I had filled a whole notebook with details. Mason had rejected every single one of them. In the end, he picked this complex. I had thought he chose it after careful consideration. It was only after we moved in that I found out the truth. He chose this place solely because Lilah had decided to rent an apartment here. The blood kept seeping through the bandage. The cheap ointment wasn’t enough. Helpless, I had to walk back down the dark stairs to go to the ER. When I got back from the hospital, I ran into Mason and Lilah at the entrance of our building. They were laughing, sharing some late-night takeout. Mason ran over to me, looking cheerful. “Hey, Chloe! Come eat with us. Lilah ordered way too much and can’t finish it. You can help her eat the rest.” I looked at the messy leftovers on the table and said flatly, “I just got back from the hospital. I can’t eat spicy food right now.” Mason seemed to finally notice my heavily bandaged knee. His expression didn’t change much. “Oh. Never mind then.” Lilah leaned in, looking concerned. “Oh my god, Chloe, that looks nasty. I can give you some of my first-aid supplies. Mason said I’m always clumsy, so he bought me a huge medical kit last week.” “No thanks,” I said. “I have my own.” In my seven years with Mason, I had learned to be completely independent. As I turned to walk away, I heard them bickering behind me. “You can barely take care of yourself, and you want to give away medicine?” Mason grumbled. “Don’t you know how dark it is outside my door? What if you trip?” “But I have you with me,” Lilah giggled. “Why would I be scared?” “Still, what if? Look at Chloe. She’s always so careful, and even she fell.” My heart sank. He knew exactly how dangerous the dark hallway was. He just didn’t care because the person falling was me. That night, Mason didn’t come home until 3:00 AM. In the past, no matter how late it was, I would always text him ahead of time. I would stand at the door with a flashlight, waiting for him, terrified he might trip. But this time, he called me repeatedly from downstairs, and I didn’t answer a single call.

The next morning, Mason blocked me at the bedroom door. “Were you mad at me last night?” he asked, looking defensive. “Lilah is my childhood friend. Is it really so bad that I help her out sometimes?” It wasn’t “sometimes.” He was at her beck and call, 24/7. I pushed past him and walked into the bathroom. He followed me. “Can you stop overthinking everything?” he complained. “Lilah is a girl, living so far away from home to work in New York. It’s really hard for her.” He forgot that I had also left my home and traveled thousands of miles for him. “Yeah, I get it,” I said quietly. Mason blinked, looking relieved, as if he had just gotten rid of a heavy burden. He reached out and patted my head. “That’s my girl. You’re getting so mature, Chloe.” As I was leaving the apartment, I ran into Lilah in the hallway. I noticed the designer bag on her shoulder. Instinctively, I pulled my cheap ten-dollar tote bag behind my back. Lilah smirked. “Cute bag, right? Mason got it for me last week. It’s a gift for our twenty-year friendship anniversary.” Last week was also my seventh anniversary with Mason. We had agreed not to exchange gifts and to put our money into our joint wedding savings account instead. Because I wanted us to have a future, I saved every penny I could, even skipping lunches, just to deposit money into that account. But when I checked the balance last week, I realized Mason hadn’t deposited a single dollar. Instead, he had used that card to buy several things for Lilah—including the five-thousand-dollar designer bag she was currently flaunting. I remembered Mason’s mom’s birthday party last year. Helen had looked at me with disgust. “Chloe, as Mason’s future fiancé, you really need to work on your image. You look so cheap. I honestly don’t know what Mason sees in you.” Then she had smiled at Lilah. “Look at Lilah. She dresses so elegantly. You can tell she has class.” Mason had sat there in silence the entire time, never uttering a single word to defend me. When I got off work that day, I went straight to a real estate agent. The agent was surprised to see me. “Chloe? I thought you bought that condo to be your dream wedding home. Why are you putting it on the market now?” “The prices are still going up,” the agent advised. “It’s a pity to sell it now.” I forced a smile. “There’s not going to be a wedding. I don’t need the place anymore.” The agent looked awkward and quickly changed the subject. “What about the custom interior design? You spent so much effort on it. Are you leaving all of it?” “Yes,” I said. “I don’t want any of it.” The orthopedic chair for his bad back, the cozy home theater room, the perfect mattress… I had custom-designed everything for Mason. It had cost me half a year’s salary. But now that the love was gone, those things felt completely worthless. By the time I got back to our rented apartment, it was already dark. I saw Mason walking out of the building. “Why are you so late?” he asked casually. Before I could answer, Lilah popped her head out from behind him. “Hey, Mason! You promised we’d walk together, and you’re leaving without me again?” Mason rubbed his arm where she had playfully smacked him, a huge grin on his face. “Hey, princess, you hate the heat and hate waiting. That’s why I went ahead to start the car and turn on the AC. It’s an hour-long drive. You’d melt otherwise.” A week ago, on our anniversary, I had asked him to take me to see the free fireworks show. It was a twenty-minute drive. He had refused, saying it was too crowded and hot. In the end, I sat alone in front of the TV watching the broadcast. The two of them kept flirting and joking around. It took them a while to remember I was even standing there. “Oh, Chloe,” Lilah said, using the tone of a housewife hosting a guest. “Don’t worry about the hallway light. I’ll have Mason fix it for you as soon as we get back from the concert.” “No need,” I said, walking past them. But Mason grabbed my wrist. “Wait for me at home tonight,” he said. “I have something to tell you. Walk carefully, okay? Don’t fall again.”

He said it so easily. But to someone with night blindness, climbing those dark stairs was a nightmare. In the dark, the stairs didn’t look like stairs. They felt like a bottomless abyss. The feeling of stepping into empty space, of falling without knowing when you’d hit the ground… only I knew how terrifying that was. I pulled my hand out of his grip and let out a quiet sigh. “I’ll try.” At midnight, I sent him a text. “Are you coming back tonight?” Instead of a reply from Mason, I got a photo sent from Lilah’s Snapchat. It was a photo taken from her bed. Mason was sleeping soundly beside her. “Chloe, Mason snores like a literal pig, omg hahaha.” “He worked so hard helping me get the VIP tickets today. He’s exhausted. If you have something to say, tell him tomorrow.” He hated crowds when it came to fireworks with me, but he didn’t mind them at all to get her VIP tickets. I stared at the screen and let out a cold laugh. Then, my phone rang. It was my mom. “Sweetie, when are our families finally meeting? You said it would be this month. It’s already the 31st.” Mason had forgotten. I had reminded him so many times, but he still forgot. My silence gave me away. “Is it canceled again?” Mom’s voice cracked. “What is he doing? Why does he keep dragging this out?” “I told you not to move so far away, but you wouldn’t listen. And now? You let them humiliate you over and over. Is my daughter not good enough? When you were in the hospital last time, my heart almost stopped.” Mom started crying, and my eyes welled up with tears too. To meet Mason’s parents, my mom had traveled to New York three times. The first time, Lilah had a stomachache. Mason and his parents immediately canceled the dinner to go take care of her. The second time, Lilah was participating in a jewelry design competition. Mason’s whole family went to support her. My mom and I waited at the restaurant for six hours, only to receive a text saying they couldn’t make it. The last time, Mason changed the time and location three times. I was frantically guiding my mom from one place to another. Terrified of being late again, I rushed across the street and got hit by a car. I broke three ribs and was rushed straight to the ER. My mom had called Mason dozens of times, but he never answered. The moment I woke up from surgery, I told him we were over. Mason had panicked. He swore to my mom that he would never let me suffer again. While I was hospitalized, he took a long leave of absence and stayed by my side 24/7. When I slept, he slept on a tiny cot next to my bed. When I ate, he fed me, peeled fruit for me, and only ate my leftovers after I was done. Sometimes in the middle of the night, I would wake up from the pain of him holding my hand too tightly. For a moment, it felt like we were back in the beginning. Back when his car only had one passenger seat, and it was always mine. Back when my friends envied me because Mason was the most attentive boyfriend in the world. Having witnessed my father’s infidelity as a child, Mason was the one who had slowly healed my trauma. He had filled the cracks in my heart, telling me he was different. But in the end, he was exactly the same. On the day I was discharged, I decided to give him one last test. “Why didn’t you answer my calls the day of the accident? And why did you keep changing the location of the dinner?” He avoided my eyes. “I was showing some clients around the city… I was running around, so I didn’t see my phone…” But the truth was, Lilah’s parents had come to New York for vacation that day. Mason had spent the entire day playing tour guide for them. Lilah had posted a photo on her Instagram of Mason carrying her parents’ heavy shopping bags. Her caption read: “Whenever I need you, you’re always there.” I didn’t call him out on his lie. But from that moment on, I began quietly preparing to leave. Now, it was time. “Mom,” I said over the phone. “You don’t need to come to New York anymore. I’m moving back home next week.” “What do you mean? You’re not getting married?” “No,” I said. “We’re done.” The next day, Mason and Lilah didn’t return until noon. Lilah walked in, kicked off her shoes, and put on the bunny slippers Mason had bought specially for her. Without even saying hello to me, she yawned and walked straight into my bedroom. She opened my closet and casually took out a brand-new silk pajama set. I had seen the packaging for those pajamas two days ago. Mason had told me it was a gift for his mother, so I hadn’t opened it. It turned out it was for Lilah. I frowned and looked at Mason. “What is this supposed to mean?” Mason lowered his voice. “Lilah wanted to—” Suddenly, Lilah shrieked from the bathroom.

Mason rushed in, panicked. Lilah, wearing the revealing silk pajamas, was pointing at a bottle of body wash and screaming at him. “Mason! You told me you didn’t care about my cheap stuff when you bought this for me, but you’ve been secretly using my body wash!” She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her body heavily against him. Mason swallowed hard, his face turning bright red. I couldn’t stand to watch it anymore. I interrupted them. “Mason, did you buy that for her?” I had asked Mason for that specific body wash before. He had told me it was too expensive. When I saw it in our bathroom, I thought he had bought it for me. Mason’s awkward silence answered my question. I let out a sigh. “I was the one who used it.” Lilah let go of Mason, looking disappointed. “Oh. I thought it was this idiot. He’s been stealing my stuff since we were kids.” She turned to me with a fake smile. “It’s fine, Chloe. Just tell me next time. I don’t mind sharing things with you.” “Sharing.” She was talking about my home, yet I needed her permission. “Why did you bring her here today?” I asked, looking directly at Mason. Lilah cut in before he could speak, grinning. “Chloe, Mason’s mom gave us a rare gemstone. Aren’t you the winner of last year’s jewelry design championship? I’m going to stay here for a few days so you can help me design our couple rings.” “Please, Chloe! Helen’s birthday is next week, and she really wants to see us wearing them. We’re on a tight schedule. Just help us out, okay?” “You want me to design your couple rings?” I asked, a cold chill running down my spine. Mason rubbed his nose, looking guilty. “There’s one more thing, Chloe.” “My mom’s birthday gala this year is going to have a lot of famous designers. Lilah is entering the competition this year. Since you were last year’s champion, we were thinking… maybe you shouldn’t go to the gala this year? We don’t want you to steal Lilah’s spotlight.” “Don’t worry, my mom knows about this. She won’t blame you for not coming.” I let out a soft laugh. So this was the “important thing” he wanted to tell me last night. “You don’t want me to go so the two of you can announce your relationship to your family, right?” I asked coldly. Mason’s temper flared instantly. “Chloe! What the hell are you talking about?!” Lilah looked hurt, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Chloe, you’re really misunderstanding. Mason is just like a brother to me.” “Maybe I should just leave. I won’t stay here. I’ll figure out the rings myself.” Mason grabbed her arm and glared at me, raising his voice. “Chloe! You are being absolutely ridiculous!” “No wonder your mom is so bitter and single. You inherited her exact psycho personality. You’re impossible to love.” My heart physically ached. The wound he had once healed was ripped wide open by his own hands. He grabbed Lilah’s hand, shoved past me, and walked toward the door. “Come on, Lilah. Let’s go.” I took a deep breath, forcing my tears back. “Mason, let’s break up. For real this time.” He let out a dry, mocking laugh without even turning around. “Chloe, are you really using this cheap trick again to make me stay? I’m sick of your drama.” “I’m serious,” I said to his back. “I’ve already canceled the lease. Next week, I’m—” The heavy slam of the door cut off my words. The day I finished packing everything was the day of Mason’s mother’s birthday gala. Right before I was about to leave for the airport, Mason showed up. He froze when he saw the empty apartment, but he didn’t ask questions. Instead, he grabbed my hand hurriedly. “I thought about it,” he said quickly. “It’s bad if my future fiancé doesn’t show up to my mom’s birthday. I’ll take you there. Just promise me you won’t try to outshine Lilah.” He dragged me toward his car. I figured I should tell his mother face-to-face that the engagement was off anyway, so I went with him. But as he kept driving, I realized something was wrong. The surroundings were getting darker and darker. “Mason, why is it so dark? This isn’t the way to your mom’s house. I can’t see anything.” “It’s a shortcut. You just don’t know it.” When the car finally stopped, he helped me out. “Mason, is the party here? Why are there no lights? I literally can’t see.” “Mason? Can you hear me? Where are we?” Suddenly, the hand holding mine let go. “Chloe, tonight is too important for Lilah. I can’t take any risks. Just wait here for a bit. I’ll come back and get you as soon as the gala is over. Be a good girl.” “Mason! Mason!” I reached out in the direction of his voice, but my hands grabbed nothing but cold air. I heard his footsteps pause for a second, but when I reached out again, he stepped back. The car engine started in the distance, and soon, the sound faded into the night. There was nothing left but absolute silence. I stood there, my entire body shaking. I couldn’t believe it. Mason had actually abandoned me in the middle of nowhere just for Lilah. After what felt like hours, I forced myself to calm down and tried to call for help. “Is anyone there?” I called out, my voice trembling. Suddenly, I heard rustling footsteps nearby. “Well, look at that. What’s a pretty girl doing out here all alone in the dark?” a rough voice sneered. My instincts screamed danger. I heard the footsteps of several other men approaching, smelling of cheap beer and cigarettes. In a panic, I turned and ran blindly in the opposite direction. The next second, my foot stepped into empty air. My world spun. Cold, dirty water rushed into my nose and mouth. The freezing water filled my lungs, and I gasped for air, suffocating. Meanwhile, Helen’s birthday gala was a huge success. As the party was winding down, Mason finally remembered me. A sudden wave of anxiety hit him. He tried to call me, only to realize he had confiscated my phone earlier so I wouldn’t disrupt the party. Looking panicked, he grabbed his jacket to leave. But his mother, Helen, stopped him. “Mason, I can tell you don’t really care about Chloe anymore. Why don’t you use tonight to announce your engagement to Lilah instead?” Mason looked at Lilah, who was staring back at him with hopeful eyes. He opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly, a guest gasped loudly. “Mason! Isn’t this your fiancé on the news?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “450547”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I love surprises. That was why, during our three years of long-distance, Ethan sent a monthly surprise box to our house. He wanted me and my older sister, Natalie, to unbox them together. The rule was simple: whoever unboxed the item got to keep it. But for three whole years, my share was always cheap, dollar-store keychains. Meanwhile, Natalie always seemed to unbox Cartier necklaces and Chanel bags. I honestly thought I just had terrible luck. Until yesterday, when I saw a pinned chat on Natalie’s Snapchat. It was a message from Ethan. “For this month’s box, make sure you choose numbers 1, 4, 5, 9, and 11.” “I put your surprises in those.” My breath caught in my throat. I scrolled up through their chat history. It turned out that for the past three years, on the exact day we were supposed to open the boxes, Ethan would text Natalie a list of numbers beforehand. He made sure she would always get the luxury gifts he had meticulously prepared. The truth hit me like a physical blow. It wasn’t that I had bad luck. It was just that Ethan had given all of his luck—and effort—to Natalie. If that was the case, then I didn’t want any of it anymore. 0

Ethan’s latest surprise box arrived. As soon as Natalie brought the package inside, she FaceTimed Ethan. When he picked up, Ethan smiled. “Did you get the box?” “The usual rule, then. Natalie gets to choose first.” Natalie sat down next to me on the couch, holding the box. She casually tossed out a few numbers. “I’ll go with 1, 4, 5, 9, and 11.” They were the exact same numbers I had seen on her phone the night before. I bit my lower lip, my nose stinging with unshed tears. No wonder. Every single time we opened these boxes, Ethan insisted on Natalie choosing first. He was terrified that if I chose first, I would accidentally take the surprises he had bought for her. With her numbers selected, Natalie eagerly tore open the boxes. Number 1 was a Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet. Number 4 was a Bvlgari necklace. Number 5 was a custom gold bangle. Number 9 was a pair of Cartier earrings. And number 11 was a classic Tiffany & Co. solitaire engagement ring. I froze, staring at the ring. My heart felt like it was being squeezed. When we were eighteen, Ethan had confessed his feelings to me using a metal tab he had pulled off a soda can. Back then, looking at me with pure guilt and devotion, he had promised, “One day, Riley, I’m going to buy you the most expensive diamond ring in the world.” I had laughed and said, “Then I want you to propose to me with a classic Tiffany ring.” “Deal. I promise,” he had replied. I had waited ten years for that ring. And now, Ethan had packaged it as a “surprise” for my sister to unbox. I lowered my eyes. I reached out, grabbed the remaining boxes, and opened them one by one. With every box I opened, my heart grew colder. Until they were all empty. I looked at the pile of cheap mall-kiosk keychains in front of me and let out a self-deprecating laugh. What was I even hoping for? Hoping that Ethan would actually have a surprise for me? Seeing my pile of plastic junk, Natalie let out a soft giggle. “Riley, how is your luck always this bad?” “It’s been three years, and you always get these silly keychains.” I didn’t answer her. Instead, I looked directly at Ethan on the FaceTime screen. “Ethan, didn’t you promise you would buy me a Tiffany ring one day?” The screen went quiet for a second before Ethan let out a helpless laugh. “Riley, I did buy it. But you’re the one with bad luck. Natalie was the one who drew it. You can’t really blame me for that, can you?” I went completely silent, staring coldly at his face on the screen. Sensing the tense atmosphere, Natalie quickly took off the ring and held it out to me. “Riley, here, take the ring. Please don’t fight with Ethan. He just didn’t expect your luck to be this bad.” “Why are you giving it to her?” Ethan’s voice through the speaker sounded impatient now. “Riley, we agreed on the rules from day one. Whoever draws the item keeps it. You’re seriously going to snatch Natalie’s ring just because you had bad luck?” “Stop being so spoiled just because Natalie always lets you have your way.” I let out a quiet scoff. If I hadn’t seen their Snapchat messages, I really would have believed this was all just bad luck. But the reality was right in front of me. It wasn’t bad luck. It was just Ethan giving all of his love to Natalie. I looked down at the ring Natalie was holding out. Ultimately, I didn’t reach for it. “Forget it. I don’t want it.” I stood up and walked away. It was never meant for me anyway. Taking it now would be meaningless. 0

Back in my room. I looked at the glass display case that was almost overflowing with cheap keychains. My eyes burned. From age eighteen to twenty-eight, my feelings for Ethan had never wavered. I had cherished every single thing he gave me. Even if they were just worthless pieces of plastic. But now I realized. In Ethan’s eyes, I was probably just like these keychains—cheap and easily dismissed. I took a deep breath, refusing to hesitate any longer. I pulled all the keychains out of the case and threw them into the trash can. Just as I finished, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Ethan. “I’m back in town. Come downstairs. I’m taking you to see the new house.” Only then did I remember that we had closed on our house two weeks ago. Ethan had booked a flight back to inspect the place and to take me to meet his parents to discuss a wedding date. I had been helping him pay the mortgage for five years. That house was supposed to be ours. After a moment of thought, I decided to go. When I got downstairs, I walked over to the car and opened the passenger door. Natalie was already sitting there. I looked up at Ethan. He smiled casually. “Forgot the rules already?” “First come, first served. Whoever gets downstairs first gets to ride shotgun.” I clenched my jaw. In the five years since Ethan bought this car, I had never sat in the passenger seat. Natalie and I lived in the same apartment complex. Every time we went out, Ethan would text both of us at the same exact time. Whoever got to the car first got the front seat. For five years, no matter how fast I ran down the stairs, I had never managed to get it. I used to think I was just too slow. Now I realized. Ethan must have texted Natalie ahead of time. Just like he had given her the numbers to the surprise boxes. I didn’t get into the car. Instead, I stared straight at Ethan. “I thought you were taking me to see our future house.” “Why is she here?” Ethan chuckled, looking amused by my reaction. “Natalie has the keys. If she doesn’t come, how are we supposed to get in?” I froze, my body going completely rigid. Natalie acted as if she didn’t see the shock on my face. She teased, “Ethan, you should be embarrassed. You lost the keys only two weeks after we got them. When are you going to fix your forgetfulness?” Ethan looked at her with pure tenderness in his eyes. “I leave all my important stuff with you anyway. Why would I need to fix it when I have you?” The two of them laughed and bantered, completely lost in their own world. I watched them, my heart turning to ice. When the house keys were delivered, since the deed was in Ethan’s name, the agent had mailed them directly to him. I had asked him for a spare copy back then. He had merely shrugged and said, “It’s my house. Why do you need a key?” But the key I had begged for and never received… He had given it to Natalie without a second thought. 0

I eventually got into the back seat. I watched them talk the entire ride. They talked about the sports games Natalie had watched with him, the video games they played together. It was a conversation I had no part in. When we arrived at the house and got out of the car, Natalie pouted and said she was thirsty. Ethan gave her a fond, hopeless smile. “Fine, fine. I get it, Princess. I’ll go buy you a drink, okay?” “Mango smoothie, right?” “You’ve had it a million times, aren’t you sick of it yet?” Though his words sounded like complaining, he knew her preferences by heart. When he came back, Ethan handed me a cup. “Here, bought this for you.” I didn’t take it. I looked up at him. “I’m allergic to mangoes.” Ethan rubbed the back of his neck, looking slightly embarrassed. “Oh, sorry, Riley. I forgot.” “Just have some water then. I’ll drink this.” Without waiting for my reply, he fell into step right next to Natalie, and they walked upstairs together. I stared at his back for a long moment before slowly following them. When we reached the apartment, the door was already unlocked. As I pushed the door open, I was greeted by a floor covered in rose petals, glowing candles, and a group of Ethan’s friends. Before I could react, someone rushed over, pulled me into the center of a giant heart made of rose petals, and placed a white bridal veil on my head. I finally snapped out of my daze. Ethan was proposing. But before the joy could even register, Ethan stepped forward and abruptly pulled the veil off my head. He laughed, turning to the friend who had put it on me. “Hey, you got the wrong girl.” “She’s not the main character today.” The friend blinked, confused. “Wait, isn’t Riley your girlfriend?” “Yeah, she is,” Ethan said, still smiling. “Riley is my girlfriend, but the one I’m proposing to today is Natalie.” With that, he gently placed the veil onto Natalie’s head. Then, he turned to look at me. “Riley, don’t blame me for this. You’re the one who had bad luck and couldn’t unbox the engagement ring.” “Since Natalie got the ring, she has to be the one I propose to today.” I stood frozen, my mind going entirely blank. Right in front of me, Ethan dropped to one knee before Natalie. He held up the Tiffany ring, his eyes filled with intense devotion. “Natalie, will you marry me?” Tears welled up in Natalie’s eyes as she choked out, “Yes, I will.” To anyone else, they looked like a perfect, beautiful couple. I bit my lip so hard I could taste copper. I watched as Ethan wrapped his arms around Natalie, pressing a tender, almost sacred kiss to her forehead. The crowd erupted in cheers and confetti. I stood there in the middle of the celebration, watching my boyfriend propose to my sister. Whispers from the crowd began to drift into my ears. “Man, Ethan is bold. Proposing to another woman right in front of his girlfriend, and she doesn’t even dare to make a scene.” “Girlfriend? I bet Riley is going to get dumped soon anyway. Did you see the way Ethan looks at Natalie? It’s totally different.” “Sucks to be Riley. She wasted ten years with him, and she doesn’t even get a proposal…” I couldn’t stand it for another second. I turned to leave, but Ethan grabbed my wrist. He looked at me, a playful, uncaring smirk on his face. “Oh, come on, Riley. It’s just a joke. You’re not actually mad, are you?” I didn’t say a word. I just stared at him. Seeing this, Natalie hurriedly took off the ring and tried to hand it to me again. “Riley, don’t be mad. I’m giving the ring back to you. Just pretend Ethan was using me to practice his proposal…” Her eyes turned red as she looked down at the ring, her face full of reluctance. Ethan frowned. “Riley, since Natalie likes the ring so much, let her keep it. I’ll buy you another one later.” “There are so many people here today. Don’t make things difficult for her.” I looked at him and said softly, “Okay.” Ethan blinked, seemingly surprised that I was being so cooperative this time. He smiled and reached out to ruffle my hair. “Good girl. You’re being so sweet today.” “Tell you what, as a reward, I’ll stay in town and spend a few extra days with you before I head back.” “Haven’t you always hated long-distance? Didn’t you want to spend more time together?” “I’ll grant your wish this time.” I shook my head. “No need.” “I don’t need you to stay, Ethan.” I looked down at the ring on Natalie’s finger and said in a flat voice, “Since you’ve already proposed to Natalie, let’s break up.” “From now on, I don’t need your company anymore.” 0

The smile on Ethan’s face vanished instantly. “Riley, are you seriously doing this right now?” “It’s just a ring. Do you really have to throw a tantrum and bring up breaking up?” “Yes,” I said. Beside him, Natalie suddenly burst into tears. “Riley, please don’t fight with Ethan. This is all my fault. You two have been together for ten years and were about to get married. You shouldn’t break up over something so trivial…” “If you’re really that angry, I’ll apologize.” “I’m so—” Before she could finish, Ethan pulled her into his arms. “Why are you apologizing to her?” “You’ve spoiled her too much over the years.” He glared at me, his brow furrowed in anger. “Riley, if you keep acting this childish, it only proves to me that you’re too immature for marriage.” “Then we won’t get married,” I said coldly. “Ethan, the engagement is off.” “We are done.” With that, I turned around and walked out of the apartment. Behind me, one of Ethan’s friends tried to nudge him. “Dude, are you really not going after her?” “Aren’t you worried she’s actually serious about breaking up this time?” Ethan scoffed. “She’s been with me since she was eighteen. She’s threatened to break up a hundred times.” “Has she ever actually walked away?” “Don’t worry. In a few days, I’ll send her a couple of texts, and she’ll come crawling back like she always does.” I walked out of the building and stood by the curb. I took a deep breath, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall. Just as I calmed myself down, my phone rang. It was my boss, Chloe. “Riley, there’s an opening for a Managing Director position at our branch in Paris, France.” “The board just finished their evaluations, and they think you’re the perfect fit. Would you be interested?” I gripped my phone tightly. The image of Ethan proposing to Natalie flashed through my mind, making my chest ache. I didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Chloe. I’ll take it.”

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Before the engagement rehearsal, I saw a Snapchat group chat on Julian Carter’s iPad. It was a group chat with his childhood bros. Someone had posted a picture of a handwritten scorecard titled: The Marriage Checklist. Under my name, Sera Miller, there was a long list of calculated pluses: Stable job +10, Sweet temper, no drama +10, Great at taking care of people +10… Under another girl’s name, there were only a few messy lines: Hot and exciting +10, High-maintenance, too proud -10, But thrilling to be with +20. One of his friends asked: “So, you’ve really decided?” Julian’s reply was cold, rational, and sober: “Yeah. Scarlett is the one who makes my heart race, but she’s too wild. Great for dating, but exhausting for marriage.” “I’m going with Sera. She’s safe. She’s the perfect wife material.” Staring at the words “perfect wife material,” my eyes burned. I had always thought our seven-year relationship was a natural progression of deep, mutual love. It turned out that in his eyes, I was just a low-risk, cost-effective compromise. If that was the case, I was out.

“Miss Miller, could you and Mr. Carter run through the ring exchange one more time?” The wedding coordinator’s voice echoed through the grand ballroom. Today was our engagement party rehearsal. Julian stood under the arch of white roses, looking breathtakingly handsome in his tailored suit. He smiled and stretched his hand out to me with deep affection. I stared at his hand, feeling a sudden wave of detachment. The absurdity of that scorecard was like a jagged piece of glass stuck in my throat. I couldn’t swallow it, and I couldn’t spit it out. “Sera? What’s wrong? Your hand is freezing.” Julian walked over, wrapping his warm hand around mine while handing me a cup of warm water. “Are you tired from standing all morning? Just hang in there, babe. We’re almost done.” Even his comforting tone was flawless, polished to perfection. Just as I was about to pull my hand away, the heavy oak doors of the ballroom were pushed open with a loud thud. “Julian! Is this really your taste? All these champagne roses? It’s so tacky.” A red dress. Voluminous curls. Bold, radiant, and loud. It was Scarlett Davis. The toxic ex who had scored a “Hot and exciting +10” on his list. She strolled in, arm-in-arm with Julian’s best friend, Zach Brooks. I felt Julian’s hand instantly stiffen around mine. A second later, he subconsciously let go of me. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes were glued to Scarlett. I saw his throat tighten as he swallowed hard. Scarlett walked straight to the VIP table, her eyes scanning the place cards. She stopped right in front of the gold-embossed card that read: [Fiancée: Seraphina Miller] and let out a soft laugh. Then, with a flick of her manicured finger, she swiped it. My name card fell to the floor, rolling right to the tip of Julian’s leather shoe. “Oops. My hand slipped.” Scarlett covered her mouth, her eyes dripping with pure, undisguised provocation. “Sera is too mature and sweet to care about a little accident, right?” The coordinator and the staff looked at each other in awkward silence. Even Zach cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. Julian finally snapped out of his trance. But instead of getting angry, he bent down and personally picked up my fallen card for Scarlett. There was no blame in his eyes when he looked at her. In fact, there was a faint, hidden indulgence. After placing the card back on the table, Julian turned to me. “Sera.” His voice was gentle, carrying his usual tone of calm manipulation. “Today is a happy day. Let’s not make a scene. You’ve always had a great temper. Don’t stoop to her level.” To placate me, he patted my shoulder and whispered, “She’s just a spoiled brat. Ignore her.” My shoulder flinched under his touch. A cold chill ran from my toes straight to my chest. Great temper. At this moment, the “Sweet temper, no drama +10” from yesterday’s scorecard turned into a physical slap in the face. Because I was the sensible one, I didn’t even have the right to be angry. Because I was “wife material,” I was expected to smile and swallow every humiliation. I looked down at the name card he had put back. “Julian,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “She’s spoiled. But who spoiled her in the first place?”

The air in the room froze. Zach immediately jumped in, trying to laugh it off. “Come on, Sera! Who else? Us! We all grew up together. Scarlett is like a little sister to all of us. Don’t overthink it!” Julian visibly relaxed, using the opportunity to wrap his arm around my shoulders. “Exactly. We’re all friends here. Come on, let’s go grab lunch.” I was half-shoved, half-guided into the private dining room. During the post-rehearsal lunch, the atmosphere was so wild it felt like Scarlett was the actual bride-to-be. After a few rounds of drinks, the guys started getting loud. Zach raised his glass and laughed. “Julian, you’re a lucky bastard! Girls like Sera are a dying breed. She’s pure tradwife energy. You could stay out partying until 3 AM, and she wouldn’t even track your location.” The table roared with laughter. Julian leaned back in his chair, crossing his long legs, and smiled. “Of course. Sera is the most sensible girl I know.” Sensible. Low-maintenance. These labels were branded onto me, serving as badges of honor for him to brag about at the bar. Right then, Scarlett, who was sitting on Julian’s other side, suddenly leaned her head onto his shoulder, smelling of alcohol. “Julian…” Her voice cracked, her eyes pooling with tears. “I’m so stressed out. My design studio is completely out of cash. I can’t even pay my employees next month. I think I have to close it down.” The smug composure on Julian’s face vanished instantly. He didn’t push Scarlett away. Instead, his body naturally leaned toward her, his forehead creasing with deep concern. “How much do you need? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” “A lot…” Scarlett bit her lip, looking utterly helpless. Without a second thought, Julian spoke up. “The Aurora Project we’re signing next week—I’ll outsource the entire core design work to your studio. It’s a guaranteed money-maker. The advance payment will easily cover your deficit.” My hand tightened around my water glass so hard it almost shattered. The Aurora Project? That was the project my team had pulled three all-nighters for, researching for an entire month to secure. Only yesterday, Julian had promised me that I would lead and execute it. “Julian, the Aurora Project is my project,” I said, my voice tight. The laughter at the table died instantly. Julian turned to look at me, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Sera, your position at your firm is already stable. You don’t need this single project to prove yourself.” He dismissed all my hard work with a wave of his hand, speaking as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “Scarlett is facing bankruptcy. This project is a lifesaver for her.” Seeing my silence, Julian softened his voice, sighing. “We’re getting married soon, Sera. What’s mine is yours. It’s just business. Why be so petty? Be the bigger person.” I stared at the man I had loved for seven years. A wave of intense nausea hit me. So, my efforts didn’t deserve respect, and my hard work could be stolen at any time, simply because I was “stable.” Watching him whisper comfortingly to Scarlett, my stomach churned with pure disgust. He was absolutely repulsive.

I don’t even remember how that lunch ended. That night, Julian’s mother, Eleanor Carter, called me to the living room and threw a thick prenup onto the coffee table. All of the Carter family’s real estate, stocks, and savings had nothing to do with me. After marriage, our living expenses would be split 50/50. It even explicitly stated that I would be responsible for all household chores and must take a full-time leave to prepare for pregnancy in the first year. This wasn’t a prenup. This was a slave contract for a zero-salary, 24/7 live-in maid who could be kicked out with nothing at any second. I raised my eyes to look at Julian, who was sitting next to his mother. He was slowly peeling an orange. Seeing that I hadn’t picked up the pen, he leaned over and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Sera, just sign it,” he said in a tone you’d use to coax a stubborn child. “My mom is old-school. She just wants peace of mind. Besides, we’re getting married to build a stable life. What’s mine is yours anyway. You’re not the type of girl who’s after my money, right?” He said it so smoothly. With the phrase “not after my money,” he easily locked me onto a moral pedestal, stripping away my rights while expecting me to thank him. I looked at his handsome, calculating face and suddenly smiled. “Okay.” I took the pen and signed “Seraphina Miller” on the signature line without a second thought. A flash of smug satisfaction crossed Julian’s eyes. He probably thought I loved him so much that I had completely lost my mind. Late that night, the only sound in the bedroom was the running water from the bathroom. I sat quietly on the edge of the bed, my eyes falling on his unlocked iPad. The screen lit up with rapid notifications from his Snapchat group. Julian had sent a voice note, which had been transcribed into clear text on the screen: “Prenup is signed. She didn’t even read it. We’re set, boys. Once she’s a housewife, I can focus entirely on expanding the business.” Below was a string of replies: “Congrats, Julian! You just secured a perfect, low-maintenance back-up!” Then, Scarlett’s profile popped up. She posted a selfie with teary eyes, captioned: “Congratulations on the wedding. Wish you a lifetime of happiness.” Almost instantly, Julian replied: “Stop it. You know you’re the only one I can’t let go of.” “The only one I can’t let go of.” I stared at those words. My chest ached with a suffocating tightness, but miraculously, I couldn’t shed a single tear. It was amazing how cruel a person could be when they were busy calculating their own interests. He handed me the “safety” of a marriage contract as if it were charity, turning me into his free maid, while dedicating all his passion, career opportunities, and love to the woman who actually made his heart race. When you reach the absolute bottom of despair, only pure, cold clarity remains. I turned off the iPad, walked out to the balcony, and called my college friend who was now a top attorney. “Chloe, I need you to draft an official cancellation of engagement and a complete financial split sheet. I need it tonight.” Half an hour later, the printer in the study buzzed softly, spitting out several warm sheets of paper. Listening to the shower shutting off in the bathroom, I slowly smoothed out the creases on the documents. Julian, you wanted a perfect, brainless tool of a wife. Too bad. I’m canceling my subscription.

The engagement party was held at the Peninsula, the most luxurious hotel downtown. The ballroom lights dimmed, leaving only a single spotlight shining on Julian standing under the floral arch. Dressed in a designer tuxedo, he looked tall and striking. Holding a velvet box with a two-carat diamond ring, he walked toward me step by step. Around us, the guests erupted into envious whispers and thunderous applause. But my gaze drifted past his shoulder, landing on the VIP table in the front row. Scarlett was sitting there. Today, she wore a simple white floral dress. Her eyes were red, her lips pale, looking as fragile as a falling leaf. Julian stopped in front of me, and the emcee handed him the microphone. “Mr. Carter, please share your vows with your beautiful fiancée.” The room fell dead silent. Julian held the mic, his lips parting, but his eyes automatically drifted toward Scarlett. In that split second, a flash of genuine pain and longing crossed his face. “Sera, we’ve been together for seven years…” He started, but his voice suddenly choked up. A heavy, five-second silence stretched across the room. The air in the ballroom seemed to turn to ice. He stared at Scarlett’s tear-stained face, completely losing his train of thought, even forgetting to open the ring box in his hand. It wasn’t until Eleanor let out a loud, sharp cough from the front row that Julian snapped out of it. He quickly turned his head back to me, forcing a warm, practiced smile, and recited his prepared lines: “Sera, I love you. Will you marry me and be my solid rock?” The emcee quickly tried to hype up the crowd. “Come on, bride! Say yes!” Everyone looked at me, smiling expectantly. I looked at Julian, staring at his fake, hollow devotion, and slowly raised my microphone. “I won’t.” Those two words, amplified by the high-end sound system, echoed clearly into every single corner of the grand ballroom. The applause that was starting to build froze instantly. The smile on Julian’s face cracked. He lowered his voice, his tone sharp with warning and annoyance. “Sera, stop playing games. Do you know what day it is?” “Of course I know what day it is.” I let out a cold laugh, pulled a small remote control from my clutch, and pointed it at the giant LED screen behind us. The romantic video of our seven-year journey cut out instantly. In its place, a massive screenshot of Julian’s Snapchat checklist titled “Who to Marry” filled the screen, followed by the insulting prenup, and his text saying I was just a “low-maintenance back-up.” The crowd erupted into a frenzy of gasps and shocked whispers. Julian’s face went dead pale. He lunged toward the control panel to shut it off, but my brother and cousins blocked him instantly. “Are you out of your mind, Sera?!” Julian roared, his eyes wide with fury and shock. “Julian, thank you for the 98-score you gave me,” I said, my voice incredibly calm. “I have a stable job, a sweet temper, I don’t want your money, and I do all the chores. In your eyes, I really was the ultimate deal.” I curled my lips into a mocking smile. “But I suddenly realized that being a highly cost-effective maid is incredibly boring.” With that, I slid the engagement ring off my finger and tossed it casually onto the floor. “You—” Julian was shaking with rage, reaching out to grab my arm. I stepped back, pulled the printed cancellation of engagement and the ripped prenup from my bag, and threw them right into his face. “Julian, keep your cheap, manipulative love for someone else.” Looking at his crumbling expression, I said coldly: “We’re done.”

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“Chloe is pregnant,” Julian said, his voice barely a whisper, standing in the dim shadows of the wedding rehearsal hall. “The wedding goes on as scheduled. After we’re married, I’ll just spend a few days a week taking care of her. Once she’s stable, everything will go back to normal.” I clenched the velvet ring box, my knuckles turning white. “And what about me? What am I in this little arrangement of yours?” “You’re my fiancée. Tomorrow, you’ll be Mrs. Carter.” He frowned, looking at me as if he were trying to reason with a spoiled, throwing-a-tantrum child. “Isn’t that title enough for you?” Chloe stood nearby, wearing an oversized coat that perfectly accentuated her pale, fragile face. She chimed in softly, “Natalie, please. I’m not trying to steal the title of Mrs. Carter from you. I just… I just want my baby to have a father.” I placed the ring box quietly on the table. “Then whoever wants this title can have it.” A man who had already been touched by someone else? I didn’t want him anymore. *** **1** **Natalie Vance’s POV** I was supposed to marry Julian Carter, the man I had loved for years. I had spent the last six months obsessing over every detail of this wedding, down to the exact shade of the customized crystal glasses for our new home. But tonight, during our wedding rehearsal, the giant screen in the ballroom suddenly flickered, playing an unnamed video file. On the screen, Chloe Sterling—Julian’s childhood best friend—was gently rubbing her barely visible baby bump, her voice dripping with sweet innocence: “Julian, the doctor said the baby is doing great. Don’t drink too much at the wedding tomorrow. You promised me you’d spend a few days a week with us after you’re married. Don’t you dare forget.” In the top right corner of the screen, Julian’s contact name for her was saved as: *My Chloe & Baby*. The entire ballroom fell dead silent. Julian, who had arrived late, didn’t even look panicked. He just frowned at me and said, “Don’t make a scene here. Don’t make us a laughingstock.” I stood in the shadows, the corners of the ring box digging painfully into my palm. One of Julian’s groomsmen quickly tried to save face, awkwardly laughing as he blocked the projector. “Hey, this is just a misunderstanding! Chloe’s just joking around like she always does. Natalie, don’t take it to heart. Chloe grew up with us. She’s just a close friend!” The next second, the doors to the hall pushed open, and Chloe walked in. She was wearing an oversized beige coat, holding a thermos, looking perfectly pale and vulnerable. Seeing me, she managed a fragile smile. “Natalie, don’t be upset. Julian and I… it’s really not what you think. The baby was an accident. I never wanted to come between you two.” “An accident?” I asked, my voice calm but cold. Julian stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Stop it, Natalie. There are too many people here tonight.” I looked up at him. “She’s pregnant with your child, and you’re telling me to stop?” Julian scowled, as if my reaction was incredibly uncalled for. “I wasn’t planning on keeping it from you. But now that the baby is here, I can’t just abandon them. The wedding will go on. After we’re married, I’ll spend a few days a week taking care of her. Once she’s stable, everything will go back to how it was.” Chloe chimed in right on cue. “Yes, Natalie, please don’t worry. I won’t steal your place. I’m not greedy. I just want my baby to have a father.” “And what about me?” I let out a soft, humorless laugh. “What am I in this perfect little plan of yours?” Losing his patience, Julian snapped, “You’re my fiancée. Tomorrow, you’ll be Mrs. Carter. Isn’t that enough? Chloe has no family left. I’m just helping her out. Why do you have to act like such a victim?” Around me, some of Julian’s relatives started whispering. They murmured that a man making one mistake before marriage wasn’t the end of the world, that Julian was being honest now, and that since Chloe was being so ‘sensible,’ I shouldn’t make things difficult. I placed the ring box on the table. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was crystal clear. “The wedding is cancelled.” Julian’s face darkened instantly. “Natalie Vance, think carefully before you speak.” “I have thought about it.” I grabbed my designer clutch, stepping around him. “You two can keep rehearsing. Enjoy the show.” As I reached the exit, my phone buzzed. Tristan Brooks’s voice came through the speaker, laced with a rare, tense urgency. “Natalie, if you don’t want to marry him, walk out. Now. I’m parked right outside.” The cold night air hit my face, and my eyes stung with unshed tears. “Wait for me,” I whispered. Standing at the end of the corridor, I called the wedding coordinator. “Don’t open the bridal suite tomorrow. Cancel every single event associated with my name. If there are any cancellation fees, send the bill directly to my email.” The coordinator’s voice shook with panic. “Miss Vance, are you sure we can’t work this out?” I stared at my reflection in the glass window. My makeup was still flawless, but I felt entirely hollowed out. “There’s nothing to work out. The groom has someone else to take care of now. I’m stepping aside.” After hanging up, I opened the wedding group chat on Snapchat. People were still texting about arrival times, joking about Julian not drinking too much tonight. I renamed the group to *Wedding Cancelled* and left the chat. “Go find someone else who’s ‘broad-minded’ enough to be your Mrs. Carter.” With that, I threw the ring box onto the console table. It made a sharp clatter. “We are done.” Ignoring Julian’s furious face, I turned my back on him. I sent one final message to the Snapchat wedding group: *Wedding is off.* Then, I blocked everyone and left the group. *** **2** **Natalie Vance’s POV** The moment I stepped out of the hotel lobby, Tristan’s black Maybach was already idling at the curb. “If you really want out, get in,” Tristan said, looking at me through the open window. That was all he said. No judgment, just safety. My eyes burned as I pulled open the door. “I need to go back to the penthouse to get my passport and papers.” That penthouse was a place I had poured my heart into for six months. But when I pushed the door open, the foyer was cluttered with baby sleeping bags and unopened boxes of prenatal vitamins. Julian’s mother, Victoria Carter, was busy directing the movers to clear out the guest bedroom. Seeing me walk in, she smiled as if nothing had happened. “Oh, Natalie, perfect timing. Chloe is in her first trimester, and she has no one to look after her. I’m having her move in here for a few weeks. You’re going to be the real Mrs. Carter, so you need to be understanding. A good wife keeps the peace at home.” I stared at her coldly. “This is my wedding home with Julian.” “The Carter family trust bought this place, and Chloe is carrying a Carter heir. What’s wrong with her staying here for a bit?” Victoria’s smile vanished, replaced by an icy glare. “Julian is an incredibly successful man. It’s only natural for men like him to have distractions. Do you really not understand how high society works?” “Then go find someone who does, and let her marry your son.” I didn’t waste another breath. I walked straight into the master bedroom, packing my passport, ID, and important documents into a suitcase. Heavy, hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway. Julian burst into the room, his face pale with rage as he slammed his hand against the doorframe to block me. “How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum? If you walk out that door tonight, what are we supposed to do tomorrow?” “Did you think about what I was supposed to do when you let Chloe move into our home?” I shoved past him, my eyes filled with absolute disgust. “I am not throwing a tantrum, Julian. I am leaving. Did you honestly expect me to stay, give up my guest room, drive her to her OB-GYN appointments, and smile while taking care of her?” Victoria piped up from the living room, “Chloe is pregnant! Watch your mouth, Natalie!” “That’s why I’m leaving!” I snapped back. Julian didn’t believe I would actually walk away. Everyone in our social circle knew I had chased him for four years. I was the one who brought him homemade soup when he worked late, the one who remembered every single food allergy he had, and the one who kept track of his family’s birthdays. Julian was used to my gentle nature. He was used to me hiding my own scars just to keep him happy. He reached out to grab my suitcase. “Go stay at a hotel tonight to cool off. The makeup artists are coming at six in the morning.” I pulled the suitcase back, out of his reach. “Cancel them.” “Natalie Vance,” Julian warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Don’t make me say something ugly in front of my mother.” “Go ahead. I’d love to hear it too.” Tristan’s voice cut through the tension. He walked out of the elevator and casually took the handle of my suitcase. Julian’s face contorted the moment he saw him. “What the hell are you doing here?” “Picking her up,” Tristan replied smoothly. “She doesn’t want to stay here, so I’m taking her with me.” Julian let out a harsh laugh. “This is between me and my fiancée. Since when do you get a say, Tristan?” Tristan looked down at me. “Is he still your fiancé?” My answer was instant. “No.” Victoria stood up, trembling with rage. “Natalie! Do you have any idea what you are doing? Marriage isn’t a game. If you run off with another man tonight, do you know what people will say about you tomorrow?” “They’ll say I found out my fiancé got another woman pregnant before the wedding, and I was smart enough to trash the trash.” I looked her dead in the eye. “I’m perfectly fine with that.” Julian stared at me, a cold smile forming on his lips. “Trash the trash? Natalie, you’re talking tough right now, but don’t come crying back to me in two days.” I didn’t look back. Julian lunged forward to grab my wrist. “Natalie, I said don’t leave with him!” I stepped back, slapping his hand away with utter disgust. “Don’t touch me. You make me sick.” The elevator doors slowly slid shut, completely locking away Julian’s furious, panicked face. Only when the elevator began to descend did my tense shoulders finally drop. Tristan stood beside me. After a long silence, he asked softly, “Does it hurt?” “Where?” “Everywhere.” I looked up at him, tears finally threatening to spill. I forced them back, whispering, “Even if it hurts, I’m never going back.” Tristan switched the suitcase to his other hand. “Then we don’t look back.” The next morning, the Carter family tried to push through with the wedding anyway. Victoria kept calling my mother, screaming about how I was ruining their family’s reputation. My father took the phone and gave a cold, single-sentence reply: “The wedding is cancelled. Never contact my daughter again.” Julian tried to call me, but his number was already blocked. He used his assistant’s phone to dial. This time, Tristan answered. “She’s resting,” Tristan said. “Mr. Carter, stop calling.” Julian roared through the speaker, “Put her on the phone!” “Why should I?” Tristan paused, his voice like ice. “You owe her some peace.” He hung up. Richard Carter tried to call my father to negotiate. He barely got half a sentence out before my father cut him off. “My daughter is not marrying into your family,” my father said. “If the Carters feel humiliated, you should ask your son what he chose to display on the screen at the wedding rehearsal.” *** **3** **Natalie Vance’s POV** The news of the cancelled wedding spread through high society like wildfire. Some said I was too dramatic, while others said Julian had crossed a line. Most people stayed quiet, waiting to see if the Vance and Carter families would officially go to war. I didn’t make any public statements. I slept for a full twelve hours in the penthouse apartment Tristan had lent me. When I woke up, I texted my parents to let them know I was safe, and then I settled all the remaining bills with the wedding vendors. The wedding was off, but the florists, photographers, and coordinators had worked hard. I wasn’t going to let my personal disaster affect innocent people. The lead florist called me, her voice incredibly tentative. “Miss Vance, the floral arrangements for the main stage are still fresh. Would you like us to repurpose them for a charity gala instead? Didn’t you mention the Vance Foundation has an event next week?” I held the phone, quiet for a moment. “Yes. Do that. But change the theme completely. No wedding colors.” When Tristan walked out of the kitchen holding a bowl of warm oatmeal, I was busy typing out a checklist on my iPad. “You’re not resting?” he asked. “Someone has to clean up the mess.” I handed him the tablet. “The hotel is taken care of. If the Carters try to harass me, tell them to talk to my father’s lawyers.” Tristan scanned the list, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You’re much more resilient than I expected.” I smiled faintly. “I used to spend all my resilience keeping Julian happy.” That afternoon, Chloe posted on Instagram. It was a photo of her sitting in a hospital corridor, a warm latte in hand. The caption was short but pointed: *Sometimes, true companionship doesn’t need a legal title. Those who understand, understand.* A mutual friend immediately sent me a screenshot. I looked at it and didn’t bother replying. But then, Julian called me from an unknown number. “What exactly do you want, Natalie?” he demanded the second I picked up. “You cancelled the wedding, made our guests fly in for nothing, and the hotel deposit is gone. Are you happy now?” I replied calmly, “I paid the vendors in full.” Julian choked on his words for a second, then hissed, “You think throwing money around makes you right? Chloe almost had a miscarriage today because of the stress, and you haven’t even called to ask how she is!” I actually laughed. “What does her baby have to do with me?” “You know she has no one else!” “She has you,” I said. “Julian, you don’t get to play the doting father for her child while demanding I play the understanding fiancée. I’m out of the game. You’re free.” Silence fell over the line. Julian’s tone finally softened, a hint of desperation creeping in. “Natalie… I never wanted to lose you.” “But every single thing you did ensured that you would.” I hung up and blocked the number. Tristan stood by the kitchen counter. Seeing me set the phone down, he asked, “What do you want for dinner?” No lectures. No analysis of what I should do. No telling me to “be the bigger person.” Just a simple question about dinner. My nose tickled, and my eyes grew warm. “Something sweet.” Tristan rolled up his sleeves. “You got it. I’m cooking tonight.” Halfway through the delicious dinner, I suddenly stopped eating. Tristan looked up. “Stomach hurt?” I shook my head. “I was just thinking… was I really that easy to appease before?” Whenever Julian told me I was being “annoying,” I would immediately doubt myself and think I was being too sensitive. Whenever he bought me a generic holiday gift, I would instantly forgive him for ignoring me for days. I used to call it “making compromises for love.” Looking back, I was just managing his bad temper for him. Tristan didn’t trash-talk Julian. He just said, “That wasn’t your fault, Natalie. The fault lies with the person who knew how easily you loved him, and chose to hurt you anyway.” I took a sip of the warm soup, the rich flavor making my throat tight. I refused to cry, so I forced a laugh. “Since when did you become such a smooth talker?” Tristan’s hand paused. “I’ve had practice.” “With who?” “With someone I’ve been trying to win over,” he said, staring directly into my eyes. “For a very long time.” As Tristan cleared the table, I sat there in silence. I suddenly remembered the first time I brought Julian home to meet my parents. My mother had pulled me aside and asked, “Does he treat you well, sweetheart?” Back then, I defended him fiercely, saying he just wasn’t good with words, and that successful men always had a bit of a temper. Now, I realized those weren’t explanations. They were excuses I made to protect my own pride. “What are you thinking about?” Tristan asked. I looked up. “I think my mom saw right through him back then. She just didn’t want to break my heart.” Tristan set a warm mug of tea next to my hand. “Well, you don’t have to make excuses for anyone anymore.” *** **4** **Julian Carter’s POV** The reality didn’t hit me until the third day. When I went back to our penthouse, the security code had been changed. The building manager informed me that Miss Vance had authorized her lawyers to handle her half of the property, and all her personal belongings had been moved out overnight. I stood in the empty hallway, holding a box of the tiramisu Natalie loved. In the past, whenever I bought her something sweet, she would always forgive me. She would nag me for a bit, but then she’d open the door, hang up my coat, and ask if I wanted a glass of water. But this time, there were no lights on inside. No one was waiting. I called our mutual friends. One of them sighed over the phone. “Julian, you really messed up this time. Natalie’s family handled all the cancellation logistics. They didn’t even ask the Carters to pay for a single dime. They were incredibly classy about it.” I snapped, “Where is she?” “I don’t know. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.” The line went dead. I sat in my car, my chest tightening. My phone buzzed—it was Chloe. She said she had no appetite and wanted the creme brulee from that bakery uptown. I ignored it. Chloe quickly sent a string of texts: *Are you blaming me, Julian? If it weren’t for me, Natalie wouldn’t have left. But the baby is kicking, and I’m so scared.* Staring at the word “baby,” my head throbbed. I had never intended to shirk my responsibility. That night at the college reunion, everyone had had too much to drink. Chloe had cried on my shoulder, talking about how lonely she was, asking me to just hold her for a while. I remembered pushing her away at first. I also remembered waking up next to her. She had smiled through her tears, saying, “It’s okay, Julian. It was just a one-night stand. Let’s just pretend it never happened.” I believed her. Or rather, I wanted to believe her. Because as long as I kept calling her my “friend,” I didn’t have to admit to myself how dirty the situation was. But now that Natalie was gone, that excuse sounded pathetic even to my own ears. That evening, my father, Richard, called me into his study. The Vance family’s lawyer was already sitting there. He pushed a stack of legal documents toward me. “Miss Vance’s terms are clear. Since no marriage license was filed, this is a simple dissolution of an engagement. She has covered all wedding expenses. Here is the list of gifts exchanged during the engagement; everything from the Carter family will be returned to your address.” My mother, Victoria, slammed her hand on the table. “What is she trying to do? Is she trying to run off with another man?” The lawyer raised an eye, his tone polite but firm. “Mrs. Carter, watch your words. Miss Vance is currently single. Who she associates with is none of Mr. Carter’s business.” I stared at the paperwork, my fingers turning numb. “Tell her to come say that to my face.” The lawyer capped his pen. “She has no desire to see you.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Fine. Let’s see how long she can hide.” After the lawyer left, my mother continued to rant about how heartless the Vance family was. But my eyes were glued to the return list. Natalie had returned everything. The engagement necklace, the heirloom bracelet my mother gave her, the designer bags I had casually bought her—even a pair of silver cufflinks I had left behind. She didn’t keep a single thing. She was clearing me out of her life like a tenant cleaning out a rental. “She wasn’t like this before,” I muttered. My mother frowned. “What did you say?” I didn’t answer. Natalie used to take photos of every little thing I gave her, keeping them like treasures. She would be thrilled for days over a simple, mismatched bracelet. She didn’t care about the price; she cared about the thought. Now, she had converted all that love into a cold, neat inventory list. For the first time, I realized that the girl who used to run to me with open arms was truly gone. My father was calmer than my mother, but his expression was grim. Since the Vance family had pulled out of our joint ventures, several major deals we were negotiating had suddenly gone cold. Our partners wouldn’t give us a straight answer, only saying they needed “more time.” But in business, “more time” meant they were backing out. Richard stared at me. “What exactly do you plan to do with Chloe?” I couldn’t answer. Before, I thought I could handle the baby, marry Natalie, and keep everyone happy. Now, looking at those three things, each one felt like a slap in the face. My father sneered, “You always pride yourself on being rational, Julian. How did you manage to fail to calculate the most obvious consequences of your actions?” *** **5** **Julian Carter’s POV** Natalie wasn’t hiding. She had simply erased me from her life. The Vance Foundation’s charity gala went ahead as scheduled. The stage, originally intended for our wedding, had been transformed into a gorgeous spring garden theme. Natalie stood at the entrance wearing a simple, elegant black gown, helping her mother welcome the guests. She looked stunning, her smile poised and effortless. I crashed the event that night. I didn’t have an invitation, and the security guards stopped me at the entrance. My face burned with humiliation. “I’m Natalie Vance’s fiancé.” The guard’s voice was strictly professional. “Your name is not on the guest list, sir.” Those words felt like a physical slap. In the past, whenever I attended a Vance event, I was treated like the guest of honor. Natalie would always register my name weeks in advance, have a driver wait for me, and wave to me from across the room. Now, my name wasn’t even on the list. Tristan walked out of the main hall, his tuxedo jacket casually draped over his arm. “Mr. Carter, tonight is a charity event. Don’t make things difficult for the staff.” I glared at him. “What are you doing here?” “I’m a co-sponsor,” Tristan said, flashing his VIP badge. “Which means I actually have a right to be here.” Furious, I stepped forward to shove him, but a soft voice stopped me. “Julian.” Natalie walked over. Her pace was slow, but it made me freeze. “You’re finally willing to see me,” I said, trying to suppress my anger. “Come home with me.” “I am home,” Natalie said quietly. “Are you still throwing a fit?” My eyes were bloodshot. “Just because Chloe is pregnant, you’re going to throw away all our years together?” “It’s not because she’s pregnant,” Natalie said, looking at me with pity. “It’s because after you betrayed me, you expected me to clean up your mess.” My breath hitched. Guests at the entrance were already starting to stare. My mother, Victoria, rushed over, sighing dramatically. “Natalie, whatever fight you and Julian are having, keep it private. Why make a scene in front of everyone? It’s incredibly disrespectful to us.” Eleanor Vance, Natalie’s mother, walked out of the hall, her face cold. “Disrespectful? My daughter was humiliated by your son and his little friend right before her wedding. We haven’t even made a scene, Victoria, and you’re already playing the victim?” Victoria gasped, unable to find her words. Natalie handed me a small, velvet box. “Your engagement necklace. Consider it returned. The legal papers for the dissolution are inside. Whether you sign them or not doesn’t change the outcome.” I refused to take it. “I don’t agree to this.” Natalie casually handed the box to a nearby staff member. “Then let the lawyers handle it.” She turned and walked back into the hall. Tristan didn’t follow her immediately. He stepped up to me, his voice low. “She made herself clear. If you keep pushing, you’re only going to embarrass yourself further.” I clenched my fists. For the first time, I felt the door to Natalie’s heart close firmly in my face. Inside the hall, Natalie stood gracefully by her mother’s side. When guests subtly brought up the wedding, she didn’t dodge the questions. She simply smiled and said, “If it’s not the right fit, it’s best to stop. Walking away early is better than staying in a mistake.” Those words drifted to my ears just as security escorted me and my mother out through the side exit. Some business associates passed by; they initially wanted to say hello, but seeing my mother and me being escorted out, they quickly looked away. Victoria couldn’t handle the humiliation. “Look at her! Look how she’s humiliating us!” But I could only look at Natalie through the glass doors. She was talking to a donor, her posture straight and confident. There were no tears, no dramatic breakdowns, no desperate pleas for attention. She wasn’t trying to humiliate me. She had just stopped protecting me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “450544”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Three years into our marriage, I lost the use of my hand for him, and my grandmother sold her jewelry to fund his dreams. But in the end, for the sake of his so-called savior’s sister, he gave away our marital home for free and drained the blood from my grandmother, who had just been released from the ICU, just for her. I finally saw him for who he really is. I unilaterally ended the marriage and bought a one-way ticket to London. But after the divorce, he went crazy trying to win me back… #### Chapter 1: Iris’s POV In the third year of our marriage, I walked into the bank to close our joint safety deposit box. The teller looked at the name on the screen and gave me a polite, professional smile. “Mrs. Hale, to close a joint safety deposit box, we need a co-signature from your husband, Ethan Hale.” I pulled back my ID card, my face completely expressionless. “There’s no need. I’m no longer Mrs. Hale. My name is Iris. I’m single.” Just an hour ago, I had watched Ethan sign the equity transfer papers with my own eyes. He had given ten percent of Hale Tech’s founding shares to Chloe—completely free of charge. Chloe was the younger sister of his late best friend, Marcus. Seven years ago, when Ethan had absolutely nothing, my Gran sold her antique family jewelry just so he could buy his first high-end CNC machine. Five years ago, when he couldn’t afford the down payment for his precision laboratory, I hid it from him and risked my life in an illegal, rain-soaked street race to win him two hundred thousand dollars. That night, my left wrist was shattered, leaving me with permanent nerve damage. Three years ago, when Ethan’s company was on the brink of bankruptcy, I worked as a tactical defense driver in a war-torn overseas crisis zone. I drove through active gunfire to rescue Arthur Sterling, the billionaire patriarch of the Sterling Group. In return, Arthur poured hundreds of millions into Ethan’s company. But for the past five years, all Chloe had to do was wiggle her finger, and Ethan would abandon me. He missed my doctor appointments, stood me up on anniversaries, and even gave her our first house. His excuse was always the same: *“Marcus died saving my life. I have to take care of Chloe forever.”* I tolerated it for five years. But today, seeing that equity transfer sheet, the last spark of love inside me died. I pushed open the heavy glass doors of the bank and walked straight out into the freezing drizzle. Before I could even reach the curb, my phone began to vibrate violently. It was a security alert from the bank’s automated system, warning me of an unauthorized attempt to access our joint assets. Two minutes later, a sleek black Maybach screeched to a halt right in front of me, splashing dirty water onto my jeans. The door flew open. Ethan stepped out, radiating a freezing aura. He marched over and grabbed my arm so hard I could hear my bones protest. “Iris! Have you lost your mind?!” Ethan’s brows were furrowed, his eyes a mix of irritation and panic. “You haven’t come home for a week. You won’t answer my calls. Now you’re at the bank trying to drain our joint assets? Do you have any idea that the security alert went straight to my phone? What the hell are you playing at?” I looked down at his hand gripping my left wrist—the scarred wrist that still throbbed with a dull, numb ache. “Let go of me,” I said, my voice completely flat. Ethan hated this side of me the most. When I was calm, he felt like he was losing control. He took a deep breath, trying to hide his guilt with his usual commanding tone. “I know you’re mad about the car I bought Chloe. But Chloe is Marcus’s only sister! Marcus died for me! What’s wrong with me looking out for her? Do you really have to overreact like this and throw away our seven years together over a stupid car?” Before he could finish, the phone in his pocket rang loudly. The caller ID flashed: *Chloe*. Ethan swiped to answer. Chloe’s soft, sobbing voice echoed through the speaker. “Ethan… my car broke down on the highway. People are honking at me, and I’m so scared… my stomach ulcer is flaring up again…” The moment he heard “stomach ulcer,” Ethan’s face changed completely. He forgot all about interrogating me. “Chloe, don’t panic. Lock the doors and stay in the car. I’m coming to get you right now!” He hung up, shoved me aside, and rushed back to his car. “Iris, stop acting out. Chloe is fragile, and she’s sick. I have to go. We’ll talk when I get back!” The Maybach roared away, leaving behind a cloud of exhaust and dirty puddles in the rain. I stood in the cold wind and slowly let out a breath. I pulled out my phone and dialed a heavily encrypted number. “Miss Iris, hello,” the voice on the other end was formal and precise. It was the coordinator from the Federal Security Agency’s Tactical Driving Division. “Regarding your application for high-risk overseas deployment, you have passed the initial screening. Since the deployment zone is near an active conflict area, the danger level is extreme. Are you sure you want to accept this assignment?” I looked at the empty corner where the Maybach had vanished. “I’m sure.” “Understood. Given the classified nature of your mission, our agency has the authority to grant you immediate family isolation privileges. This includes using a federal security channel to bypass the standard waiting period and execute a single-party annulment of your marriage. Do you wish to activate this?” “Yes,” I replied, tracing the ugly scar on my left wrist. “Please finalize the divorce before my departure in two weeks.” “Understood. The expedited annulment process has been initiated. It will take effect in exactly fifteen days.” I hung up, put my phone away, and walked into the rain. *** #### Chapter 2: Iris’s POV Three years later, Ethan’s assistant practically dragged me to Hale Tech’s massive product launch event. “Iris, please,” the assistant pleaded. “Today’s launch determines whether the Sterling Group will provide our next round of funding. Julian Sterling himself is sitting in the VIP section.” In the backstage corridor, Ethan was adjusting his designer suit. He gripped my shoulders, his tone a mix of coercion and fake sweetness. “Just sit quietly in the audience, Iris. Let the media get some photos of us looking happy. I cannot have any negative rumors about my marriage right now, got it?” I stood quietly in the shadows. I didn’t even bother to nod. But when the staff led me into the venue, I realized there was no seat for me in the front row. In the VIP section, right next to Ethan’s reserved seat, sat Chloe. She was wearing a stunning white haute couture gown, gracefully chatting with the investors around her. I was led all the way to the very back, in the dim corner reserved for low-tier media. “Hey, what are you doing sitting here?” a young female employee walked over, tapping my desk arrogantly. “These rows are for the press. Don’t block the cameras. If you knock over this equipment, you won’t be able to afford the damages.” I looked at her, chose not to explain, and quietly stood up. I walked out and stood in the dark exit hallway. The launch began. The applause was deafening. When it came time for the ribbon-cutting ceremony, Chloe walked onto the stage under the spotlight, naturally standing right next to Ethan. They held the golden scissors together. The camera flashes made the stage look as bright as day. In the crowd, a business partner joked aloud, “Mr. Hale, Chloe’s white dress is so beautiful. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was a wedding!” The crowd erupted into knowing laughter. On stage, Ethan froze for a fraction of a second. His eyes darted anxiously across the front rows, trying to find me. But the seat he thought I was in was empty. Under the watchful eye of Julian Sterling, Ethan swallowed his explanation. He simply offered a vague, charming smile, letting the crowd speculate, while Chloe leaned a little closer to his side. Standing in the dark corridor, I watched the entire display. The very last ember of feeling in my heart went cold. I unlocked my phone and logged into the airline’s internal booking system. Because the federal security agency had already processed my annulment request, my legal status in the database had already been updated to “Single.” Without a second thought, I purchased a one-way ticket to London for fifteen days from now. Just as the booking confirmation popped up, the event ended. I turned to leave, but Ethan blocked me at the corner of the corridor. His tie was slightly messy, and his eyes were filled with panic and irritation. He stared at my phone screen, which hadn’t gone dark yet. “Who were you texting? Is it those street racer thugs again? I told you a thousand times, you are not allowed to contact those people!” He reached out aggressively, trying to grab my phone. I casually slipped it into my pocket and looked at him coldly. “None of your business.” I pushed his hand away, walked past him, and headed for the exit. Ethan stood frozen in the hallway, a cold wave of helplessness washing over him. *** #### Chapter 3: Iris’s POV By the time I left the venue, the rain had turned into a downpour. I hailed a cab. Instead of going back to the luxury penthouse Ethan had bought, I went straight back to the old garage in Brooklyn. This was where we had started. Five years ago, Ethan was just a broke kid working out of this dusty garage, and I was his only helper. But now, the place was filled with rusted parts, dust, and a single flickering lightbulb. I sat under the dim light, rolled up my sleeve, and pressed a warm, damp towel against my left wrist, massaging it gently. Ethan’s rough grip in the hallway had agitated my old injury, and it was throbbing again. The garage was quiet. Too quiet. I looked at the small plastic medicine cup on the desk, and my eyes stung. Gran’s Alzheimer’s had gotten worse, and she rarely recognized anyone anymore. Last month, she underwent major heart surgery and was now staying at a private care facility on the outskirts of the city. Years ago, when Ethan needed money for his startup, Gran had secretly pawned her cherished family heirlooms to give him cash. Back then, Ethan had held her hand with tears in his eyes, promising to treat her like his own flesh and blood. But once Hale Tech took off, his visits to the care facility dwindled to zero. The sweet “Gran” he used to call her became a cold, formal “Mrs. Ruth.” Before the towel on my wrist could even cool down, the wooden door of the garage was pushed open. Ethan walked in. His expensive designer suit looked incredibly out of place in this dusty, rusted space. “Iris, why did you leave without saying anything? You left me standing in the hallway like an idiot,” Ethan sat on a wooden stool, his patience wearing thin. I turned away and didn’t answer, continuing to apply pressure to my wrist. Ethan sighed, his tone softening slightly. “Once the Sterling Group’s investment clears, I’ll buy you a luxury penthouse overlooking Central Park. You won’t have to stay in this damp, depressing dump anymore.” I looked at him calmly. “Are you done?” “You’re always like this. You can’t even say one nice thing,” Ethan muttered, shaking his head. “I’m having a demolition crew come tomorrow to tear this garage down. Chloe’s new car keeps getting scratched in the public parking lot, and she’s complained to me several times. I’m going to build a private garage for her here. It’s not like we use this space anyway.” Tear down the garage. Tear down the place where we built everything, just to give Chloe a private parking space. I didn’t argue. I stood up, walked to the old desk, pulled open the bottom drawer, and took out the deed to the property. I walked back and threw it on the table in front of him. “Take it,” I said, looking at the paper. “Tell them they can tear it down tomorrow.” Ethan stared at the deed, a flash of panic crossing his eyes. My absolute willingness to let it go made him feel like he was losing his grip on me. To hide his unease, his voice turned cold. “Iris, everything I do is for our future, and yet you’re throwing a tantrum over this old garage. If you leave me, how do you expect to survive on your own?” Building a parking spot for another woman was “for our future”? The excuse was so ridiculous it was almost funny. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to defend myself. I didn’t care about his opinion anymore. Suddenly, Ethan’s phone rang. It was Chloe again. He answered, and Chloe’s hysterical crying filled the quiet garage. “Ethan… someone trashed my car! The windows are shattered and the paint is completely ruined right outside the old street… I’m so scared, please come…” Ethan’s expression changed instantly. He glared at me, his eyes sharp. He snatched the deed from the table, stood up, and rushed out. “I have to go. We’ll finish this later!” The door slammed shut. The rain outside grew heavier, pounding against the old glass windows. Twenty minutes later, the door was kicked open with a deafening bang. Ethan stormed back in, soaked to the skin, his suit dripping rainwater onto the floor. His eyes were bloodshot as he glared at me, his voice shaking with rage. “Iris! How could you be so disgusting?!” *** #### Chapter 4: Iris’s POV “Chloe’s car is completely destroyed, and the security footage shows your Gran was at the scene!” Ethan roared, grabbing my collar and slamming me hard against the metal shelving. “I get that you hate Chloe, but using a sick old lady who just had heart surgery? You actually manipulated her into going out in a storm to trash Chloe’s car?!” My back hit the metal shelf hard, sending a sharp, clattering sound through the garage. My mind went completely blank. Gran… she had suffered an episode. She must have wandered out of the care facility in her hospital gown, walking all the way back to the old garage in the pouring rain. As Ethan shoved me, I instinctively used my left hand to shield myself. My wrist joint popped with a sickening crack, and a wave of agony washed over me, making me gasp for air. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My face turned pale as my fingers trembled, but I didn’t make a sound. Ethan glanced at my shaking wrist, his brow furrowing, but his voice remained accusatory. “Stop acting. I’m sick of your guilt trips. You are going to apologize to Chloe today, or else!” I squeezed my throbbing wrist, barely able to breathe through the pain. At that exact second, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was an urgent text from Gran’s nurse at the care facility: *[Miss Iris! It’s terrible! A group of men just showed up and dragged your Gran out of her room! They said she destroyed private property and took her to confront the owner!]* Before I could even process the pain in my wrist, I shoved Ethan aside and sprinted out of the garage. The rain was blinding. When I finally reached the private car wash Chloe had specified, I could hear the loud hum of a pressure washer from a distance, accompanied by Chloe’s soft, cruel laughter. “Spray some more cold water. Let’s see if that wakes the old woman up. Breaking someone’s car and not even apologizing… how pathetic.” Inside the damp, concrete car wash, Gran was shivering in her thin hospital gown, pinned down onto a metal chair by two of Ethan’s security guards. The high-pressure cold water hose was pointed directly at her fragile face. The poor old woman was shaking violently, her lips blue, barely able to breathe as she whimpered in pain. “Stop it!” I lost my mind and charged forward. But before I could reach her, an arm blocked me. Ethan stood firmly in front of Chloe, his face tense. “Iris, calm down! Chloe was just upset. Your Gran was the one who trashed the car. Chloe deserves an explanation. Once this is sorted, I’ll have someone take her back.” Rain and sweat mixed on my face. I ignored Ethan and looked past his shoulder at the shivering old woman. “An explanation?” My voice was so hoarse it barely sounded human. I stared at Ethan, my eyes filled with absolute despair. “Ethan, when you were broke and crying in her arms, what did you call her? You called her Gran. And now you call her ‘the old woman’?” Ethan flinched, a deep wave of shame crossing his eyes. Chloe hid behind Ethan, pulling at his sleeve, crying like a victim. “Ethan… I didn’t want to hurt her. She used her cane to scratch my car first… I just wanted to ask her why…” Under everyone’s shocked gazes, I walked forward, ripped the pressure hose from the guard’s hand, and threw it to the ground. I pulled my semi-conscious Gran into my arms. Her body felt like ice. I wrapped her in my heavy coat, hoisted her onto my back, and walked out into the storm. There were no cabs in sight in the midnight storm. My Gran’s body temperature was dropping rapidly, and the shattered bones in my left wrist ground against each other with every step I took. Every step felt like walking on broken glass. I fell several times, scraping my knees until they bled, but I held onto her with everything I had. When I finally stumbled through the doors of the emergency room, I collapsed onto the cold tile floor. I used my good right hand to grab a nurse’s scrubs, begging, “Please… save my grandmother… please…” The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital blurred in my vision, and my left arm hung limply by my side, swollen and turning an angry shade of purple. *** #### Chapter 5: Iris’s POV The hospital room was dead silent. I leaned weakly against the glass window of the ICU, my eyes locked on the fragile old woman hooked up to countless machines. The doctor had just pulled me aside. Gran was suffering from severe hypothermia, which had triggered acute heart failure alongside a severe lung infection. Even with ICU care, she was on life support. My swollen right hand gently held my deformed left wrist, which was throbbing with excruciating pain. But I couldn’t feel it. The pain inside my chest was far worse. “Iris, enough is enough. I had to call the care facility just to find you here.” At the end of the hallway, Ethan appeared, holding a basket of expensive fruits and imported ginseng. “Chloe was just emotional. She’s young and reckless, and I already scolded her. I had my assistant pay for the hospital bills and the future recovery fees. Let’s drop this. Stop holding a grudge and come home with me.” I didn’t even turn around. I kept staring at Gran through the glass, my voice barely a whisper. “Okay.” I didn’t even bother to explain myself. I knew that the federal annulment would take effect in exactly ten days. Right now, all I wanted was for Gran to stabilize so I could take her to London and leave this toxic city forever. Ethan assumed I was submitting to him like I always did. He smiled in relief and reached out to pat my head. “That’s my girl. Once I’m done with the Sterling project, we’ll bring Gran home together.” I flinched away from his touch, closing my eyes. Seeing that I was unresponsive, Ethan muttered a few words and left. But I had underestimated how truly evil those two could be. They had no bottom line. Two days later, I was walking back from the pharmacy with a new prescription. When I reached the ICU, the hallway was in total chaos. Several doctors and security guards were wheeling Gran’s bed toward the elevator. My heart stopped. I ran forward, blocking the bed. “What are you doing?! She’s in critical condition! She can’t be moved!” The nurse looked away guiltily, her eyes red. “Miss Iris, I’m so sorry… Mr. Hale gave the order. We have to take her to the VIP wing. Miss Chloe had a boating accident and is suffering from severe internal bleeding. The blood bank is out of her rare blood type, and your grandmother is the only match in the database…” It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck my skull. “She just came out of cardiac arrest! If you draw her blood now, you’ll kill her!” I screamed, using my body to shield the bed. Just then, Ethan’s heavy footsteps echoed from the elevator. He walked over with a cold, hardened expression and shoved me aside. “Iris, stop throwing a fit!” Ethan’s voice was filled with annoyance. “Marcus only has one sister left. I cannot let her die! Your Gran is just donating a little blood. It won’t kill her. I asked the doctors—as long as we control the amount, she’ll be fine. If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility!” “Responsibility? How can you possibly take responsibility?!” I grabbed his sleeve, my eyes bloodshot. “Ethan, look into your heart! How did my Gran treat you when you had nothing?!” “Iris, we don’t have time for this!” Ethan’s face darkened completely. He waved his hand to the guards and doctors, his voice cold and final. “Take the old lady up. Move the cardiology team to the VIP wing to assist with Chloe’s surgery!” “Ethan—!!” My scream echoed down the corridor, but my shattered left hand had no strength. I could only watch as they wheeled Gran into the elevator. Ethan didn’t even look back as he disappeared into the VIP wing with the medical team. The ICU hallway fell into a terrifying silence. Every single on-duty doctor and nurse had been pulled away by Ethan’s orders. An hour later, the heart monitor inside the ICU emitted a long, flat, piercing tone. *BEEEP—* That sound felt like a cold blade slicing through my chest. I burst into the ICU room like a madwoman. No doctors. No nurses. The sterile room was empty, save for the cold machine screaming its flatline tone. I stumbled to the bedside and collapsed to my knees. “Gran…” I reached out with my trembling right hand, grabbing her frail, cold hand. The hand that had held mine as I grew up was rapidly losing its warmth, turning stiff. Gran’s right arm was covered in horrific, dark purple bruising from the aggressive, excessive blood draw. The needle mark still had a trace of dried, dark red blood. “Gran… open your eyes and look at me… we’re going to London… we’re leaving…” Tears poured down my face, splashing onto her lifeless cheek. I pressed my forehead against hers, trying to warm her cold skin with my own body, but there was only the chill of death. The grief trapped in my throat turned into silent, suffocating sobs. The only person in this world who had loved me unconditionally was dead—abandoned in an empty room without a single doctor. And the man who had drained her blood was the very same man I had supported with seven years of my youth. In the suffocating silence, the phone in my pocket lit up. I unlocked it with numb fingers. It was a photo from Ethan. He was sitting by Chloe’s luxurious VIP bed, holding her hand with absolute tenderness. Beneath the photo, there was a text: *[Iris, Chloe is out of danger. I’ve sent the best organic supplements to your Gran’s room. Once I’m done here, we’ll bring her to our new home.]* I stared at the screen, my tears mixing with the blood on my hands, dripping onto the sterile white sheets. A broken, hollow laugh escaped my throat. “Haha… Hahaha…” Ethan, our debts are settled.

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The day my mother died of a hemorrhage while giving birth to my little brother. My wealthy biological father was too busy pampering his mistress. He pulled every OB-GYN from the wing just to treat her mild migraine. That night, my mother and my unborn brother died on the operating table. Shortly after, the mistress framed me and had me thrown out of the house. Twenty years later, I am now the CEO of a billion-dollar conglomerate. And the mistress’s daughter, who helped ruin my mother’s life, has ended up as an intern at my company. On the day the return offers were announced, everyone assumed she had it in the bag. But in front of the entire boardroom, I calmly slid the termination letter across the table. “Amber Harrison, you didn’t pass.” The room fell silent instantly. The other four interns, holding their official contracts, stood frozen. They looked at Amber, completely lost. My assistant was stunned too. Standing beside me, he frantically tried to catch my eye. “Ms. Vance…” I ignored him, my eyes locked calmly on the girl sitting across from me. She looked so much like her mother. The same pretty face, the same clever eyes, and that sense of entitlement. Out of everyone in the room, Amber was the only one who didn’t panic. She was startled for a fraction of a second, but she quickly regained her composure. Slowly, she opened her leather portfolio and spread her performance reviews across the mahogany desk. “Ms. Vance, I’ve interned here for three months. I managed four projects, two of which I ran entirely on my own, with a one hundred percent client satisfaction rate.” Her tone was polite but firm, highly professional. “My quarterly evaluations have been perfect for two consecutive rounds. My sales numbers are the highest among all the interns.” She paused, looking up to meet my eyes. “If you are rejecting me, I deserve a reason.” She tilted her chin up slightly. There was no vulnerability in her eyes, only the controlled indignation of someone who believed they were untouchable. That kind of confidence came from her bones. It was the kind of arrogance only a spoiled, wealthy girl with a perfect, loving family could possess. I leaned back in my leather chair, watching her for a long moment before speaking. “I don’t need a reason.” Amber’s face tightened. “This is my company. I want you gone. It’s that simple.” Her perfect composure finally began to crack. Her face flushed, but she quickly forced a cold sneer. “Ms. Vance, this is workplace bullying.” She snapped her portfolio shut, her voice dropping to a icy whisper. “If I leak this to the press, I’m afraid it won’t look good for Vanguard Tech’s reputation.” I smiled. “I’m not bullying you.” I looked at her, my face completely expressionless. “If you think this is bullying, maybe the problem is you. Truly talented people never feel targeted. Only those with a guilty conscience do.” At those words, Amber’s expression completely changed. She was finally losing her temper. My assistant whispered anxiously in my ear. “Ms. Vance, shouldn’t we reconsider this? Amber’s performance has been flawless. Plus, the board ran a background check. Her father is the CEO of the Harrison Group.” “Richard Harrison.” I raised a hand to cut him off, keeping my eyes locked on Amber. “That’s your father, right?” Amber blinked, then raised her chin even higher, clearly proud of her family name. “So, Ms. Vance has heard of my father.” Her voice was dripping with smug confidence. “Since you know who he is, you should also know that keeping me here would secure a massive partnership between Vanguard and Harrison Group in the future.” She spoke with absolute certainty. Over the past twenty years, although the Harrison Group had passed its prime, it was still a powerful old-money giant. To a normal company, their business was a dream. “No, thank you.” Amber froze. “I don’t need anything from the Harrison Group.” I pushed the termination letter closer to her. “Now, pack your things and get out.” Amber completely lost it. Her face flushed bright red, not from shame, but from pure rage. She had been a princess her entire life. She had never been publicly rejected like this. “Fine.” She glared at me with pure hatred, snatching the letter off the table. “I’ll remember this, Ms. Vance. I hope you won’t regret it.” After she stormed out, I dismissed the other four interns. My assistant was still panicking, desperately trying to talk some sense into me. “Ms. Vance, why did you do that? The Harrison Group still holds massive market resources. Publicly firing Richard Harrison’s daughter is not a smart business move!” “Are you done?” My voice was dead cold. The assistant immediately shut his mouth. “Copy every single project file Amber touched during her internship and bring them to my office.”

In the afternoon, right after my assistant delivered the files, my office door was slammed open. I looked up. A meticulously preserved woman in a classic Chanel suit marched in, her high heels clicking loudly against the hardwood floor. The diamond ring on her finger was blindingly large. Her makeup was so heavy you couldn’t tell her real age. Victoria Sterling. Twenty years had passed, and she was living like a queen. “Are you the owner of this company?” She sat down across from me, tossing her Hermès Birkin bag onto my desk like it was trash. “Who gave you the right to fire my daughter?” I ignored her, calmly picking up my mug to pour myself a fresh cup of coffee. “Mrs. Harrison, you still have quite the mouth on you. It seems you’ve been living comfortably all these years.” Victoria paused. She stared at my face for a few seconds. But she didn’t recognize me. Of course she didn’t. Twenty years ago, I was just a scrawny six-year-old child whom she banished from her sight with a single lie. Now that I was the powerful CEO of a billion-dollar company, how could she connect me to that miserable little girl? She assumed I knew her only because of her husband’s status. “Since you know who I am, let’s not waste time,” Victoria said, her voice dripping with the casual condescension of someone used to getting her way. “Amber is my daughter. Working at your little tech startup is a favor to you. Honestly, with her talent, a regular position is insulting. Make her a department director immediately.” I smiled faintly. “Does she deserve it?” Victoria’s face twisted. “What did you say?!” I set my mug down and looked her dead in the eye. “I said, she doesn’t deserve it.” Victoria bolted upright, her face turning pale with rage. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you! My daughter working here is a blessing for you. Do you have any idea how many projects the Harrison Group controls?” “With one word from my husband, we could give you enough business to feed this company for a lifetime!” Watching her ugly, arrogant face, I couldn’t help but wonder. Did she have this exact same expression when she threatened my mother to sign the divorce papers twenty years ago? “I’m sorry, but I have no interest in the Harrison Group.” I pressed the intercom button on my desk. “Security, get up here.” Two security guards entered the office and grabbed Victoria by her arms. Her eyes widened in absolute shock. She clearly never expected anyone would dare to touch her. Suddenly, the office door was kicked open again. A tall, skinny young man rushed in. He looked to be in his early twenties, dressed head-to-toe in expensive streetwear. He pointed a finger directly at my face and screamed. “Who the hell do you think you are, putting your hands on my mother? I’ll have my dad shut this pathetic company down by tomorrow!” I stared at his angry, youthful face. His eyes and jawline were a carbon copy of Richard Harrison. Suddenly, a memory flashed in my mind. That rainy night twenty years ago, when I lost my mother and my unborn baby brother. If that baby had survived, he would have been exactly this boy’s age. “Is this your son?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly. “Of course,” Victoria sneered, straightening her suit. “This is Jack, Richard’s only son.” I stared at the two of them, and then, I laughed. “Perfect.” I stood up and looked at Jack. “Go back and tell your father. Tell him I’m waiting to see how he plans to shut me down.” The security guards dragged them both out. I sat back down, picked up my lukewarm coffee, and drank the entire cup. I knew this was just the beginning.

After throwing them out, I gave my assistant another task. “Find out everything you can on Jack Harrison. I want every single detail.” An hour later, a file was placed on my desk. Jack Harrison. Twenty-one years old. A college senior. Currently interning at the local TV network. What a coincidence. The TV network? I stared at the file for a long time before picking up my phone. The call was answered almost instantly. “Sera? Why are you calling me now? I thought you said you were swamped today.” Hearing Marcus’s voice, I fell silent for a few seconds. He was my boyfriend, and also the executive producer at that exact TV network. I didn’t want to drag him into my dark past. But he was the only one who could help me with this. “Do you have an intern at your station named Jack Harrison?” “Yeah,” Marcus answered quickly. “I heard he’s the heir to the Harrison Group. Why? Do you know him?” I hesitated, but finally, I made my demand. “I don’t want to see him there anymore. Can you fire him?” Marcus went quiet on the other end. He knew me. He knew I was never unreasonable or petty. “Sera, what happened?” “Nothing,” I whispered, not wanting him to know the painful details of my childhood yet. “I just really dislike the Harrison family.” Marcus didn’t push. He just gave me a firm, comforting answer. “Okay. Consider it done.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, a wave of warmth rushing through me. “I’ll pick you up from the station tonight.” After work, I drove to the TV station. As soon as I got out of my car, I saw Jack being held back by two security guards, screaming curses at the top of his lungs. “On what grounds are you firing me? Just because I yelled at a coworker? I’m telling you, my dad is Richard Harrison! If you mess with me, you’re messing with the entire Harrison Group!” A manager was standing nearby, trying to calm him down. “Mr. Harrison, please calm down. You physically assaulted a colleague. We are just following company policy…” “Policy? I am the policy! If you don’t fire that loser and make him apologize to me on his knees, I’ll ruin this entire station!” Just then, Marcus walked out of the building. He spotted me immediately and walked straight toward me, naturally taking my hand. “Have you been waiting long?” “No, I just got here.” I smiled at him. Jack caught sight of us. When he saw how close Marcus and I were, his eyes flared with understanding. “You bitch! It was you! Firing my sister wasn’t enough, so you had your boyfriend fire me too?!” He broke free from the guards and charged at me with his fist raised. Marcus’s face darkened instantly. He stepped in front of me, shielding me, and delivered a swift, hard kick to Jack’s stomach. Jack collapsed, groaning. “Get him away from here,” Marcus ordered the guards, his voice dangerously low. The two security guards grabbed Jack and dragged him away. “You’re dead!” Jack screamed as they dragged him down the street. “My dad is going to destroy you! Just you wait!” Marcus turned to me, his eyes full of concern. “Richard Harrison is one of the most powerful men in this city, Sera. What is going on?” I shook my head, keeping my lips sealed. That night, my phone rang. It was an unrecognized number, but the voice was deeply familiar. It was Richard Harrison. Twenty years. Hearing his voice again made my heart stop for a agonizing second.

“Are you Sera Vance, the CEO of Vanguard Tech?” On the other end of the line, his voice was heavy with arrogance. “I am.” “Who gave you the permission to mess with my kids?” I let out a dry laugh. “Mr. Harrison, are you confused? Compared to Vanguard, your company is practically a relic of the past. Why would I waste my time targeting a failing business?” “You arrogant brat!” My words completely set him off. He had probably never been spoken to like this by a younger professional in his life. I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing over the line. “Fine! Very good! Let’s see how long your precious Vanguard can survive after tonight!” “I’ll be waiting,” I said quietly, and hung up. Richard moved fast. The next morning, my assistant burst into my office, holding his iPad. His face was pale. “Ms. Vance, you need to see this!” Trending at number three on Twitter was: #VanguardTechCEOScandals. I scrolled down. Several media accounts had posted long articles claiming that a woman in her early twenties couldn’t possibly become a CEO without a wealthy sugar daddy. Then, they posted several threads hinting that Vanguard’s core technology was stolen, claiming our success was built entirely on fake marketing. “Ms. Vance, several of our key partners are calling,” my assistant’s voice shook. “If we don’t handle this, they might pull their funding.” Before I could speak, there was a frantic knock on the door. A PR coordinator ran in with her laptop open. “Ms. Vance, Amber Harrison just posted a video on TikTok!” I grabbed the laptop. In the video, Amber was sitting in front of the camera, looking professional and polished. She displayed her project reports one by one. “These are the projects I completed during my internship at Vanguard Tech. I poured my heart into them, and my metrics were the highest. But Ms. Vance terminated me without any explanation.” She paused, her eyes turning red and tearing up. “Later, I found out that two of the male interns had private meetings with Ms. Vance. I don’t want to make assumptions, but the facts speak for themselves.” At the end of the video, she posted a comparison of her metrics versus one of the male interns who got the job. The caption read: What did I do wrong? My assistant slammed his fist on the desk. “This is absolute garbage! That male intern was working on backend infrastructure! He didn’t even have client-facing metrics!” The PR director wrung his hands in panic. “Ms. Vance, public opinion is completely against us. Everyone is calling us a toxic workplace. Should we release a statement?” I nodded slowly. “Yes. We definitely need to release a statement.” But I didn’t release a clarification. Instead, I filed a lawsuit against Amber Harrison for defamation and corporate slander. My retaliation pushed the Harrisons over the edge. Within hours, Richard Harrison contacted a major TV network and arranged a live-streamed debate. He publicly challenged me to go head-to-head with him on air. I was about to accept when Marcus stormed into my office, stopping me. “Sera, don’t go. Richard bought off the media. The host, the guest panel, they are all on his payroll. It’s a trap. The moment you step on that stage, they will tear you apart live.” I listened quietly, then looked up at him. “Marcus, can you get control of the broadcasting booth?” He blinked, surprised. “I can do that, but…” “That’s all I need.” I unlocked my phone and sent a message back to Richard Harrison. “I’ll see you there.” I put my phone down, walked into the executive bathroom, and looked at myself in the mirror. I was wearing a sharp, charcoal-grey pantsuit. I stood tall and proud. Twenty years. From the night my mother died until today, I had been waiting for this exact moment. I looked at my reflection and whispered, “Mom, the day is finally here.”

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