Author: Momo Chan

As I was trying on wedding dresses, my best friend, Jennie, told me she had a huge surprise for me. I asked if she’d won the lottery. She said it was even more exciting than winning five million. Curious, I went to find her. I had just pulled up to her apartment building and was about to get out of the car when a barrage of text scrolled across my vision, flickering wildly: 【Don’t get out of the car! Her “surprise” is that she found the daughter you were forced to have when you were kidnapped.】 【If you get tangled up with that little monster, you’ll be dragged back to the mountains! They’ll beat you to death in a cellar!】 1 The message left me stunned for a full minute, until Jennie started spamming me with voice messages. 【Hailey, are you not upstairs yet?】 【Seriously, I’ve run myself ragged these past few days getting this wedding gift ready for you, and you’re dragging your feet. Are you trying to insult all my hard work?】 Jennie whined dramatically. The familiar, affectionate tone was enough to convince me that I must have been seeing things. It was just me scaring myself. Jennie would never be that kind of person. The text on my internal screen flared up again, frantic this time: 【You poor, naive girl, get a clue! She’s a manipulative witch. She’s been green with envy ever since she found out you were marrying a rich heir.】 【She found this little girl to mess with you!】 【The worst part is, the girl is bait! Her human trafficker father is hiding nearby, waiting for you to fall into the trap so he can drag you back to the mountains to bear him a son!】 My face went pale, and I sank back into the driver’s seat. If what the text said was true, this wasn’t about whether I trusted Jennie anymore. It was about the possibility of being kidnapped again. I couldn’t afford to take any chances. The stakes were too high. Jennie called, and I ruthlessly declined it, sending a quick text back: 【Something came up. I’m not there yet.】 I needed to buy some time. I could go to the security booth at the gate and ask if Jennie had really brought a little girl home. But the text stopped me again: 【Don’t get out! Your backstabbing friend is downstairs waiting to ambush you! If you get out now, she’ll catch you red-handed.】 Jennie was downstairs?! I peered through the car’s tinted windows and, sure enough, I saw her weaving between the parked cars, searching. After checking a license plate, she would press her face against the glass, trying to see inside. A sense of unease washed over me. I had clearly told her I wasn’t there yet. Why was she being so pushy? It wasn’t like she was hunting a criminal. The text chimed in: 【Because she knows you’re already here.】 【You forgot, didn’t you? Before you left, she specifically asked you to share your location.】 I slapped my forehead and quickly found the location-sharing app to turn it off. The text then advised me to put my phone on silent, which I did. But a deep sense of dread remained. All signs pointed to something being very wrong with Jennie. The truth didn’t even matter anymore; I just had to get out of there. Fortunately, I had been out with a coworker and was driving her car. Jennie didn’t know I was in this vehicle. I was about to quietly start the engine and leave when the text flashed a red exclamation point: 【Too late! The area is swarming with tabloid reporters and bloggers, all here for the big scoop: ‘Mountain Girl’s Tearful Reunion with Long-Lost Mother.’】 【Your “friend” planned this all along. No matter what, she’s going to force you to acknowledge this daughter today!】 【Only by forcing a reunion can she nail you to the pillar of shame for being kidnapped and defiled.】 It was true. I could never acknowledge a child forced upon me by a human trafficker. Jennie must have known that. That’s why she’d tipped off the media, to use public pressure to force my hand. The text, seeing that I finally understood, started offering advice. 【For now, just stay hidden. Without you, the show can’t go on.】 “Jennie, what is this big surprise you have for me?” I typed, my hands trembling as I huddled under the dashboard. Seeing my response, Jennie immediately tried to video call. I declined and told her to text me. 【If I tell you, it won’t be a surprise anymore. I can only promise that you’ll love it. Where are you? I’m coming down to get you.】 “Just tell me, is it something to eat, wear, or use?” 【Eat,】 she replied instantly, then immediately retracted the message and sent a new one: 【Oh, just stop asking! I told you, it’s a surprise. Don’t spoil the fun.】 I closed my eyes. The text was right. I’d been on a strict diet for the wedding. I had zero interest in food. Jennie was lying. 2 There was a reason I didn’t want to doubt Jennie. In my junior year of high school, I was kidnapped. And I gave birth to a daughter. Because I was a minor, the only people who knew besides the police and my family were Jennie, my neighbor and best friend. During the year I took off from school, she was by my side. She even held herself back a year so we could graduate together. She knew better than anyone how much I loathed human traffickers, how desperately I wanted to forget that horrific experience. So how could she, without a word, bring that child here and expect me to acknowledge her? For me, this wasn’t a surprise; it was a nightmare. To pull this stunt the day before my wedding, to lure me here and arrange for the media to be present… she was leaving me no way out. The text chimed in again: 【Your best friend has been trying to steal your fiancé for ages. After he rejected her, she never gave up. She’s been looking for a way to ruin things for you.】 【Then she stumbled upon the little girl’s ‘looking for mom’ post online and knew she had the perfect way to torment you.】 【That kid has been raised to be a monster. If you soften up and take her in, you’re finished.】 【Hang in there, Hailey. When the traffickers can’t find you, your “friend” will have to deal with the consequences of her actions. See if she’s so quick to play ‘find my mommy’ for someone else again.】 【Exactly! Don’t you dare give in. In the other version, after you die, your parents adopt Jennie. Then she seduces your brother and lives a cushy life in your family’s home.】 So, the text had already seen another version of this story. One where Jennie’s plan succeeded, and my compassion led me to acknowledge the child. She got me killed, then took my place, winning my parents’ affection, marrying my brother, and living happily ever after? As much as I didn’t want to believe I could be so foolish, so weak… without the text, I never would have suspected Jennie. And then all of this… I shook my head, trying to banish the terrifying thoughts. I knew what would happen. I would not let myself be chained to the floor naked again, eating spoiled food, stripped of all dignity day after day. Jennie finally found my car. After checking the license plate, she pressed her face against the window like a pancake, trying to see inside. 3 By now, I had quietly crawled into the trunk space of the six-seater electric car. Thank God for my coworker’s vehicle and its privacy curtains on the third-row windows. Jennie could stare until her eyes popped out, and she wouldn’t see me. She seemed tired of searching. Leaning against the car to catch her breath, she sent me a voice message: “Hailey, what are you doing? Come on out. I know you’re here.” I carefully shielded the light from my phone with my clothes and texted back, “The wedding planner had an emergency. I’ve already left your complex.” That seemed to do the trick. Jennie kicked the car door in frustration, her anger palpable. My heart jumped with the impact. “What rotten luck! Well, how soon can you get back? I’ll wait for you. I’m not leaving until I see you,” she cooed, her voice laced with a pouty disappointment, as if she were still my sweet, considerate friend who would never get angry with me. If only she hadn’t followed it up with another hard punch to the car window. So many years of blindness. Only now did I see her for the two-faced person she truly was. “Ruby, you can stop hiding! Come on out!” “Aunt Jennie, didn’t you say you had a way to make her acknowledge me today? Does she hate me?” A girl’s voice, unfamiliar and sharp with a thick, rural accent, approached the car. The kind of voice that belonged to a defiant, difficult child. Then, several other sets of footsteps closed in. “What the hell? This was supposed to be a mother-daughter reunion. Where is she? I can’t interview a ghost.” “I’m not waiting anymore. Just give me the woman’s info. I’ll expose her. A lovesick fool who abandons her own child. We’ll ruin her reputation.” “Then she’ll have to acknowledge the kid. The public outrage will bury her.” Jennie’s voice cut in, impatient. “Quiet down! We can’t let this get too big. Her parents and future in-laws are not people you want to mess with. We just need to handle her. She’s timid and soft-hearted. When she sees how pathetic Ruby is, she’ll definitely take her in.” It seemed Jennie had painted me as a selfish, heartless mother to get these people on board. Of course. If she’d told them the truth, who would help the child of a human trafficker stage a grand, public reunion? Another male blogger, hot-tempered and self-righteous, spoke up. “I can’t stand irresponsible women like her. You may be scared of her family, but I’m not. Let’s see them try to shut me up for telling the truth.” “Yeah, let’s just expose her! See if she dares to not acknowledge the kid then!” “A woman like that doesn’t deserve any respect!” With one person leading the charge, the others chimed in. Ruby’s tearful voice joined the chorus. “Thank you, uncles and aunts. I know you’re just trying to help, but I don’t want to make my mommy angry. Please, just leave her alone.” “Exactly,” Jennie said, taking the moral high ground. “You all get your moment of glory by exposing her, but what happens if she’s pushed too far? What if she acknowledges Ruby and then abuses her? Can you take responsibility for that?” Ruby sobbed, “Please, I’m begging you, just wait for my mommy. I know she’s not the person you think she is.” Their little performance quickly quelled the brewing storm. “Now, all of you, go hide,” Jennie commanded. “Don’t scare her off again.” The text on my screen was practically vibrating with rage: 【Here we go again. I hate it when this little monster fakes crying and plays the victim. She’s just like her grandmother—a master of manipulation and deceit.】 【Did you see that? While she was hiding behind that tree, she was pinching herself, leaving bruises all over, just so you’d feel sorry for her.】 【You, in your kindness, acknowledged her, wanting to give her a better life. And in return, she conspired with her trafficker father to kidnap you from your own home.】 【She has no empathy. She used to clap and cheer when she saw the other kidnapped women in her village being beaten. I think she’s a sociopath.】 【What really gets me is that she told the police, with a straight face, that the disobedient women deserved to be beaten to death.】 【But I think the “friend” is even worse. To get involved with a human trafficker over a bit of jealousy… as a woman, how could she be so cruel?】 The horrifying words on the screen made me tremble with fury. This Ruby had inherited her father’s cruel, cold-blooded nature, and perhaps even surpassed him. I had already experienced the darkness of humanity once, but today I learned that evil had no bottom. Watching them act out their little play in front of me was sickening. I sent Jennie another message: “I can’t make it today. My mom wants me to stay with her tonight. She’s sad about me getting married.” 4 Outside the car, Jennie stomped her feet in frustration. But she didn’t give up. She said she would wait for me, no matter how late. “Just bring the gift with you tomorrow. That’s it. I’m busy,” I replied firmly. Realizing I truly wasn’t coming, Ruby’s face twisted into a snarl. “That bitch is so much trouble. When my dad gets her, he’ll break her legs first, then chain her up. Let’s see her run then.” Jennie quickly shushed her. “Are you trying to ruin everything? Do you want a mother or not? Remember, in front of her, you have to pretend to hate your dad. Tell her he beats you, that you had no choice but to run away and find her.” A chill ran down my spine. Jennie knew exactly how to manipulate me, how to play on my sympathy. At the same time, I wanted to slap myself. Until a moment ago, I had been making excuses for her, telling myself she was just naive and wanted to help a poor child, that she didn’t understand the true horror of kidnapping. But the truth was, this was a premeditated plot to throw me back into the fire. The realization was a cold blow to the heart. From this moment on, she was no longer my best friend. She was my enemy. The failed plan left Ruby agitated. She kept complaining about Jennie and cursing me. “Ruby, be patient.” Jennie’s fingers drummed on the car door, her mind clearly working. “I’ve been thinking, and Hailey’s reaction today is very strange. I checked her shared location when I came downstairs. It showed she was here. Then, suddenly, she turned it off and said she’d already left the complex. The location sharing is real-time, and this is a one-way street. To leave, she would have had to drive right past me, but no cars have left.” Jennie’s voice dropped. “Keep searching. Go see which cars have a warm hood.” “What about this one? The hood is warm.” Ruby had, at some point, made her way to the front of my car. My heart leaped into my throat. 5 Jennie reached out and felt the hood. “It’s a little warm, but not hot. It’s probably just from the sun.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God she didn’t know much about electric cars and was expecting the heat of a gasoline engine. But then, she let out a slow, calculating smile. “It doesn’t matter. We’ll find her eventually. And on a 100-degree day like this, without the A/C on, I’d like to see how long she can last in there.” Damn it! I suddenly realized my back was soaked with sweat. My attention had been so focused elsewhere, and I’d been so nervous, that I hadn’t noticed the car’s A/C was running out of power. The air was already starting to feel thick and stuffy. A wave of regret washed over me. I wanted to slap myself. I had been too careless, too complacent. I thought that because I was in a new car, Jennie would give up when she couldn’t find me. What if she found me? Facing a well-prepared Jennie who knew all my weaknesses, and a manipulative Ruby playing the victim, I didn’t stand a chance. And with the media here, they would upload the videos immediately, and it would be too late. No, I absolutely could not get out of the car. Just then, the self-righteous male blogger came over to ask for an update. When Jennie told him she was certain I was in one of the cars, he grinned maliciously. “Simple. Electric cars have voice activation. Let me give it a try.” I was filled with a mixture of anger and panic. I curled up tighter, praying that my coworker had changed the wake-up command. The blogger squinted at the car’s logo. “So many new electric brands these days. I don’t even recognize this one.” But then he added, “I’ll just take a picture and search it online.” With the click of his phone’s camera, a bead of sweat rolled down my forehead. My nerves were stretched to their breaking point. “Found it! Let’s give it a try.” I was about to faint from fear. The text on my screen was a chaotic mess of panicked messages. I scanned through them and found a useful one: 【Contact your brother, quick! Last time, he was working nearby. When he heard about you acknowledging the daughter, he rushed right over.】 My hands fumbled as I tried to find my brother’s contact. “Hey, S—” The blogger had started to call out the car’s voice command. My vision went dark. Even if I messaged my brother now, it would be too late. “Hey, what are you doing? Are you the owner of this car?” Suddenly, a security patrol car pulled up, and a guard leaned out, yelling. A savior! I was on the verge of tears. Jennie smiled and walked over. “Oh, Officer Davis, it’s you! Working in this heat? Aren’t your bosses worried about you getting heatstroke?” The guard clearly knew Jennie and they exchanged a few pleasantries. Then he asked again if she was the car’s owner. Jennie put on a worried expression. “Officer, I can’t get a hold of my friend. I’m worried something might have happened to her in the car. I was just trying to see if I could get the window open to help her.” The guard asked, “Are you sure she’s in this car?” “Well, she switched cars today, so I’m not sure which one is hers. Hey, Officer Davis, were you on duty at the main gate about half an hour ago? Did you see this car come in?” It was over. The guard got out of his patrol car, walked over, and took a look. He scratched his head. “Oh, this car. Yeah, I remember it. It’s one of those new luxury electrics. It came in about 30 minutes ago. The driver was a woman.” 6 After the security guard left, Jennie stood by the car, her face grim, not moving. The male blogger was gleeful. “Well, what do you know? After all that searching, she was right under your nose the whole time. Isn’t that a coincidence?” Jennie’s face darkened further. He asked if he should try the voice command now. I clutched my phone, my knuckles white. Jennie didn’t answer him. Instead, she walked to the third-row window and tapped on it. “Hailey, you’re in there, aren’t you? Why did you lie to me? You know how worried I am.” Her voice was flat, but it held a barely suppressed rage. “That b—” Ruby kicked the car door hard. Jennie cut her off. “Mr. Chen, I’d like to talk to her for a minute.” The blogger looked confused, but he moved away. Ruby couldn’t hold it in any longer. “So she was hiding in the car all along, watching us run around like idiots! That bitch did it on purpose! Why are you still being so nice to her, Aunt Jennie?” My disgust for the child grew. Jennie kept tapping on the window and calling me. I stuffed my phone under the seat cushion and let it ring. I didn’t even dare to decline the call. “Hailey, you must have fainted, right? After all, it’s so hot today,” Jennie murmured to herself, staring at the window. Watching her expressionless face, a strange sense of dread washed over me. BANG! The car suddenly lurched. Then came Jennie’s enraged screams. “Hailey, why are you making me do this? If you have a problem, just say it! What’s the point of hiding? Do you enjoy seeing me make a fool of myself? I was trying to do something nice for you, and this is how you treat me?” I almost screamed. My heart was pounding like a drum. For a few seconds, I couldn’t breathe, and my vision went black. When I came to, the car felt like a sealed steam box. I had to tilt my head back and gasp for air, praying that my brother would see my message soon. “Hey, Siri!” she yelled, her voice filled with a desperate, crazed anger. She was done playing games. This was it. My breath caught in my throat as I watched the center console light up, the car’s ambient lighting turning on—but there was no voice response. Seeing a reaction, Jennie stood on her tiptoes, peering through the gap in the window, and yelled louder. After a few more tries, she had Ruby try. “You yell. A child’s voice carries better.” I finally got a clear look at Ruby’s face in the window. It was a chilling echo of that monster from my past. The sight made my stomach turn, and I quickly looked away. “Hey, Siri!” she shrieked, her face contorted, her eyes filled with malice. “Hey, Siri!” Her voice was raw by the time the car finally responded. “Vehicle is locked. This function is unavailable.” “Vehicle is locked. This function is unavailable.” I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. I was starting to feel weak, on the verge of fainting. My brain was being starved of oxygen. “Aunt Jennie, it’s not working! Let’s just smash the window and drag her out!” Ruby started pounding on the car, yelling and screaming. The car’s lights flashed and the alarm blared. Finally, the noise woke up the residents in the building. Windows opened, and people started shouting. “What’s all that noise? Are you trying to wake the dead?” “If you keep hitting that car, I’m calling the police! Who are you people?” Jennie tried her usual excuse, but the angry neighbors weren’t buying it. Some even started throwing water down. “I don’t care! If you’re worried about your friend, call an ambulance! What’s the point of bothering us?” “I’ve had enough of you! I bet you were trying to steal the car, and now you’re just mad you failed.” “You idiots think you can just shout at a car and it will open for you? Get off the internet.” “So brazen, in broad daylight! Thieves these days have no shame!” Jennie and Ruby, already frustrated with me, started yelling back at the neighbors. I was grateful for the distraction, but I was running out of air. My mind was getting fuzzy. Through the haze, I heard a man’s voice, running and shouting. “Jennie! Where’s Hailey? What have you done to her?” 7 The text on my screen was a blur of frantic messages: 【Hang in there, Hailey! Your brother is here! It’s our turn to fight back!】 【Don’t fall asleep! Your brother doesn’t know the real Jennie yet!】 【Wake up and expose her!】 I pinched my thigh, hard. Ouch! Jennie’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered and rushed to take my brother’s arm. “Alex! What could I possibly do to Hailey? I was just worried she might have gotten heatstroke in the car. Why are you—” My brother was about to speak when the trunk of the car popped open, and I tumbled out, my face pale. “Alex—” “Hailey!” He lunged forward and caught me. “It’s the child from the village. Jennie called the media to force me to acknowledge her,” I managed to say before closing my eyes. My brother’s face hardened. Just then, the reporters and bloggers, smelling a story, swarmed toward us. My brother instinctively shielded my face with his hand. “It’s you people! You cornered her car and did this to my sister! If anything happens to her, you’ll all be held responsible!” He wanted to rush me to the hospital. “No, Alex, I can handle it,” I said, forcing my eyes open and grabbing his shirt. We had to clear this up now, before Jennie had a chance to twist the story. “But Hailey—” My brother looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of pity and conflict. I knew what he was worried about, but I nodded firmly. “I’m not afraid, Alex.” Just then, Ruby, trembling, tugged on my brother’s sleeve. “Uncle, my name is Ruby. I’m Mommy’s daughter. I’ve finally found you. I’ve missed you all so much. Mommy, I can do chores, and I don’t eat much. Please don’t send me away.” The media, who had been looking a bit guilty, were now filled with righteous indignation. “We were just trying to help a child find her mother, with the best of intentions. We didn’t know you would be so cruel as to hide from her.” “If you’re going to abandon your child, we’ll get a lawyer for Ruby and sue you for desertion.” The neighbors who had gathered around chimed in. “That’s right! You gave birth to her, you have to acknowledge her!” “Oh, look at that poor child. She’s obviously suffered so much, while they’re all dressed up so nicely.” “They probably just don’t want to be burdened by a child. Young people these days are so selfish. No sense of family, tsk tsk.” At that moment, Jennie, who had been silent, suddenly shouted, “Hailey, I’m sorry!” All eyes turned to her. With tears in her eyes, she looked at me sincerely. “It’s my fault today. I didn’t tell you beforehand, and I almost got you into trouble. But you told me you hated Ruby, that you would never acknowledge her, that sometimes you even wished you could kill her. You said she was your shame, that she ruined your life, that she should never have been born!” As soon as she said that, a chorus of curses erupted from the crowd. Jennie slowly moved closer to us, while my brother, his face a mask of fury, held me and backed away.

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I was selling old books on an app, but I messed up the price and accidentally added a few extra zeros. A second later, a notification popped up. “Your item has been sold for $1.8 million.” Stunned, I contacted the buyer to ask him to request a refund. Then I realized who he was: Thomas Thorne, the heir to a Manhattan empire. His message back was filled with grief. “Do you have anything else of hers? Of Zoe’s? I’ll pay any price.” “She was my late wife.” 1 While moving, I was cleaning out my bookshelf and found a huge stack of old college textbooks. On the principle of not letting a single penny go to waste, I snapped a photo and listed them on a second-hand app for $180. My boyfriend, Alan, laughed, telling me I was desperate for cash. “They’ve updated the curriculum a dozen times since we graduated. Those are basically just recycling. You’d be lucky to get $18, let alone $180. Who’s gonna buy that?” “My youth is priceless,” I shot back. “I’m not selling it cheap.” Truthfully, I didn’t have high hopes. I’d been out of college for seven years, which meant these books were from a decade ago. He was right; they were probably only good for scrap paper. But then, less than three minutes later, my phone buzzed with a notification. The item had been sold. I was ecstatic. I opened the app, my heart pounding. The next thing I saw made me rub my eyes so hard I thought they’d pop out. “Sold for $1.8 million?” What the hell? Did I accidentally set the currency to yen or something? I frantically checked my other listings. The dollar sign was right there, mocking me. Then I remembered. When I was typing in the price, my hand had slipped, and I must have hit the zero key a few too many times without noticing. And the buyer… he must not have looked at the price either. A wave of nausea washed over me. I mean, who buys something without even glancing at the price? He couldn’t tell the difference between $180 and $1.8 million. And how does someone that clueless still have $1.8 million sitting in their bank account? This was just too much. I clenched my fists, took a couple of deep breaths to calm my racing heart, and opened the chat window. I sent the buyer a polite smiley face. “Hi, so sorry, I made a mistake with the price. Could you please request a refund?” He replied instantly. “A mistake? What do you mean? You think it’s too little? Name your price.” I stared at the message. “?” Had the world gone insane? Or had the dollar suddenly become worthless? How could I possibly think $1.8 million was too little? Was this guy even speaking English? I clicked on his profile. The avatar was blank, but his username was three words that made my heart stop: Thomas Thorne. My pulse immediately went into overdrive. 2 Thomas Thorne. The infamous heir to a Manhattan empire. A man so wealthy and handsome he was practically a national treasure. It wasn’t just family money, either. He was brilliant in his own right, having founded a tech company a few years back that went public within a year. At the product launch, he’d stood on stage in a sharp black suit, all long legs and chiseled, icy features, driving the audience wild. People were screaming for him to ditch business and become a movie star. If it was him, then the crazy price suddenly made a twisted kind of sense. Moguls like him operate on a different financial plane. I typed back, my fingers trembling with reverence. “Mr. Thorne, I genuinely listed the price incorrectly.” Thomas: “What was the original price? And do you have anything else that belonged to Zoe?” “I’ll buy everything of hers. You can name whatever price you want.” I stared at the screen, reading his words over and over for three solid minutes. Zoe is me. I am Zoe. But how did that make sense? How could the Thomas Thorne possibly know me? He was a titan of industry, a prince of New York. I was just a nobody from Boston, grinding away at a 9-to-5. Our worlds couldn’t be further apart. When I didn’t reply, a voice message came through. “I’m sorry. I got a little carried away. I hope I didn’t frighten you.” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was heavy with a sorrow that felt gut-wrenchingly real. “Zoe was my late wife. Anything that was hers… it means everything to me. If you have more of her things, I beg you, please sell them to me.” His voice was distinctive—a deep, magnetic baritone with a slight, almost imperceptible East Coast drawl. It was the exact same voice from the news clips. My mind went numb. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my brain felt like it was short-circuiting. My breath hitched, and black spots danced in my vision. Oh my God. What kind of cosmic lottery had I just won? I shared the same name as Thomas Thorne’s deceased wife. 3 Thomas Thorne’s love life was the stuff of legends. He was constantly surrounded by a flock of beautiful women—A-list actresses, heiresses, social media stars—all fighting for his attention. The one everyone thought he’d marry was his childhood friend, Seraphina Vance. She was his equal in every way, from a family just as powerful as his own. Their companies were deeply intertwined, and rumors of an impending merger through marriage were always swirling, causing their stock prices to jump. But then, the unexpected happened. The girl-next-door lost to a complete unknown. Thomas went on a vacation abroad and came back married to a local girl he’d met there. He announced the marriage but refused to name his bride. For months, reporters camped out, trying to get a picture, a name, a shred of background information, but came up with nothing. She was a ghost. Frustrated, they turned to Seraphina. In front of the cameras, she first confirmed that all their friends had, in fact, met Mrs. Thorne. Then, with a sly, pitying smile, she posed a question to the reporters. “Do you hide something you’re proud of?” The media went into a frenzy. The narrative was set: Thomas was hiding his wife because she was an ordinary woman, an embarrassment he couldn’t possibly show off in his glittering world. But that raised the biggest question of all: why did he marry her in the first place? It became the mystery of the year. Theories ran wild. Some said she’d saved his life and was blackmailing him. Others claimed it was a honey trap, that she’d gotten pregnant to force his hand. The most popular theory was that just before his trip, he’d had a massive fight with Seraphina. She had apparently done something unforgivable, and in a fit of rage and spite, Thomas had married the first woman he met. Everything that followed seemed to confirm this. He clearly despised his new wife. He never brought her to public events and refused to even mention her name to the press. At his own birthday gala, when asked to name the most important woman in his life, he’d said Seraphina’s name. Everyone concluded the marriage was a sham. Until three years ago, when Mrs. Thorne died in a car accident. And Thomas Thorne completely lost his mind. 4 His wife’s car had plunged off a bridge into a freezing river. They never even found a body. The police and rescue teams deployed massive resources, but it wasn’t enough for Thomas. In the dead of winter, he ripped off his suit jacket and dove into the icy water himself, searching for her for an entire day. He only stopped when he collapsed from exhaustion and had to be rescued. The moment he woke up in the hospital, he tore out his IV and tried to run back to the river, his eyes bloodshot and wild. His father had to order bodyguards to hold him down. The media swarmed the hospital. The man who had always been the picture of cool, arrogant control was now on camera, struggling against his restraints, his voice raw with anguish, like a cornered, desperate animal. “I have to save her! She’s afraid of the dark! It’s so cold in there… Let me go! LET ME GO!” They had to sedate him. Rumor has it his family kept him under strict watch, and he didn’t appear in public for six months. When he finally re-emerged, he was a different man. The charming, devil-may-care playboy was gone. In his place was a stone-faced, silent figure, his eyes holding nothing but the ashes of a fire long extinguished. People said he had matured. He was now brooding and profound, a tragic figure that was, impossibly, even more captivating. And now, that same captivating voice was filling my phone, laced with an urgent plea. “Please, trust me. I’m not a scammer.” “How did you get her things? Are there more? Can you send me pictures?” To prove his sincerity, he clicked “confirm receipt” on the app. And just like that, I watched as my account balance jumped by $1.8 million. One, eight, and five zeroes. I counted them again and again, then leaped into the air with a shriek of pure joy. Alan was at the door, pulling on his shoes. He raised an eyebrow, surprised by my outburst. “You actually sold them? Look at you, you’re glowing.” He smiled, a wide, happy grin that softened the sharp lines of his handsome face. A few strands of his dark hair danced in the breeze from the open window. My heart melted. “Alan, I’m rich! Listen to me, we’re rich!” I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He grunted, stumbling back against the doorframe, his hands instinctively finding my thighs to steady me. I clung to him like a koala, tilting my head back to kiss his chin. “Alan—” “Zee,” he murmured, his breath a warm sigh against my ear. He bent his head, placing a gentle, restrained kiss on my earlobe. “I have a long day of surgeries. Don’t make me late, okay?” Feeling a certain… reaction against my leg, I blushed and hopped down. “Right, right. Go on, get out of here. I’ll tell you everything when you get back.” “Be good.” He ruffled my hair. “I’ll be home late tonight. I’ll bring you takeout.” Then he grabbed his bag and hurried out the door. 5 My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. It was Thomas, sending a stream of voice messages, desperate to get his hands on my things. From what he was saying, his late wife and I didn’t just share a name—our handwriting was nearly identical. And what did that mean? A windfall. A life-changing, earth-shattering fortune. I shot up from the couch and bolted into my room, pulling out every notebook and piece of paper that had my writing on it. “This page has song lyrics I copied down. Is this okay?” I messaged him. “Yes. What’s your number? I’ll add you directly.” I accepted his friend request on a secure messaging app, and he immediately transferred me $500,000. He wanted the lyric book. My college class notes: $1 million. A handwritten recipe book: $600,000. A journal of quotes from books I’d read: $800,000. … The pile of notebooks on my desk grew taller and taller. I was a whirlwind of frantic energy, tearing through my apartment with a wild, crazed look on my face. I was on the verge of a complete breakdown. In the span of an hour, I had made millions. Thomas Thorne was spending money like it was fake. And he wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, either. My handwriting was similar to his wife’s, sure, but I was selling him my high school yearbooks, for God’s sake. They were filled with messages that clearly stated my school, my class—all proof that I couldn’t possibly be the same person. He didn’t care. Seeing my handwriting was like finding a lifeline. Was he really that desperate to cling to the past, to find comfort in these random objects? No wonder they say true romantics are only found among the ultra-rich. Only someone with his kind of money could afford to be this sentimental. I stared at the long string of numbers in my digital wallet, my mind starting to spin. 6 To be honest, I was broke. Utterly and completely. I’d been in the hospital recently, and it had cost Alan a fortune. He kept telling me not to worry about paying him back, but we were just boyfriend and girlfriend. I couldn’t stand the thought of being a burden. Everyone said I was lucky to be with him. He was a Ph.D. from a top university, the youngest attending cardiac surgeon at a prestigious hospital—brilliant, successful, and devastatingly handsome. After a long day, he’d come straight home and cook my favorite meals. He’d spent years saving up to buy a beautiful condo in a great neighborhood and insisted on putting my name on the deed. The better he was to me, the more I wanted to give him something back in return. With this money, I could buy him everything he ever wanted. But… was this money really mine? Was Thomas drunk? What if he sobered up and demanded it all back? My anxiety spiked. I sent him a nervous message. “Mr. Thorne, I’ll have these shipped to you right away. You… you won’t change your mind, will you?” Thomas: “You’re in Boston?” “I happen to be in Boston for a conference this week. No need to ship them. Just give me an address, and I’ll send someone to pick them up.” “No, no, that’s okay! Are you at your company’s Boston office? I know the address for Thorne Industries. I can just drop them off myself.” After making that much money off him, the least I could do was offer good customer service. He didn’t object. “I’ll be at the office until 10 PM.” “Perfect!” After counting my balance one more time, I excitedly found a cardboard box, packed up all the notebooks, and went downstairs to catch a cab. In the car, my phone rang. It was Mark, Alan’s best friend. “Zoe, my God, you are something else.” He launched into a dramatic tirade, accusing me of being blinded by greed. “A few beat-up books for $1.8 million? Change the price back right now, or I’m going to be in deep trouble.” I knew it instantly. Alan had asked Mark to buy my old books for me, without telling me. Mark’s voice was dripping with mock envy. “He spoils you rotten. You’re so pampered you can’t even type in a price correctly.” “Don’t you dare tell him about this,” he added quickly. “He made me promise not to let you find out.” I burst out laughing. “Well, you might want to take another look. It’s already sold! For the full $1.8 million!” 7 Thorne Industries wasn’t far from my place. The cab ride was short, and I spent it joking with Mark, telling him the whole story. I was careful, though—I only told him about the first $1.8 million, not the millions that came after. Mark came from a wealthy family himself; he wouldn’t get jealous over that amount. But instead of laughing, a shriek came from the other end of the line. “Thomas Thorne?!” Mark’s voice was suddenly tight with panic. “Zoe, go home! Right now!” “You can’t see him!” “Why not? This is $1.8 million! Are you jealous? Don’t worry, I’ll treat you to a nice dinner.” I cradled the box in my arms as I walked into the grand lobby of the Thorne Industries building. The security was tight, and since I didn’t have an employee badge, the receptionist stopped me. Juggling the box, I quickly ended the call with Mark. “I’ll call you back.” After I explained the situation, the receptionist’s eyes widened. She told me to take the express elevator to the top floor, saying Mr. Thorne had already left instructions for me to go directly to his office. She handed me a key card, her voice a mix of awe and curiosity. “Which company are you with? Not just anyone gets to go up to Mr. Thorne’s private floor.” I gave her an awkward smile. She seemed to have a sudden realization. “Oh, you must be with Miss Vance, right?” She waved me towards the elevators. “You’d better hurry up, then. Miss Vance doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Miss Vance… Seraphina Vance? So the tabloids were right. She and Thomas were still incredibly close. I’d heard rumors they were finally getting married, but who knew if it was true. Whatever. None of that had anything to do with me. I just needed to drop off my books and get out. 8 I shook my head, clearing it of gossip, and followed the signs to the restroom first. To be honest, as just a regular person, the thought of meeting the Thomas Thorne was making me a little nervous. I took a few deep breaths and set the heavy box down on the marble countertop. I slipped into a stall and had just closed the door when the sharp click-clack of high heels echoed on the tile floor. A young woman’s impatient voice cut through the silence. “Is he still looking for her? It’s been three years. There’s nothing left but bones by now. What is he even doing?” Another voice, softer and calmer, replied. “Just let him be.” “Seraphina, I just feel so bad for you! You and Thomas have been through so much. For him to keep stringing you along like this… what’s the point?” “That’s enough!” Seraphina’s voice was sharp, cutting off the other woman. “Cassie, this is between us. Stay out of it.” Cassie stomped her foot in frustration. “I just can’t stand him.” “What is wrong with him? When that Zoe was alive, he couldn’t have cared less. Remember that party? When we played that prank on her, he took our side. He even forced her to get on her knees and apologize to you.” “So why, the second she’s dead, does he suddenly decide she was the love of his life? Playing the grieving widower for everyone to see. It’s pathetic.” This Cassie was a real firecracker, rattling off complaints like a machine gun. I listened, completely engrossed. Five years ago, Thomas and Zoe had met in a romantic little town in France. At the time, Thomas’s career was in shambles. He’d made a catastrophic mistake on a major project and had been suspended from all his duties at the company. The project was a collaboration with Seraphina, and when things went south, she’d thrown him under the bus to save herself. Disillusioned and betrayed, Thomas had escaped to France to clear his head. And there, he met the warm, kind-hearted Zoe. It was a whirlwind romance. They fell hard and fast. Fueled by a desire for revenge against Seraphina and his family, and swept up in the intoxicating romance of a foreign land, Thomas proposed. They held a small, private wedding in a beautiful French manor. Cinderella had found her Prince Charming. It was a perfect fairy tale. Until they returned home. The moment her feet touched American soil, Zoe discovered that glass slippers shatter at the stroke of midnight. The sweet promises whispered under rose trellises crumbled into dust in the harsh light of reality. 9 Thomas grew tired of the simple, ordinary Zoe very quickly. She didn’t have a prestigious family name or an Ivy League degree. She didn’t know the first thing about fine jewelry or vintage wines. She was exactly what Seraphina had called her: a pretty, empty-headed doll, completely unfit for his world. He started to resent her. Her very presence was a constant reminder of the foolish mistake he’d made. So he let Seraphina and her friends torment Zoe. At a party, he watched as Cassie deliberately bumped into Zoe, spilling a full glass of red wine down the front of her own dress. Cassie had done it on purpose, but she shrieked and grabbed Zoe, demanding she pay for the ruined couture gown. Zoe’s face was beet red, her eyes wide with panic as she looked to him for help. Thomas turned his head and pretended not to see. Cassie smirked triumphantly. “This dress cost over a hundred thousand dollars! You couldn’t afford it if you sold your soul!” “Pay up now, or I’m calling the police.” Seraphina stepped in, playing the role of the gracious peacemaker. “Now, now, let’s not make a scene. We’re all friends here.” She turned to Zoe, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “How about this, Zoe? You get on your knees and apologize to Cassie, and we’ll call it even. Okay?” Zoe stood frozen, silent as a statue. Cassie kicked the back of her knee. “What are you so proud of? You think your apology is worth that much? If it wasn’t for Seraphina, no one would even bother listening to you.” Zoe stumbled and fell to her knees. Thomas calmly stood up and walked out of the room. Trapped in a world of wealth and power she didn’t understand, the naive young woman was completely defenseless. Reality is not a fairy tale. Cinderella gets her happy ending because she was a count’s daughter to begin with. But Zoe had nothing but a heart full of desperate, misplaced love. Seraphina could humiliate her with the slightest effort. A ruined designer dress, a slashed exotic-skin handbag, a snapped stiletto heel. All so expensive, yet so fragile. Just like Thomas’s love. Zoe could never measure up. 10 Cassie was still ranting. “Some piece of trash anyone could step on, and he’s up there mooning over her memory? What is he, brain-damaged?” “A bitch like that is better off dead. If she were still alive, I’d slap her silly. Doesn’t she know her place?” Lady, what you’re describing is called bullying. I was so angry I couldn’t help but shift my weight. WHOOSH. The automatic toilet flushed loudly. The conversation outside stopped dead. Cassie stormed over to my stall and started banging on the door. “Who’s in there? Spying on me? Get your ass out here right now!” Oh, crap. I hesitated for a second, then plastered a smile on my face and opened the door. “So sorry, I was just using the restroom. I didn’t mean to listen in on your—” “Zoe!” Cassie screamed. She stumbled back, her finger pointing shakily at my face as she turned to Seraphina. “Is that her? Am I seeing things? Seraphina, it’s Zoe!” The color drained from Seraphina’s face, leaving it a ghostly white. She grabbed Cassie’s arm for support, her body swaying as huge tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I knew it… I should have known. Thomas has been acting so strangely all day. So he… you two…” She was babbling, her words dissolving into sobs. Cassie, however, flew into a rage. She swung her heavy designer handbag at my head. “You just won’t die, will you? You damn leech, go to hell!” A primal wave of fear washed over me, so powerful it felt like being plunged into deep water. The world around me blurred, filled with the ghostly images of a mocking crowd. Their whispers and jeers crashed over me like a tidal wave, pulling me under. I couldn’t breathe. Then, a hand reached for me in the darkness. Alan’s gentle smile appeared in my mind. “Zee, don’t be scared. I’m here. No one can hurt you.” “Don’t hide in the closet. Please come out.” 11 When I first woke up in the hospital, for reasons I couldn’t understand, I had a severe stress response. I was terrified of crowds, of loud noises, even of light. I developed a habit of hiding in the closet, curled up in a tight ball. It was Alan who gently took my hand and led me out of the darkness. He told me I wasn’t weak or useless; I was just kind. And kind people, he said, would rather turn the knife on themselves than hurt someone else. Deep down, it was because I felt worthless, unloved—like I was the one who could always be sacrificed. Alan held me and told me, over and over, how much I meant to him. “Zee, you are the most important person in the world to me. When people hurt you, it hurts me, too.” “If your kindness isn’t respected, you have to let it grow thorns. Can you do that for me?” He took me to farmers’ markets and taught me how to haggle, how to argue with vendors. He taught me how to fight back. Sometimes, when we’d have a small disagreement, he would lean in close, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Go on, hit me.” “If you hit me, I’ll do whatever you want.” The first time he provoked me enough that I actually slapped him, he was so thrilled he picked me up and spun me around, promising me a huge reward. I had been trapped in an abyss. It was Alan who, step by step, pulled me out of the mud, nurturing me back to life with his love and encouragement. The Zoe of today was not someone you could just push around. A surge of courage flooded through me, and the suffocating despair vanished like ice in the sun. I let out a yell and threw a hard punch right at Cassie’s face. “Bring it on! Two years of Muay Thai weren’t for nothing, bitch!” Cassie shrieked, blindly swinging her purse. I switched my stance, bobbing and weaving, using her as a human punching bag, just like in the movies. Seraphina stared, stunned. It took her a moment to snap out of it. Her gentle facade crumbled, and she grabbed a broom from a supply closet and charged at me. I used the books from my box as projectiles, launching them at her. Two against one, and I was winning. 12 By the time building security arrived, alerted by the commotion, the scene was chaotic. I had Cassie in a headlock with my left hand, while my right foot was planted firmly on Seraphina’s back. Their perfect makeup was a smeared mess of tears and mascara, their designer dresses were ripped to shreds, and their underwear was showing. One of the guards gasped. “This is… Call the police! No, wait, call Mr. Thorne first. Didn’t he ask for this person to come up?” With security present, I figured I should probably stop fighting. I sheepishly let them go and started picking up the scattered books. “They started it,” I muttered. Seraphina lay on the floor, weeping dramatically. “I knew you were always faking it! I’m going to tell Thomas and expose you for who you really are!” Cassie clutched her bleeding nose and sobbed. “You broke my nose, you bitch! I’ll kill you for this! I’ll kill you!” Over their endless stream of curses, a tall figure appeared, silhouetted against the light at the end of the hall. He was incredibly tall. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit, and his sharp, buzz-cut hair complemented his piercing eyes and strong, sculpted features. He radiated an aura of command, an effortless authority that made you want to look away. My whole body tensed as I lowered my head. He walked right up to me, his shadow falling over me. I tried to explain. “Mr. Thorne, it’s not my fault, she—” The words died in my throat. Because Thomas Thorne bent down and wrapped his arms around me. He held me so tightly I thought my bones would fuse with his. I felt a dampness spreading on my shoulder, soaking through my shirt. My mind went completely blank. Was he… was he crying? “Zoe.” “Zoe.” “Zoe—” His voice was a choked whisper, repeating my name over and over as his entire body trembled.

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I was the definition of the “Unbothered Queen.” When I caught my husband and my best friend in bed together, I didn’t cry, and I didn’t scream. I simply dropped a cold, indifferent line: “You can have him. He’s trash anyway.” My friends praised my dignity. They called me the embodiment of a modern, independent woman—a heroine straight out of a novel. But reality didn’t follow the script of a satisfying revenge story. After a brief storm of public opinion, the two of them simply got married. The following year, my former best friend gave birth to twins—a boy and a girl. My ex-husband’s startup succeeded, and they became the picture-perfect, wealthy family everyone envied. And me? Shortly after the divorce, the facade of strength crumbled. I was consumed by the trauma of betrayal and the humiliation of being discarded. My belief in karma—that good is rewarded and evil punished—shattered. My career tanked, I couldn’t trust anyone to love me, and my life spiraled into the abyss. Living in a constant daze, I was crossing the street one day when a car slammed into me. As I lay dying, my ex-best friend came to visit. She looked at me with a mix of pity and satisfaction. “I knew you always prided yourself on being the ‘cool girl,’ Serena. That’s why I arranged for you to walk in on us that day…” I died swallowing a mouthful of regret and rage. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back at the door of the bedroom. 1 I was lying in the ER, fading fast. Moments ago, the doctor had somberly informed me that my injuries were too severe. There was nothing more they could do. Just as I was thinking, Fine, let it end, the sharp click of high heels echoed on the floor. Lyla walked in. She was dressed in designer silk, her skin glowing with the kind of health that money buys. She looked younger now than she did eight years ago when I caught her in my bed. She looked down at me, shaking her head with feigned sorrow. “Serena, I never thought you’d end up like this.” “Fate is funny, isn’t it? Round and round it goes, and somehow, I’m the one sending you off… Since we’re here, consider this a confession.” I didn’t know why she was here. I wanted to turn my head, to ignore her, but I couldn’t. I was dying. Lyla sat on the edge of my bed, sighing theatrically. “I fell in love with Ethan the moment I saw him.” “But for all those years, I had to watch. I watched you date, watched you marry. I watched your life eclipse mine. You’d buy a bracelet that cost my entire monthly salary without blinking. I couldn’t understand it. We came from similar backgrounds, went to the same schools, had the same looks. Why? Just because you arrived at that coffee shop ten minutes earlier than me, Ethan fell for you instead?” “So, I decided to correct the mistake myself.” “I found a way to get Ethan into bed. But when he woke up, he was so full of regret. He actually paid me to keep it a secret from you. And even though he couldn’t resist the second time, or the third, he hated himself after every single tryst.” She chuckled lightly. “That wouldn’t do, would it?” “I knew your personality. You were the ‘Independent Woman.’ You always said if a man cheated, you wouldn’t be like those desperate women who scream and cry. You’d divorce him immediately and never look back. So, I begged Ethan for one last time… and I made sure you walked in right in the middle of it.” I stared at her, my vision blurring, unable to process the depth of her malice. After the divorce, I realized that the “Cool Girl” persona was just a dam holding back a tidal wave. When it broke, I drowned. The trauma of betrayal by the two people closest to me destroyed my mental health. Watching them thrive—marriage, kids, IPOs—while I couldn’t even design a simple wedding anymore, felt like torture. I thought I was just unlucky. I thought I was weak. I never imagined it was a setup from the start. “Thank you, Serena! You didn’t disappoint. Your pride and your ‘dignity’ gave us dignity. It allowed Ethan and me to bounce back so quickly.” “Of course, I should thank myself, too. I worked hard. I mimicked your mannerisms to please him. I paid people to sabotage your jobs so you’d get fired. And…” She smiled, a cruel, beatific expression. “I went to a sperm bank abroad ahead of time. I picked a donor who looked just like Ethan and got pregnant with twins…” My body was failing, but my eyes snapped wide open. After I divorced him so cleanly, Ethan had refused to let go. He had knelt before me, swearing he only loved me, begging for another chance, promising never to see Lyla again. Until Lyla said she was pregnant with his children. “Anyway, after the twins were born, Ethan treated me better and better. He truly fell in love with me, bit by bit.” “Serena, I finally lived your life. I changed my own destiny with my own hands. The only regret was that no one knew how clever I’d been. Thank God fate gave me this chance to brag before you die. Don’t hold a grudge, okay? Rest in peace.” She stood up gracefully, her face glowing with the thrill of victory. “Oh, you must be wondering why I’m here? My driver was rushing to get to my favorite bakery before it closed. I’d hate for him to feel guilty about hitting you; it was an accident, after all. I’ll pay the compensation, of course. Though, honestly? The price of your life is less than one of my handbags.” She tilted her head, feigning distress. “But… you have no family left. Who do I even pay?” Laughing softly, she turned and clicked her heels out of the room. I died to the sound of my own soul screaming. … When I opened my eyes, I was standing at the door of the second-floor bedroom. Downstairs, I could hear the laughter of our friends. Inside the room, two naked bodies were entangled, the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the air. I froze for two seconds. Then, I raised my hand and slapped myself hard across the face. Sting. It hurt. Good. The next second, I gathered every ounce of air in my lungs and shrieked: “You shameless pieces of trash!” “Ethan! Lyla! You filthy animals!” 2 Two flushed faces whipped around in terror. Ethan saw me, and his pupils contracted to pinpoints. He shuddered violently, panic overtaking him. Lyla let out a gasp, then quickly pulled the duvet up to cover them, whispering in a hoarse, desperate voice: “Serena! Wait, don’t be impulsive!” “It’s all my fault! I seduced Ethan! Don’t blame him! If you want to hit someone, hit me!” In my past life, Lyla had said the exact same words. Back then, I was a successful wedding designer. To me, love and marriage were sacred. A flaw meant it was ruined. If a man was dirty, he was garbage. So, despite the anger and nausea, I had looked at them with cold disdain and said, “He’s all yours,” before walking away. This time, Lyla was watching me, eyes flickering, waiting for me to play the role of the dignified saint. Instead, I charged into the room like a bull. I grabbed the electric kettle from the bedside table—thankfully warm, not boiling—and hurled it at Ethan’s face. Clang! Water splashed everywhere. Ethan clutched his face, howling. I didn’t stop. I moved with the agility of a jungle cat to Lyla’s side. With my left foot, I kicked their pile of clothes under the bed. With my right foot, I braced against the bed frame, reached out with both hands, grabbed a fistful of Lyla’s long, luxurious hair, and yanked. That hair she was so proud of. Thick, long, perfect for gripping. She started this game. I was going to finish it. I twisted my wrist to lock her hair in my grip and dragged her halfway off the bed. Then, aiming at her flushed, terrified face, I unleashed hell. Slap! Slap! Slap! I delivered ten backhand slaps in rapid succession. When my right hand stung, I switched to my left. My movements were fluid, driven by a primal rage I had suppressed for a lifetime. Lyla was dangling off the mattress, her earlier seductiveness replaced by sheer terror. She stared up at the ceiling, letting out a continuous, high-pitched wheeze. In the dark nights of my previous life, I had regretted my “dignity” a thousand times. Why didn’t I make a scene? Why didn’t I ruin them then and there? I had played this scenario out in my head a million times. Nothing—nothing—felt as good as the sting of my palm against her face. When the friends from downstairs rushed up, drawn by my screaming, this is the tableau they found: Me, playing tug-of-war with Lyla’s hair. Lyla, naked and desperate, clutching the duvet for dear life. Ethan, one hand covering his bruised face, the other trying to tug the blanket to cover his groin. A perfect, chaotic deadlock. The crowd at the door stood frozen, jaws on the floor. We were at a weekend rental house with a group of friends. I wasn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow, but Lyla had called me, lying that Ethan was drunk and needed me. I had driven through the night to get here. Lyla, hanging off the bed, her face swelling like a balloon, wheezed for help: “Help… somebody help me!” Nobody moved. Everyone wore expressions of utter disgust. It wasn’t like this last time. Last time, they didn’t see it. They only heard about it. Seeing is believing. The visual impact of two naked traitors is visceral. In my past life, when Ethan became a millionaire and Lyla a trophy wife, these same people had sighed and said, “True love really conquers all obstacles.” Not today. 3 “Serena… please… calm down…” Ethan’s voice trembled. From the neck up, he was lobster-red. The kettle had done its work; blisters were already forming on his handsome face. That day at the coffee shop, years ago, Lyla was late. I was working on my thesis. Ethan, sitting at the next table, had smiled and asked, “Design student?” By the time Lyla arrived ten minutes later, Ethan and I were already in our own world. I hadn’t noticed the jealous glint in her eyes then. Ethan was an exhibition designer. To the world, he was gentle, talented, and sensitive—the kind of man who carried cat food in his car for strays. But his “soft heart” was his greatest weapon. In my past life, he knelt and told me Lyla had threatened suicide because she loved him so much, and he only slept with her to “save” her. I had felt sick then. I just wanted to get away. I divorced him within a month. Now? I only regretted I didn’t have more hands to pop the blisters on his face. I knew Lyla’s plan. This was her one shot. If she escaped now, she might not get another chance to trap him. And Ethan needed to come home with me… “Calm down?” I glared at him, grinding my teeth. He shivered, shame written all over his features. “Serena, please let her go. Let us put on clothes. Please…” I laughed, a cold, jagged sound. “You want to be the hero? Fine. Lyla and I made a pact years ago. We swore that if either of us ever betrayed the other, the penalty was thirty slaps to the face. I just did twenty. I’m tired.” I pointed a shaking finger at him. “You finish the last ten. If you do it, I’ll let go.” Ethan shook his head frantically. “Serena, I can’t hit a woman—” “Do it,” Lyla sobbed abruptly. “It’s my fault. I seduced him. I drugged his drink! I’m a shameless homewrecker! It has nothing to do with him. Serena, please… my stomach… my waist… I can’t hold on…” Her voice was pitiful. She was playing the martyr for Ethan, but she was also telling the truth—she couldn’t hold on. She was pregnant with twins, after all. The friends at the door muttered things like “Don’t be rash” and “Talk it out,” but no one stepped in. They were enjoying the show. I thought Ethan would hesitate. He was the “gentle” one. But before Lyla even finished speaking, he shuffled over, wrapped in the sheet. Slap. Slap. Slap. The sound was crisp. One slap was a little light. I frowned. Ethan immediately hit her harder. Blood trickled from Lyla’s nose. She looked shocked, then resigned. She had planned for this, suffered for this. This was the price of admission. When the ten slaps were done, her face was unrecognizable. Yet, she managed to squeeze out a grotesque smile at Ethan. “I don’t blame you,” she mumbled through swollen lips, looking at him with the eyes of a tragic heroine persecuted by evil forces. Ethan turned his face away. He looked at me, eyes watering. “Serena, is that enough?” My expression remained stone cold. “Of course not. You gave me this disgusting green hat to wear. If I only hit the mistress and not the husband, people will say I’m a pick-me who only targets women.” Ethan nodded quickly, closing his eyes and lifting his chin, acting the part of the repentant sinner. “Serena, do it. Take your anger out on me. Just let us talk afterwards.” I looked at his blistering face. It looked like touching it would cause an explosion of pus. I changed my mind. I looked down at Lyla. “You do it.” She looked horrified. “No… I can’t!” Ethan suddenly roared, “Just do it! Hurry up! Anything is better than this!” And so, Lyla, in an awkward, twisted position, began to slap the man she claimed to love. “Are you two flirting?” I asked dryly. “Harder.” Ethan gritted his teeth. “Hit me harder!” When Lyla finally pulled her hand back, her palm was covered in sticky fluid from his burst blisters. The farce ended with the two of them crawling on the floor, fishing their clothes out from under the bed, wrapped in sheets like toga-wearing clowns. My rage meter had gone down by about ten percent. 4 Going crazy was satisfying. But it was just venting. Getting reborn required more than just a tantrum. Shame? Who cares about shame? Time washes everything away. Ethan was a talented designer. In the art world, this scandal would eventually become nothing more than an anecdote about his “passionate” nature. I knew Ethan well. The thing he cared about most in the world wasn’t women. It was his career. In my past life, shortly after our divorce, he secured angel investment from a major group and launched his own firm. He became a multimillionaire. Lyla became a high-society wife. The irony was that the design concepts he used to win that funding were things we were working on right now. Things we discussed. Designs I helped him refine. Being a “Heroine” doesn’t mean being a doormat who walks away leaving the gold behind. A true Heroine uses every resource available. I would use him. I would take his momentum and make it mine. I was going to rewrite fate. His fate. Lyla’s fate. And mine. … Ethan knelt before me for three days. On the third evening, I stared out the window and sighed, looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Do your knees hurt?” He looked up, disbelief turning into hope. “They hurt. Serena… are you finally willing to talk to me?” That night, he repeated his script: he loved me, he only pitied Lyla, he slipped up because they were too close. I asked with red eyes, “Did she really drug you?” He nodded without hesitation. “Yes.” I was silent for a moment. “I’m going to resign. What happened… it makes me doubt love. I can’t design weddings anymore. I can’t look happy couples in the face.” Ethan looked distressed. “It’s all my fault. But don’t worry, I’ll support you. I’m talking to an investment group. I’m confident.” I looked at him and said slowly, “But I don’t want to give up design. If I can’t do weddings, teach me your industry. Let me help you.” His eyes lit up. “Of course! Serena, I’ll teach you everything. We’ll build the business together. It will be beautiful.” I lowered my eyes to hide the coldness. “Okay.” The next day, he transferred all his files, assets, and notes to me. I wasn’t lying—he was talented. By day, he worked and did all the housework to atone. By night, he poured his heart out, teaching me the secrets of exhibition design. We slept in separate rooms. He was understanding. “It’s okay, Serena. I’ll wait until you trust me again.” I didn’t forget about Lyla. She was working as a teacher at a public kindergarten. I took the recording from that night—specifically the parts where she screamed, “I seduced him! I drugged him! I’m a shameless homewrecker!”—and hired a composer to turn it into a catchy remix. Then, I hired someone to blast it from a boombox across the street from her school during pickup time. The tune was upbeat. Brainwashing. Parents hummed along before realizing the lyrics. Lyla had to sneak out the back door. She was fired the next day. She moved back to her parents’ house, but the boombox followed her there, too. Her parents wanted to call the police, but she stopped them. She was enduring. She was hibernating. Because she held the trump card. Ethan was raised strictly religious. He had told our friends many times that life was sacred and abortion was a moral sin. In my past life, before the car accident, a successful Ethan had visited me in my squalid apartment. “Serena, I still love you,” he had said, handing me a bank card like he was bestowing charity. “But Lyla gave me a son and a daughter. I can’t let my own flesh and blood grow up without a mother. I can buy you a house. I’ll spend weekends with the kids, but I can be with you during the week.” I had chased him out with a mop. Looking back, Lyla had played her hand perfectly. She knew she couldn’t win Ethan with love alone, so she used his “legacy” against him. One day, I came home to find Lyla sitting on my sofa. Ethan stood beside her, frowning and sighing. When I walked in, Lyla feigned terror. I rushed forward as if to hit her. Ethan blocked me. He looked agonized, gritted his teeth, and dropped the bomb: “She’s pregnant with my child!” Lyla sobbed. “Serena, I’m sorry. I had no choice. He’s the father. He had a right to know.” I looked at Ethan. “You believe her?” Ethan lowered his head. “I believe her.” “Why?” His face flushed. “Because… the first time… she was a virgin. I could tell.” Lyla suddenly dropped to her knees with a thud, swearing to the heavens. “Serena, we’ve been friends for years. You know I never dated anyone. If this isn’t Ethan’s child, may I be struck by lightning!” She looked at me, her tears hiding a gleam of triumphant calculation. She was provoking me. She wanted me to snap, to scream “Divorce!” and kick them out. The fact that I hadn’t divorced Ethan yet had confused her. So she played her Ace. She knew the Serena of the past would never tolerate an illegitimate child. Ethan knelt beside her. “Serena, I beg you. I will transfer every cent of my assets, pre-marital and post-marital, to your name. Just please… let these innocent lives be born.” I looked at the two of them kneeling on my rug. I covered my face with my hands, acting as though my heart was breaking. “I’m not a monster… If it’s come to this…” “Let her have the baby.” Lyla’s head snapped up, shock written all over her face.

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1 I am a Spirit Caller. I can summon the souls of those who died unjustly within 24 hours, granting them seven more days of life. In my past life, I returned joyfully to the Ashworth family as their long-lost son. But tragedy struck: my sister-in-law Elara died in childbirth, and my brother Julian, heartbroken, jumped from the hospital roof. He survived, barely. To save him, I offered to summon Elara’s spirit. But Aiden, the impostor son raised in my place, accused me of causing the death. My parents believed him. They destroyed my altar, broke my hands, and locked me in a scorching sauna where I died. Then I woke up—back at the start, the day I arrived at the Ashworth estate. An old man asked me to summon the soul again. This time, I refused: “You’re mistaken. I’m just from the mountains. How could I be a Spirit Caller? The dead don’t return. We shouldn’t believe such superstition.” Old Mr. Hemlock wasn’t fooled. A sharp glint shone in his cloudy eyes. “I could never be mistaken! Three years ago, when my wife passed, I was so consumed by grief I wanted to follow her. It was you who summoned her spirit for me, giving me seven more days with her.” His voice was thick with memory. “For those seven days, she was just as she’d always been. We did everything we never got the chance to do. She held my hand and promised she’d wait for me at the gates, that we’d be husband and wife in the next life, too. That’s the only reason I’ve held on this long.” He looked at me with profound gratitude. “I’ve been trying to find you ever since to thank you, but you vanished without a trace. I never imagined you were the Ashworths’ lost son!” He spoke with such conviction that the guests murmured amongst themselves. Everyone in the city knew the story of how he’d nearly died of a broken heart. But before I could deny it again, voices of doubt rose from the crowd. “Is old Hemlock going senile? There’s no way a Spirit Caller could be that young.” “Right? He’s a dirt-kicker from the boonies. I’d believe he was a carnival psychic before a Spirit Caller.” “I heard they found him running a fortune-telling stall under a bridge. He probably just used some cheap trick to fool Mr. Hemlock.” “He’s just a poor kid from the sticks. We all know the type—they’ll do anything for money.” All eyes turned to me, filled with contempt. Aiden shot a satisfied glance at his cronies before turning to me, his face a mask of fury. “Leo!” he boomed, his voice dripping with indignation. “Mr. Hemlock is a respected elder in this city! He helped the Ashworth family in our darkest hour. How dare you, an Ashworth by blood, prey on him with your scams? Get on your knees and apologize to him right now!” After his tirade, Aiden turned to Mr. Hemlock with a look of deep empathy. “Mr. Hemlock, whatever amount of money Leo swindled from you, the Ashworth family will repay it in full.” He sighed dramatically. “As you all know, I’ve never had a head for business. But with my brother in a coma and my father hospitalized with a heart attack, I have no choice but to hold this family together. I don’t want to make enemies with anyone. I hope I can count on the guidance of all you seniors in the future.” His speech was a masterful performance of grace and humility, earning him nods of approval from the older guests. I was the only one laughing on the inside. Just like in my last life, my welcome party had been turned into a funeral. My sister-in-law, dead from a hemorrhage. My brother, jumping from a building in despair. The best doctors and the most advanced technology had kept his body alive, but the hospital had already issued several critical condition notices. They said his will to live was gone. He needed a reason to fight. In my previous life, starved for the family I never had and moved by their tragic love story, I had offered my gift. I had revealed myself as a Spirit Caller to summon Elara’s soul. But the moment her spirit began to manifest, Aiden had shattered my altar, screaming that I was a fraud. The ritual was broken, her soul was damaged, and she became a vengeful spirit. In Julian’s dreams, she whispered that I was the one who had destroyed her. I tried to explain, but my parents had grabbed me and broken my hands on the spot. “A Spirit Caller? You’ve destroyed your sister-in-law’s soul! If we had known you were such a curse, we would have never brought you back!” When my brother eventually woke up, he subjected me to endless torture. “My wife told me it’s cold where she is,” he’d whispered. “Go keep her company.” My thoughts were shattered by a sharp force against my legs. A sickening crunch echoed as my knees slammed into the marble floor. Pain, white-hot and blinding, shot through me. Aiden loomed over me, his hand clamped on the back of my neck, forcing my head down toward Mr. Hemlock. “You charlatan! If you want to be part of the Ashworth family, you’ll kneel and beg Mr. Hemlock for forgiveness!” Two hulking bodyguards pinned my shoulders, making it impossible to move. Mr. Hemlock waved his hand, trying to protest and help me up, but Aiden cut him off. “Mr. Hemlock, the Ashworth family is facing a crisis from within and without, and now we discover this… this con artist in our midst! It’s a disgrace!” he declared righteously. “As the only man left to manage things, I have to teach Leo a lesson. I have to purge him of this corruption!” He sounded so noble. Anyone who didn’t know better would think he was a saint. I knew his true nature. I had already died by his selfish, cruel hands once before. This time, I wanted no part in their drama. Let them tear each other apart. Whether the Ashworth family lived or died had nothing to do with me. Before the guards could shove me down again, I pushed myself to my feet and spoke, my voice calm and clear. “There’s no need to teach me anything.” My words hung in the air. “The adoption ceremony hasn’t officially happened yet, has it? I’m not an Ashworth now, and I have no intention of ever stepping foot in this house again.” I spoke with a finality that left no room for doubt, no trace of longing. Aiden’s face flickered from confusion to a flash of pure, unadulterated joy. He quickly masked it with a wounded expression. “Leo, I just scolded you a little, and now you’re disowning the family? If word of this gets out, people will think I, the adopted son, bullied you into leaving.” He took it a step further. “You’re reminding me that I’m the one who should go, not you.” Aiden was really getting into character, his eyes welling up with tears. “Aiden is the child I raised for over twenty years! I’d like to see anyone try to make him leave!” The family matriarch, Mrs. Ashworth, finally emerged from a side room where she had been resting. Leaning on a cane, she looked at me. For a second, I saw a flicker of shock in her eyes at my resemblance to her husband, but her attention was quickly drawn back to Aiden. “Mother, Leo is your real son. Now that he’s back, there’s no place for me here anymore,” Aiden sobbed. “Father is in the hospital, my brother is on his deathbed… I shouldn’t abandon the family at a time like this, but some people just won’t have me.” He added, for good measure, “Don’t blame him. I stole his place as the true son for two decades. He has every right to hate me.” He was a better actor than any actress I’d ever seen, his performance dripping with false nobility. The guests, all longtime friends of the family, started murmuring in his defense. “It’s not Aiden’s fault he was switched at birth. He’s a victim in this, too.” “He just got here and he’s already throwing his weight around. Mark my words, if he ever gets his hands on the Ashworth fortune, he’ll run it into the ground.” “Exactly! When did these great families start caring only about bloodlines? It’s about capability! Aiden was raised for twenty years to be an elite. What does some kid from the wilderness have to compete with that?” Mrs. Ashworth’s expression hardened. “Leo, apologize to Aiden immediately,” she commanded. “Out of respect for the fact that you are my biological son, if you behave yourself and don’t cause any more trouble, I will guarantee you a life of ease and comfort.” Aiden’s lips twitched into a triumphant smirk, which he quickly suppressed. I had to laugh. A life of ease and comfort? Given the raw hatred simmering in Aiden’s eyes, I knew the moment he secured his position, he’d have me killed. I had yearned for a family, but I could live without one. As for their money, I had more than enough of my own. Before he could continue his pathetic act, I cut through the chatter. “You’re all right. The Ashworth family is far too grand for someone like me. I’ll see myself out.” Just then, a servant rushed in, his voice tight with panic. “Ma’am, Mr. Aiden, the hospital just called! The young master’s vital signs are plummeting! If we don’t do something now, he’s not going to make it!” The world seemed to tilt for Mrs. Ashworth. She swayed, her face ashen, and collapsed backward. “My son! My poor boy! Someone, please, do something to save him!” she shrieked, clutching at Aiden’s lapels. Her grief quickly turned to desperate, cold calculation. “Your father’s will! He stipulated that only a direct blood heir can inherit the Ashworth estate! Otherwise, everything—everything—goes to charity!” Her voice dropped to a frantic whisper. “Aiden, if your brother dies, and your father is too incapacitated to change the will… we’ll be left with nothing!” A stunned silence fell over the room. Someone, less tactful than the rest, spoke up. “But the Ashworths just found their other son, Leo, right? He’s Mr. Ashworth’s biological child. The fortune is safe; it won’t go to charity.” Aiden’s face showed no trace of relief. His eyes, fixed on me, were dark and venomous. Mrs. Ashworth, too, sized me up with open disapproval, her expression a mask of tragic despair, as if to say, Heaven truly wants to destroy my family. I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Seeing me smile, Aiden snapped. “Leo, wipe that smirk off your face! This was your doing, wasn’t it? With your voodoo and fortune-telling, you cursed this family so you could take everything for yourself!” he roared. “How else do you explain it? My sister-in-law suddenly hemorrhages, my brother tries to kill himself, and my father has a stroke, all at the same time! You planned it all, you despicable bastard!” A wave of understanding—or what passed for it—rippled through the crowd. Their expressions shifted from pity to outrage as they turned their furious gazes on me. “Of course! That’s why he suddenly gave up his claim to the family! It was all part of his scheme!” “How terrifying! Those street-corner mystics are the most sinister kind. He should be flayed alive!” “We have to break the curse! Mr. Hemlock, you managed to overcome your grief. Who was the master who helped you? Tell us, so we can save the Ashworths!” Mr. Hemlock, nearly ninety and white-haired, thought for a long, serious moment. Then, he pointed a frail, determined finger right at me. “I am not mistaken. The one who performed the rite at my home was Leo.” Suddenly, his eyes widened as they fell on the small, ornate bell hanging from my waist. “That… That’s a Soul Bell! The sacred tool of a Spirit Caller!” he exclaimed. “And look! There are nine coins hanging from the handle! Nine! Leo is a Master Spirit Caller, one of the most powerful there is!” Every eye in the room swiveled to my waist, a mixture of fear and awe dawning on their faces. Aiden lunged forward and ripped the Soul Bell from my belt. After a quick glance, he slapped me hard across the face. “Not only do you impersonate a Spirit Caller, Leo, but you dare to forge a nine-coin Soul Bell!” he spat. “Don’t you know that the Spirit Callers of the Appalachian mountains do not tolerate blasphemy or impersonation? You’re going to bring a cataclysm down on this family!” “When they find out, not only will they refuse to help us, but the spirits of our ancestors will never know peace! You’ll damn every Ashworth, living and dead!” With that, he threw my Soul Bell to the ground, stomped on it viciously, and kicked it into a decorative fire pit. “No!” I cried out, lunging to retrieve it from the flames, but Aiden grabbed my hands and held me back. The fire bit into my skin. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as my skin blistered and peeled away, revealing the charred bone beneath. Mrs. Ashworth, her face a mask of horror, raised her cane and began beating me with it, over and over. “You ungrateful whelp! Parading around as a Spirit Caller, bringing this curse upon us! You want to take the entire family down with you!” Aiden held her steady, his eyes burning with malice as he looked at me. “I may not be an Ashworth by blood, but I will not let you destroy this family! According to tradition, tie him to the front gate and bleed him!” he commanded the guards. “Then call a press conference. We will beg the true Spirit Callers for their forgiveness. When they see our sincerity, surely they will agree to help us!” My voice was a raw rasp. “The Spirit Callers live in seclusion. They rarely meddle in mortal affairs, and they are compassionate. What you’re doing is a deliberate, cruel act of revenge!” Aiden’s hand cracked across my face again. This time, he was holding something sharp. A thin line of fire traced across my cheek, and warm blood began to drip down my chin. “Bullshit! First you murder my sister-in-law with your black magic, then you endanger this entire family by impersonating a Spirit Caller. Am I supposed to just stand by and watch you destroy us all?” He gave a sharp nod, and several guards pinned me down, covering my mouth as a sharp blade plunged deep into each of my limbs.

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It was my birthday. I’d spent the entire day bustling around, decorating our apartment and preparing a table full of his favorite dishes. I was waiting for the food to cool when a text from Jerry came in: [Something came up at work. It’s an overnight trip. Don’t wait up for me, go to bed.] A moment later, I saw a new post on my feed from his old flame, Phoebe. It was a photo of Jerry in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, an apron tied around his waist, looking busy and happy. The caption read: {May this moment last forever.} Suddenly, everything felt tasteless. I tapped the ‘like’ button, reheated a plate for one, and started to eat. My phone buzzed incessantly, but I ignored it. When I finally picked it up after dinner, I saw dozens of missed calls from Jerry. He’d left one last voice message. “Cathy, I’ll explain when I get back. Don’t overthink it. We have so many more birthdays to celebrate together.” I didn’t reply. I just wondered, do we really have a future at all? 1 Jerry didn’t come home for three days. When he finally walked through the door, I was curled up on the sofa, binge-watching a new series. He looked surprised. “Didn’t you see my message?” “I saw it,” I said without looking up from the screen. “I was busy with something. It slipped my mind.” He stared at me, completely baffled. And why wouldn’t he be? In the past, a message like that would have had me bouncing with excitement, waiting for him downstairs a half-hour early. He was silent for a moment, then said, “I haven’t eaten all day. Can you just whip something up?” He was a picky eater and couldn’t stand the food on the train. Whenever he came back from a business trip, I’d always have a home-cooked meal ready to satisfy his cravings. The episode ended. I finally looked up at him and pointed to the stack of takeout menus on the coffee table. “These came in the mail. Looks like that new place has a special on.” A dark look crossed Jerry’s face. “I’m starving right now. Even if you’re mad, can you at least make some food first?” I looked at him, genuinely confused. “You can order delivery, can’t you? And I’m not mad.” He didn’t believe me, of course. “Phoebe’s all alone in the next city over. She has no one,” he said, launching into his defense. “I was just looking after her, as a friend.” “Mm-hmm.” He rubbed his forehead, looking exhausted. “Come on, that’s enough. I really don’t have the energy to coddle you right now.” I sighed. “If you’re tired, you should rest. I’m really not asking you to coddle me.” He choked on his words, his breathing growing ragged. I knew he was getting angry. After a long pause, he pulled a gift box from his suitcase and tossed it onto the sofa next to me. “Your birthday present,” he sneered. “There. Are you happy now?” I placed it on the coffee table without opening it. “Thanks.” He just stood there, his face darkening. “And?” It took me a second to remember our old agreement: for any birthday, both of us would prepare a gift for the other. “Oh, right. Sorry, sorry. I got too caught up in my show and forgot,” I said, a little sheepishly. “I’ll make it up to you later? Or I can just transfer you the money?” He was staring at me so intensely it was starting to feel awkward. I quickly sent him the money through my banking app, then glanced at my watch and went to the bedroom to change into my coat. When I came back out, he looked startled. “You’re going out? You put on makeup to go out? You didn’t get ready for me?” I gave him a strange look. “Didn’t you used to say it was a waste for me to wear makeup at home? Why would I get all dolled up just to greet you here?” Before he could stammer out a reply, I pulled open the front door. “Where are you going?” he demanded, rushing forward to grab my arm. “I have plans with Sasha and the girls.” I ignored the look on his face and walked out. 2 Jerry never liked my more boisterous friends. He thought the bars and clubs we frequented were “improper” and told me I should see them less. I was never going to abandon my friends for him, but to avoid fights, I used to schedule our get-togethers when he was out and always made sure to be home early. I could never really let loose and have fun. Now, finally, I didn’t have to care what he thought. When Sasha and the others heard my plan, they exchanged surprised glances, clearly skeptical. They knew better than anyone how head-over-heels in love with Jerry I used to be. But now that my eyes were open, it all seemed so incredibly stupid. To lose yourself completely for a man… Why didn’t I wake up sooner? We stayed out late, having a blast, and I even posted a few pictures to my story. By the time I got home, it was 3 a.m. I opened the door to find Jerry sitting on the sofa in the dark, his face a thundercloud. “Cathy,” he said, his voice cold as ice. “How old are you? Are you a teenager, throwing a tantrum out of jealousy? Running off and staying out this late just because you’re upset? Is that how a grown woman acts?” My eyelids felt like they were glued together. I was too tired to deal with him. I tried to walk past him toward the bedroom. He stood up, blocking my path. “That’s enough. Phoebe and I are in the past. There’s nothing between us now, and there never will be again. You don’t need to throw these little fits because of her.” He added, “And I don’t like you coming home this late. Don’t let it happen again.” I yawned. “You’re overthinking things. I’m not jealous, and this isn’t a tantrum. Also, from now on, I won’t be following your curfew.” His face contorted. “Haven’t you had enough? There’s a limit to these games. I’m not your father. I’m not going to indulge you forever.” I was too exhausted to even speak. All I wanted was to crawl into bed. He must have mistaken my silence for submission. He sighed and reached out to hug me. I took a step back, dodging his embrace. With the last ounce of my energy, I hurried into the spare bedroom, shutting the door and locking it from the inside. As I drifted off, I vaguely thought that if we were sleeping separately, I probably should have taken the guest room and left him the master. But before I could even finish the thought who cares, I was fast asleep. 3 For the first time in ages, I slept soundly through the night, without a single dream. When I got up to wash my face, Jerry was just coming out of the master bedroom. He walked past me with a stony expression, acting as if I didn’t exist. This time, however, I didn’t feel a surge of panic. I didn’t grab his hand and beg him to tell me what was wrong. I just went about my morning. As I headed to the kitchen, I heard the front door slam shut with a loud bang. That door, I thought, is solid, but it can’t take that kind of abuse forever. I made myself a simple breakfast and left for the office. I went straight to my boss’s office. I was about to knock when I heard a voice behind me. “Cathy, you’re in early!” It was my boss. I’d arrived before she did. Inside her office, I told her I was ready to accept the company’s overseas assignment. The opportunity had come up a while ago. My boss, seeing it as a great career move for me, had urged me to take it, but I’d refused every time because I couldn’t bear the thought of being away from Jerry for so long. She was thrilled. “That’s wonderful news! Is everything alright with your boyfriend?” I shook my head. “We’ll be breaking up.” Thank God for Phoebe. She’d snapped me out of it just in time. Starting today, my life would be about work handovers and preparing to move abroad. It was a long, busy day. By the time I left the office, the sky was already dark. I decided to grab dinner out before heading home. When I walked in, Jerry was on the phone, a bouquet of flowers in one hand. “Yeah, of course. It’s not every day the princess herself graces our city with her presence. I’ll pull out all the stops, I promise. Go ahead and order, I’m on my way out now.” Oh, right. Today was Phoebe’s birthday. His face was alight with a doting smile, an expression he had never once shown me. With me, he was always reserved. Even his smiles were faint, fleeting things. When I’d complained about it once, he’d just said calmly that he wasn’t comfortable with big displays of emotion. Apparently, it wasn’t that he was uncomfortable. It was just that I wasn’t the person he was willing to show them to. When he hung up, the smile was still on his face. But the moment he saw me, it vanished. He walked past me with the flowers, his expression flat and indifferent, and closed the door just as quietly behind him. He was still angry about my coldness the night before and was trying to punish me with the silent treatment. But he didn’t know that, just like that morning, his indifference no longer sent me into a panic. I simply ordered some takeout, and after eating, I picked up the German textbook I hadn’t touched in years. I was fluent, but it had been a while. I needed to brush up. 4 During a study break, I scrolled through my social media feed. Unsurprisingly, Phoebe had posted a new update. {Thankful to the heavens for bringing you into my life.} The comments were filled with messages from Jerry’s friends, all wishing the two of them well. His friends all adored Phoebe and couldn’t stand me. They never said it outright, but they took every opportunity to needle and undermine me. I’d complained to Jerry about it before, but his response was always the same: “Then you’ll just have to try harder to win their approval.” I refreshed the page and saw that Jerry had commented too—just a simple smiley face emoji. Suddenly, I got a notification. One of Jerry’s friends had tagged me. [Just giving you a heads-up so you don’t start a fight with Jerry again. The rest of us are here too, it’s just a normal get-together.] I found it laughable. I replied with a single “k,” then tossed my phone aside, washed up, and went to bed. I was jolted awake in the middle of the night by the bedroom light flipping on. Squinting, I saw Jerry standing over me, staring. “You really trust me, don’t you?” he demanded. “I’m out all night and not a single text from you! My friends’ phones were blowing up with their girlfriends and wives calling them home. I was the only one sitting there like an idiot, waiting for a message that never came!” I was not happy about being woken from a deep sleep. “You’re a grown man,” I said irritably. “Why wouldn’t I trust you at a party with your friends? I believe you. It’s late, you should get some rest.” In the past, whenever he was out with Phoebe, I would throw a fit. Even if I reluctantly agreed to let him go, I would bombard him with calls and texts all night. He’d once yelled at me, “This is a party for our circle of friends! What does it have to do with you? I’m begging you, Cathy, just give me some personal space!” He stood there, stunned. After a few seconds, he grabbed my arm as I was about to lie back down. “We need to talk.” I looked at him, exasperated. He took a deep breath. “That social media post was just a memento from our friends’ gathering. It didn’t mean anything else. You shouldn’t overthink it.” I was so tired. I just nodded again and again. “Okay, I get it.” A flicker of anxiety crossed his face. “What’s with this refusal to communicate? Are you still mad that I saw Phoebe? I told you, she’s just a friend from our circle. We had a past, but that’s over. If it really bothers you that much, I’ll take you with me to the next gathering.” I nodded vigorously. “I know. But I’m really tired. Can I please just go to sleep?” Jerry fell silent. He sighed and moved to get into the bed. I shot up. “What are you doing?!” He froze, then gave me a glacial look before storming out and slamming the door to the master bedroom behind him. After the interruption, I worried I’d have trouble falling back asleep. But thankfully, my head had barely hit the pillow for a few minutes before I was out again.

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My husband’s best friend, Lila, had a habit of borrowing things. This time, as my husband and I were going through IVF, Lila, a staunch bachelorette, decided she wanted to borrow his sperm. My husband, Adam, who could never say no to her, agreed on the spot. This time, I put my foot down. I told him if he dared to give it to her, we were getting a divorce. In the end, he didn’t “lend” it. And my IVF cycle failed. I blamed myself, thinking my body had failed me. That is, until I happened to see Adam’s text messages. “Adam, thank you so much for being a true friend. You secretly gave me the sample meant for your wife, and now I’m pregnant with your baby. I can finally be a mother!” “She’ll never know she was inseminated with my saliva. Of course the IVF was going to fail.” Reading those words, the blood in my veins turned to ice. This man was no longer my husband. … I threw the phone down in front of him. “Adam, I want a divorce.” His face went pale. “No! Chloe, I’m sorry, I was a fool. She started crying, and I just… I got soft.” “She cries, so you give her your sperm? If she asked for your life, would you give her that too?” I shoved him away and stormed into the bedroom to pack my bags. He didn’t dare follow. I could hear him making frantic calls outside. Half an hour later, a crowd was gathered at my front door. Lila was at the very front, wearing a loose-fitting dress, her hand resting protectively over her stomach. Behind her, a few of Adam’s cronies stood like a thuggish entourage. Lila spoke first. “Chloe, please don’t blame Adam. This is all my fault.” I ignored her, trying to push past with my suitcase. One of his friends, Ryan, blocked my way. “Chloe, calm down. It’s not a big deal. Lila’s all alone, she just wanted a kid to have for herself.” “You two can just do another round of IVF,” he added with a grin. “It’s not like Adam’s going to run out of ammo!” Adam stood next to Lila, avoiding my gaze. “Honey, let’s go back inside. Let’s talk about this in private, we don’t need the neighbors to see a show.” Just then, Lila let out a soft “Oh!” and clutched her back. Adam’s head whipped around. “What’s wrong? I told you not to come. Nothing is more important than your health right now.” Seeing his panicked concern for her, my heart shattered completely. “Move,” I said. Lila stepped forward again. “Chloe, it’s all my fault. Please don’t fight with Adam over this. You two have been together for so many years. If you break up because of me, I’ll be a sinner. I’ll raise the child on my own, I swear I won’t disturb your lives.” “You won’t have to disturb us,” I said, my eyes fixed on her stomach. “Because he’ll go running to you all on his own. Just like when you ‘borrowed’ a hundred thousand dollars from him to buy a house, and he secretly gave you two hundred thousand of our money.” “And when your father was in the hospital, he stayed there every night, while I was at home with a fever and no one to even get me a glass of water.” Adam jumped to his own defense. “That was just bad timing! Lila’s situation was special!” “She’s special?” I cut him off. “Oh, yes. She’s so special. She always comes before me. This time, you even prioritized giving your sperm to her, while I went through months of preparation for IVF only to have you stick her saliva inside me!” His friends exchanged uneasy glances. Lila’s eyes instantly welled with tears. “Chloe, you can yell at me all you want, but don’t talk about Adam like that. It’s not easy for him, being caught in the middle…” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “He has it so hard? Playing the doting husband to me while playing the savior to his best friend? Please.” Seeing that I had no intention of saving his pride, Adam’s face hardened with anger. He and his friends turned to leave, but not before he threw one last threat over his shoulder. “Fine! Then I hope you never have a child of mine!” It was after midnight when Adam stumbled home, reeking of alcohol. He tossed a few takeout boxes on the table as if they were a peace offering. They were clearly leftovers from his party. “Alright, I was wrong,” he slurred. “But you were completely out of line. Humiliating me in front of everyone like that.” I turned to look at him. His face was a mask of exhaustion and annoyance, but there was no trace of guilt. “Lila would never put me in such a difficult position,” he muttered. It felt like a knife twisting in my chest. “You’re right. I’m not her. She’s so understanding, so generous. So righteous she can even borrow another woman’s husband’s sperm.” “Are you ever going to let this go?!” he roared, his voice suddenly sharp. “I was just helping a friend! It’s not easy for a single woman who doesn’t want to get married to have a child! You’re my wife, can’t you have a little compassion? Why do you have to be so relentless?” I stared at him. “Adam, has your brain been eaten by dogs?” He shot to his feet, pointing a finger at me. “Look at you! You’ve become so bitter and cruel! What happened to the sweet, understanding woman I fell in love with?” “Lila is carrying my child, and you upset her so much today that she went home feeling sick. And you know what she said? Not a single bad word about you! She told me to come home and apologize properly!” Watching him, so agitated and worried over another woman, felt utterly surreal. “Then go back and take care of her,” I said. “Go on. Go guard her and your precious ‘seed’.” He glared at me, his chest heaving. Finally, he grabbed his jacket and slammed the door behind him for the second time. This time, there wasn’t even the pretense of an apology. He didn’t come back. A few days later, my mother-in-law called and invited me over for dinner. I didn’t want to go, but her tone was so meek and careful that I relented. When I walked into their house, the first thing I saw was Lila, sitting on the sofa, laughing and chatting with my mother-in-law. I couldn’t just turn around and leave. The entire meal was torture. My mother-in-law kept piling food onto Lila’s plate. “Adam, hurry, get Lila a bowl of fish soup.” Adam obliged, naturally taking Lila’s bowl and carefully picking out all the bones for her. No one offered me food. No one asked how I was recovering after the failed IVF cycle. “Oh, Adam,” my father-in-law said, putting down his chopsticks. “I’ll give you the money. Go get everything Lila needs for the baby.” My mother-in-law chimed in. “Yes, and we need to start buying baby clothes. Oh, if only Lila and our Adam had…” She trailed off, but the meaning was clear. The table fell silent. Lila lowered her head, blushing. Adam cleared his throat uncomfortably. My in-laws had always been kind to me, which is the only reason I’d come. But for years, whenever Lila was around, their attention would inevitably shift to her. Now that she was pregnant with Adam’s child, that preference was on full display. I put down my chopsticks. I’d barely touched my food. My mother-in-law finally seemed to notice me. “Oh? Chloe, is that all you’re eating? Is the food not to your liking?” “I’m full.” I cut her off and walked to the door. Behind me, I heard her sigh. “That girl. She’s getting more and more temperamental.” Adam’s voice drifted faintly. “Mom, don’t worry about her. That’s just how she is.” I closed the door, shutting out the cozy family scene. Back home, I contacted a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. Adam completely ignored it. He had the audacity to tell me to stop being a drama queen, that he would give me the silent treatment for a few days as punishment, and that he’d expect me home when I’d learned my lesson. No matter how many times I told him I was serious about the divorce, he refused to listen. A few days later, it was time for our regular get-together with our circle of friends. I had no desire to go, but my friends called me relentlessly until I gave in. Maybe some pathetic part of me still held out a sliver of hope. But mostly, I just wanted to serve Adam the divorce papers in person. When I arrived, I was surprised to see Adam waiting for me outside the restaurant, a sycophantic smile plastered on his face. “Honey,” he said, handing me a box. “A gift for you. The latest design from their new collection.” I opened it. It was a diamond necklace. “I know I was wrong,” he whispered. “Just give me some face tonight. We’ll talk properly later.” I scoffed and pushed the box back into his hands. When the door to the private room opened, I saw that the large round table was full. Even my in-laws and Lila were there. I had no idea why my in-laws would be at our friends’ gathering. “Chloe, you’re here!” my mother-in-law exclaimed, pulling me warmly to a seat. “Come, sit next to me.” She pushed me into a chair directly across from Lila. Lila gave me a soft, gentle smile, her hand resting on her pregnant belly. My father-in-law tapped his glass and stood up. “Now that everyone’s here, I have an announcement,” he boomed. “Our family values one thing above all: responsibility!” I picked up my teacup, my hand trembling slightly. “Lila is carrying Adam’s child. We acknowledge this child! He must be born, and he will have our family name!” The table erupted. Ryan was the first to applaud. “That’s right, sir! Adam, you’re a real man!” I looked at Adam. He was smiling. He reached out and patted Lila’s shoulder. Lila blushed. “Thank you, uncle,” she murmured. “Wait a minute,” I said, putting down my cup. “Adam, what is the meaning of this?” He ignored me, pulling a folder from his briefcase. He turned to Lila, his voice sickeningly sweet. “Lila, it won’t be easy for you to raise a child alone. This is twenty percent of my company’s shares. The annual dividends will be more than enough for you and the baby.” Lila’s eyes lit up. “Adam… this is too much…” “You deserve it,” he said, pushing the folder toward her. “It’s for the baby’s security. And it’s a token of my feelings.” The cheers grew louder. “Adam, you’re the man!” I shot to my feet. Only then did Adam glance at me, his tone condescending. “Chloe, you are my legal wife, and I won’t mistreat you. As long as you accept this child and continue to be Mrs. Archer, you will still be the lady of this house.” “Oh, and after the baby is born, I’m thinking of having a proper ceremony for Lila, a make-up wedding. But I won’t favor one over the other. You can wear a wedding dress too, and we’ll all get married together.” I laughed until I cried. “Are you out of your mind? A double wedding? Using our marital assets to gift shares to your mistress? Adam, do you have any shame?” My mother-in-law grabbed my arm. “Chloe, what are you saying!” “What should I say?” I shook her off. “Congratulations on my husband’s infidelity? Or thank you to your entire family for conspiring to deceive me?” Adam’s face darkened. “Chloe, don’t push your luck.” I grabbed the necklace box and hurled it at him. “Take your stupid necklace and get out!” It fell to the floor, the large diamond glittering under the lights. Lila’s eyes were fixed on it with a venomous glare when she suddenly cried out, “Oh!” and clutched her stomach. Adam immediately dropped to her side. “Lila, are you okay? Did she scare you?” He looked up at me, his eyes spitting fire. “Chloe! If anything happens to Lila, I will never forgive you!” My mother-in-law shot me a reproachful look. “Chloe, Lila is pregnant! Why do you have to make such a scene?” I looked at their faces, one by one, and suddenly, it all felt so pointless. I pulled the divorce agreement from my bag and slammed it on the table. “Adam. Sign it.” The chatter in the room died instantly. Adam’s face turned ashen. He snatched the papers and, without even looking at them, ripped them to shreds. “Are you done yet?!” he roared, jabbing a finger at my face. “Look at you! What can you do besides throw tantrums?” Lila pretended to hold him back. “Adam, don’t be like this…” His voice rose another octave. “You useless woman who can’t even have a child! The baby Lila is carrying is the true heir of our family!” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. “And you? Not satisfied with being inseminated with Lila’s saliva? You’re worse than a dog!” My friends awkwardly looked away. My mother-in-law sipped her tea. My father-in-law’s face was a stone mask. A triumphant smirk played on Lila’s lips as she watched me. “I’m giving you the dignity of being Mrs. Archer. Don’t throw it back in my face!” Adam took a step closer. “If you don’t agree to this today, you’ll leave with nothing! You won’t get a single penny!” He sneered. “Let’s see how a worthless piece of trash like you survives without me!” I looked at his twisted, ugly face and suddenly had nothing more to say. I turned and walked out. “Chloe! If you walk out that door today, don’t come crying back to me tomorrow!” I pulled open the door and left without a backward glance, his furious shouts echoing behind me. I had wanted an amicable split. But now… Their good days were about to end.

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The day of my wedding, I made a last-minute decision: I was choosing a new bride. It was all because my fiancée, Rina Aniston’s, childhood sweetheart had been diagnosed with cancer. His one dying wish was to marry her. Five years later, I returned to the country for Old Man Aniston’s eightieth birthday. During the banquet, I twisted my ankle. Rina immediately knelt to inspect the injury. The sight sent whispers rippling through the crowd, dredging up the old scandal. “What is she doing? Wasn’t she the one who ruined their wedding by flashing a marriage certificate with another man, demanding they postpone for a year?” “That’s right. I remember Matt Cross set their wedding portrait on fire right there, tore off his tuxedo, and left the country. It was an absolute mess.” But now, back in this city, Old Man Aniston grasped my hand. “You’re the only son-in-law I’ve ever wanted,” he said. “Rina has never forgotten you all these years.” He leaned in closer. “She said if you’re willing, she’ll divorce him and marry you right now. She’ll give you a wedding grander than anything you could have imagined back then.” Too bad for them. My kid’s already old enough to talk back to me. 1. “So, Matt, what do you think?” Old Man Aniston sat at the head of the table, dressed in a custom-tailored suit. His expression was benevolent, but it couldn’t hide the calculating glint in his eyes. A sudden hush fell over the room. All eyes turned to our table, hungry for the drama about to unfold. I took a slow sip of wine, my gaze lowered to hide the cold indifference in my eyes. For Rina to do what she did on our wedding day, and now to talk about marrying me again… the audacity was breathtaking. But her grandfather was an elder, and it was his birthday. I had no desire to make a scene. When I looked up, my smile was a mask of polite distance. “I appreciate the thought, Mr. Aniston, but I’m afraid I’m not so fortunate. I could never be worthy of someone like Miss Aniston.” The ballroom erupted in a cacophony of murmurs. “Did Matt Cross just refuse her? I thought he would marry no one but Rina Aniston!” “Twenty years of their lives tied together by an engagement, and he’s just letting her go?” It was true. Rina and I had been engaged since we were children, a twenty-year story of two kids growing up side-by-side. I’d started calling her my “wife” when I was three. I spent more time with her than with my own parents. I’d give her my only piece of candy. I’d save up my allowance to buy her pretty dresses. I was the one who, blushing furiously, bought her first box of tampons when she got her period. The year my love for her burned brightest, I drove across half of Seacrest City at two in the morning, all because she’d whispered that she was craving a cupcake. She used to say I was her husband, and spoiling her was my sacred duty. And I treated it like my mission in life. Back then, I believed love was a lifetime promise. No matter how ruthless I was in the boardroom, with her, I was always the gentle, attentive husband who put her first. Until one week before the wedding, when Liam Vance came back. He was the son of Rina’s beloved mentor. He’d been abroad for years and only rushed home when he heard she was getting married. At first, out of respect for his late father, both Rina and I were nothing but courteous to him. But then, slowly, she started caring more and more about Liam’s affairs. She even started canceling our dates to spend time with him. The day we were supposed to shoot our engagement photos, I waited an hour for her. I called her a dozen times, only to get a curt, one-word text: “Busy.” Minutes later, I saw it on her Instagram: a photo of her and Liam, smiling together. When I opened the comments, my blood ran cold. Her friends were calling him “brother-in-law.” They were joking and laughing as if they were the ones about to be married. I couldn’t take it anymore. I video-called her. But it wasn’t Rina who answered. It was Liam. Through the blurry screen, I saw with dawning horror that they were in a bridal shop. And Rina was wearing a magnificent wedding gown. My voice turned to ice. “What the hell are you two doing?” Rina finally looked up from the dress, startled. There wasn’t a trace of guilt on her face, only a flicker of annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you I was busy?” “Your ‘busy’ is trying on wedding dresses with Liam?” The question came out laced with a pain I couldn’t hide. For all my strength and resolve, the sight of them shattered something inside me. Her expression stiffened for a second, and she avoided my gaze. “You’re so controlling, Matt,” she muttered. “You never even let me explain.” “Liam was bored all alone at home, so I brought him with me to help pick out my dress. I just wanted it to be a surprise for you.” For a moment, I was lost. Her excuse was flimsy, pathetic even, but a seed of doubt took root in my mind. Was I really that overbearing? Others had said it before, but as the heir to the Cross family and CEO of our corporation, I’d never felt the need to apologize for who I was. But this was Rina. Her words cut deep. Maybe she saw the uncertainty on my face, because a flicker of sympathy crossed her features. She softened her tone, trying to soothe me. “Matt, I’m sorry. That was my fault. I shouldn’t have said that.” “I’m just… not feeling well.” My hand clenched into a fist. “Rina, does being with me make you… uncomfortable?” She offered a reassuring smile and apologized again. “I misspoke. Please don’t be angry with me, Matt. Please?” Seeing her gentle, patient demeanor, just like always, my heart began to settle. The old confidence returned to my voice. “If you ever dare to do anything to betray me,” I warned, my tone sharp, “I swear I will not let you off easy.” “Hmph. Trying to do something nice and I get threatened for it. Someone’s a real tyrant, isn’t he?” Her playful jab made my face flush with irritation. I shot her a look that could have cut glass. Before she could say more, the phone suddenly jolted, followed by a loud bang from the other end. A panicked voice stammered, “I’m sorry! I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean it! Mr. Cross, please don’t be angry. It was my fault, I insisted on coming with her. Please don’t blame Rina…” 2. The screen went black. I stared at it, momentarily stunned. Was I really that terrifying? I’d scared Liam so badly he’d dropped the phone. The phone must have landed some distance away, because I could faintly hear Rina’s voice, soft and low as she comforted him. It was a tone gentler than any she’d ever used with me. The next time I visited the Aniston family, Rina’s mother greeted me with a look of disapproval. “Liam is young,” she said coolly. “If he does something wrong, you should be more accommodating. Don’t hold it against him.” Rina quickly chimed in. “Matt, Liam is my mentor’s son. Now that she’s gone, he’s all alone in the world. It’s our duty to take care of him.” That strange, unsettling feeling washed over me again. But Rina’s tone was so earnest, and Liam’s position was… delicate. I nodded. A smile lit up her face. She reached out and smoothed a wrinkle on my suit jacket. “I was wrong about you. The great Matt Cross isn’t so unreasonable after all!” Her playful intimacy quieted the unease in my gut. I handed her a thick folder containing stock certificates and property deeds. I didn’t know what other fiancés gave as pre-wedding gifts, but for me, my company, my shares, my assets—they were the most important things I had. And I wanted to share them with the person I loved most. Her eyes gleamed with excitement. She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. “Matt Cross, I love you!” Her sudden affection made me blush. “I love you, too,” I mumbled back. But I didn’t know then that her love was a firework—dazzling, brief, and never meant for just one person. While I was drowning in wedding preparations, her affection began to drift, to tilt in another direction. Her social media became a gallery of her and Liam. April 16th, morning: they were feeding pigeons in Central Square. April 17th, evening: they were releasing flower lanterns under the old Phoenix Bridge. … Soon, the rumors started. Whispers that Rina had fallen for Liam, that she was going to call off our engagement. Uneasy, I went to confront her about it. Before I even stepped through the door, I heard Liam’s apologetic voice. “I’m so sorry, Rina. I was just in a bad mood and wanted you to keep me company. I never thought it would start rumors like this.” His voice was choked with guilt and self-reproach. When he saw my grim expression, his eyes reddened with fear. I had no choice but to let it go. We were getting married in a few days. The rumors would die on their own. But the day before the wedding, I received a text from Liam. “Mr. Cross, I bet you don’t know. Rina has already decided to marry me. I’m her lawful husband now.” “A domineering, unreasonable man like you? No woman could ever truly love you.” At the same time, he posted a photo of himself and Rina in a hotel room. The caption read: Looks like the childhood sweetheart couldn’t compete. We found our way back to each other in the end. 3. In the photo, her skin was pale against the rumpled sheets, her hair a mess, her body sinking into the soft bed like a perfectly carved Greek statue, igniting the darkest corners of the imagination. I fought down the rising tide of nausea and dialed her number. She answered quickly, her voice slightly hoarse. “Matt, what’s wrong?” I sent her screenshots of the post and the text messages. Then I waited, the silence on the line stretching into an eternity. The phone’s microphone was sensitive. I heard her breath catch. A long, heavy silence followed. Finally, she spoke. “Matt, those pictures are fake. Don’t you trust me?” Her voice dropped. “…Besides, Liam is so kind. He would never say things like that. Matt, are you sure you’re not mistaken?” My heart plummeted. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Twenty years of history, the ironclad proof in the screenshots, and her first instinct was to defend him. Was it that she didn’t believe me, or was she desperately trying to hide something? The anxiety I’d been feeling crested into a tidal wave. Something was terribly wrong. Before I could process it, a warm body pressed against my back. It was Rina. She’d rushed over. She wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight, and leaned in to kiss me. “Matt, please believe me. I love you so much. I would never let you get hurt.” Her voice was a desperate whisper. “We’re getting married tomorrow. Please, don’t overthink this.” “As for Liam… he’s my mentor’s son, and now that he’s… I just feel obligated to look after him. You can understand that, can’t you?” She buried her face in my neck, showing a rare vulnerability, like a cat seeking a safe harbor. I stroked her back, my mind a warzone of conflicting emotions. Finally, I gave in. “As long as you haven’t betrayed me,” I promised softly, “I will always trust you. And I will always love you.” Her body went rigid. She didn’t reply as she always had. She just stayed silent, hidden against my neck. I never got her answer that day. I went home alone, my heart filled with a gnawing dread. The next morning, I arrived early to pick up my bride. I waited in the limousine at the foot of her building for what felt like an eternity, but Rina never appeared. My calls went straight to voicemail. My messages went unanswered. Every unanswered ring, every unread text, screamed that my worst fears were coming true. But how could they? This was Rina, my childhood best friend, the love of my life for twenty years. Clinging to a final, desperate sliver of hope, I went up to her apartment. The scene that greeted me was a nightmare. Rina, in her wedding dress, standing next to Liam. She couldn’t meet my eyes. “Matt,” she mumbled, her voice cracking, “can we… postpone the wedding? Just for a year?” Before the words had even settled, Liam began to sob dramatically. “Mr. Cross, I don’t have much time left. Marrying Rina is my only dream. Please, just grant me this one wish!” I stared at the grotesque tableau before me, tears streaming silently down my face. “Rina,” I asked, my voice barely a whisper, “are you really going to marry him?” Her head bowed lower, her voice trembling uncontrollably. “Matt, just give me one year. After a year, I swear I’ll give you a wedding even grander than this one.” It was the height of summer, but a chill colder than any winter seized me. “Growing up together, inseparable… does none of that mean anything to you anymore? The promises, the vows of love… was it all just a lie?” My questions weren’t an attack. They were a eulogy, delivered with a dead, hollow finality. Her silence was its own answer. I closed my eyes, ready to turn and walk away. But as I did, Liam grabbed my sleeve. “Mr. Cross, this is all my fault. Please don’t blame Rina.” I shot him a venomous glare. Before I could speak, Rina jumped to his defense. “Matt, don’t you dare touch him.” In a blind rage, I ripped my arm away from Liam. He cried out, and something fluttered from his sleeve, landing on the floor. I instinctively glanced down. The sight of the bright red marriage certificate burned my eyes. On it was a smiling photo of Rina and Liam. The room fell silent for a heartbeat before erupting into a roar of shock and gossip that nearly tore the roof off. “She’s already married to him? She’s dragging the Cross family’s name through the mud!” “I heard Matt gave her a huge portion of his company shares. He’s lost everything—the woman and the money.” My mind went blank. My hand moved faster than my thoughts. The sharp crack of my palm against her cheek echoed in the stunned silence. “You bitch, Rina.” The crowd’s chatter grew louder. All eyes were on Rina, waiting for her reaction. But she remained silent. She simply pulled Liam into her arms, shielding him, and walked away without a single backward glance. As they turned, I saw it clearly: a triumphant smirk on Liam’s face. I had never been so humiliated in my entire life. Fury consumed me, a wildfire burning away all reason. On the spot, I ordered my men to tear down the wedding decorations. I ripped off my tuxedo. And in front of everyone, I declared that from that day forward, the Cross and Aniston families were severing all business ties. For the next five years, I stayed abroad. I never once returned to the city that had broken my heart. My mind snapped back to the present. I realized with a strange sense of detachment that the all-consuming love and hate of the past had faded into a distant, muted ache. “Matt, what happened back then was Rina’s fault,” Old Man Aniston was saying, his voice earnest. “But you were childhood sweethearts, after all. A bond like that doesn’t just disappear. It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

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1 I’m the idealized ghost of a boyfriend, the one who died taking a knife for her. Ten years after my death, a System forcibly resurrected me and told me I had to be a stepfather. 「Host, your objective is to save the child on that rooftop.」 「He’s your wife’s son. If you don’t intervene, he will die today.」 I didn’t want to see a kid die, but I’ve always had a domineering streak. So I walked up and kicked him. Lightly, but still a kick. “You’re just as pathetic as your mother. What’s with all the melodrama?” “Where is your mom, anyway? Call her. Tell her to come get me.” … The kid just stared at me, then looked around wildly, as if I were a ghost that had materialized in broad daylight. In the end, he didn’t ask a single question. He just lowered his head again. I couldn’t stand that spineless act. I ran a hand through my hair in frustration and snatched the phone from his pocket. “Do you know your mom’s number?” The call log and notifications were completely empty. Not even a single spam text. He fumbled for a moment before slowly punching in a number. The phone barely managed one ring before the call was disconnected, leaving only a dial tone humming in the silence. I scowled. “Zara Hayes has really grown a backbone, hasn’t she? Daring to ignore my calls.” The little brat next to me didn’t react. He just stood there, a silent, miniature statue. After eight consecutive calls, someone finally picked up. A man’s voice answered. “Harry? Ms. Hayes is busy.” Then he hung up, not even giving me a chance to curse him out. I was so furious I nearly smashed the phone, but the kid tugged on my shirt, stopping me. I forced my anger down. “It’s fine, kid. We’ll go find Zara and settle this score together.” He clutched my sleeve, his expression blank. It took him a long moment to force out a few words. “I won’t be a burden.” The phrase instantly deflated my anger. I let out a helpless sigh. “Fine. Let’s go back, then.” Once we were in the car, I stared at him for a long time. “Your name is Harry?” “Yeah.” I asked the System again. “Is he really Zara’s son?” 「According to the rules of your human world, yes.」 I resigned myself to my fate and started trying to be a proper stepfather. I asked him what he liked to eat. He said anything was fine. I asked him what he liked to play. He didn’t answer. I asked him why he was on the roof. He turned away from me. That was the last straw. I pulled him into my lap. “Does Zara have any idea you were about to go play flying squirrel off a skyscraper?” Only then did he slowly lift his head, like a robot rebooting, and spoke with stiff precision. “Mom is busy. I won’t be a burden.” The words lodged in my throat. It felt like I was choking. Was that the only phrase he knew? “I won’t be a burden.” How in the world did Zara raise a son like this? The System offered a quiet word of comfort. 「Don’t be too hard on him, Host. The child is just too considerate. He bottles everything up.」 I knew that. He was just a little kid. This was clearly the fault of the adults in his life. The car pulled up to a familiar house. Suddenly, a crucial question popped into my head. “System, where’s his dad?” 「He doesn’t have one.」 No dad? The moment I opened the front door, I felt a wave of dizziness. It was as if I’d just stepped out for a walk, not like I’d been gone for ten years. The coat I’d carelessly hung in the entryway was still there, perfectly preserved, without a single wrinkle. There was no trace of another man having ever lived in this house, save for a single pair of cufflinks sitting by the door. I went upstairs, my feet finding their way automatically, and opened the door to my old room. It was exactly as I had left it. When I came back downstairs, I realized Harry had vanished. I searched everywhere, finally finding him tucked away in a corner of the living room. He’d unearthed an advanced calculus workbook thicker than a brick and was sitting there, methodically solving problems. He was being so good it was terrifying. “System, is he like this every day?” I asked. 「Yes. For Zara’s son, not being exceptional would also be a way of causing trouble.」 I immediately strode over, snatched the workbook, and tossed it into the trash. Harry stared at me, dumbfounded, then his brow furrowed. His head tilted back and forth, like a little robot with a short circuit. I stared back, a silent challenge. Ten minutes later, my eyes burning, I finally caved. “I’m hungry.” The robot successfully processed the command. His head bobbed, and he scurried into the kitchen, expertly turning the knob on the gas stove. “Danger! Don’t touch that!” My heart leaped into my throat. I lunged forward and slammed the valve shut. He flinched back like a startled cat, cowering in the corner, his face a mask of confusion. I was about to lose my mind. I looked around the pristine kitchen and asked the System, “How old is he?” 「Six.」 Fantastic. Letting a six-year-old cook with a gas stove. Zara must have had rocks for brains. I paced back and forth, hands on my hips, trying to wrestle my temper under control. Finally, I turned to Harry. “That’s too dangerous. I’ll take you out to eat.” As we left, I growled under my breath. “System, you get out here right now. What the hell happened these last ten years?” The System glitched for a moment before beginning its report. After I died, Zara threw herself into her work, becoming a machine that did nothing but grind from dawn till dusk. She paid no attention to her own health or emotions, so naturally, she had none to spare for Harry. For years, a nanny had cared for him. But with no other adults in the house, the nanny began to secretly abuse him. It was only discovered when the bruises on his body became too numerous to hide. Zara fired the nanny. And for the first time, Harry made a request. “I can take care of myself. I don’t want a nanny.” “I won’t be a burden.” From that day on, Harry lived alone. Zara’s assistant, Sean, would check on him every couple of days. “Who is Sean?” 「A new assistant Zara hired after you died.」 So, in the ten years I was gone, Zara’s world had filled with things I knew nothing about. The System ignored my internal monologue and continued. 「Sean is known for being well-liked at the company, which is why Zara trusted him. But Harry has never liked him. In fact, he’s shown a clear aversion to the man.」 “Why?” For a robot like Harry, showing any emotion at all, let alone outright dislike, was a huge deal. 「Because Sean tried to convince him to tell Zara, ‘I want Sean to be my daddy.’」 「Harry refused. After that, Sean started targeting him.」 “How?” The cruelty of adults might be less direct than that of children, but for a vulnerable kid like Harry, it was devastating. 「As you’ve seen, Harry is very reserved.」 「So, Sean told Zara that Harry was slow-witted and a pathological liar. Then he turned around and told Harry that Zara considered him a dead weight, a burden she wished she could be rid of.」 「He told him that a bastard from nowhere like him was unworthy of love. That once he married Zara, Harry, the little parasite, would be finished.」 My fists clenched without me realizing. A cold sneer twisted my lips. “A dead weight, huh?” 「What are you planning to do?」 the System asked meekly. “Help Zara get her eyes checked. If she’s not going to use them, she might as well donate them.” “And that Sean… preying on a little kid. I’m going to make him wish he’d never been born.” As if on cue, Sean arrived. An arrogant voice boomed from the doorway. “You little brat, this water is scalding! Are you trying to kill me?” “And who gave you permission to bring a strange man into this house?” “What do you think this is, a dumpster? Isn’t it enough that I have to deal with you, you little piece of trash? Now you’re bringing in a big one?” “Tell him to get the hell out.” Harry, who never fought back, moved. He stood in front of Sean, blocking his path. “No.” Sean’s jaw clenched in fury. “Harry, do you have any idea what you’re doing?” “I swear, I’ll call Ms. Hayes right now and have her throw you out on the street.” “Move it, you bastard from nowhere.” Harry just stood there, his head bowed, not moving, not saying a word. A sharp pain, like a needle, pierced my heart. I stepped in front of Sean. “You love talking trash so much. How come you haven’t been recycled yet?” Before he could retort, my palm connected with his cheek. “You dare hit me?” “I’ll do more than hit you if you don’t stop spewing garbage.” I pulled Harry behind me, shielding him. Sean clutched his face, his eyes raking over me, a contemptuous sneer on his lips. “Do you have any idea who I am? I’m Ms. Hayes’s most trusted assistant. The man who’s been by her side longer than anyone.” “So you’ve charmed this little bastard. So what? I’m the one who’s going to be with Ms. Hayes. And when I am, I’ll have you both thrown out.” He turned back to Harry, his voice a low threat. “Ms. Hayes specifically ordered that dead man’s room to be sealed. No one has been allowed in for years. And you let this stranger in there. Think about the consequences.” “If I tell her about this, you’re finished. So…” Smack. Another slap. “Still barking?” Sean stared at me, his face now a matching set of bright red handprints, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You hit me again?” “Do I need to make an appointment?” He lunged at me, but Harry threw himself in front of me, a small, unmovable shield. Sean hissed out three sharp “Fine’s” and pulled out his phone, dialing Zara. “Ms. Hayes, I just got here and Harry brought a strange man into the house. He even let the man into… his room.” “And they hit me…” I scoffed. “Playing the victim, are we?” “Wait!” Zara’s voice suddenly crackled through the phone, laced with a tremor of shock and something else… hope. “Turn on the video. Let me see his face.” Sean looked confused but obeyed, pointing the camera at me. But then, Harry lunged forward and knocked the phone out of his hand. “Get out.”

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Julian Vance hated the idea of marrying a country bumpkin like me. So, to force me into breaking off the engagement, he hired a broke scholarship student to impersonate him. “A nouveau riche hillbilly and a guy who can’t afford lunch? A match made in heaven.” “I bet the bumpkin won’t last three days before calling off the wedding.” The scholarship student was tall, aloof, and visibly broken. A silent type. I fell for it. I genuinely believed the Vance family had gone bankrupt and that he was starving. My dad’s words echoed in my ears: “Sweetie, if they’re broke, they’re broke. We don’t discriminate. We have enough money to support him.” So, when he was hungry, I fed him. When he worked late, I was his bodyguard. When his mom was hospitalized, I swiped my card. I took excellent care of my destitute fiancé. Until the day a stunningly handsome boy snatched the breakfast I had lovingly prepared. Just as I was about to explode, he looked at me with frustration. “Lily, open your eyes. I am your fiancé—” 1 My dad told me I had a fiancé in the city. To let me decide whether I wanted him or not—and to help me get into a good college—he transferred me to Julian Vance’s high school for my junior year. Rumor had it the Vance family was the richest in River City, with deep roots. My dad made me pack a ton of expensive gifts. But when I got off the train, not a single soul from the Vance family was there to pick me up. I was annoyed at first. But when I arrived at the school and saw “Julian”—thin, pale, wearing a t-shirt that had been washed until it was see-through—my anger vanished. A helpful student had guided me, looking at the photo in my hand. “Junior Class 3? You’re looking for Julian Vance? I know him. I’ll take you.” He pointed him out. I followed his finger. The boy sitting by the window had a straight back, but he looked fragile. Afternoon sun filtered through the window, highlighting his profile. A stray breeze lifted his hair, revealing a smooth forehead and a sharp brow bone. I looked at the photo, then at him. The helpful student’s voice rang in my ear, dripping with pity: “You didn’t know? The Vance family went bankrupt two years ago. Julian is on financial aid now. He works part-time after school. Sometimes he can’t even afford lunch.” My family rarely contacted the Vances, and bankruptcy isn’t exactly something you advertise to your country relatives. I gasped softly, nodding like a bobblehead, promising not to spread the news. “This is our new student, Lily Lin. Everyone welcome her,” the teacher announced, pointing to an empty desk. “You can sit there.” I looked up. It was right next to “Julian.” From the moment I walked in, he hadn’t looked up once. He was furiously writing something. To get to my seat, I had to squeeze behind him. My backpack snagged on something. Clatter. A tin cup fell out of his desk, rolling on the floor. A piece of dry, hard bread tumbled out, picking up dust. I saw his shoulders tremble slightly. He gripped his pen tighter but didn’t turn around. Stifled laughter erupted around us. I saw boys whispering and sneering at his back. So, Julian really was having a hard time. The spirited boy in the photo was now picking up scraps. I bit my lip, sat down, and whispered, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He still didn’t look at me. He just picked up the cup and bread and shoved them back into his desk. “I’m Lily. Do you remember me?” I tilted my head, trying to catch his eye. We had met once when he was six. Like my mom, I’m a sucker for a pretty face, and little Julian was adorable. I couldn’t leave him alone. But then I took him to play with chickens, and a rooster pecked his butt. He never spoke to me again. At least he grew up handsome. My sudden closeness startled him. He leaned back, looking at me with lowered eyes. His eyes were beautiful, like obsidian. Long lashes shadowed his gaze, making him look less unapproachable. He stayed silent. I scratched my head. “I’m your fiancée. Ring a bell?” He was drinking water and choked. He coughed, trying to suppress the sound. I patted his back. When he recovered, he looked at me with a strange expression, his pale face flushed. Maybe he didn’t remember. Or maybe bankruptcy changed him. Fine. We’d just start over as friends. I extended my hand. “Well, we’re deskmates now. I’m Lily. Nice to meet you. By the way, can you do me a favor?” I expected silence, but he actually spoke. His voice was cold. “I don’t have time.” 2 Meanwhile, the helpful student who guided me sprinted to the stairwell where a group of rich kids were waiting. “Julian, it’s done. That girl is dense,” Tyler crowed to the handsome boy in the center. “She believed every word. I pointed out Caleb and told her the Vance family was broke and he couldn’t afford food. Her jaw hit the floor.” “She even saw Caleb’s dry bread. Who wants a charity case like that?” “I bet you within three days, she’ll run crying to her dad to call off the wedding.” Julian Vance looked impatient. “Are you sure? Three days? She really bought it?” “I saw the photo she had. It was just a side profile. Looks enough like Caleb. I told her you changed your name to dodge debt collectors. She ate it up.” “If you run into her, just say you have the same name. She won’t suspect a thing.” Julian relaxed, leaning back. “A nouveau riche hillbilly. Who does arranged marriages anymore?” “Exactly. The Vances are old money. Your brother married an heiress. Why are you stuck with a village girl?” “My mom’s been on a hunger strike over this for days. But my dad listens to Grandpa, and Grandpa is obsessed with honoring some promise to his old war buddy.” “But hey,” Tyler added, “that fiancée of yours…” Julian shot him a glare. “She’s actually pretty cute,” Tyler muttered. “I took a pic. Wanna see? Maybe she’s your type.” Julian scoffed. “Are you sick? My standards aren’t that low.” Tyler scratched his head. “Seriously, she’s prettier than the school beauty queen.” 3 I knew none of this. My eyes were fixed on Caleb. Or, as I knew him, “Julian.” He said his name was Caleb, and everyone called him that. The Vance family really did change his name to hide from debt. I spent the whole day trying to talk to him. He rarely responded. But I’m a chatterbox. I take after my dad, who can talk to a brick wall for hours. Plus, I make friends easily. “Hey, what’s good to eat in River City? I’m new here.” “Do you live on campus or at home?” “Why is this topic taught differently here than in my town?” “Where’s the water fountain? I’m dying of thirst.” Finally, Caleb couldn’t take it anymore. “Focus on the lesson.” After a pause, he added, “Water fountain is by Class 4. Go after class.” By the time class ended, I forgot about the water. I called my dad immediately to tell him about the Vance bankruptcy. “What? Really?” Dad sounded shocked. “It’s okay, sweetie. If they’re broke, they’re broke. We don’t discriminate. Humanity shows itself in tough times. If you like the kid, we’ll just support him.” I nodded. Not that I liked him like that yet. But Caleb was pitiful. I had nothing but money. And he needed money. My family got rich the year I was born. My dad jumped on real estate reform in ’98, bought old grain depots, developed new districts in 2005, and invested in tech without understanding a lick of it. He just knew how to spend. Compared to the generational wealth of the Vances, we were definitely “nouveau riche.” But being nouveau riche meant my dad handed me credit cards like they were tissues. I could have bought the KTV where Caleb worked, but I didn’t. I stalked Caleb for days to find out where he worked. Night-shift Caleb was different. Messier hair, casual clothes. When he saw me, his brows knitted together tight. “Who let you in here?” He dragged me to the stairwell. “Why are you at a KTV?” I pulled a sandwich from my bag and shoved it into his hand. Caleb froze. “Eat,” I urged. “I bought too much. It expires tonight. I can’t eat it, and wasting food is bad. Help me out.” I found out Caleb worked three jobs. Flyer distribution, a fried noodle stall, then the KTV. He sold noodles for $7 but never ate them himself. He survived on dry buns or leftover snacks from KTV guests. My classmates warned me to stay away from him. They said he was weird, gloomy, and antisocial. They said his mom had uremia and his sister was disabled. So Mrs. Vance was sick? I couldn’t ask him. I didn’t want to hurt his pride. “Why?” Caleb looked down at the sandwich. “Why what? We’re deskmates. And you helped me with math today.” I nodded firmly. “My dad said if I don’t get into a good college, he’ll break my legs. Caleb, this is bribery. The sandwich isn’t free. You have to keep tutoring me.” I saw his math score today. 149 out of 150. Genius. He pursed his lips. “You don’t think I’m dirty?” “What? No!” I leaned in and sniffed him dramatically. “Your clothes smell like soap. It’s nice. Look at my sleeve…” I held up my arm. “Way dirtier than yours. Do you think I’m dirty?” In the dim light, Caleb looked up. His eyes shone like stars. He shook his head. “Exactly. I’m your fian—” I stopped myself just in time. 4 Caleb clocked out ten minutes early to walk me home. He slipped a notebook into my bag. My dad bought a villa in the posh Clear Creek district before I arrived. Since Mom died, he’s been overprotective. He hired a housekeeper to look after me. As we approached the villa district, I swerved toward the cheaper apartments nearby. If he saw the villas, he might feel bad about his bankruptcy. “Here!” I pointed at a random building. “You go home too.” Caleb looked up at the building, then patted my head. “See you tomorrow, deskmate.” If anyone knew Caleb, they’d say he looked like a paper doll coming to life. Less dead, more hopeful. Once he was gone, I sprinted back to the villas. I rounded the corner to my house and almost crashed into someone. A hand steadied me. I looked up. A handsome, refined face. Weirdly familiar. He looked a bit like Caleb. But why did he look so dumbstruck? I waved my hand in front of his face. “Hey, I’m fine. You can let go.” He blinked and released me. “Sorry.” I nodded and kept walking. “You go to First High too…” he called out. But my puppy, Bean, ran out to greet me. I forgot the stranger instantly. Julian stood there, watching the girl run off with her dog. He checked the group chat. “Does anyone know a girl at our school? Long hair, big eyes, tall, mole on her nose?” “What’s this? Love at first sight?” “No way. Julian’s standards are too high.” Julian stared at the screen. “Shut up. Just tell me if you’ve seen her.” “Hair, eyes, height… sure. But that specific combo? No idea.” “I’ll scout for you tomorrow. If she’s at First High, I’ll find her.” Julian typed lazily: “Find her, and you’ll be rewarded.” He was confident. He always got what he wanted.

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The scorching heat of the apocalypse had arrived, and with it came the Beastman System. Your survival depended on your National Aptitude Test score. High scores meant priority access to S-Tier Beastmen. In my past life, my younger sister, backed by our parents, forced me to give up the Ice Python. I had to use every last one of my points to exchange for a Fire Fox instead. The heatwave was short-lived. The Eternal Freeze followed immediately after. My parents and sister didn’t survive the cold; they turned into ice sculptures. As for the Fire Fox? He had always lusted after my sister. After she died, he set me up and got me killed. Now, I’ve been reborn. And my sister, carrying the memories of her past life, is desperate to snatch the Fire Fox from me. Perfect. That’s exactly what I want. Chapter 1 When I opened my eyes, I was sitting at my desk, staring at the computer screen, waiting for my test results. In my last life, two days before the scores were released, the Heat Apocalypse began. Global temperatures skyrocketed. People were dropping like flies. Simultaneously, the “System” descended, offering the survivors a glimmer of hope. The Beastman System. Everyone could bind with a creature. Your options depended on your test score. High score? You get first pick of the elite bloodlines. Low score? You get the scraps. I didn’t even bother checking my score this time. I already knew it. I had always been the smart one. My sister, Bella, was the opposite. Her grades were trash. We were the only two kids, but Mom and Dad played favorites like it was an Olympic sport. Bella was the golden child. I never wasted energy arguing. I poured everything into my studies, consistently ranking at the top. Bella, spoiled rotten, barely scraped by but always knew how to sweet-talk our parents. In my previous life, she threw a tantrum and, with our parents’ help, stole the Ice Python I had selected. I knew exactly what was coming. Right on cue, the door burst open. Bella marched in, flanked by Mom and Dad. “Chloe, did you check your score?” No knocking, no manners. Bella cut straight to the chase. “I did. State Rank One.” Hatred and jealousy flashed in Bella’s eyes. Seeing her like this gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction. She looked down on me for being a nerd, yet here she was, about to beg for the very privilege my hard work had earned. Mom and Dad lit up. “Really? I knew our Chloe was a genius! Top of the state!” “This is huge! The Jiang family name is finally going to mean something!” Their praise annoyed Bella. She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “It’s the apocalypse, Mom. Grades don’t mean anything anymore. Survival is the only thing that matters.” I watched her try to rain on my parade and sighed internally. “Actually, since my score is high, I get priority selection on a Guardian Beast. That pretty much guarantees my survival,” I said, yawning and leaning back in my chair. Bella’s face twisted. She remembered why she was here. Her expression shifted through three different emotions before settling on a fake smile. “Sis, you haven’t picked your beast yet, right?” “Not yet. Just saw the score.” “What are you gonna pick?” “None of your business. Any S-Tier beast is enough to keep me alive.” Bella’s expression darkened with malice. “Open the interface. Let me see what the top-tier beasts look like.” With her garbage score, she wouldn’t even have access to view the S-Class catalog. My parents, suddenly remembering their precious baby’s predicament, chimed in. “Yes, Chloe, show us.” “You know Bella didn’t do well. Just let her take a peek.” I could practically hear the abacus clicking in their heads. I opened the selection interface. Two holographic projections materialized in the center of the room. One was a massive, snow-white Python, coiled peacefully on a glacier. The other was a Fire Fox, sitting proudly on a burning rock, flames dancing around its tails. The moment she saw the Fire Fox, Bella’s eyes lit up with greed. My eyes, however, filled with hate. Chapter 2 In the previous timeline, during the scorching heat, Bella had set her sights on the Python. The logic was simple: it was hot, and the snake was cold. They coerced, guilt-tripped, and threatened me until I handed the Python over. I was left with the Fire Fox, which cost me every single point I had, leaving me with zero currency to buy survival items. Bella got the top-tier Python for free and refused to lend me a single point to stay alive. “Chloe, can you let me have the Fire Fox?” Hearing her make the opposite choice confirmed it: Bella was reborn, too. Unless she knew the heat was temporary and the Eternal Freeze was coming, she would never pick a fire-attribute beast in this weather. I smirked. “Why should I? I earned the priority pick. Why should I give it to you?” “Chloe! Bella is your little sister! Be the bigger person!” Mom snapped. “Exactly,” Dad added. “You only have one sister. She’s younger than you. It won’t kill you to protect her.” Here we go again. “Since we were kids, I’ve had to yield everything to her. She’s younger, sure, but I’m getting older too! Why doesn’t she ever yield to me? My beast is the reward for my hard work. Why should I give it up?” I used to think that if I showed them success, they might love me. I see now that was a waste of time. Bella bit her lip, looking aggrieved. “Are you trying to kill me, Chloe? You know my score is bad. It’s a million degrees outside. I’m not asking for the snake, I’m leaving the cooling one for you! Can’t you just help me?” If I hadn’t seen her vicious face in our past life, I might have believed her logic. Last time, she neglected the Python. She refused to spend points on him, so he never evolved. When the Freeze came, she froze to death along with the snake she’d starved. I, meanwhile, had to play deadly System Games to earn points to feed that ungrateful Fire Fox. And while I was fighting for my life, Bella had been secretly seducing the Fox. When she died, the Fox—now evolved and humanoid thanks to my blood and sweat—blamed me. He left me in the snow to be torn apart by feral beasts. Seeing Bella so desperate for the Fox, I decided to be a benevolent sister. I wanted to see how she’d handle that high-maintenance, gold-digging fox without my ability to earn points. I immediately tapped the [Bind] button under the Snow Python. The projection vanished. In the room, a slender white snake materialized, coiling around my arm. The temperature in the room instantly dropped twenty degrees. It was blissfully cool. Seeing I didn’t take the Fox, Bella let out a breath she’d been holding. “Sis… I don’t have enough points for the Fox. Can you… can you use your points to redeem him for me?” “No way. If I buy him, I’ll have zero points. How will I survive?” I poked the little snake’s head. He looked at me with beady eyes and flicked a fork tongue against my cheek. “I can share my points with you, Sis!” Bella lied through her teeth. “It’s a win-win. Our family will have two S-Tier beasts. We’ll be invincible.” Yeah, right. I choked on that lie in my last life. “Tell you what, Bella. You transfer all your points to me first. Whatever you’re short, ask Mom and Dad to cover it. My points will be the family reserve fund. Deal?” “No!” Bella rejected it instantly. My parents blindly backed her up. “How can you be so selfish? Using her points is fine, but using yours is a problem? Do you want your sister to have nothing?” I was done with their hypocrisy. I feigned impatience, moving my finger toward the ‘Cancel’ button on the trade interface. “Cut the crap. Use your own points or I’m closing the window. Let someone else grab the Fox.” Bella panicked. She hated parting with her currency, but she wanted the Fox more. Just as I was about to close it, she gritted her teeth and agreed. She transferred her points—and Mom and Dad’s points—to my account. I completed the transaction for the Fox. Then, ignoring their hateful glares, I kicked all three of them out of my room. Bella hugged the Fire Fox, ecstatic. She had no idea what it cost to feed that thing. Chapter 3 I opened the System Shop and spent points like water. Nutrient serums, Evolution Pills, Elemental Cores—anything that was good for the Snow Python, I bought it. In just a few days, the little snake grew from a garden hose into a proper python. He used to wrap around my neck. Now, he was heavy enough to give me scoliosis. “You’re getting heavy,” I muttered, poking his head. It was the size of my fist now. He tilted his head, looking confused, then licked my face again. Kind of cute. I kissed the top of his smooth, white head. The scales on his head turned a faint pink. Cute and shy. I stopped teasing him. I needed to prepare for the Eternal Freeze. I had points from the trade, but I couldn’t just sit on them. Luckily, I retained my combat experience from the previous life’s games. When I went to the living room for dinner, Bella was hugging her precious Fox. “Aren’t you hot?” I asked. I rolled a can of soda down the Python’s body. It frosted over instantly. In this heat, he was better than an AC unit. “Tch. You don’t know anything,” Bella sneered. “Just wait. You’ll see.” “Is that so?” She stared at my snake. “How did he get so big in just a few days?” My python was now waist-high when he reared up. In her past life, she starved him until he died the size of a worm. “I fed him,” I said, pointing at the red fox. “Don’t tell me… you haven’t fed yours anything? He’s gonna stay a runt if you don’t.” The Fire Fox’s eyes glinted with malice when he heard that. “What?!” Bella shrieked, making sure our parents heard. “You spent all your points feeding that stupid snake?” My parents rushed out. “You ungrateful wretch! Those points were for the family! How dare you spend them all!” “How are we supposed to live now?” Bella smirked. She loved using them as a weapon. “Let’s get one thing straight,” I said calmly. “Your points went into buying that fox. My points are mine. I’ll spend them how I like.” “This is our house!” Bella yelled. “Aren’t you afraid we’ll kick you out to die?” I patted the massive snake head beside me. “With him, I’ll survive anywhere. But you guys? The AC is barely holding up. And your fox is a literal heater. Are you sure you want to kick out the only source of cold air in the house?” “Just you wait,” Bella hissed. “This heat won’t last. You’re going to freeze to death soon enough.” She just laid her cards on the table. “If you don’t start feeding that fox properly,” I replied, “do you really think he’ll have the strength to protect you when the frost hits?” I went back to my room, leaving her looking anxious. Chapter 4 Bella took the bait. The fox was getting restless, so she started entering the System Games. But Bella was incompetent. She barely scraped by, coming back with injuries and meager points. It wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy the fox’s gluttony. One day, while Bella was in a game, the fox came knocking on my door. I let him in. He hopped onto my keyboard and skillfully typed out a message. “Chloe. Why did you pick that useless snake? You know the Freeze is coming. I am the only one who can keep you alive.” My python, Frost, narrowed his beady eyes. His tail slammed against the floorboards—thud, thud—in irritation. I stroked his scales to calm him down. “Stupid fox. You’re reborn too, aren’t you? Then you know there’s bad blood between us. I’m not dumb enough to raise a beast that stabs me in the back again.” The keyboard clattered rapidly. “I was tricked by Bella last time. I regretted it. That’s why I self-destructed after you died.” He looked at me with puppy-dog eyes, feigning remorse. I felt nothing. “It’s fine. I found a beast that suits me. I gave you and Bella your happy ending. Now go be with her.” Before he could type another word, a white tail swept him out of the room and slammed the door shut. I turned to comfort Frost, but a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind. Cold breath tickled my ear. “Did you choose him in your past life? So I wasn’t your first choice? You only picked me because you had no other option?” The voice was deep, aggrieved, and silky smooth. I froze. He transformed! He died before he could take human form last time. “Of course not! Bella stole you first! I had no choice but to pick the stinky fox!” I tried to turn around to look at him. Holy… The fox was handsome, sure. But Frost? He was ethereal. Silver-white hair, piercing silver eyes looking at me with deep devotion. His upper body was sculpted muscle, tight abs leading down to… A snake tail. He noticed me staring lower and blushed. Still shy! “What are you looking at?! Don’t look!” He covered my eyes with his hand. I laughed. “I heard snakes have two…” “Mmph!” He clamped his hand over my mouth. His whole body turned pink. “Okay, okay. Do you have a name?” “Frost.” While Frost thrived under my care, the fox continued to pressure Bella, complaining about his slow growth.

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