Author: Momo Chan

Three years after our wedding, my pilot husband, Vernon, had stood me up at City Hall eighteen times. The first time, his female apprentice was on a test flight. I waited at the courthouse all day. The second time, he got a call from her, made a sharp U-turn, and left me on the side of the road. After that, it became a pattern. Every time we scheduled a day to get our marriage license, something would “happen” to his apprentice. Eventually, I decided to leave him. But when I boarded the plane to Paris, he chased me across the world, a man unhinged. 01 We’d had a wedding three years ago, but Vernon had never made it legal. Today was a milestone: his one-thousandth successful flight. It was also the seventeenth time he had promised we would finally get our marriage license. But at his celebration dinner, while his direct supervisor was pressuring me to drink, Vernon was busy trading bites of food and feeding sips of wine to his apprentice, Serena. I was fighting a high fever, drinking until I was about to pass out, and he didn’t even glance my way. I could see the pity in our colleagues’ eyes. It was painfully obvious to everyone who I was doing this for. When the dinner finally ended, Vernon, who was supposed to drive us straight to City Hall, bailed on me once again. He pulled the car up to the restaurant entrance, then held up a hand to stop me from getting in. “Serena drank too much for me tonight. I’m taking her home,” he said, his tone clipped. “You can just grab a cab.” He didn’t stop there. “We probably won’t make it to the courthouse this afternoon. We’ll do it another day.” Without waiting for my reaction, he got out, walked around the car, and gently helped his apprentice into the passenger seat. Eight years together, three years of a supposed marriage. This was the seventeenth time Vernon had postponed our life together for Serena. Normally, this would be my cue to break down, to scream and cry, to demand to know who his real wife was, who had just spent the entire evening taking metaphorical bullets for him. But this time, I just smiled faintly. “Okay. Drive safe.” Vernon flinched, surprised by my calm reaction, but his face quickly hardened back into its usual indifference. “I’ll pick up a gift for you on my way home tonight to make it up to you.” He slid into the driver’s seat and sped off, but not before carefully rolling up the passenger-side window, shielding his drunk apprentice from the wind. He used to hate the smell of alcohol in his car. Any time I took a drink for him, he would lower the convertible top, even in the dead of winter. He certainly never would have rolled the window up. I realize now it was never about the smell. It was just about the person in the car. The midday Atlanta heat was suffocating, making sweat bead on my skin, but my heart felt like a block of ice. I took a deep breath and tucked the marriage license application back into my purse. I knew then that it was time to let go of our eight years together. 02 That afternoon, I went straight back to the office and handed my supervisor my resignation letter. “Does Vernon know you’re leaving?” he asked, shocked. After all, I had been the airline’s top-rated flight attendant for seven consecutive years. My future here was bright. I offered a sad smile. “I’ll tell him tonight. Not that he’ll care.” “I just don’t get it,” he sighed, his voice full of regret. “You two pioneered new routes together, won ‘Best Crew’ awards. Three years ago, even the CEO came to your wedding. Everyone was so envious of you both, but now…” He was right. Those were beautiful memories. But memories were all they were. There was no going back. It was after ten by the time I got home from the office. The house was dark and silent. Empty. Then my phone screen lit up. A notification from Serena’s latest post, where she had pointedly tagged me. “Thanks to my amazing mentor for spending the whole afternoon with me! To pay you back, I’m taking you to the Coldplay concert tomorrow! So excited ~” I knew then that Vernon wouldn’t be coming home, despite his promise. This had happened more times than I could count over the past three years. I made some instant ramen and opened my laptop. My inbox was filled with offers from more than a dozen international airlines. My cursor hovered over the email from Air France, and without a second thought, I clicked ‘Accept.’ Then I booked a one-way ticket to Paris, departing in two days. Five years ago, on a flight to Paris, Vernon had faced the worst crisis of his career. Since that day, the word “Paris” had become taboo. He refused to fly there, and he made sure I never did either. Paris it is, Vernon, I thought. This way, we’ll never have to see each other again. 03 The next morning, I woke up and started packing. I was halfway through when Vernon walked in, wearing a crisp pink shirt. A heavy cloud of rose perfume followed him through the door. The scent hit me, and I froze. He used to despise perfume. Because of him, I hadn’t worn a single drop in years. I’d even thrown out my entire treasured collection. It was clear now. He didn’t hate perfume. He just hated it on me. He saw my suitcases and stopped short. “Serena took a long time to sober up last night. I got a hotel room instead of coming home,” he offered, a flicker of something in his eyes. I looked up at him, surprised. It was the first time in three years he’d bothered to explain himself. I just nodded, saying nothing. He walked over to me, his eyes on my bags. “Packing for a flight?” “Something like that,” I said. He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. “I have to run an errand today,” he said, his relief palpable. “I just came back to grab something. I won’t be staying for lunch.” “Okay.” I didn’t look up, just kept folding clothes. I had planned to tell him I’d quit during lunch, to finally put an end to our eight years. It seemed I wouldn’t get the chance. Vernon grabbed a red gift bag from the closet, picked up his jacket from the hook by the door, and rushed out. CRASH! As the front door clicked shut, the photo frame that had hung there for eight years suddenly crashed to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. I looked over at the mess of splintered glass. It was a picture of Vernon and me at our first concert together, our hands clasped, faces beaming with joy. He had promised me that day that no matter how busy he got, we would go to a concert together every single year. He’d forgotten all about that promise the moment Serena became his apprentice. The only sound in the empty room was the ticking of the clock. After a long silence, I swept up the shards of glass and threw the smiling photo, along with the last vestiges of my broken heart, into the trash. 04 That evening, exhausted after finishing my packing, I was lying in bed when my best friend called. “What the hell is wrong with Vernon? This is too much, Chloe! Look at his story! He’s all over Serena, that little fox.” Her voice was vibrating with rage. “You’re not even divorced yet! How could he do this?” I opened my phone. The first story on my feed was Serena’s. In the photo, she was wearing a Van Cleef & Arpels clover necklace. In her hands was the red gift bag Vernon had come home to get that morning. So that’s what it was for. A concert gift for Serena. Her caption read: “Three years since we met, and I’m so lucky to have you. Happy third anniversary, Vernon! ♡” And then it hit me. Three years? Yes. Today was also my third wedding anniversary with Vernon. An anniversary we had never once celebrated. An anniversary I had completely forgotten myself. I let out a long breath. “He doesn’t need a divorce, Jessica,” I said quietly. “We never got the license.” “What?” “You’ve been married for three years, and he never legally married you?” Her shriek nearly deafened me. Yes. Three years since the wedding. And seventeen times he had stood me up at the courthouse. 05 Vernon came home at eleven, unusually early for him. He took off his jacket and turned to hang it on the hook behind the door. He froze, his hand hovering in mid-air, staring at the empty space where our photo used to be. “Where’s our picture?” he asked, a strange panic in his voice as he walked into the bedroom, still holding his jacket. “It fell. It broke.” He glanced at the trash can by the door and saw the broken glass. A look of relief washed over his face. He tossed his jacket aside and produced a shopping bag with an LV box inside. “I didn’t get a chance to give you your gift yesterday,” he said. “And since today is our third wedding anniversary… this is for you. Happy anniversary.” He placed the bag on the bed. For a moment, I thought I’d misheard him. After three years, he actually remembered our anniversary? But then I saw the receipt peeking out of the bag. The purchase time was from half an hour ago. He must have seen Serena’s post and been reminded, picking up a gift on his way home. He didn’t know I already owned two of this exact same bag. I just stared at him, silent. “Oh, right,” he started, his tone shifting. “The annual airline awards are coming up. I was wondering if you’d consider stepping down this year? Serena’s been in the industry for three years now, and her biggest dream is to win Best Flight Attendant, just like you. You’ve won it so many years in a row… maybe you could let her have it this year?” He stumbled over the words, avoiding my eyes. A bitter laugh caught in my throat. So, this last-minute gift came with a price tag after all. “Fine,” I said calmly. Not just this year. Next year, the year after that… I would never compete with her for another award. Because after tonight, I would be gone. “You… you agree?” My quick acceptance seemed to throw him off. He kept stealing glances at me from the corner of his eye. He couldn’t leave it alone. “I mean, she’s my apprentice, you’re her mentor’s wife. It’s only right,” he said, as if trying to convince himself. “By the way, I’m not flying tomorrow. Let’s go to the courthouse in the morning and get the license.” I said nothing. He seemed to remember my packing. His voice softened. “Oh, I almost forgot. You have a flight tomorrow, don’t you? What time?” “Three in the afternoon.” I looked at him, steeling myself to use this last chance to tell him I was leaving. But before I could speak, his phone rang. It was Serena. Her high-pitched, whiny voice drifted through the phone. She’d gotten her period and didn’t have any pads. She needed Vernon’s help. He hung up and looked at me, a guilty expression on his face. “Uh… Serena has a bit of an emergency. She’s all alone and can’t handle it. I should probably go over there.” For the first time, his voice held a trace of a question, as if seeking my permission. I swallowed the words I was about to say and forced a smile. “It’s fine. You should go.” Relief washed over his face. He stood up immediately. “A three o’clock flight gives you plenty of time,” he said as he walked to the door. “Tomorrow, ten AM. We’ll get the license. I promise, this time, no matter what happens, I’ll be there.” A bitter smile touched my lips. He wouldn’t even give me the chance to break up with him face-to-face. The next morning, I packed my last bag. I didn’t go to the courthouse. I went straight to the airport. By noon, I still hadn’t received a single call from Vernon asking why I hadn’t shown up. It wasn’t until I was boarding my flight that a message from him finally came through: “Hey, sorry. Serena wasn’t feeling well this morning, I just got back from taking her to the hospital. We missed our appointment. As soon as you get back from your trip, I’ll take you to the courthouse first thing.” I read the message, my heart a placid lake. Of course. The eighteenth time was a no-show, too. “Don’t bother, Vernon,” I typed back. “I’ve resigned. I’m on my way to Paris. After today, we will never see each other again.” I sent the message and prepared to turn off my phone. But a second later, the chat window, which had been silent for so long, began to vibrate uncontrollably.

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I was transmigrated into a novel as the wicked villainess. But I never did a single wicked thing. Not only did I become friends with the heroine, but I also married the gentle second male lead. I truly believed I was happy. Until I found my husband’s diary. It turned out he was reborn. His years of tenderness were nothing but a performance, all to prevent me from hurting the woman he truly loved. 1 I held the positive pregnancy test in my hand, my other hand resting on my stomach, on the tiny life growing inside me. An unprecedented sense of peace settled over me. I had lived in this world for thirteen years, but in this moment, I finally felt anchored, truly and completely bound to this life. I arrived in this world after my own death, transmigrated into the body of the novel’s villainess who shared my name, a woman infamous for her cruelty. But I considered myself lucky. I had arrived before the story’s main plot began, before I could commit any of the terrible acts against the hero and heroine. In fact, the heroine’s bright and cheerful personality drew me in, and we became the best of friends, sharing everything. I acted as her personal love guru, encouraging her to chase her own happiness. I watched her fall in love with the male lead, stood by her side as her maid of honor, and saw her marry the man of her dreams. She was the second person I wanted to share my good news with. The first, of course, was my husband. My husband, Patrick East, was originally the novel’s gentle second male lead, the one who always protected the heroine from the shadows. But perhaps my presence created a butterfly effect, because he never became her silent guardian. Instead, he turned all of his attention, all of his affection, onto me. After thirteen years together, I felt so deeply and genuinely loved that I married him without a second thought. And now, our little family was about to welcome a new life. I couldn’t wait to tell him. 2 I decided against just telling him outright. It would be more fun to let him discover it himself. I slipped into his study and sat down in his chair. Opening a drawer to hide the test, my eyes fell on an old, worn notebook tucked away beneath a stack of neat files. It was out of place, its corner peeking out as if forgotten in a hurry. I carefully picked it up, a small, amused smile on my face. The cover was a faded, girlish design from our school days. It was old, but the curled edges and yellowed pages told me it was opened often. We never had secrets between us, so I opened it without hesitation. On the title page, in elegant, handwritten script, were two words: Forever Love. A blush crept up my cheeks. Could this be a book of love letters he’d written for me? I took out the pregnancy test, planning to slip it between the pages—my own precious love letter to him. I turned to the first page, my heart full. And then, the world stopped. My eternal love, Stella. Stella. The heroine of the novel. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I stared at the words, a thick wad of cotton stuck in my throat, making it hard to breathe. My fingers trembled, but with a self-destructive compulsion, I turned the pages, one after another, reading every single word. It wasn’t a diary. It was a collection of unsent love letters, and they all said the same thing: Patrick East loved Stella. A desperate, unrequited love. He was reborn. He had always loved Stella. And every bit of care, every moment of affection he had ever shown me, was a lie. An act. He had to keep me close, to watch me at all times, to eliminate any possibility of me hurting the woman he cherished. The joy of my pregnancy vanished, replaced by a bitterness that consumed my heart. In all these thirteen years, I had never once wanted to harm Stella. But in this moment, I was jealous of her. So fiercely, painfully jealous. Jealous that a small act of kindness she once showed him was enough to earn a man’s undying, obsessive love for over a decade—a love so profound he would sacrifice his own life, tying himself to the “wicked villainess” just to ensure her happiness. I don’t know how long I sat there, a storm of grief and despair raging inside me, until the world around me felt like a terrifying, hollow dream. 3 Exhaustion finally claimed me, and I fell asleep on the sofa. I didn’t wake until Patrick came home. He reeked of alcohol, stumbling as he walked. “Honey, I’m home…” he slurred, smiling at me. “Sorry, I had a work dinner. I’m late.” I forced a smile that didn’t reach my eyes and played the part of the dutiful wife. I helped him up, loosened his tie, and undid the top button of his shirt. “Thanks, honey. You’re the best.” His words were perfunctory. If he had been paying any attention at all, he would have seen the raw, swollen redness of my eyes. But perhaps this hollow performance had become second nature to him. I guided him to our bed, helped him out of his clothes, and was about to get a warm cloth to wipe his face when he spoke. The alcohol had lowered his defenses, and in his drowsy state, the truth spilled from his lips. “Stella…” My entire body went rigid. I must have misheard. I stared at him, my nails digging into my palms. “Stella,” he whispered again. The word was a cruel confirmation. In a moment of masochistic madness, I leaned closer, my voice a soft imitation of hers. “Patrick?” His hand shot out, gripping mine tightly. His eyes, hazy with drink, were filled with a raw, unguarded tenderness. “Stella,” he breathed, “as long as you’re happy, everything I’ve done is worth it.” That one sentence locked me back inside the cage of his deceit. I couldn’t breathe. The room spun around me. I scrambled out of the bedroom, running from the man I thought I knew, from the lie I had been living. The love I had thrown myself into, heart and soul, was nothing but a joke from the very beginning. 4 My sleep was a battlefield of nightmares. The original villainess’s deeds played out in my mind on a horrifying loop. Cathy bullying the heroine. Cathy hiring thugs to assault her. Cathy using her family’s power to crush her… In the dream, the villainess turned, and her face was mine—twisted with a rage so vile it terrified me. The dream fast-forwarded. The hero and the second male lead, now powerful men, came for their revenge. Patrick stared at me, his eyes as cold and empty as if he were looking at a piece of trash. “You love ruining people’s lives so much,” his dream-self sneered. “Let’s see how you like it.” I died in that dream, violated and broken, my body tossed onto a filthy garbage heap. “No!” I screamed myself awake. My eyes shot open to see Patrick looking down at me, his face etched with concern. The image of his gentle expression overlapped with the brutal cruelty from my dream, and a violent shiver racked my body. He was tucking a blanket around me. “Honey, what’s wrong? Why are you sleeping out here? You’ll catch a cold.” He sat on the edge of the sofa. “Are you mad at me for drinking last night? I’m sorry, the client was really important.” I just shook my head, too shrouded in fear and exhaustion to speak. We didn’t have a guest room. Patrick had sworn he would never do anything to make me kick him out of our bed. And even if he did, he’d said, he would sleep on the floor beside me. Now I realized the truth. There was no escape. No space that was just mine. He was always watching. He didn’t seem to notice my inner turmoil. He just frowned, his voice a pathetic whine. “My head is killing me, honey. Where’s the hangover soup?” “I forgot,” I said flatly. The truth was, I hadn’t made any. Patrick came from a modest background; I was the heiress. He had always been driven, insisting he had to earn my father’s respect on his own merits. He refused my family’s help, started his own company, and nearly drank himself into a stomach ulcer closing deals in the early years. Because I loved him, because I was his wife, I cared for him. I found remedies for his hangovers, stayed up all night with him, doing everything I could to ease his suffering. If I didn’t know the truth, I would still be that devoted wife. But his diary had revealed his true motive. [Cathy used her family’s power to hurt Stella. I cannot let her have even the slightest chance of doing it again. I must build my own power in the business world, enough to stand against her father. If they try to harm Stella like they did in the last life, I will make the entire family pay a painful price!] All his hard work, his relentless ambition—it was all to protect his real love. 5 “Honey, what’s wrong today? You look pale. Are you feeling unwell? Let me take you to the doctor.” I stared at the man before me, wondering if there was a single shred of sincerity in his concern. I was about to confront him, to lay everything bare, when my phone rang. The caller ID flashed in big letters: STELLA. Before I could move, Patrick snatched the phone and handed it to me, his eyes urging me to answer. I numbly pressed the button. Stella’s cheerful voice filled the silence. “Cathy, sweetie! You didn’t forget about the art exhibit today, did you?” “I remember.” “Great! Let’s meet at the cafe in front of the gallery. Leo’s dropping me off on his way to work.” “Okay.” I hung up. Before I could say a word, Patrick spoke. “You have plans with Stella today? Let me drive you.” “You don’t have to. Your office isn’t on the way.” He stroked my cheek, his touch meant to be affectionate. “Silly girl, anywhere you’re going is on my way. Go on, get changed.” He stood up and went to the bedroom to get ready, a lightness in his step. Of course he was happy. He was going to see the woman he loved. And he had conveniently forgotten his earlier suggestion to take me to the doctor. In Patrick’s world, nothing was more important than Stella. 6 When Patrick dropped me off at the cafe, Stella was already there, sipping a frappuccino. She handed me a glass of warm milk, her smile bright. Patrick turned to me, his voice gentle. “You shouldn’t have too many cold drinks. It’s bad for you, especially during your period. You’re not a kid anymore.” Stella giggled. “Wow, look at you two, being all lovey-dovey right in front of me.” Patrick smiled back at her, adding smoothly, “That goes for you too. Less cold drinks!” All that preamble, just for a chance to say one caring word to her. The warm milk in my hands felt like it was scalding my skin. I wasn’t the one who liked cold drinks. The concern he was offering had never been for me. “Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re such a nag. I don’t know how Cathy puts up with you,” Stella teased. Patrick just smiled, then turned back to me. “I’ll pick you two up for lunch. I remember you said you wanted to try that new Spanish place downtown.” Once you start looking for the lies, you realize how clumsy the actor is. I wasn’t the one who wanted to try the Spanish restaurant. Stella was. But I had been blinded by love, and he had been committed to his role. Now that the truth was out, I saw how I had been living with my eyes wide shut. Stella linked her arm through mine. “Okay, okay, you can go now. Don’t interrupt our girls’ time.” She pulled me toward the gallery entrance, chattering excitedly. “Cathy, I can’t wait to see the new exhibit…” I glanced back over my shoulder. Patrick was still standing there. His gaze was sharp, analytical, watching our every move. The moment our eyes met, his expression shifted instantly, melting into one of deep, adoring affection. A perfect performance. Patrick, I thought, aren’t you tired?

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The day before my arranged marriage to Joey Vance, the scion of New York’s elite, my sister was reborn. She ran to our parents, crying and screaming that she wanted to call off the engagement. Just as I was about to ask what was going on, a stream of comments flashed before my eyes: 【Wait, how did the female lead get reborn? Author, explain yourself! This can’t be right.】 【This is a dark romance! It’s supposed to be a ‘she runs, he chases’ story. If she doesn’t marry him, what am I even reading?】 【Chill, everyone. Maybe a second chance is good. The heroine loves her freedom. Imagine a life where your food is flown in on private jets, your clothes are all custom-made, and your billionaire husband even dictates the brand of your toothpaste. A life with no struggle, no hardship… how could she possibly endure such a thing?!】 My eyes lit up. I was ready to volunteer as tribute. She couldn’t endure it? I sure as hell could. 1 I was pretty sure my sister, Eleanor, had been reborn. There was no other explanation for it. Just yesterday, she was blushing and showing off her engagement ring. Now, after a single night’s sleep, she was wailing and trying to back out of the deal of a lifetime. In the living room, she was pleading with our parents, tears streaming down her face. She claimed that Joey Vance, the golden boy of New York society, was a possessive, controlling monster behind his gentlemanly facade. This was news to all of us, considering she’d never even met the man. Just as I was about to speak, the comments appeared again: 【Seriously, why did the main character get a do-over?】 【This is a dark romance! The whole point is the possessive male lead! If she doesn’t marry him, the plot is dead!】 【Hey, don’t get so worked up. A choice is a choice. The heroine values her freedom. A life where your groceries are flown in daily, your wardrobe is haute couture, and your husband micromanages every little thing… a future of effortless luxury with no challenges? What a nightmare for her!】 My eyes practically glowed. This world was insane. I didn’t love freedom. That so-called nightmare was the ultimate goal for a socially anxious lazybones like me. But the insanity didn’t stop there. My parents, their faces etched with concern, helped Eleanor up. They declared that they would break the betrothal, arranged since our childhood. They were willing to risk bankruptcy and the wrath of New York’s entire upper crust to protect their daughter’s freedom. Hello? Weren’t they forgetting someone? Had they never heard of the old sister-swap trope? I watched as my father’s trembling hand reached for his phone. I dropped to my knees with a thud. “Dad! Mom! If Eleanor doesn’t want to, I’ll marry him! Is that okay?” The living room fell silent for two long seconds. My mother grabbed my father’s arm. “Oh, honey, we forgot about Lynn! She’s willing to go! This is perfect. Don’t make the call yet, dear. The original agreement never specified which of our daughters it had to be.” My father let out a huge sigh of relief and put his phone down. And just like that, everyone was happy. 2 That night, I was happily packing my things in my little room. The comments continued to scroll by: 【Who is this random side character? How did she just waltz in and steal the female lead’s role?】 【She looks pretty happy about it. Does she really think a life without freedom is so great?】 【Ummm, does anyone else notice the huge difference in how the family treats the two daughters?】 【To the person above, I noticed it in the living room. And look at their rooms. The sister gets the master suite with a private bathroom, and the younger one gets a tiny room converted from the maid’s quarters. It’s blatant favoritism.】 【So what if they’re biased? Our Eleanor is the main character! The whole world should be biased in her favor.】 I ignored the bickering and continued to neatly fold my clothes. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Eleanor stood in the doorway, her eyes filled with uncertainty. “Are you really going to take my place and get engaged to Joey?” My stomach dropped. She wasn’t having second thoughts, was she? “Well… should I not go then?” I asked tentatively. Eleanor didn’t answer, biting her lip. “Joey is a terrifying man. You have no idea. He’s so ruthless in business that he’s driven people to their deaths.” Business deals didn’t have much to do with me. “But does he hit people? Does he make them do chores?” Eleanor stared at me, then shook her head with a bitter smile. “It’s ten times worse than that.” My heart clenched. “He’ll monitor your social life,” she continued, “and control your every move!” Oh. Is that all? Phew, no problem then. Social life? I was a low-energy introvert. I hated socializing. Going out? I was a homebody. Leaving the house was my personal kryptonite. Seeing my visible relief, Eleanor looked confused and was about to say more. I quickly cut her off, claiming I was tired, and closed the door. My whole life, if anything ever went wrong for her, our parents would blame me. I was terrified of her. Now, finally, I had a chance to escape it all. 3 The next day, our entire family boarded a private jet to New York. Of course, we couldn’t afford it. The flight was chartered by the Vance family. The engagement ceremony was held in a lavishly decorated ballroom. In the bridal suite, I met the legendary Joey Vance for the first time. All I can say is… damn. I thought, with the way Eleanor described him, he’d be average-looking at best. I never imagined he’d be this tall, elegant, and impossibly handsome. I had hit the absolute jackpot. During the ceremony, he took my hand and gave me a warm smile. “Let’s go, my fiancée.” My heart hammered against my ribs. The comments went wild: 【I can’t breathe, he’s so hot. I volunteer to possess the fiancée for just five minutes.】 【OMG, did you hear how he stressed the word ‘my’? I’m melting.】 【What are you all shipping? Didn’t you see Eleanor in the audience? She’s about to cry. This was supposed to be her engagement ceremony.】 【Person above, are you dense? She’s the one who gave it up!】 After the ceremony, my sister dragged our parents over to say goodbye. She even reached out to shake Joey’s hand. I immediately intercepted, grabbing her hand myself. “Thank you so much, sis! I’ll remember everything you said. My fiancé will, too!” Joey glanced at me, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. Eleanor bit her lip, looking both resentful and relieved at the same time. 4 That evening, Joey took me back to the Vance family mansion. Staring at the enormous bedroom with its panoramic views and private balcony, I asked hesitantly, “Is this really for me?” When he nodded, I almost cried. But the real surprise was yet to come. Seeing how much I liked it, Joey immediately instructed his butler to draw up a contract to transfer the mansion’s deed into my name. Happiness had struck so suddenly it felt like a dream. “You’re really giving me the mansion, too?” Joey leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “As long as you never leave me, everything I have is yours.” I immediately swore an oath to the heavens, ready to bow down and worship my new benefactor. The comments reappeared: 【There it is. That’s my kind of deliciously dark, possessive vibe~】 【I’m not jealous at all. She may have gotten a multi-million dollar mansion, but she lost her precious freedom. sobs】 【No, why does she get everything? All of Joey’s things should belong to Eleanor! This side character needs to know her place. She’s so shameless.】 【Okay, person above, I’m gonna have to fight you.】 After signing the contract, I drifted off into the most blissful sleep of my life. Sometime in the night, half-awake, I felt a burning gaze watching me from the bedside. 5 Maybe it was because the engagement had gone so smoothly, but I let my guard down. When I woke up the next morning, I found that my luggage had been taken away by the staff. Just as my mind started spinning with dramatic scenarios of high-society power plays, a maid came to ask me to the dressing room. Joey was waiting for me there. It was less a dressing room and more of a luxury boutique, twice the size of my family’s living room. Rows upon rows of clothes and handbags were arranged by color. The thought of a future where my tears of joy would be designer, too, made me chuckle out loud. “What are you laughing at?” Joey had appeared silently beside me, holding a dress. I waved my hand dismissively. “Are all these clothes for me?” He looked down at me, his eyes dark and intense. “I had all of these brought in last night, tailored to your measurements… I imagined you in every single one of them. From now on, only I will decide what you wear. Is that alright?” His words made my eyes burn. I quickly lowered my head. The comments started exploding. 【Here we go! In the original novel, the heroine Eleanor flipped out at this line, called him a psycho, and their relationship went downhill, making him even more possessive.】 【The original book was just angst for the sake of angst. He doesn’t mean it maliciously. He just wants to express that they belong to each other.】 【OMG, look! Lynn’s reaction is even stronger! She looks like she’s crying from anger! Joey thinks she hates him; his whole expression has changed!】 Reading that, I snapped my head up. My eyes met Joey’s dark, stormy gaze. 6 I snapped my head up, my eyes meeting Joey’s stormy gaze. His lips were pressed into a thin line, the light in his eyes dimming as a terrifying pressure filled the room. 【Oh no, oh no, why is she crying? He’s definitely going to think she finds him creepy too.】 【For the love of God, explain yourself! You said you were into this! Don’t blow it now!】 【Is she faking it? Pretending to go along with it so she can escape later? Clever girl.】 Seeing Joey’s hurt but stoic expression, my heart ached. I wasn’t crying because I was angry! I was crying because I was touched! I grabbed his hand, my eyes welling with tears as I looked up at him. “I… I’m just so moved.” “No one… no one has ever been this good to me before.” “My parents only ever had eyes for my sister. I always wore her hand-me-downs. My room was a converted maid’s quarters. Even my name, Lynn, was chosen because Eleanor means ‘shining light.’ They wanted me to be plain, quiet, so I wouldn’t compete with her.” “I’ve never had so many beautiful clothes. I never dreamed someone would do all this for me overnight.” The more I spoke, the more emotional I got, tears streaming down my face. “Joey, you’re too good to me. I’m afraid this is all a dream.” Joey was stunned. He reached out and gently wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumb. His touch was light, tentative, as if he were afraid I might break. “So… you don’t hate me for controlling you?” I shook my head so hard it was a blur. “No! Not at all! Please, by all means, control me to death!” The darkness in Joey’s eyes vanished, replaced by a smile that he couldn’t contain. He pulled me into a fierce hug, resting his chin on my head and letting out a contented sigh. “Lynn, you’re wonderful.” 【??? I did not see this coming.】 【Holy crap, she hit him with the reverse-uno psychology. She just fried his circuits.】 【This is what I call a pro move! Ladies, take notes! When a possessive billionaire tries his controlling nonsense, don’t fight back. Cry and tell him he’s too good to you and you can’t handle it!】 【Person above, got my notepad out. I’ll use this in my next life.】 The days that followed were pure bliss. I’d wake up whenever I wanted. Joey would have already left for work, but my breakfast was always hot, with dozens of options to choose from. After eating, I’d curl up in the home theater or spend hours in the game room. In the afternoon, professional beauticians and masseuses would come to the house. Every evening, Joey would be home right on time for dinner. He was exactly as my sister had described, “monitoring” my social life. He bought me a new phone and, right in front of me, registered his own fingerprint. “From now on, I can check your phone whenever I want.” I nodded obediently. “Of course. The passcode is your birthday.” He paused for a second, then leaned down and kissed my forehead, a smile in his voice. “Good girl.” 【AAAAAAH, I’m dead, this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen!】 【Lynn: I have no social life. Check my phone? You’ll be checking my grocery list.】 【LMAO, I bet she has less than twenty contacts, and ten of them are food delivery bots and brand newsletters.】 The comments were spot on. My only social interaction was with my mother. Our chats were simple. Mom: 【Lynn, dear, how are you? Is Joey treating you well?】 Me: 【He’s great.】 Mom: 【That’s good to hear. Your sister has been in a bit of a funk lately. Could you ask Joey to introduce her to someone nice? She sacrificed so much for you.】 I almost snorted at the word “sacrificed.” I handed the phone directly to Joey. “Here. My mom wants you to find my sister a boyfriend.” Joey took the phone and scrolled for a few seconds, his brow furrowing. “Have they always treated you like this?” “Pretty much,” I shrugged. “I’m used to it.” He didn’t say anything. He just took my phone and blocked both of my parents’ numbers. Then he looked up at me, his eyes serious. “From now on, I’m your family.” “I want you to rely only on me. Okay?” What else could I say? I launched myself at him like a tiger, tackling him onto the sofa. “Okay!” I yelled, overcome with emotion. “You’re my one and only family! My one and only… daddy!” Joey: “…” 【BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!】 【’Daddy’? Lynn, what is going on in that head of yours?】 【Joey: I thought you were my wife, but you see me as your father? We’ve got a problem here!】 7 The days passed, and Joey and I grew closer. I realized he wasn’t a monster at all. His so-called “control” was more like a clumsy, awkward form of caring. He didn’t want me going out because he thought the world was dangerous and was afraid I’d get hurt. So every time I did go out (dragged by him), I was flanked by eight bodyguards. The procession looked like a royal visit. He controlled my diet because I had a sensitive stomach and was a picky eater. So he hired a team of nutritionists and chefs to create an endless variety of delicious, healthy meals for me. After a month, my face was noticeably rounder. As for controlling what I wore… Looking at the acres of designer clothes, bags, and shoes in my closet, all I could say was, “Please, sir, may I have some more?” One day, I was lounging on the sofa, eating cherries that had been flown in that morning, when Joey handed me an invitation. “There’s a charity gala tonight. I need you to come with me.” I frowned. “Do I have to?” I despised social events. They were noisy, exhausting, and required a lot of fake smiling. Joey pinched my cheek. “You have to. This one is important. A lot of my business partners will be there.” “Please? For me?” he added softly. With him putting it like that, I reluctantly agreed. That evening, wearing a stunning, star-dusted gown Joey had chosen for me, I arrived at the gala on his arm. We were a striking couple, and we immediately drew the attention of the entire room. I shrank back, feeling a little self-conscious. Joey noticed and whispered in my ear, “Don’t be afraid. Just stay by my side.” He introduced me to a few important people, and all I had to do was smile, nod, and look pretty. Just as I was plotting my escape to the dessert table, an unwelcome guest appeared. My sister, Eleanor. She was wearing an elegant white gown, her makeup flawless. Beside her stood a gentle, scholarly-looking man. When she saw me, a flash of jealousy and resentment crossed her face before she masked it with a look of concern. “Lynn, what are you doing here?” Before I could answer, Joey spoke, his voice cool. “She is my fiancée. Where else would she be?” Eleanor’s face paled, and she bit her lip. “Joey, I know you’re powerful, but you can’t do this to Lynn! She’s still young! You shouldn’t keep her locked up like a bird in a gilded cage!” 【Whoa, the heroine is here! And she brought the second male lead with her!】 【That guy has to be Mike from the original novel, right? The soulful artist who represents freedom.】 【Here we go, the classic showdown. The sister has arrived with ‘Freedom’ to rescue the ‘imprisoned’ sibling.】 I looked at Eleanor’s self-righteous expression and had to stifle a laugh. “Sis, I think you’ve got the wrong idea.” “I’m doing great. See?” I pinched the new chub on my cheek. “I’ve even gained weight.” The man beside Eleanor, Mike, frowned at me. “Miss, material wealth does not equal spiritual fulfillment. A free soul is something no amount of money can buy.” I blinked. “But I don’t need a free soul. I just need a free-flowing bank account.” Mike: “…” Eleanor’s face flushed with anger. “Lynn! How can you be so shameless? Has he brainwashed you?” She reached out to grab me. Joey’s expression hardened. He moved me behind him, his cold eyes fixed on them. “Miss Eleanor, please have some self-respect.” “And my fiancée’s name is not for you to speak.” His possessiveness was on full display. Eleanor flinched, stepping back as if struck. Her eyes turned red. “Joey, don’t go too far! Lynn is my sister!” “The moment she agreed to take your place, she became my wife, and mine alone,” Joey replied, his voice like ice. People around us started whispering and pointing. I sighed in annoyance. They had completely ruined my night. And I hadn’t even gotten to the mini cheesecakes yet. I tugged on Joey’s sleeve. “I’m hungry. Can we go get something to eat?” Joey looked down at me, the frost in his eyes melting instantly. He nodded. “Of course.” And just like that, as if no one else existed, he led me to the buffet. He left Eleanor and Mike standing there, their faces a mixture of shock and fury. 【LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO!】 【Well played! Nothing is more important than food!】 【Eleanor: I prepared a 300-word speech to save you. Lynn: K, but cake first.】 【Mike: The soul and freedom. Lynn: Cherries and steak. She’s on another level, people.】

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My fiancée fell for the underprivileged student I was sponsoring. To prove her devotion, she defied her family and marched into my home to break off our engagement. My father was furious. My mother nearly fainted. Overnight, I became the laughingstock of our social circle. What no one knew was that we held a family meeting that very night. Everyone was unnervingly calm, analyzing the situation from every angle. My father took a sip of his tea. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Go abroad for a few years. It’s a strategic retreat.” My mother’s expression was placid. “Reinvent yourself. He’s playing the part of the tragic, sensitive soul. You become the one that got away.” I smiled. “In that case, I think I’ll start with a bout of depression.” 1 On the day I returned, my friends threw me a welcome-home party. The private room was filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Then, the door opened, and the jovial atmosphere froze. It was my ex-fiancée, Amelia, and her new boyfriend. I turned my head and met a pair of familiar, cool eyes. Amelia’s gaze lingered on me a moment too long, and the man behind her, a man named Ethan, began to look increasingly uncomfortable. Everyone exchanged nervous glances, some discreetly watching my reaction. After a brief, stunned silence, I casually gestured for them to join us. “You’re here. Have a seat.” I acted as if the ugly fallout from three years ago had never happened. A complex emotion flickered across Amelia’s face. She seemed to want to say something but ultimately just gave a quiet acknowledgment. Ethan sat beside her, his smile strained, a desperate attempt at nonchalance that failed to hide his stiffness. The unspoken tension was thick. The glances thrown his way were laced with scorn. I had pulled this man out of poverty, paid for his education, and in return, he had stolen my fiancée. Who could respect a backstabber like that? In the years I had been away, my family’s business had skyrocketed, quietly beginning to eclipse even Amelia’s powerful family, the Suttons. The social climbers in the room, whether out of a desire to defend my honor or for their own strategic reasons, collectively ostracized Ethan. He was treated like a ghost at the table. He looked to Amelia for support, but she, uncharacteristically, remained silent. I could feel her eyes on me, a mixture of curiosity and assessment. Even in the dim light of the room, Ethan’s face was a pale, tight mask of anxiety. I savored the moment before raising my glass, ostensibly to rescue him. “You two are late. Three shots as a penalty, no objections, right?” I said smoothly. “Don’t even think about skipping out. It’s the rule.” The others, after a moment of surprise, quickly played along. “That’s right! Liam’s back today. Don’t be a buzzkill!” Amelia said nothing, just downed the three shots with a clean, decisive motion. She turned the glass upside down, not a single drop remaining. Our eyes met, and in that moment, it felt like an apology for what had happened three years ago. I smiled faintly and turned to Ethan. He picked up his glass, his lips twitching into a forced smile, but he couldn’t meet my gaze. When I tried to clink my glass with his, he flinched as if I were a monster, the glass slipping from his trembling hand and shattering on the floor. That was the last straw for some of the others. “Seriously, Amelia, what’s with your boyfriend?” one of them snapped. “Liam is being a bigger man about this, and he’s the one acting all offended? Did he come here just to ruin the mood?” Amelia shot him a look, her lips tightening with annoyance, but she still defended him. “Ethan didn’t mean it. Just drop it.” Ethan mumbled an apology, his head bowed, his face a grim shade of grey, looking as if he were the one who had been wronged. One of my friends, whose family had no business ties with the Suttons, was about to lose it. “Oh, that does it—” I stopped him with a calm, friendly smile. “We’re all friends here. It’s not a big deal.” “What happened in the past is in the past. Let’s not bring it up again.” I looked at Amelia and Ethan, then downed my own drink, my eyes conveying a sense of peace and forgiveness. Amelia’s tense expression softened, and a hint of a smile touched her lips. Everyone understood. The hatchet was buried. The atmosphere in the room warmed up again. 2 Later, I stepped out onto the balcony for some fresh air. Behind me, I heard Amelia’s slightly hoarse voice. “How have you been, these past three years?” The wind rustled through my hair, creating an almost cinematic sense of a long-awaited reunion. I turned and caught the flash of surprise and something more complex in her eyes. “You drank a lot. Is your stomach holding up?” I asked, sidestepping her question to show concern for her. Amelia subconsciously touched her stomach, a flicker of a daze in her expression. She had always had stomach problems and was an incredibly picky eater. It had taken me a year to learn her preferences and create a personalized nutrition plan for her. I used to watch over her meals, my pockets always stocked with her medication and healthy snacks. And yet, I had lost her to the boy who would take her to eat street food. She masked the flicker of emotion, her gaze on me now unreadable. “You don’t hate me?” I shook my head. “It’s all in the past. There was never any irreparable damage between us. Besides, what’s that saying? Even if the deal falls through, the goodwill remains.” Amelia let out a small laugh, and the tension between us eased. “You’ve certainly become more magnanimous,” she teased. I smiled back. “We just weren’t right as a couple. That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, right?” The truth was, after we broke off the engagement, the relationship between our families had become dangerously strained. The past three years had been a cold war of corporate sabotage and bitter rivalry. Now, everyone in our circle knew how fiercely protective my parents were of me and how unstoppable my family’s business had become. The word on the street was: get on Liam’s good side if you can, but whatever you do, don’t get on his bad side. Since my return, my social calendar had been packed with invitations from people I barely knew. What was one more friend? Besides, there was no reason for our families to remain at odds. I suspected Amelia’s presence at my party was a calculated move by her family to smooth things over. The Sutton empire was vast but showing signs of wear. They didn’t need another powerful enemy. Recognizing the olive branch in my words, Amelia’s brow relaxed. She joined me at the railing, and we stood there, one facing the city, the other facing the party, talking about the changes and experiences of the last three years. The dynamic between us, two equals, was surprisingly comfortable. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of a white shirt disappear around a corner. A slow smile spread across my face. The next few months, I thought, were going to be very interesting. 3 After that night, Amelia started contacting me more frequently. She asked for the old nutrition plan, and I gave her all the details, reminding her to take care of herself. On the surface, she feigned annoyance at my fussing, but the warmth in her voice was unmistakable. I didn’t rush into the family business. Instead, I used my free time to revisit old haunts. My social media was filled with pictures of old friends, old places, old memories. Of course, having known Amelia since we were teenagers, a great number of those memories involved her. I’m pretty sure she was stalking my feed. She was always the first to like and comment. The principal really did go bald, didn’t he? Is that the same orange cat we used to feed? He still hasn’t graduated? I remember we tied a red ribbon on that old tree and made a wish. You never would tell me what you wished for. I would reply to the harmless comments and ignore the ones that crossed the line. One day, a new pop star went on a live stream and started trashing classic songs. He called one of my favorites “creepy.” That night, I posted the song on my feed. Minutes later, Amelia called, her voice tight with anger. She wasn’t a fangirl, but she had never missed a concert by this particular singer. That’s how much she loved his music. I listened quietly as she ranted, offering soothing words and agreeing with her. We ended up talking for over an hour. Until I heard Ethan’s voice in the background. “Amelia, are you still working?” She paused but didn’t hang up. Her tone was sharp. “What are you doing in here?” Ethan’s voice rose, laced with accusation. “You’re on the phone with him again, aren’t you?” At that point, I hung up. What came next was their private business. It wasn’t my place to interfere. I hummed the song softly, my eyes on the clock, my fingers tapping a rhythm on the table. Three minutes later, she called back. Her voice was tinged with exhaustion. “I’m sorry, Liam. You got dragged into this.” “It’s fine,” I said calmly. “I know Ethan. He’s a sensitive guy. Just spend more time with him, give him the reassurance he needs.” I paused, then added, “Our past is… complicated. It’s natural for him to be wary of me. Maybe we should keep some distance from now on.” There was a moment of silence, and I caught the flicker of impatience she tried to hide. “Haven’t I given him enough reassurance? He’s the one who’s never satisfied.” After we hung up, I raised an eyebrow. I may have been abroad, but I had kept a close eye on things back home. After the engagement was broken, Amelia had gone on a hunger strike to force her family to accept Ethan. Ethan, in turn, had knelt outside the Sutton mansion for days, begging to see her. The rebellious heiress and the resilient, sensitive soul, fighting for their love. The Suttons finally relented. It was a real-life fairytale, the talk of the town. People would get misty-eyed recounting the story. “Such a moving, epic love!” “Better check if your fiancée has a true love on the side! Make way, make way!” But fairytales end, and real life begins. The business partnership between our families collapsed. The Suttons couldn’t blame their precious daughter, so someone had to take the fall. They started looking at Ethan with contempt, finding fault in everything he did. If he wanted to marry into their family, he had to learn their ways, play the part of the dutiful husband. A career? Not a chance. The pittance he would earn would be an embarrassment. Social events? Don’t even think about it. They wouldn’t have people laughing at them for letting a backstabbing homewrecker marry into the family. Ethan, fresh out of college, had his career ambitions crushed before they could even begin. But Amelia promised to love him forever, so he willingly became the man behind the woman. What was a career compared to being a Sutton in-law? He clung to her, his possessiveness growing. He would get angry at the sight of any other man near her. Once or twice, it might have been cute. But it quickly became suffocating. A love born of hormones and rebellion rarely stands the test of time. I sighed and turned to the other student I sponsored, Nicole. She was now my assistant. “Can you understand his actions?” Nicole’s face was impassive, but a flicker of disgust crossed her features. “I will never understand it. He had a bright future, and he threw it all away for the empty promise of a woman’s love.” “Have Ethan and his family been out of touch for a while?” I asked thoughtfully. Nicole nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” 4 After that phone call, the tentative friendship Amelia and I had rebuilt seemed to crumble. I started ignoring her messages and calls. I deliberately avoided the parties she invited me to. The sudden distance sent Amelia into a panic. She went to Nicole, trying to arrange a meeting with me. Nicole sighed. “You haven’t heard? Someone’s been spreading vicious rumors about Mr. Green online.” “His depression has flared up again. His mother had to have him committed to a private clinic.” Amelia froze, her voice a dry rasp. “What depression?”

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For three years, I was his possession. Then, overnight, my patron went bankrupt. Grayson Hayes left me a parting gift—a substantial sum of money—and then calmly prepared to kill himself. When he faced me, he said, “Don’t… don’t mock me, Thea. And you can go. You’re free.” “No.” I shook my head. “Now, it’s my turn to own you.” 1 The news of Grayson Hayes’s financial collapse spread like wildfire. It had to be true, because his enemies were already circling me like vultures. The quickest way to break a man, after all, is to take his woman. “You’re a sick bastard,” I snarled into the phone at some sleazebag making me a crude offer. “If it itches that bad, maybe you should just cut it off.” Ignoring his indignant sputtering, I smashed the end-call button and blocked the number. A quiet chuckle, exhausted but genuine, came from behind me. Grayson emerged from the entryway and pulled me down onto the sofa, his arms wrapping around me. He sank against me, his head resting heavily in the crook of my neck. “I’ve never seen you lose your temper,” he murmured. “I always thought you were a kitten. Turns out you’ve got claws.” He gave a wry smile. “A shame I figured it out so late. No more chances to see it, I guess.” That was the thing about men like him. Even with nothing left to his name, he could still manage a smile. The air grew thick with unspoken things. “Where’s the card I gave you?” he asked suddenly. “In my purse,” I said. “I put two million in it. Thea,” he said, his voice flat, “just like you always wanted. You’re free.” He said it with half his face cast in shadow, his expression unreadable. It was true, I had craved freedom. But looking back, I don’t think I ever actually planned on leaving him. Life by his side was, in its own twisted way, incredible. The money was endless, the sex was phenomenal, and he was devastatingly handsome. He was just a little… possessive. The ropes, the restraints—it was all part of his world. It hurt, and I’m not a saint, so I’d bite back with a sharp tongue whenever I could get away with it. But now wasn’t the time for venom. “Is it true?” I asked softly. “You’ve really lost everything?” He turned his head away. “Yes.” The word was barely out of his mouth before he added, “Please, don’t mock me. You can go.” The veins on his forearm stood out, stark and blue, like he was fighting a war within himself. I pressed on. “You gave all that money to me. What are you going to do?” My answer was a long, heavy silence. I tossed the dagger I’d found in the bathroom onto the coffee table between us. “Planning on this?” “Thea,” Grayson’s voice dropped, a warning rumble in his chest. “Don’t.” He pushed again, more urgently this time. “You always wanted out, didn’t you? So go. I can’t force you to stay anymore. I don’t have the capital for it.” I leaned back, affecting the same lazy indifference I always had around him, and didn’t answer right away. I can barely remember how pathetic I was when I first met Grayson Hayes. All I know is that I was desperate enough to be considering selling my body to pay off debts when he swept in, slapped a black card on a table, and took me home. I’d heard the whispers about him before then, of course. Civilized monster. A wolf in a designer suit. None of it was flattering. And I did try to escape. More than once. Each time, he dragged me back. He had a GPS tracker bonded to one of my molars. Cameras in my room. The phone and laptop I used were custom-made, his spyware woven into their DNA. He controlled every facet of my life, right down to the flavor of my toothpaste. To him, my struggles were like a kitten batting at a ball of yarn. Amusing. But every act of rebellion came with a punishment. Sometimes I was tied to his grand piano. Other times, strapped to a leather pommel horse. Always in a pose, a position, that he found pleasing. I was forbidden from speaking to any man, or any woman I didn’t already know. If he ever caught me, that person would simply… vanish from my life. For a long time, I was terrified of him. Even now, after our relationship has blurred into something far more complicated, the affection I feel for him is still laced with that old, primal fear. But the heart is an unruly thing. And now… now I might finally have the upper hand. The thought sent a jolt through me. “No,” I repeated, shaking my head as the idea took root and blossomed. “Now, it’s my turn to own you.” 2 “You’re going to…” Grayson hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “How… how exactly do you plan to… own me?” I took a moment to think. Damn. I’d been impulsive. Oh, well. I’d just treat it like I was hiring a very exclusive, very expensive escort. “Thanks to you, I’ve saved a little over the years,” I began, my voice cool and measured. “I also invested in some real estate. If I liquidate everything, and sell off the bags and diamonds you bought me, it should be enough to cover a portion of your debts.” A flicker of something—surprise? admiration?—crossed his face, before his brow furrowed again. “For someone who was being… owned… you have a very clear grasp of your assets.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “Were you always planning your escape?” The air chilled with his words. I instinctively shifted back on the cushion. In a flash, he was off the couch, his hands slamming down on either side of me, trapping me. He loomed over me, his presence as overwhelming as ever. “All this time, thinking about running,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “Did you ever once think about—” My breath caught. But then his tone shifted, becoming weary again. “It doesn’t matter. You got your wish. Go, Thea. Before I change my mind.” For the first time in three years, I rolled my eyes at him. I pointed a finger at the video intercom screen. “Do you have time to change your mind? You’ve got a welcoming committee.” The words had barely left my lips when he glanced at the screen, saw the crowd of angry creditors, and suddenly slammed me against the front door. “We’ve never done it with an audience pounding on the door,” he breathed, his voice rough. “Grayson!” I hissed. The movement must have alerted the men outside. Through the security feed, I was forced to watch as their predatory eyes locked onto the camera, trying to pierce through the door. The man responsible for it all was pressed against me, his lips so close to my ear his breath was a hot whisper. “You can scream loud, if you want. Let them hear you. Maybe they’ll break down the door and kill me.” Ignoring my protests, Grayson pinned my hands behind my back. God, I hated this. I struggled as his fingers went to the buckle of his belt. He paid me no mind, muttering to himself, “I owe them so much money. They’ll probably carve me up, part me out. Sell me for scrap.” Like I gave a damn. “…” I don’t know how much time passed before my wrists were finally free. Furious, I snatched his leather belt and threw it on the floor. One hand on my aching back, I jabbed a finger into his chest. “Don’t you forget who owns who now. I’m your patron! You do as I say.” “And what are your demands…” Grayson’s expression was placid again, all trace of his earlier desperation gone. “…my patron?” “First,” I said, thinking hard. “No suicide.” “Fine.” “And cut the arrogant act.” “…Fine.” I tossed a new debit card onto the table, adopting his old air of casual authority. “This is in my name. It’s everything I’ve saved over the years. Should be around fifty million.” As he stared, stunned, I produced a portfolio of property deeds and several velvet boxes filled with loose diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires, complete with authentication certificates. “Cash these in. It’ll be another nine figures, at least.” I placed my hands on my hips, savoring the right to be imperious, a right I’d stolen directly from him. “Use it all to pay off your debts. It should be enough to buy you the right to live, at least.” “…Alright.” Grayson’s eyes scanned the small mountain of wealth. “What do you want from me?” I bristled at his tone. It was as if my grand, dramatic rescue was just another one of his manipulative games. But it didn’t matter. Because showering someone in money felt ridiculously good. “I’m going to have the tracker removed from my tooth,” I said, watching his face carefully. “And then I’m going to have it implanted in you.” Grayson’s gaze lifted to meet mine. That one simple look sent a familiar chill down my spine. Some deep, hidden part of my body, conditioned by years of his random “punishments,” instinctively braced for danger. I channeled every memory of his control over me. “From now on, your every move is dictated by me. You will report to me before you go anywhere. All your electronics will share my passwords—no, they’ll be logged into my accounts. And you are not, under any circumstances, to be around any other women.” “Oh, and one more thing,” I added with precision. “I hate mint toothpaste. Get lemon.” Grayson’s eyes never left my face. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice slow and unreadable. “You’re surprisingly good at this game.” “So,” he continued, his tone impossible to decipher, “are you going to punish me… the way I punished you?”

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I’m the spoiled, delicate side character in a post-apocalyptic novel. To put the hero in his place, I deliberately ruined the food in my hand. “Bad dog,” I sneered. “Lick it clean for your princess.” The hero, his entire body tense with restraint, took my sticky, cream-covered fingers into his hand. [Affection Points +10] I froze. Excuse me? The System in my head shrieked: “You idiot! He LIKED that!” Later, that same hero—a wolf in sheep’s clothing—would have me locked in a gilded cage, punishing me with the kind of passion born from obsession. He’d hold my ankle in his hand, a feral grin on his face. “Harder, Princess. Beg for it.” 1 It’s day three of the end of the world. The stale bread in my mouth tasted like cardboard and despair. I couldn’t swallow another bite. The hero will be back with something better soon, the System soothed in my mind. And get ready. You have a scene coming up. You need to slap him. That’s right. My next line, my next big move, was to slap the male lead. I’d been dropped into a book. One of those gritty, male-led apocalypse fantasies. And I was cast as Scarlett Ashford, the hero’s beautiful, cruel fiancée. The girl who despised him for his low-class origins, who treated him like a dog, and who, in the original story, gets him to break off their engagement before shoving him into a horde of zombies to clear her own path to a more powerful protector. Of course, that’s the moment the hero, Nash Donovan, awakens his ridiculously overpowered Devour ability. It’s the start of his meteoric rise, his journey of revenge and conquest until he becomes a king in the new world order. According to the script, we were still in the early chapters—Nash’s public humiliation phase. He’d just risked his life on a supply run, and the original Scarlett, furious that he hadn’t found her favorite ice cream, gives him a resounding slap. Forced to endure it because of some old debt his family owed mine, Nash was supposed to grit his teeth and deliver that classic, chilling line: “The tables will turn, Scarlett. If it weren’t for what your family did for me, you think you’d still be breathing?” Only now, the one who had to do the slapping was me. The scavenging team trudged back into the villa. As I looked up, my eyes met Nash’s. He was tall, all sharp lines and coiled energy. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. Even covered in the grime of the outside world, he stood out from the exhausted group like a panther among house cats. He looked at me with an unnerving chill in his eyes, his thin lips adding a severe edge to his face. Something felt… off. The book described him at this stage as just a regular college kid, not someone who carried this kind of intimidating presence. Now! This is your cue! the System urged. Go humiliate him! Viciously! I screwed up my courage and stepped in front of him, blocking his path to his room. I did my best to glare, channeling all my energy into my almond-shaped eyes, and chirped in my most demanding tone. “Nash. Where’s my gelato?” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He gave me a lazy, dismissive glance. “Didn’t find any.” My right hand twitched, ready for its big moment. But then, he tossed a plastic bag into my arms. “They had these, though. Frozen mochi.” I was completely thrown. This wasn’t in the script. The System frantically flipped through its virtual pages. You were too slow! In the original text, he did bring back the mochi, but the original Scarlett slapped him before he even had a chance to mention it! Improvise! Humiliate him and get those Degradation Points! My mind was a blank slate. To make matters worse, Nash snatched the mochi back and tore open the package. “Whatever,” he scoffed. “Forget it if you can’t handle commoner’s food.” “Who—who said you could insult me with this peasant trash!” The line came to me in a flash of inspiration. I lunged forward, slapped him hard across the face, and crushed the mochi in my fist. The sticky rice and cold cream exploded between my fingers. I lifted my chin, putting every ounce of arrogance I could muster into my voice. “Bad dog,” I spat. “Lick it clean for your princess.” It should have been a perfect performance. Except for one thing. I’m not built for violence. The slap hurt my hand. Nash’s jaw was like a block of granite. My nose scrunched and my eyes immediately welled up, tiny tears of pain clinging to my lashes. From his perspective, it probably looked less like a threat and more like a pout. The living room fell silent. One of Nash’s friends, Liam, finally broke the quiet. “Seriously, Miss Ashford? It’s the apocalypse, not a trip to the mall. Nash almost got his arm torn off by a zombie hiding behind a door trying to find that damn ice cream for you. Even a guy who worships the ground you walk on deserves some dignity…” “I’ll lick it.” Nash’s low voice cut him off. He knelt, taking my hand in his. He positioned himself between my legs, his knee brushing my inner thigh, every muscle in his body pulled taut. He looked for all the world like a man enduring the ultimate shame. But something still felt wrong. Determined to see the humiliation through, I held the pose, letting him hold my hand. Then I felt it. A warm, wet pressure on my fingertips. He wasn’t just licking. He was tasting, his tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles before he drew the tip of my finger into his mouth. A sharp, deliberate bite followed. Just as he was about to move to my palm, I snatched my hand back with a shudder. “You’re pathetic!” I squeaked, stomping on his foot for good measure. “You can’t even lick properly!” With that parting shot, I fled to my room. Ow, ow, ow! The little teeth marks on my finger throbbed, and no amount of scrubbing would make the red fade. I buried my face in my pillows and had a good, long cry. After a while, I wiped my tears away. “System,” I sniffled. “Did I complete the mission? He looked so humiliated, and he bit me to get back at me. That has to count, right?” The System was silent for a beat. Then, a line of text glowed on my mental screen: [Ding—Affection Points +10] “Huh?” I asked, confused. “What does that mean?” The System exploded. “You idiot!” it screamed. “You didn’t humiliate him. You turned him on!” 2 I was completely baffled. I couldn’t wrap my head around why getting slapped would make Nash happy. Our mission is to DEGRADE him, not to get him off! the System lectured sternly. Next time, you need to be more vicious. Grind him under your heel! My chance came sooner than I expected. At dinner, I stayed in my room, refusing to eat with the others. Soon enough, there was a knock on my door. It was Nash, holding a plate with a steak on it. His apology was delivered with zero sincerity. “Sorry I bit you earlier,” he said, his voice flat. “This was the most expensive frozen steak in the supermarket. For you, Princess.” This was another deviation. In the original story, he just brought her a cup of instant noodles. She’d responded by dumping it over his head, which led to him going to the villa’s pool to wash up, where he’d stumble upon a great fortune. But now… the rich, savory scent of grilled meat filled my room. My stomach rumbled, loud and insistent. Throwing away a perfectly good steak seemed like a criminal waste. My face must have shown my conflict. A soft chuckle escaped him. That did it. My temper flared. “What’s so funny?” I snapped. “You hurt me. You should be on your knees begging for forgiveness!” Nash’s eyes narrowed slightly. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low and dangerous. “Don’t push it, Scarlett. This isn’t a game. Piss me off, and you wouldn’t survive a single day out here.” He was threatening me. As the hero, he was known for being vindictive. Unfortunately for him, I was the clueless, cruel fiancée. I wasn’t supposed to understand subtext. I tilted my head back, channeling the arrogance of a swan. I gave his knee a petulant kick. “Excuse me? I’m a goddamn Ashford. You and all those other commoners are living in my villa. How dare you be disrespectful!” I leaned in, delivering the final blow. “You owe my family, Nash. You owe us everything.” A sharp hiss escaped him. His body went rigid, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere below my waist, and he clenched his jaw. Oh my god. Seriously? Is that all it takes? He was rattled. He slammed the plate down on my bedside table, turned on his heel, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. [Degradation Points +10] Success! I had no idea which part of my tirade had hit a nerve, but finally, Nash felt properly humiliated. I was about to dig into my steak with relish when the System let out a piercing shriek. “No, no, no! The plot is going off the rails! His clothes are still clean! If he doesn’t go to the pool, he’ll miss his big opportunity!” “Relax,” I said, swallowing my last bite of beef with a confident smile. I deliberately dripped some of the steak juice onto my pristine white sundress, slipped on my sandals, and padded over to Nash’s room, flinging the door open. “Nash!” I commanded. “Get up. You’re coming with me while I take a bath.” 3 Nash’s room was dark. He had his shirt lifted, revealing a set of perfectly sculpted abs and the sharp V-lines that disappeared into his cargo pants. He was just about to unbuckle his belt when I barged in. His eyebrow twitched violently. “Get out.” I ignored him, pointing a regal finger in his direction. “And my dress is dirty. You’re going to wash it for me. By hand. At the pool.” I smirked. “You’re my fiancé, Nash. Surely you can handle a small task like that, can’t you?” The city’s water supply had been cut off since the apocalypse began. The villa had a reserve of drinking water, but for bathing or laundry, the only option was the large, open-air swimming pool outside. To conserve water, everyone else just made do with sponge baths. But I was the delicate, spoiled side character, wasn’t I? I gloated to the System internally. See? I humiliated him AND I got him to the pool. Pretty smart, right? The System was silent for a moment. …Are you sure you’re not rewarding him? I didn’t understand. A second later, Nash lowered his head, his expression one of perfect submission. “Of course, Princess. Should I wash your underwear as well?” “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” I screeched, feeling like a cat whose tail had just been stepped on. After Nash had heated the water for my bath, I shooed him out of the poolside shower area. It wasn’t long before I regretted it. The branches of the trees outside the window scraped against the glass. The single overhead light flickered, the generator struggling. It felt like the opening scene of a horror movie. According to the plot, this is when a mutated zombie was supposed to burst in. Nash would fight it, win, and acquire a Level 3 crystal core, which would unlock the pocket dimension and spiritual spring hidden within his family’s ancestral jade pendant. It was the trump card that allowed him to survive after the original Scarlett pushed him into the zombie horde. Remembering that a zombie was on its way, my body started to tremble. “Nash? Are you out there?” No answer. Then, a guttural roar echoed from outside. I scrambled out of the bathtub in a panic, not even bothering to dry my hair. I threw on a silk nightgown, looking for a corner to hide in. In my haste, I banged my knee hard against a bench, the pain bringing fresh tears to my eyes. I nearly cried out. The foul stench of decay grew stronger. It was right outside the door. I held my breath, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard I thought I might suffocate. Just as my lungs were about to burst, the door opened. Nash walked in, holding a washboard dripping with black zombie blood. He looked completely unfazed. “Princess,” he said, his voice calm. “Your dress is clean.” 4. Systema je to odjelo. The System was stunned. Wait, what happened to my giant, mutated zombie? In the book, Nash barely managed to kill it by using the terrain to his advantage. How did it get one-shotted the second it showed up?! A wave of relief washed over me. I stumbled forward and threw myself into Nash’s arms, burying my face in the solid warmth of his chest. “What took you so long?” I mumbled, my voice thick with tears. I had just bathed, and the scent of my floral body wash filled the air around us. Nash’s Adam’s apple bobbed again, a nervous tick. The bloodlust seemed to drain from his eyes, replaced by something softer. He waited until my sobs subsided before his hand moved to my leg. “How did you hurt your knee?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. I was too embarrassed to admit I’d been scared. I sniffled, trying to maintain my composure. “None of your business. Now carry me back to my room and dry my hair… Ah!” I let out a small gasp as he swept me up into his arms with one arm. I started to struggle, but he tightened his grip around my waist. “Don’t move,” he murmured, his voice husky. “The floor is covered in zombie blood.” I squeezed my eyes shut and went completely still against his shoulder, quiet as a mouse. After the scare, I was physically and emotionally drained. As Nash awkwardly dried my hair with a towel, I drifted off to sleep. My sleep was restless. In my dreams, I sensed Nash trying to leave. I clung to his arm, whimpering, refusing to let go. He made a soft “tsk” sound. The rough pads of his fingers brushed against my cheek. The skin was so soft he couldn’t resist giving it a couple of gentle pinches, leaving faint red marks behind. “So damn delicate,” he muttered. “Such a little coward. Who else is going to put up with you in this world but me?” Nash retrieved a small bottle from his pocket dimension and dabbed the cool liquid—water from the spiritual spring—onto the scrape on my knee. The angry red mark faded, leaving the skin smooth and flawless. The System had a sinking feeling. Sure enough, Nash glanced toward the window and waved his hand. Dozens of thick vines erupted from the ground outside, silently piercing the skulls of a zombie pack that had been drawn to the villa. With his left hand, he gently soothed me back to sleep. With his right, he casually sorted through a handful of crystal cores of various types, absorbing them all. The power of the Devourer was terrifying. The System let out a silent, horrified scream. Holy crap! Don’t tell me the hero was reborn! 5 When I woke up, the System was in full-blown panic mode. The Devour ability is only supposed to awaken AFTER you betray him! His power level is still low, but he’s using it with way too much skill! Something is very, very wrong! I looked into the kitchen, where Nash, wearing an apron, was cooking shrimp porridge for me. The picture of domestic bliss. “He’s still doing everything I say,” I pointed out. “He doesn’t seem like he’s been reborn.” He’s only cooking for you because you were mumbling about wanting shrimp in your sleep last night, the System retorted. And while you were asleep, you were also groping his abs. It was horrifying. A wave of embarrassment washed over me. I did vaguely remember dreaming I was hungry and reaching for something. Honestly, his abs had felt pretty great. “But after Nash awakens his power, isn’t he supposed to be ruthless and vengeful?” I thought back on everything I’d done to him, a growing sense of dread creeping in. “…Why am I not dead yet?” The Degradation meter remained stubbornly at zero. The Affection meter, however, had been steadily climbing. The System fell into a thoughtful silence. Don’t panic. He’s just pretending to be completely obsessed with you. It’s all part of his plan to bide his time. He’s playing the long game! The System advised me to stick to the script. My next mission: steal Nash’s ancestral jade pendant and use it to blackmail him into being my slave. This was going to be impossible. I was so preoccupied that even the delicious shrimp porridge tasted bland. Nash took the half-eaten bowl from me and finished the rest without batting an eye. Then, he casually made the pot disappear back into his pocket dimension. Everyone at the table stared in shock. Nash’s friend, Marco, was practically drooling. “Hey, where’d the porridge go?” Liam asked cautiously, “Nash, man… did you awaken an ability?” Nash gave a noncommittal hum. “Spatial type. I’ve gathered enough supplies. We head for Haven Base after this.” So cool. Such a typical hero move. Except… he had used my spoon! I stared at him, at a loss for words. He finally noticed my gaze. “My apologies, Princess. I forgot to pack extra utensils. You don’t mind that I used yours, do you?” he asked, the picture of innocence. Bullshit! He did it on purpose! the System raged. He couldn’t sleep last night after you felt him up, so he went and cleaned out an entire supermarket! He has everything in that dimension of his! He even cleared all the zombies on the road out of town! “You… you pervert!” I finally managed, my face burning. I announced that I was giving him the silent treatment. My plan was to sneak into his tent tonight, steal the pendant, and then make him suffer. The SUV had a smooth ride, stopping in a clearing on the outskirts of the city just before sunset. Nash and the others set up tents for the night. Since I didn’t have any powers, I got to sleep in the car. The moon was bright, and the sound of snoring already filled the air. I crept out of the car, tiptoeing over to Nash’s tent and quietly unzipping it. His eyes were closed, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He appeared to be fast asleep. “Nash? Are you sleeping?” I whispered close to his ear. When he didn’t respond, I relaxed and reached for the jade pendant around his neck, fumbling for the clasp. I realized too late that it was tied in a knot. A dead knot. I should have brought scissors. I sighed in frustration. My fingertips accidentally brushed against his throat. Instantly, his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. In one fluid motion, he flipped me onto my back and pinned me beneath him. “Getting hungry again, Princess?” His eyes were dark with a raw hunger, his gaze locked on my lips. He took my hand and pressed it against his chiseled stomach, guiding it lower with a low, knowing laugh. “Changed your mind about me being a pervert?” 6 The summer night was warm, our clothes thin. I could feel the searing heat of his body as if our skin were pressed together. Flustered and furious, I squirmed beneath him. “Get off of me!” I hissed. The wilderness was quiet, and his ragged breaths sounded deafeningly loud. Even with the tent walls, I knew any loud noise would be heard. I bit my lip and forced myself to stay still. He didn’t let go. His hot breath ghosted over my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine. “Not satisfied with my abs, Princess?” he murmured, his voice thick. “Or… were you after something else?” My eyes went wide. It was over. It was better for him to think I was a horny teenager than a thief trying to steal his most prized possession. “I… I just wasn’t ready,” I stammered, awkwardly leaning in to press my lips against his. I fully expected him to pull away. In the book, the hero was practically a monk. But the moment my lips touched the corner of his mouth, he froze for a split second before his mouth crashed down on mine. He was like a starving animal, fierce and demanding, his tongue prying my lips apart. He kissed me until my whole body trembled and my jaw ached. Tears welled in my eyes as I weakly tried to push him away. “No… stop. I want to go back.” He didn’t seem to hear me, just grunted against my mouth. Suddenly, I felt something wrap around my ankle. It was thick and rough, and it was trying to slither up under my nightgown. I clung to his shirt, a terrified sob escaping my lips as I started babbling his name incoherently. “Nash, Nash…” He finally stopped, his lips moving to gently kiss the tears from the corner of my eye. “Don’t cry. I’ll be gentle.” “No, it’s—it’s my foot,” I stammered, my body shaking. “There’s something on my foot.” It was too dark to see. Nash covered my eyes with one hand and, with the other, tore away the vine that had wrapped itself around my calf. “It’s nothing. Just a mutated plant,” he soothed, pulling me into his arms and patting my back. “Don’t be scared, Princess. I’ll protect you. Just sleep here tonight.” This new world was terrifying. I nodded tearfully, my arms wrapped tightly around his neck, desperate for the feeling of safety. For the sake of my pride, I added in a small, reluctant voice, “But… no more kissing.” Nash’s tongue pressed against the roof of his mouth. A long moment passed before a hoarse sound escaped his throat. Exhausted, I didn’t care about the cramped, hard floor of the tent. I closed my eyes and fell asleep almost instantly. In a hazy, dreamlike state, I felt as if I were lying on a soft bed. Someone gently brushed the damp strands of hair from my collarbone and wiped the sweat from my brow with a cool cloth.

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It started after my husband hired a couple of thugs to trash the flower stall I’d set up outside the university gates. So I took a bouquet of roses to the graduation ceremony of the student he was sponsoring. My husband, a tenured professor at the college, was on stage, adjusting the tassel on her mortarboard. As he smiled and posed with her for a photograph, I switched on my portable megaphone. “Two for the price of one, folks! The professor and his protégée, sharing a bed and a diploma! Roses are three for a dollar today—my wedding gift to the happy couple!” A sea of stunned, naïve faces turned to stare. And up on that stage, Professor Arthur Pierce—my calm, composed husband—panicked for the second time in his life. 1. The first time was the day I found out he was cheating. It was a perfectly ordinary Friday. He came home after his weekly graduate seminar, just like always, but this time he collapsed with stomach pain so severe he nearly passed out. His tweed jacket smelled of cayenne and fried chicken. Arthur has a sensitive stomach. He never eats spicy food. I called his teaching assistant, and that’s when I learned there was a new student in his seminar. Arthur had taken her out for Nashville hot chicken, just because she wanted to try it. “It’s not a big deal,” I told the TA, my voice steady. “Just, your professor’s stomach can’t handle things like that. In the future, could you please make sure he avoids it?” The voice on the other end hesitated. “Ma’am… honestly, Sadie… she doesn’t even meet the qualifications to be in the seminar.” A strange, sharp thought exploded in my mind. Arthur was resting in bed, his brow furrowed in discomfort even in his sleep. After two decades together, we were an open book to each other. I unlocked his phone without any trouble. The group chat for the seminar looked normal. At first. [Arthur Pierce: Next time, try to stay awake during the discussion.] [Sadie: But it’s so boring. What if I just look at you instead? I know I won’t get sleepy if I’m looking at you.] [Arthur Pierce: Fine.] [Sadie: Calling you ‘Professor Pierce’ feels so old-fashioned. Can I call you ‘Professor A’? Or maybe just Arthur? Pretty please?] [Arthur Pierce: Whatever you want.] [Sadie: xoxo! (heart_emoji.gif)] I pulled out my own phone, checked the profile picture, and confirmed that this Sadie was the girl I knew. A knot of pressure formed in my chest, tight and suffocating. Arthur woke as the daylight began to fade. I handed him a glass of water. Next to it, I placed his phone, open to their chat. In the time he’d been asleep, Sadie had sent him a dozen more messages. “Professor A, can we get hot chicken again tomorrow?” “Professor A, I’m so stuck on this paper. Can I get my handsome professor to ghostwrite it for me? I’ll let you be the second author!” She was a senior, an undergraduate not even on the graduate track. There was absolutely no reason, academic or otherwise, for her to be in Arthur’s master’s level seminar. “Get her out of the group,” I said, my voice quiet. “She doesn’t belong there. She’ll drag down the rest of the students.” I took a breath. “We can pretend this never happened.” Twenty years. I was trying to give him an ounce of dignity. Arthur’s gaze landed on the glowing screen. He squinted at me. “Nora.” “If I hadn’t married you, you’d still be just a girl selling flowers on a street corner.” 2. I’ve always been a supportive wife. I listen to my husband. So, the very next day, I put my hair up, went to the entrance of Blackwood University, and set up a flower stall. On the wrapping paper for each bouquet, I thoughtfully printed screenshots of Arthur and Sadie’s text messages. Over the years, I had become a familiar face on campus. Faculty and students knew me. As soon as I set up, one of Arthur’s former students wandered over. “Mrs. Pierce? What are you doing out here? Is everything okay with you and the professor?” I handed him a freshly wrapped bouquet. “Everything’s fine. Your professor just has another family to support now.” My voice was light, conspiratorial. “You know how it is. Younger women, they have expensive tastes. I’m just worried he’s going to run himself into the ground trying to keep up.” I let the venom seep out, my words deliberately cruel and suggestive. Within a day, the rumors about Professor Pierce and his young new protégée were tearing across campus. The second time I set up my stall, a couple of thugs showed up and kicked it to pieces, stomping my flowers into the pavement. “Lady,” one of them sneered, “someone sent us with a message. Know when to quit.” Of course, I didn’t listen. That same afternoon, I went from the campus security office to the Dean’s office, and finally, I filed a formal complaint with the university’s ethics board. I cried at every stop. Arthur was summoned for a meeting. He came home early that evening, not lingering at the university. “Nora, that’s enough.” I just snorted. “We’re just getting started. You did the disgusting deed, Arthur. Don’t tell me you’re getting scared now.” He sighed heavily, tossing his briefcase onto the sofa, his expression a mask of frustration. “None of this had to happen, Nora. We could have talked this through.” He looked at me with pure disappointment. “If our marriage is over, it’s because you pushed it there.” He was blaming me. He was blaming me for my hysteria, for shattering the perfect facade of our ugly marriage. He was the one who had been unfaithful, who had betrayed twenty years of history, yet here he stood on the moral high ground, accusing me of being the crazy one, the one whose unhinged behavior was driving him away. “Did I make you cheat on me, Arthur?” He laughed, a cold, bitter sound. “Have you forgotten who brought Sadie into our home in the first place, Nora?” My stomach dropped. A wave of nausea, so profound it was suffocating, washed over me. That girl. I had sponsored her. Adopted her, in everything but name. I brought her into our home. For nearly ten years, I had cherished her like a daughter. “You make me sick, Arthur.” For the first time, we looked at each other and saw a stranger. That night, Arthur moved out. And Sadie went with him.

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The day before I was supposed to walk down the aisle, my best friend Sophia and I were kidnapped by a cartel and dragged to a remote island off the coast of Colombia. My fiancé, Ethan Cole, a former Navy EOD specialist, planned a secret mercenary rescue. But the plan went to hell. The cartel leader strapped a vest of explosives to my chest. And as the rescue chopper’s blades beat the humid air, Ethan looked at Sophia, her body wracked with tremors, and then he looked at me, a human time bomb. To calm her, he didn’t hesitate. He swept Sophia into his arms and carried her onto the helicopter. Leaving me behind to wait for a rescue that never came. For six years, I was the cartel kingpin’s property. I carried four of his children. None of them survived. Then came the fifth pregnancy. An ultrasound confirmed it was a boy, and the monster holding me captive finally loosened his grip, allowing me to be moved to a mainland hospital to ensure the heir’s survival. It was the only chance I’d ever had. I made contact with an undercover DEA agent, feeding him everything I knew. Together, we brought the entire network down. I came home, my body a wreck, my belly swollen, only to find Ethan at that same hospital, his arm wrapped gently around Sophia as she got her own prenatal check-up. His face turned to stone when he saw me. “Why couldn’t you have just stayed gone?” he asked, his voice a low growl. My own voice was a trembling whisper. “But Ethan… you said you’d never give up on me.” 1 I stumbled after him, my fingers just grazing the sleeve of his jacket. He turned, and the look in his eyes was so cold it burned, a frost that seeped straight into my bones. My whole body shuddered. My legs gave out, and I collapsed in a heap against the cold tile of the hallway wall. “Why?” I tilted my head back, looking up at Ethan and Sophia, who stood over me like twin statues carved from ice. The question that had been buried in my heart for six years finally clawed its way out. Six years I had scraped by, surviving moment to moment on a forgotten island, and I come home to find my fiancé cradling another woman’s baby bump, planning the lavish wedding that was supposed to have been ours. Ethan pulled Sophia closer, shielding her behind him. His brow was knitted, a flicker of something—pity? memory?—in his eyes. For a second, I thought he might reach down for me. But then his gaze dropped to the gentle swell of Sophia’s stomach, and that flicker of warmth vanished. “Just let it go, Evelyn,” he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “I’ve done more than enough for you.” His eyes, full of contempt, swept over my own pregnant belly. I forced a smile that felt more like a grimace, a desperate, pleading thing. My voice shook uncontrollably. “Ethan, please, let me explain… The baby… none of this is what you think. I wrote to you, didn’t you get my letters? You have to know…” I was naive enough to think it was just my “unholy” child he couldn’t stand. My words only made his frown deepen. Before he could speak, Sophia cut in with a soft, mournful sigh. “Evie, don’t do this to yourself,” she said, her hand resting protectively on her stomach. Her face was a mask of profound sorrow. “Six years ago, when the Cole family’s company was on the verge of bankruptcy, you staged your own kidnapping with criminals to try and get your hands on Ethan’s shares.” “He nearly bankrupted himself trying to raise the money to save you,” she continued, her voice breaking with theatrical pain. “And you… you chose to stay with that man, all for money and a life of luxury.” She paused, letting the poison sink in before delivering the final, unthinkable blow. “The scandal… the shock of it killed his grandmother.” A roar filled my ears, and the world went white. Staged it myself? For his shares? Killed his grandmother? Sophia kept talking, her gentle voice a swarm of needles piercing my heart. In her version of the story, I was a monster, a manipulative, black-hearted villain. When she finished, she put on an air of magnanimous grace. “But don’t you worry. What’s past is past. If you’ll let us, Ethan and I will give you a generous sum. Enough to make sure you’re comfortable for the rest of your life.” “Hah.” A humorless, disgusted sound escaped Ethan’s lips. He took a step back, pulling Sophia with him. He took her hand, his voice softening as he spoke to her. “You’re too kind, Soph. Always have been. If you hadn’t been there for me… I don’t know what I would have become.” He looked back at me, his face hard again. “Let’s go. Don’t waste another breath on a woman like her. It’s not worth it.” I was frozen, my lips sealed shut as if by glue. I couldn’t form a single word. “But you were the one who took her!” The words burst out of me in a desperate, wounded shout, tears finally streaming down my face. “You put Sophia on the helicopter and left me on that island to work as an informant!” Ethan just laughed, a bitter, self-mocking sound. He said I was always the same, always shifting blame, always painting myself as a hero. He was tired of it. I tried to speak again, to force the story of those six years of humiliation and struggle past my lips. But a sharp, twisting pain erupted in my abdomen, stealing my breath and draining all the strength from my body. My hand flew to my belly, trembling. I felt a sticky warmth spreading through my clothes. The pain intensified, a heavy, pulling sensation deep inside. I looked down. A bright, crimson river was trickling down my inner thigh, dripping, drop by drop, onto the pristine white floor. “Doctor! Somebody get a doctor!” The sight of the blood shattered Ethan’s composure. His shout was raw, instinctive. But Sophia leaned in close, whispering something urgent in his ear, words only for him. The last trace of panic on Ethan’s face evaporated. He retracted every ounce of concern, turned his back on me, and walked away without a second glance. I watched him go, the air growing thin in my lungs. The world began to spin, and my consciousness sank into a deep, welcoming darkness. As they wheeled me into the operating room, I vaguely heard a nurse’s anxious voice. “What do we do? The next of kin outside says she’s allergic to anesthesia!” “But she’s this far along… a D&C without anesthesia? The pain will kill her!”

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This was the third time I’d sued my husband’s mistress. And this time, he was finally angry. He didn’t come home to plead with me to drop the lawsuit, not like the first two times. Instead, my phone buzzed with the full force of his fury. “Three years, Bianca. A new lawsuit every year. Don’t you think you’ve made your point?” His voice was a low growl, stripped of any warmth it once held for me. “You have no idea what I’m capable of. If it weren’t for you, for what we were, I have a million ways to make life hell for anyone who messes with Jaz. I’m warning you. This is the last time.” The implication was clear: his restraint was a gift. My last gift. Any more trouble, and that restraint would vanish. A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Is that a threat, Ethan? Go on. Try and ruin me.” He wanted a quiet life with his little lover, a neat little happily-ever-after. I would give him a war instead. He hung up, the silence on the line as violent as his words. In turn, I called my lawyer and filed an injunction to freeze all our marital assets. 01 We were married for five years. For three of them, Ethan had treated me like a ghost. We met in college, the kind of couple everyone pointed to as proof that true love existed. We were the campus sweethearts, the ones destined to make it. It took us five years to get from that campus to the altar. It took him two years to cheat on me. She was his new assistant. Jasmine. I found them. Not in a motel, not in some sordid apartment, but in our home. He had her tucked under his arm, shielding her as if I were the threat. “Bianca, don’t blame her,” he said, his voice firm. “This is on me. I started it.” “Why?” The word was a shard of glass in my throat. Seven years of my life, undone by a girl who couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. “We were out with clients. Someone slipped something in my drink. If Jaz hadn’t been there… I could have lost everything.” His eyes softened as he looked down at her, a wave of tenderness washing over his face. “She’s just a kid, Bianca. An innocent girl. She’s with me now. I have to protect her. I can’t let her get hurt.” His words hit me like a physical blow. Ethan was a self-made man, his success built on a mountain of networking events and schmoozing dinners. I was there for all of it. To help him secure funding, I’d sat through countless dinners with lecherous investors, their hands lingering too long on my arm, their eyes crawling over my skin. I’d smiled through it all, for him. For us. An innocent girl. Can’t let her get hurt. Was that it? Was I no longer clean in his eyes? Was I tainted by the very world I’d helped him conquer? Was that his excuse to find solace in the arms of his wide-eyed assistant? Then what were all my sacrifices for? What was I? 02 Ethan didn’t show up for the deposition. But his mistress did. “Bianca. Name your price. What will it take to make this go away?” She was dressed head-to-toe in runway-fresh Dior, dripping in jewels that I knew for a fact were not family heirlooms. The timid girl I’d first seen clinging to my husband was gone. In her place stood a woman sculpted by Ethan’s money. He had polished her well over the last three years. “I want to speak with Ethan,” I said, my voice flat. A smug smile played on her lips. “Me being here is his statement. He’s sick of you, Bianca. He can’t even stand to look at you anymore.” Her eyes, cold and dismissive, swept over me. “This has always been about money, right?” She slid a document across the polished table. A divorce settlement. “Sign it. I talked to E, and he agreed to be generous. An extra ten million.” It was our money. Money I had helped him earn. Yet here she was, framing it as a handout, a gift she had magnanimously convinced him to bestow upon me. I met her gaze, my own eyes turning to ice. “I said, I’ll speak with Ethan.” “About what? The divorce?” She let out a light, tinkling laugh. “You’ve sued me for three years. And what have you gotten out of it? Nothing. In fact, every time you file a suit, Ethan feels so guilty about what I have to go through. He spoils me even more.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “He’s bought me cars, condos… a portfolio. Honestly, I should be thanking you. These last three years have been very, very profitable. Two hundred million, all in my name.” Her gaze was pure condescension. “Why do you have to be so pathetic? Fifty million is more than fair. Don’t be that woman. Take the deal while I’m in a good mood. Sign the papers and walk away.” Her smile tightened. “Because if you don’t, I promise you, what he offers next will be far less.” He was giving his mistress assets worth hundreds of millions, and offering me fifty million to disappear. I clung to the last shred of my dignity. “I’m not signing anything. As long as I’m his wife, you’ll always be the other woman.” “You—” Jasmine’s face contorted with rage, and her hand flew towards my face. I caught her wrist, my grip like steel. “And as long as I am legally his wife, every single dollar he gave you is marital property. You think you’re going to keep that two hundred million? Enjoy it while it lasts.” “Bianca! Let her go.” Ethan. He stormed in, his face a thundercloud, and roughly wrenched my arm away, shoving me back. I stumbled, my knee cracking hard against the leg of a chair. A bolt of sharp, searing pain shot up my leg. He didn’t even glance at me. His attention was solely on Jasmine, his hands framing her face, his eyes frantic with a worry he never showed me anymore. “Are you okay? Did she hurt you?” The arrogant woman from moments before vanished. Jasmine buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with silent, theatrical sobs. Ethan’s gaze finally found me, and it was utterly devoid of warmth. “Bianca, what did I tell you? You want to fight, you fight with me. You don’t touch her. Haven’t you learned anything in the last three years?” 03 That was the incident that changed everything. For slapping his mistress, Ethan didn’t just fire me from the executive position I held at our company; he moved out of our home and into hers. I screamed. I cried. I pleaded. I fell apart. In response, he blocked my number, blocked my email, and vanished from my life completely. That was my “lesson.” The only way to see him, the only way to force him to face me, was to drag his new life into the harsh light of a courtroom. So I filed suit against Jasmine, for misappropriation of marital assets. It was the one thing he couldn’t ignore. He couldn’t stand the thought of her name being dragged through legal proceedings. So he would appear. He would finally see me. And each time, it was the same. He would demand to know when I was going to stop. He would warn me that next time, he wouldn’t be so lenient. He would slide a divorce settlement across the table, his only goal to make her an honest woman. I stared at him now, the pain in my knee a dull throb. “What other lessons do you have for me, Ethan? Bring them on. Do you really think there’s anything left for me to be afraid of?” His jaw tightened, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Jasmine, nestled in his arms, chose that moment to look up, her eyes shimmering with perfectly formed tears. “E, it’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have come to see her. I was just so worried about your reputation, about the company you worked so hard to build…” She pressed her cheek against his chest, her voice choked with emotion. “I don’t care about any of it. The cars, the condos, everything… I’ll give it all to her. If she’ll just leave you in peace, I’ll give up everything…” It was a masterful performance. “Bianca, it’s been three years,” Ethan said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Haven’t you had enough?” He looked at me, his eyes dark and clouded. “You’ve tortured us for three years. Isn’t it time to let go of your anger?” He had ignored me for three years. Frozen me out for three years. Flaunted his love for another woman for three years. Ground my dignity into dust for three years. And now he was accusing me of torturing him. 04 A laugh, sharp and brittle, broke from my lips. “Enough? It’s not nearly enough. You want peace, Ethan? You should have thought of that before you destroyed mine. I’m not done. I want everyone to know what you are: a man who betrays his vows. And I want everyone to know what she is: a homewrecker who knew exactly what she was doing.” “I am going to nail you both to the cross of public opinion.” Ethan’s expression was one of pure disdain. “Look at you, Bianca. Listen to yourself. You sound like some unhinged woman screaming on a street corner. What happened to you?” He shook his head, a cruel smirk on his face. “And for the record, Jaz is not a homewrecker. In love, Bianca, the one who isn’t loved is the other woman.” So that’s what I was to him now. The other woman. Tears welled, hot and furious, but I refused to let them fall. My hand shot out, grabbing the heavy ceramic coffee mug from the table. With a guttural cry, I hurled it at his head. “Ah—!” Jasmine shrieked. The dark brown liquid mixed with the bright red of his blood, dripping down his temple. Ethan stared at me, his eyes wide with shock. Three years. We had argued, we had iced each other out, we had lived in a state of cold war for three excruciating years. But this was the first time I had ever laid a hand on him. He wiped the blood from his brow with the back of his hand and, with a chilling calmness, slapped the divorce papers down on the table once more. “There. You’ve hit me, you’ve had your tantrum. You should feel better now. Sign the papers.” 05 Jasmine stepped toward me, her face a mask of patronizing pity. “Bianca, please… don’t do this to Ethan anymore. Do you really want me to get on my knees and beg you—” Before she could finish her sentence, I slapped her. Hard. The crack echoed in the silent room. “A mistress doesn’t get a speaking part in this conversation,” I spat. As I raised my hand for a second time, Ethan lunged, his fingers clamping around my wrist like a vice. He yanked me back, flinging me away from her. I lost my balance, my head slamming against the sharp corner of the conference table. A warm, wet sensation instantly flooded my hairline. But he wasn’t looking at me. “Did you forget my warning, Bianca?” His voice was dangerously low. “You forced my hand.” He pulled out his phone and dialed. “Get all of Bianca’s things out of the house. Now. Pack them in a box and leave it on the curb. And change the locks. She is not to set foot on that property again.” I pressed a hand to my bleeding forehead, staring at him in disbelief. “Ethan… you told me that was our forever home.” For a split second, seeing the blood, his brow furrowed. Just a flicker. Then it was gone. He turned his back on me, wrapping a protective arm around Jasmine. “You brought this on yourself, Bianca. I told you. Come after me, but you leave Jaz out of it.” He scooped her up into his arms. “This is the last time I’m going easy on you. You’d be wise to remember that.” His gaze softened as he looked down at the woman in his arms. “Jaz, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Let’s get you to a doctor.” A single slap, and she needed a doctor. I was bleeding freely from my head, and he saw right through me. Jasmine wrapped her arms around his neck, but her triumphant gaze was locked on me. “E, what about Bianca? She’s hurt, too. Shouldn’t you—” Ethan’s voice was like a blade. “She’s an irrelevant person. Not worth my time.” Ten years of love, erased. I was irrelevant. Not worth his time. 06 I drove home in a daze. Home. The housekeeper, a woman who had worked for us for years, blocked the doorway. “Ma’am, Mr. Scott said you’re not allowed inside anymore.” She pointed to a single, small cardboard box sitting on the porch steps. “He said you could take your personal clothing, but nothing else from the house.” That small box. Sitting there like a piece of trash. A low, hysterical laugh bubbled up from my chest. So this was it. This was the grand finale. This was the future I had chosen when I ignored every warning, burned every bridge, and threw my entire life behind one man. Tears finally blurred my vision. Ethan was a man of his word, after all. One slap was all it took. He was so cruel. He knew. He knew I had no other family to turn to. He had been my only family. This house was the only anchor I had left. Why was he doing this? What had I done to deserve this bottomless cruelty? I don’t know how long I stood there, frozen on the sidewalk. Eventually, a car pulled up, and Olivia got out. My best friend. In this entire city, she was the one person I still had. She took one look at my face, at the box, and her own face hardened. She practically forced me into the passenger seat of her car. “That son of a bitch,” she seethed. “Ethan is a goddamn monster.” She glanced at me, her eyes full of pain. “Bianca, why are you still holding on to this? You’re miserable, and you’re making him miserable.” I stared out the window at the blurry city lights. “He’s not miserable, Liv,” I rasped. “He’s got his perfect little doll to comfort him.” Olivia was silent for a long time. “He’s never gone this far before, no matter how bad your fights were. What happened today?” The tears started again, hot tracks down my cold cheeks. “I slapped her. His precious Jasmine. Just once.” Olivia slammed her fist on the steering wheel. “Bia, don’t you think you deserve better? Does it really have to be him?” I wiped my eyes, a hollow feeling echoing inside me. “It’s not about him anymore, Liv. It’s the sheer injustice of it all. The boy who promised me forever under the autumn leaves on the main quad… how did he become this… this cold, cruel stranger? I just want an answer. What does she have that I don’t?” Olivia’s voice was laced with a helpless frustration. “Bia, you’re a hundred times the woman she’ll ever be. Ethan is blind. He’s an idiot.” She paused, trying to find some logic. “Look, maybe this lawsuit just hit a nerve, maybe he lost a lot of money and he’s lashing out. He’ll cool down… maybe he’ll…” She trailed off, then tried again. “He can’t feel nothing for you. If he was truly indifferent, why would he let you torment him for three years without ever really fighting back? He never used his real power against you until now…” “Feelings? Indifferent?” My laugh was a broken, trembling thing. “He knows I cut off my family for him. He knows I have nowhere else to go. He promised me that house would always be my home… and today, he threw me out like garbage.” Olivia’s own eyes welled up. “All those years… from college kids to this… How did it ever come to this?” That’s right. How? I wanted an answer, too. 07 I spent days in a fog at Olivia’s apartment. Finally, she dragged me out of bed. “Where are we going?” I asked, my voice listless. “To get you some justice,” she replied. I instinctively recoiled. “Liv, please. This is between Ethan and me. Don’t get involved.” “I’ve invited a few of our old friends from college.” She took my cold hand in hers. “With us there, maybe Ethan will be reminded of the woman you are. The woman he fell in love with.” “This is a chance for you two to actually talk.” Her voice was soft, full of hope. “I don’t believe that two people who loved each other that fiercely can just… stop. There has to be something left.” I stood there, stunned. Three years. Over a thousand days. And in every single encounter, every single confrontation, he had said nothing. He would just watch me with those cold eyes, push the divorce papers toward me, and utter the same five brutal words in the same flat tone: “Just sign it, Bianca.” Could we really talk? Olivia’s desperate hope on my behalf made my nose sting. The private room she’d booked was at the same restaurant where Ethan had proposed. Standing outside the door, I felt a dizzying wave of vertigo, as if the past ten years were collapsing in on me. I could almost hear his voice from that night, thick with emotion: “Bianca, be my girlfriend. I’ll love you for the rest of my life.” Through the door, I could hear the muffled voices of our friends. “Ethan, has it really come to this? Is divorce the only option?” “Yeah, man. A woman on the side is one thing, but you don’t throw away a marriage like yours.” “You and Bianca have been through so much. Whatever it is, just work it out. Get it out of your system and go home.” Then, Ethan’s voice, calm and resolute. “This isn’t just a fling. I’m serious about her.” The room went quiet for a moment. Then someone else spoke. “I just don’t get it, Ethan. I’ve met your new girlfriend. She’s… fine. But in terms of looks, intelligence, capability… she’s not in the same league as Bianca. How can you be so obsessed with her?” Outside the door, my fingers curled into fists. Yes. That was the question. The question that had haunted me for three years. Where did I fall short? What made her so much better? “You’re right. Bianca is superior to Jaz in every way,” Ethan’s voice was unnervingly calm. “Then why…?” “That’s exactly why,” Ethan cut in. “She’s too superior. She’s independent, strong… she makes it seem like she doesn’t need anyone. From household chores to business negotiations, she handles everything perfectly.” His tone shifted, softening into something almost tender. “But Jaz is different. She’s… clumsy. She burns herself making instant ramen. She gets lost every time she leaves the house. She can never find her phone. If I’m not around, she’s a walking disaster—” He paused, and I could picture the fond smile on his face. “She needs me. And that feeling, being needed… it fills a space inside me I didn’t even know was empty.” I leaned against the cold wall, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. So that was it. I hadn’t lost to another woman. I had lost to my own damned competence. I had lost to every storm I had weathered on my own. All those late nights I stayed up with him while he was building his company from scratch. All those client dinners where I drank until my stomach burned to help him land a deal. All those days and nights I managed our lives, our home, our world, so he could focus on his dream without a single worry. Everything I thought was a testament to my love and support… was actually the reason he left. The irony was so thick it choked me. I had forged myself into a fortress to protect him, only for him to leave and become the guardian of a delicate, clinging vine. And in that moment, I finally understood. It wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough. It was that I was too good. Too good for a man like him.

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I spent three years in a coma saving my brother and his three best friends. When I woke up, my parents, my brother, and those three boys were crowded around my bed, their faces a mask of frantic relief. I felt nothing. I knew the truth. I knew that after the hospital called to tell them I was awake, they first finished celebrating their adopted daughter’s birthday before gracing me with their presence. In the three years I was gone, another girl had taken my place. A voice in the back of my mind warned me what would happen next. I was destined to become the villain, a girl so twisted by jealousy that I would fight to win back the affection of my family. I would lose, of course. Despised by everyone, I would end my own life. A cold smile touched my lips. Fight for them? No, thank you. A family like that isn’t worth keeping. 1 On the television mounted in the corner of my hospital room, a local news channel was gushing over the lavish birthday party of Hailey Prescott. The heirs to the city’s most powerful families—the Hudsons, the Graysons, and the Wests—were all in attendance. The camera panned across the handsome young men flanking a beautiful girl, laughing as she blew out the candles on a towering cake. She was the picture of a princess. I stared at the familiar faces on the screen. My father. My mother. My brother, Ethan. And his three best friends—Liam, Noah, and Owen. They already knew I was awake. The nurse had called them from my bedside, and my father had answered. But there they were, their smiles serene and undisturbed, celebrating until the party reached its perfect, glittering conclusion. By the time the frantic footsteps echoed down the hall, the nurse had already finished a round of physical therapy with me, and I was settling back into my pillows, exhausted. The door flew open, shattering the quiet. “Audrey!” “Oh my God, Audrey, you’re finally awake!” Their voices were a tidal wave of emotion, their faces etched with a desperate joy, as if my return was the single most important event in the world. It was a convincing performance. But I had seen the television. I had seen the soft, adoring way they looked at another girl. And I knew how long it had taken them to get here. I might have believed them, otherwise. I might have believed they were still the same parents, the same brother, the same boys who had been my entire world. My expression remained flat. I let my gaze drift past them to the girl standing hesitantly in the doorway, still wearing the beautiful white dress from the party. My mother followed my line of sight and immediately beckoned her forward with a warm, gentle smile. “Audrey, this is your sister, Hailey. She’s the daughter of your father’s dear friend who passed away. We adopted her three years ago.” She pulled the girl into a one-armed hug. “These last three years… they’ve been unbearable. Having Hailey with us has been a godsend. I don’t know how I would have survived otherwise.” “She’s right,” my father added, his voice thick with emotion. “Hailey was a gift from heaven, sent to us in our darkest hour.” “And now you have a sister, Hailey,” Ethan said, his voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Go on, say hello to your big sister.” Hailey looked at me, her eyes shining with what looked like unshed tears. “Audrey,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “I’m so glad you’re awake. Mom, Dad, and Ethan have been so worried. I always said… I always told them I would leave this family in a heartbeat if it meant you’d come back to us.” “Hailey, don’t say such silly things,” my mother scolded gently, pulling her into a full embrace. “Don’t you ever talk about leaving us, do you hear me? You are a part of this family. Now you just have a sister to share it with.” “That’s right, sweetheart. No one is ever letting you leave,” my father added, his tone full of affection. “You’re our little sister now,” Ethan said, feigning a wounded look. “Are you trying to break our hearts? You wouldn’t leave your big brother, would you?” Hailey blushed, stamping her foot playfully. “Ethan, stop! Of course not.” The display of affection made them all chuckle. “And if anyone at home gives you a hard time,” said Liam Hudson, one of the three boys I’d grown up with, “you can always come stay with me. I’ll make sure you’re treated like the princess you are.” “Hey, what about me?” Noah Grayson cut in with a mock-offended huff. “My house is way more fun.” “Please, she likes me best,” Owen West chimed in. “In your dreams, West!” the others shot back. “Don’t even think about it, you guys,” Ethan declared, stepping forward possessively. “Hailey is a Prescott princess. No one is ever going to give her a hard time.” My parents just shook their heads, smiling fondly. Hailey, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink, leaned against my mother. And just like that, the center of the universe in my hospital room shifted, orbiting entirely around the girl in the white dress. I, the patient in the bed, was an afterthought. Bored, I turned my head on the pillow, and for a split second, my eyes met Hailey’s. Her expression was unguarded. It was pure, unadulterated triumph. 2 I used to be the Prescott princess. Ethan and his friends were my self-appointed royal guard. I was their little sister, their mascot, the one they swore to protect forever. They promised that if anyone ever hurt me, they would make them pay. I grew up cocooned in their love and devotion. That’s why, three years ago, I did what I did. The car crash was a nightmare of twisted metal and shattered glass. My brother and his three best friends were thrown around the cabin like rag dolls, a collage of broken bones and blood. I was the only one who had been wearing a seatbelt, the only one with minor injuries. I smelled the gasoline first, a sharp, sickening scent. Then I saw the flicker of flames near the engine. I knew what was coming. Tears streamed down my face as I screamed their names, pulling them one by one from the wreckage. But they were dead weight, and I couldn’t drag them far enough away. The fire was growing. I looked at their unconscious forms—the boys who had protected me my whole life—and made a decision. My body shook with terror, but my resolve was absolute. I climbed into the driver’s seat of the mangled SUV. It was a wreck, practically begging to fall apart, but it had to move. I had to get it away from them. My foot found the accelerator. I drove the burning car as far as I could, my hands trembling on the wheel. When I finally slammed on the brakes, I scrambled out, trying to run, but it was too late. The explosion threw me into the air, and my world went black. For three years, I was lost in a long, dark dream. In that dream, my family adopted a girl my age. At first, my brother would scold her for touching my things. “That’s my sister’s,” he’d say. “Don’t touch it.” The three boys ignored her completely, telling everyone their only little sister was Audrey Prescott. But slowly, things changed. The new girl was a master of a certain kind of vulnerability—a quiet, helpless fragility that wormed its way into their hearts. Their weekly visits to my bedside became monthly, then quarterly. The last time they came, six months had passed without a word. They were too busy. Busy taking the new girl to theme parks, to see the northern lights. Busy helping her with homework, celebrating her birthday… Then, in the dream, I woke up. They arrived late, the new girl in tow. Raised on their affection, I was furious when I saw how they fawned over her at my bedside. I demanded she leave my room. But no one cared about my feelings anymore. Gently, patiently, they told me I had to accept my new sister. After that, the dream turned into a waking nightmare. Hailey framed me for one thing after another, and they never believed me. They only saw her tears, her trembling fear. They called me selfish, spoiled, a disappointment. The very same people who had nurtured my spirit, who had celebrated my every whim, now looked at me with disgust when I fought back. The last thing I remember from that dream is running out of the house, unable to bear their cold eyes another second. I ran right into the street, and my short, ridiculous life ended under the wheels of a car. When I woke up for real this time, I found the dream had been a prophecy. They had adopted a girl named Hailey. When they heard I was awake, they didn’t drop everything and rush to my side. They finished her birthday party. And standing in my hospital room, they had already forgotten I was there. The dream wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. Or maybe, it was my first life. This time, things would be different. My father finally seemed to remember I was in the room. “Audrey,” he said, his voice soft. “Are you in any pain? Do you need anything?” All eyes turned back to me. I looked at each of them, a faint smile on my lips. “I just have one question. I saved my brother and his three friends three years ago, right?” 3 My question hung in the air, met with a stunned silence. It was as if I’d broken some unspoken rule. This wasn’t something I was supposed to bring up; it was a debt they understood, the very reason they had rushed—belatedly—to the hospital. “Of course, Audrey,” Ethan said, his voice regaining its gentle warmth. “You were so brave that day. We’re all so incredibly grateful to you. We owe you everything.” Liam, Noah, and Owen nodded in solemn agreement. “Audrey, thank you,” Hailey said, rushing to my side and grabbing my hand. Her grip was tight, her voice passionate. “Thank you for saving Ethan, and Liam, and Noah, and Owen. Because of you, I got to know them. I don’t know how I could ever repay you. If you wanted my life in exchange for yours, I would give it, right now.” As she named each of them, their expressions softened into pure adoration. You could practically see the affection pouring out of them. My smile turned wry. I gently pulled my hand from her grasp. “Don’t worry. I just woke up. Your life is of no use to me.” Their brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of displeasure crossing their faces. I ignored it and looked directly at the four of them. “So… could you turn that gratitude into cash? A million dollars from each of you would be enough. Is that possible?” Another wave of shock rolled through the room. “Audrey, what are you talking about?” my mother said, her brow creased with disapproval. “You’re a Prescott. You don’t need to worry about money.” “She’s right, sweetheart,” my father added, his tone placating. “The most important thing right now is for you to get better. When you come home, you’ll be the same young lady of the house you always were, with everything you could ever want.” The irony was so thick I could taste it. In my dream-life, I never cared about money. I never would have dreamed of mentioning what I did, of turning my sacrifice into a transaction. It would have felt cheap, insulting to our bond. But then, back at the house, they had used money to control me. Every time I “bullied” Hailey, every time I “acted out,” they cut off my allowance, froze my accounts. I couldn’t even pay for school activities. They punished me with poverty, and my life was miserable. If I didn’t secure my own funds now, my heroic act would be slowly erased, negated by every fabricated transgression against Saint Hailey. In my dream, a voice had offered to help me, to help me win back their love. I had refused it then, and I refused it now. I had no interest in fighting for scraps of affection. “I was in a coma for three years,” I said calmly. “I’m eighteen now. I’d like to have some money of my own. To buy whatever I want, whenever I want. To be a little reckless. Can’t I do that?” My reasoning seemed to soothe their discomfort. The tension in the room eased. “Audrey, Mom and Dad gave me some spending money,” Hailey chimed in, her expression bright and earnest. “It’s almost a million. You can have all of it! I’m so happy I can finally do something for the boys!” Ethan chuckled, shaking his head. “Hailey, you don’t need to give her your allowance.” “You’re such a sweetheart,” Noah cooed, gently tapping her on the head. They all smiled, shaking their heads at her adorable generosity. “I just wanted to help…” Hailey mumbled, sticking her tongue out playfully. My mother wrapped her in another loving hug. In the end, of course, they each transferred a million dollars to my account. Four million dollars. I would make it last. This time, I wouldn’t be helpless. This time, there would be no tragic ending. As they were leaving, Liam Hudson glanced back at me, his eyes narrowed in thought. He looked at me as if he was seeing a stranger, as if something was fundamentally, irrevocably wrong. 4 After two weeks in the hospital, my body had recovered enough for me to go home. “Audrey, look at this room,” my mother said, leading me down the familiar hallway. “Hailey insisted you have it. She even put her favorite stuffed rabbit on your pillow.” Insisted. The word was absurd. This had been my room since I was born. After three years in a coma, I now needed someone else’s permission to live in it. I smiled sweetly. “That’s so thoughtful of Hailey. But if she’s already settled in, I wouldn’t want to displace her. I can take another room.” My mother looked taken aback, as if my politeness was a foreign language. “It’s no problem, Audrey,” Hailey said, stepping forward. “This is the biggest and brightest room. It should be yours.” My parents and Ethan gazed at her, their expressions melting with love for her selfless, considerate nature. This was clearly nothing new. I shook my head again. “You’ve already made it your own. It wouldn’t be right for me to kick you out just because I’m back. Dad, Mom, and Ethan would think I was being terribly selfish.” I remembered this scene from my dream-life. Ethan had yelled at me, saying Hailey was having trouble sleeping in her new, smaller room, all because she’d given me the better one, and yet I still found ways to torment her. Pathetic. “I’ll take another room,” I continued, my voice firm but pleasant. “Or I can stay in the maid’s quarters. We can’t have Hailey feeling slighted, now can we?” I pre-empted the very accusation they would have leveled against me. They all paused, a flicker of confusion in their eyes. They knew something was off about what I said, but they couldn’t quite put their finger on it. “Audrey, I wouldn’t feel slighted at all, I—” “Then it’s settled. You stay right where you are,” I interrupted smoothly. “You’re the little sister everyone adores, after all.” And so, I was given another room. … I was at my desk, studying, when my door opened without a knock. Hailey waltzed in, carrying a small platter of fruit. “Audrey, you’ve been cooped up in here all day. I brought you a snack.” She smiled, walking toward me. I glanced up. “Thanks. Just leave it on the table.” “Okay,” she chirped, but instead of going to the table, she walked directly toward my desk. Then, as if in slow motion, her hands “slipped.” The platter tilted, and fruit tumbled to the floor. “Ah!” she shrieked, stumbling backward and collapsing dramatically onto the carpet. “What’s going on?” My father, mother, and Ethan rushed in, drawn by the scream. “Hailey!” They hurried to her side, helping her up. “Mom…” Hailey whimpered, burying her face in my mother’s shoulder. She was trembling. “I… I was just worried Audrey was working too hard… I only wanted to bring her some fruit…” Their eyes moved from the scattered fruit on the floor to my impassive face. They didn’t need any more explanation; the story wrote itself in their minds. “Audrey, Hailey was being thoughtful,” Ethan said, his brow furrowed in sharp disapproval. “If you didn’t want the fruit, you could have just said so. Why did you have to push her?” “You can’t treat your sister this way,” my mother scolded, her arm wrapped protectively around Hailey. “What has gotten into you?” “Audrey, you will apologize to your sister right now,” my father commanded. From the safety of my mother’s embrace, Hailey shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice. 5 Without a word, I turned to my laptop and clicked a file. The screen came to life, showing a live feed from the small security camera I had placed on my bookshelf. Their heads snapped toward the screen. The video showed the entire scene, clear as day. Hailey walking in, deliberately tipping the platter, and throwing herself to the ground. My hands had never left my desk. Hailey’s face went pale. She had never imagined I’d be recording. “As you can see, I didn’t lay a finger on her,” I said calmly. “So, I don’t believe an apology is in order.” I turned my gaze to Hailey. “You should really be more careful, Hailey. You wouldn’t want to trip and hurt yourself again.” Her expression flickered. Then, her eyes filled with tears. “I… I was just so nervous,” she stammered, her voice breaking. “I know you’ve been so cold to me, Audrey. I know you blame me for being here, for not being the only daughter anymore.” She buried her face in my mother’s shoulder again, her body wracked with sobs. “I know you resent that Ethan and the boys are close to me. I was so scared of making you angry that I… I panicked and lost my balance. I’m so sorry…” she wailed. “Mom, I’m so scared she hates me, that she thinks I’ve stolen everything that was hers…” My mother immediately began stroking her hair. “Oh, sweetie, don’t think like that. You haven’t stolen anything. You’re our daughter, too. My love for you and Audrey is equal.” “You have such a wild imagination, silly girl,” Ethan said, shaking his head with a fond sigh. He then looked at me. “But Audrey, you need to understand why she feels this way. You have been incredibly cold to her. We all love you just the same.” “Audrey, Hailey is a good girl,” my father added, his voice laced with disappointment. “You can’t keep being so difficult.” And just like that, even with video evidence, the narrative shifted. As it always did in my dream-life, every road led back to my supposed cruelty. The fact that I had just been falsely accused was already forgotten. The anger and frustration that once would have consumed me were gone, replaced by a chilling calm. I smiled at them. “I’m not sure why Hailey would think that. I don’t feel like anything has been stolen from me. Or does she feel like she’s stolen something from me? The truth is, I’m still adjusting after being unconscious for three years. I suppose I’m a bit distant with everyone right now.” Hailey froze, her eyes darting nervously. Then the waterworks started again. “I… I’m just so afraid you don’t like me. I know I’m not a real Prescott, not like you…” And with that, the ridiculous farce concluded as it always did: with the entire family comforting a weeping Hailey. 6 My aunt and uncle came to visit. They suggested to my parents that since I had recovered, we should have a party to celebrate. My parents, as if the thought had never occurred to them, eagerly agreed. On the morning of my welcome home party, Hailey appeared at the breakfast table dressed in a plain, simple dress. My parents and Ethan gasped. “Hailey, what are you wearing?” my mother asked, rushing to her side. Hailey bit her lip, glancing at me as I calmly ate my toast. “Today is Audrey’s party. She’s the guest of honor. I don’t want to steal her spotlight, so I thought I’d dress down.” “Oh, you silly girl,” my mother said, hugging her tightly. “Yes, it’s a party for your sister, but it’s a celebration for the whole family. You should look just as beautiful as her.” “That’s right,” Ethan added with a smile. “Go change into something gorgeous. Let everyone see the beautiful Prescott sisters, side by side.” Hailey continued to bite her lip, her gaze fixed on me. “But… I’m worried Audrey will mind. I don’t want to cause any friction in the family…” Ethan’s brow creased as he looked at me. “Audrey, Hailey is your sister. You shouldn’t be petty about something like this. There’s no such thing as ‘stealing the spotlight’ between sisters.” “Your brother is right,” my father chimed in sternly. “As the older sister, you need to be more gracious. A family stands together.” I took a slow sip of milk. “Excuse me,” I said, looking at them. “Did I say I minded?” They all fell silent. “Audrey, I really don’t want to outshine you,” Hailey said, her voice laced with false urgency. “Please don’t be mad…” Ethan’s expression soured again. I offered a placid smile. “Hailey, you’re overthinking it. I’ve just come out of a three-year coma. My brain is still rebooting. Honestly, I don’t have the energy to mind much of anything.” Hailey paused, looking momentarily thrown. It was as if my refusal to take her bait was a move she hadn’t prepared for. “Well, as long as Audrey doesn’t mind,” my mother said cheerfully. “Come on, Hailey. Let’s go upstairs and find you a beautiful dress and some jewelry to match.” She led her darling, misunderstood daughter away. Later, at the hotel, I stood in the dressing room, studying my reflection. My body was thin and pale, a testament to three years of atrophy. Thankfully, I’d already been nearly 5’3” before the accident, so my height hadn’t suffered too much. As I stepped out, I heard voices from a nearby sitting area. Hailey was there with Liam, Noah, and Owen. “I really didn’t want to wear this dress,” she was saying, her voice a soft, troubled murmur. “I think Audrey’s a little upset about it, but Mom, Dad, and Ethan insisted…” “Why would Audrey be upset?” “Hailey, you can’t always be the one to back down, you know?” “Wear what you want to wear. Don’t let anyone else dictate that for you.” They were all cooing, comforting her. “It’s okay,” Hailey continued with a sigh. “Audrey saved your lives. She was in a coma for three years because of you. She probably resents how close I’ve gotten to you all. She thinks I’ve taken her place. So, for tonight, I want her to know I’m not competing with her. I’ll just be here to support her. Tonight, Audrey will be the star, and I’ll be perfectly happy to be the green leaf to her beautiful flower…” Her voice was so full of tragic grace it was nauseating. “Hailey! Don’t say things like that,” Liam said firmly. “We care about you because you deserve it. Audrey… she’s been asleep for three years. Her mindset is probably still stuck at fifteen. She was always headstrong. You’ve probably had a terrible time at home with her.” “She saved us, it’s true,” Owen added coolly. “But she also demanded payment the second she woke up, as if she was afraid we wouldn’t be grateful. So you don’t need to bend over backwards for her.” “Even though this is her party, and she’ll be the center of attention tonight,” Noah said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you’ll always be the center of ours.” I heard their words, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. I turned and walked away. 7 The ballroom was filled with guests. Hailey moved through the crowd like a seasoned socialite, a symphony of perfectly timed smiles and charming greetings. “Uncle, Auntie, it’s so good to see you.” She was a natural. I, on the other hand, was a ghost. After three years away, I was a stranger to these people, and they kept their distance, watching me with cautious curiosity. This, of course, was exactly what Hailey wanted. She kept repeating how she didn’t want to steal my spotlight, which was her way of ensuring she stole all of it. Liam, Noah, and Owen hovered around her, a protective shield. It was as if they were afraid she might feel neglected at my party, that she might actually have to cede the stage to me for a single evening. Soon enough, the room was filled with the sound of Hailey’s laughter, her graceful form the center of every conversation. The praise for her was endless. From across the room, she shot me another triumphant look. When it was time to cut the cake, my father smiled broadly and pointed toward the boys. “Audrey, this cake is huge! Why don’t you ask one of your old friends to help you cut it?” Liam, Noah, and Owen all exchanged a quick, uncomfortable glance with Hailey. They avoided my eyes, a clear reluctance on their faces. They didn’t want to be seen standing next to me, to give anyone the wrong idea. I remembered this moment from my first life. I had happily called out for Ethan and Liam to join me. In my mind, they were my closest allies, my family. We had a bond forged in love and sealed in sacrifice. I thought it was unbreakable. But they had hesitated. It was only when Ethan had called Hailey over to join them that they’d finally moved, intending to come as a group. I had refused. I told them I didn’t consider her my sister and I didn’t want her touching my cake. Why should I accept this stranger who had suddenly appeared in my life? They all called me selfish. My parents were furious. Hailey had burst into tears, claiming she didn’t belong, and ran out of the ballroom. And without a second’s hesitation, my father, my mother, my brother, Liam, Noah, and Owen had all chased after her, screaming her name. They left me alone in a room full of strangers, their whispers and judgmental stares burning into my back. I was so heartbroken, so confused, I had shoved the entire cake onto the floor. I couldn’t understand how three years could erase everything. My thoughts snapped back to the present. I looked past the three boys. “Daniel.” Liam, Noah, and Owen seemed to let out a collective, relieved sigh. Ethan frowned, but his tone remained gentle. “Ask Hailey to join you, too.” I shook my head. Hailey’s face fell, a mask of perfect, wounded innocence. The boys’ expressions immediately hardened, their eyes flashing with disapproval. They thought I was doing exactly what Hailey had warned them I would do: icing her out, bullying her. Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Audrey, I—” “I was asking my cousin, Daniel Prescott, to help me cut the cake,” I said, my voice clear and firm. I looked past Ethan to my uncle’s adopted son, who was standing quietly behind him.

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