Author: Momo Chan

1 After eighteen years as a Watson, a boy showed up on our doorstep claiming to be the family’s true heir. He threw himself in front of the car, his fists clenched, his face a mask of raw resentment. Every word he spat was an accusation: I was the imposter, the one who had stolen the life that should have been his. After the DNA tests came back, my own brother, Liam—who had never looked at me with anything but disdain—latched onto him instantly. The two of them became a tag team of torment, united in their mission to make my life a living hell. In my last life, their scheming worked perfectly. Framed and disgraced, I was cast out of the Watson family by the fury of my own father. Even when I went to live with my supposed birth family, the Bells, their eyes followed me with a cold disgust, as if my very presence was a stain. To make matters worse, Draco Bell—the “real” heir—sent thugs to torment me again and again. I couldn’t take it anymore. I ended that miserable existence with a final, desperate leap from the roof of a skyscraper. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that fateful day, with Draco blocking the car. Seeing the undisguised hatred burning in his eyes, I paused, then spoke slowly and clearly. “Here’s an idea. Why don’t we all get a DNA test?” … “What the hell do you mean?” Draco’s face flushed with fury, his voice thick with accusation. “Are you calling me a liar? Or are you just refusing to admit that I’m the one who belongs in this family!” Beside me, Liam was lounging in his seat, scrolling through his phone. He didn’t even look up as he muttered, “What a drag. We come out for a drive and find out Ethan’s an imposter.” I just shrugged, turning my gaze to the man in the driver’s seat. “Father, a DNA test for everyone is the cleanest way forward. It’s better for all of us. After all, machines don’t lie.” My father was silent for a long moment, then gave a curt nod. “Ethan’s right. You and this… Draco, will both be tested when we get to the hospital.” With his approval secured, I said nothing more. I just shifted closer to my mother, making room for Draco to get in the car. I knew the truth: Father was the one who really called the shots. No matter how shocked my mother was, no matter how much her heart might bleed for this sudden “long-lost son,” she would always defer to him. Draco scrambled up from the pavement, clutching the hem of his shirt, and pulled the car door open. His clothes were faded from countless washes and smudged with dust, the look of someone who’d been fighting for survival his whole life. My mother’s eyes flickered over his disheveled appearance, and she instinctively frowned, inching closer to the window. At the hospital, when it was time for the blood draw, Draco tried to play the part of a pitiable victim to win our mother’s sympathy. But he didn’t understand. The Watsons were a family of old money and immaculate reputation. My mother, raised in a world of privilege and refinement, had never encountered this kind of raw poverty up close. Before his identity was confirmed, all she felt was distaste, not pity. “Ethan Watson!” Draco hissed, glaring at me. Then he puffed out his chest, affecting an air of arrogance. “Just wait until those results come back. You’ll see what I do to you then.” I didn’t respond, but my heart was hammering against my ribs. I was betting everything on a single, wild chance—that I was also a true Watson, and that the child swapped at birth by Draco’s mother wasn’t me at all. In my past life, something had always felt wrong. After being sent to the Bells, I’d worked hard. I never complained about the rural squalor, even helping with farm chores and fixing their machinery. But nothing I did could change the way they looked at me. At first, I thought they resented me for being cast out of the Watson family, penniless and disgraced. But one night, the father, drunk and belligerent, screamed at me, “At least it was you who came back!” before his wife frantically clamped a hand over his mouth. That was when I knew something was terribly wrong. I tried to go back and investigate, but Draco had people who made sure I never left that backwater county. This time, even if I was wrong, I had to take the gamble. The hospital was one of Father’s investments, so the results were fast-tracked. What should have taken days was ready in less than an hour. Draco practically vibrated with anticipation. “Doctor, what does it say?” The doctor, holding the report, looked directly at my father. “Mr. Watson, the results confirm that Draco Bell is, indeed, your and Mrs. Watson’s biological son.” Draco shot me a look of pure triumph before his expression melted into one of theatrical anguish as he turned to my mother. “Dad… Mom… I finally found you.” Her cold facade softened. She reached out and patted his shoulder, her voice choked with emotion. “My dear boy. You’ve suffered so much.” Liam shoved me aside, rushing to Draco’s side. “So you’re my real brother! I knew it! I felt a connection the moment I saw you. Not like with Ethan.” My father’s face remained a stony mask, but I could see the flicker of pain in his eyes. I stood my ground, my voice steady as I addressed the doctor. “And the other report?” Draco’s head whipped around. “It’s already been proven I’m a Watson. His report doesn’t matter.” He started to move from my mother’s side to intercept, but the doctor was faster, placing both reports into my father’s hands. “This report,” the doctor announced, “shows that Mr. Ethan Watson is also your and Mrs. Watson’s biological son.” “What? Impossible! You must have made a mistake!” Draco’s face contorted into a snarl, his shriek echoing down the sterile hallway. My father scanned the papers, his brow furrowed. “What does this mean?” “Mr. Watson, the equipment you funded for this lab is state-of-the-art. There is no possibility of error,” the doctor stated firmly. “Both young men are your sons.” “Ethan Watson! Did you bribe the doctor?!” The pitiable act vanished completely. Draco lunged, his hands reaching for my collar. I feigned panic, looking to my father. “Father, I didn’t… You know I wouldn’t dare.” My father’s face hardened. “Stop this spectacle. You are not in a street brawl.” Chastened, Draco’s grip loosened. I took the opportunity to stumble back a step, making it look as though I’d nearly fallen. “Ethan has always been a good boy,” Father said, his voice a low warning. “He’s always been at the top of his class. He wouldn’t do something like this.” I lowered my head, smoothing the wrinkles on my collar. I knew my father’s obsession: the Watson family’s reputation. He would never tolerate a public scene. Draco, still not giving up, muttered, “Mom only had two children. If I’m the real son, and Ethan is too… does that mean Liam isn’t?” He had voiced the very thought simmering in my own mind. I seized the opening. “Perhaps we should test Liam as well.” “Are you insane, Ethan?” Liam finally exploded, jumping to his feet. “Just because you got lucky and turned out to be a real son, you’re going to point fingers at me? Draco is your age, not mine!” I met his furious gaze. “We’re only a year apart.” Liam scoffed. “Who would be stupid enough to swap a baby and get the age wrong?” But my father wasn’t listening to his excuses. A businessman never ignores a potential risk. He looked at the doctor and commanded, “Draw his blood.” Watching Liam, yelping and struggling as the doctor dragged him away for the test, I felt a dark, satisfying thrill. So, Liam, you finally get to see what it feels like. During the wait, Draco clung to our mother, playing the part of a sweet, docile son. I sat beside Father, maintaining my usual quiet composure. This time, Liam was the one pacing frantically, his agitated footsteps echoing down the hall and grating on everyone’s nerves. Finally, the doctor opened the door. “What’s the verdict?!” Liam shot forward, nearly snatching the report from the doctor’s hand before remembering years of etiquette training and forcing himself to maintain a shred of dignity. “Mr. Watson,” the doctor said, his gaze grave. “Mr. Liam Watson is not your and Mrs. Watson’s biological son.” The words hung in the air. All the color drained from Liam’s face. He staggered, nearly collapsing on the spot. My mother turned sheet-white, grabbing the back of a chair to keep from fainting. I quickly moved to her side, rubbing her back to help her breathe. Father stared at the report, then turned a glacial gaze on the doctor. “No one outside of this room is to know what happened here today. Do you understand? If a word of this gets out, you won’t have a job to come back to.” The doctor, sweating profusely, nodded vigorously. “Yes, Mr. Watson. Of course.” Back home, the silence was suffocating. Father dismissed the staff to their quarters, leaving the five of us sitting in the study, the air thick with an unbearable tension. It was Father who finally broke it. “Tomorrow, I’m holding a press conference. We’ll release the official reports and state that we had twins, and one was stolen at birth. Draco will be officially registered as a Watson.” It was the exact same plan as my last life. Draco opened his mouth to speak, but withered under Father’s icy glare. Liam didn’t dare protest. Even knowing he wasn’t blood, Father would still acknowledge him to save face. He had no leverage to argue. “Ethan and Liam have done well in school, and their graduation parties have already been held. The Watson name cannot be tarnished. Remember this: you will present a united front in public. No infighting.” We all nodded silently. As we were leaving, Father called me back. “Ethan, you’re the older brother. Draco is new to this life and will need time to adjust. Look after him. Teach him the family rules.” I nodded. “I understand, Father.” “And Liam,” he continued, his voice heavy. “He may not be your biological brother, but for years, we have groomed him to be the heir to Watson Corporation. The world knows him as such. You are to support him. Do you understand me?” I answered with deference, but my heart felt like a block of ice. Father had always favored Liam, anointing him the successor long ago. In my past life, when I was deemed the fake, he discarded me without a second thought. Now, knowing Liam is the imposter, he protects him without hesitation, all for the sake of reputation. He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t disappoint my trust in you, Ethan.” The press conference caused a predictable uproar. Father had somehow managed to have Liam’s DNA report altered; the official announcement presented three reports showing that all three of us were his children. Any rumors that tried to surface were swiftly crushed. He would not tolerate anything that threatened the family or the corporation’s prestige. Draco Bell officially became Draco Watson. Though Father had publicly accepted Liam, the fear and humiliation of the discovery curdled into resentment directed at me. Sometimes I’d pass his room late at night and hear him muttering, “This is all Ethan’s fault. If he’d just accepted he was the fake, I’d still be the golden boy of the Watson family, not living in constant fear of being exposed.” Draco wasn’t any better. When I tried to teach him the etiquette of being a Watson, as Father had instructed, he refused to learn, instead just glaring at me with eyes full of hate. “We’re both his real sons, so why was I the one who got taken? If I’d grown up here, I wouldn’t need you to teach me any of this!” I never argued. I just made sure to leave the door open during these “lessons,” so the passing servants could hear every word of his bitter complaints. Soon, the whispers about him among the staff started to grow. Fueled by their shared animosity toward me, Draco and Liam formed an alliance. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. To make me miserable, they were willing to stomach their mutual dislike and work together. Their first move came quickly. I was just heading downstairs for breakfast when Draco blocked the top of the grand staircase. “Brother,” he began, dressed in an immaculate suit but wearing a wounded expression, “I know I’m slow, and I’ll never be as good as you. Please don’t be angry with me.” I didn’t want to get into it with him. I just nodded and tried to step around him. But before I could, he let out a piercing scream and threw himself down the stairs. By the time I processed what was happening, he was crumpled at the bottom, clutching his arm and crying out in pain. My parents rushed out at the sound of the commotion, only to see me standing calmly at the top of the stairs. “Ethan! How could you push Draco? He’s your brother!” Liam immediately jumped in, playing his part, painting me as the vicious older brother who couldn’t stand the competition. Father’s brow furrowed. He was about to order my punishment when I spoke first. “Father, there are security cameras in the hallway.” Liam froze. He’d forgotten. When he was a child, he’d nearly gotten lost playing hide-and-seek with the maids, and Father had installed cameras everywhere except the bedrooms. The color drained from Draco’s face. “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “It was my fault. I fell. It had nothing to do with my brother.” Father played back the footage for everyone to see. It clearly showed that I hadn’t touched Draco; he had thrown himself. “Be more careful next time,” was all Father said. “Yes, Father,” Draco mumbled, his head bowed in shame. After that, their schemes became more frequent and more vicious. One day they’d be slandering me to my parents, the next they’d orchestrate some petty humiliation. It was a constant barrage of childish nonsense, and frankly, I was getting tired of it. I didn’t come back to this life to waste my time on their pathetic games. Finally, I reached my limit. Using the excuse of bringing him a bottle of wine, I walked into Draco’s room and locked the door behind me. “What—what do you want?” He scrambled backward like a cornered animal, grabbing a pillow to use as a shield. “I’m going to scream!” I sighed, setting the wine on his nightstand and sitting on the edge of his bed. “Draco, I know you hate me. It’s understandable. If I were the one who’d been taken, you wouldn’t have had to suffer for all those years.” A flicker of genuine pain crossed his face. He looked down, his voice raspy. “What are you trying to say?” I offered a soft smile and reached for his hand, my voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Have you ever stopped to think why the Bells would swap their child with a Watson? Wasn’t it so their own flesh and blood could live a life of luxury?” “So it doesn’t matter if it was you or me who was taken. All that mattered to them was that their child made it into the wealthy family.” Draco looked up, his eyes full of suspicion. “Even if you’re right, I can’t forgive you.” I squeezed his hand tighter. “You don’t have to forgive me. I just don’t want to see you get played for a fool. Did you know? Even though Liam isn’t a real Watson, Father still plans to give him the entire Watson Corporation.” Draco’s eyes widened in disbelief. “That’s impossible!” He almost shouted, then clamped a hand over his mouth. I pulled out my phone and played the audio I’d recorded. “This is what Father told me when he kept me back that day.” As he listened, Draco’s face grew darker and darker. “Father is a traditionalist,” I continued, pressing my advantage. “He’s obsessed with appearances. He’s already announced Liam as the heir, and he won’t go back on his word. I’ve been in this house for eighteen years; I know how he thinks. The biggest threat to you and me… is Liam.” “Without that outsider in the way, the Watson fortune will fall to us. And whether it’s you or me who gets it in the end, it’s better than it going to him, right?” A cruel light entered Draco’s eyes. He started muttering, “Yes… you’re right. You and I are better than that bastard Liam.” His voice grew manic, his expression wild. “I’m going to ruin him. I’m going to make sure he leaves this family in utter disgrace!” I’ve always believed the best way to destroy someone isn’t to do it yourself, but to let them walk into their own abyss. Draco, however, was too crude for such subtleties. His plans were laughably naive. If I wasn’t secretly paving the way for him, he’d never get what he wanted. It was a bitter irony that in my previous life, I was the one who fell for his childish traps. Seeing the raw ambition churning in his eyes, I added one more piece of advice. “A word of warning, though. Petty squabbles inside this house won’t accomplish anything.” I paused for effect. “Do you know how Father handles his business rivals?” Draco shook his head. “He destroys their reputations. He leaks their private scandals to the press, watches their stock plummet, and listens as the public tears them apart. And all the while, he sits back, pretending to be disappointed, earning the public’s trust.” I looked him straight in the eye. “It’s a dirty tactic. But it works.” A flicker of interest crossed his face, quickly followed by suspicion. “Are you planning to do that to me?” I shook my head, my expression turning sorrowful. “Father always favored Liam. Now that you’re back, he’ll favor you to make up for the eighteen years you lost. I’ve always been the one who mattered least.” Seeing the smug satisfaction on his face, I delivered the final line. “Honestly, all I want is for you to leave me a small place in this world after you take over Watson Corp. I know I could never compete with Liam. And I can’t compete with you, either.” Draco smiled, a genuine, satisfied smile. “Don’t worry, brother. Once I have Father’s approval, I’ll take care of you.” Hearing his promise, I lowered my head to hide the cold, triumphant curve of my lips. Under the guise of “seeing the world,” Draco convinced Liam to start taking him out. When they came to me, asking me to cover for them with Father, I feigned hesitation before finally agreeing. “Just don’t get into any trouble. I’ll handle Father.” That was all it took to open Pandora’s box. They started going out more and more. Draco would secretly report to me that he only asked Liam to take him to fancy restaurants; the clubs, the gaming cafes—that was all Liam’s idea. Soon, Liam was going out even when Draco stayed home, always surrounded by a new crew of slick, sycophantic hangers-on—men I had secretly introduced him to. He even blew millions of Father’s money on donations to a female live-streamer. I pretended to know nothing. Draco didn’t stop him, occasionally even covering for him when he didn’t come home at night. When my mother asked, Draco would just say, “Liam knows his limits, Mom. He won’t do anything reckless. Don’t worry.” In less than three months, Liam’s eyes grew dull and glazed. He’d packed on so much weight that even Father barely recognized him.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385392”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

On Black Friday, a package arrived from my husband, Adrian. Inside was a risqué set of lingerie. At the exact same moment, lines of text began to shimmer into view before my eyes, like comments on a livestream. [Here we go! The classic “mistaken gift” plot point! Next, the original wife is gonna throw a fit, the male lead will be disgusted, and the gentle secretary will swoop in to save the day, leveling up their relationship!] [This cannon fodder wife is so dumb and vicious. She deserves to be divorced!] [Get to the divorce already! I can’t wait to see the main couple get together!] I looked down at the box in my hands, then immediately listed it on eBay. For the title, I wrote: “Brand new, gift from husband, wrong size. For the one it’s meant for.” A second later, the comments exploded. [WTF??? This chick isn’t following the script!] … My name is Sophie Sterling. For three years, I’ve been what everyone sees as a stay-at-home wife. But as of today, I have a new identity: the villainous, disposable first wife in a trashy billionaire romance novel. And these transparent comments scrolling past my eyes? They’re the “reader reviews” from another world. I calmly snapped a photo of the size S black lace lingerie. I even adjusted the lighting. No filter needed; it was genuine silk, and the quality spoke for itself. On the eBay listing, I typed in the price: $9.99. Selling a five-figure piece of designer lingerie for less than ten bucks was a special kind of insult, delivered with a shrug. [Holy crap! $9.99! Is she insane? That’s a limited edition piece from Serafina!] [What do you know? This is a power move! No, wait, this is a psycho move! Shouldn’t a normal woman be storming his office with this and slapping the other woman in the face?] [This character’s thought process is a total enigma. Confirmed.] Ping. My phone chimed. The item had been sold instantly. I glanced at the decisive buyer’s profile, feeling a flicker of amusement, and tapped “confirm shipment.” The click of the electronic lock sounded from the foyer. Adrian was home. He was the picture of corporate power in a tailored charcoal suit, his tall frame and chiseled features radiating a cool detachment. My husband of three years, and the male lead of this novel. The comments erupted with excitement. [The male lead is home! He’s home! The showdown is about to begin!] [Fight! Fight! I live for this drama!] Adrian shrugged off his suit jacket, handing it to a passing housekeeper. His gaze fell on me, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. “You got the package?” he asked, his tone as flat as if he were commenting on the weather. “I did,” I nodded. His eyes scanned the empty coffee table, and a flicker of something—nervousness?—crossed his face. [He’s nervous! He’s looking for the lingerie! He’s scared!] [Throw it in his face, Sophie! Do something!] The comments were more frantic than I was. I lifted the glass of lukewarm water from the table and took a slow sip. “Oh, you mean the lingerie? The size was wrong. I sold it.” Adrian’s expression froze. He had probably imagined I would cry, scream, or hurl hysterical accusations at him. The one thing he clearly hadn’t anticipated was that I would simply sell it. “You sold it?” His voice dropped ten degrees. [He’s pissed! He’s finally pissed! Now we’re getting to the good part!] [I told you this Sophie was an idiot. Now she’s really done it. Get ready to be kicked to the curb.] I met his icy gaze with a look of pure innocence. “Yes. It seemed like a waste to just let it sit there. Why? Was there… some special meaning behind it?” Adrian’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line. His eyes were dark pools as he stared at me. After a long moment, he bit out the words, “Don’t start any trouble.” With that, he turned and went straight up to his second-floor study, skipping dinner entirely. I watched him go, the smile on my face widening. Trouble? No. I was just starting to live. The next day, while I was tinkering in my small home studio, my phone rang. It was Adrian’s secretary, Luna White. The female lead of the book. [Here comes the angelic heroine! Ugh, listen to that syrupy, fake voice.] [Don’t talk trash about Luna! She’s a sweet, kind angel!] On the other end of the line, Luna’s voice was exactly as described—soft and cloying, laced with the perfect amount of concern. “Mrs. Spall, hello, this is Luna. Mr. Spall has an upset stomach today and barely touched his breakfast. Did… did you two have an argument?” I put the phone on speaker, continuing to adjust my livestreaming equipment as I replied nonchalantly, “No, not at all. Just a little tiff between husband and wife. Nothing that lasts the night.” Luna seemed to choke for a second, then her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “That’s good… Mrs. Spall, please don’t misunderstand. Mr. Spall didn’t mean it. That gift yesterday, actually… I was the one who asked him to order it for me. I must have entered the wrong address by mistake. I’m so sorry for all the trouble.” [Wow! Our Luna is so kind! She’s even helping the male lead cover his tracks!] [If this Sophie has any sense, she’ll take the olive branch. Too bad she’s a moron.] “Oh? Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “So you were the one who bought it, Ms. White.” “Yes, yes, that’s right,” Luna said quickly. I let out a soft laugh, my tone suddenly becoming much warmer. “Oh, that’s such a shame! I saw it was the wrong size and listed it on eBay yesterday. If I’d known it was yours, I would have just sent it over to you directly.” A strange, strained silence fell on the other end of the line. I could almost picture the constipated look on her pure, innocent face. [Pfft! She sold it! Hahahaha, watch the perfect heroine squirm!] [Nice one, Sophie! She might be an idiot, but that was an accidental bullseye!] After a long pause, Luna finally found her voice. “It’s… it’s fine,” she said stiffly. “Please don’t worry about it.” “How could I not?” I insisted, my enthusiasm unwavering. “Tell you what, send me the link. I’ll buy you a new one, as a little apology gift from me to you. Oh, and make sure you pick the right size this time! Size S. I’ve made a note of it.” I put a special emphasis on “Size S” and the overly familiar tone. This time, Luna couldn’t even pretend. “That’s not necessary, Mr. Spall is calling for me,” she said hastily, and hung up. I set my phone down and smiled at the perfectly adjusted camera. The game had just begun. I opened the streaming app and registered a new account with the ID “Sophie’s Hidden Gems.” No promotion, no announcement. I just started my first-ever livestream. [What’s this idiot up to now? Livestreaming? What’s she gonna stream, herself crying?] [Probably trying to get sympathy so the internet will trash the male lead. Then she’ll beg him to take her back. I know the playbook.] The stream was dead. A few random viewers algorithmically pushed my way, and the unsupportive comments scrolling before my eyes. I ignored them and smiled professionally at the camera. “Hi everyone, I’m Sophie. For my first stream today, I’m offering a special welcome deal.” I held up the item next to me, a beautifully packaged gift box. “This is a hidden gem I found recently—an aromatherapy diffuser. The scent is Snowy Pine, perfect for the bedroom in winter. It’s great for helping you sleep.” [Lame. Who’s gonna buy a stupid diffuser?] [Who does she think she is? Some top-tier influencer?] Ignoring the mockery, I continued my pitch. “This diffuser uses all-natural essential oils, so the ingredients are completely safe. But more importantly, the story behind the brand is really touching…” I spent ten minutes telling the story of the brand’s founder. The viewer count crept from single to double digits. “For today’s debut special, this diffuser, which normally retails for $299, is available in my stream for $99 with free shipping. I only have one hundred in stock. I’m making the link live… now.” As I finished speaking, the shopping cart icon at the bottom of the screen lit up. The comments continued to jeer. [$99? Is she desperate for cash?] [I’ll bet you a bag of chips she doesn’t sell a single one.] The next second, a system notification flashed across the screen: [This item is sold out.] The comments froze. [???] [One hundred units? Gone instantly? Is this stream haunted?] Seeing the cleared inventory, I couldn’t suppress a smile. Of course, these weren’t real customers. They were shills I’d hired in adSpall. Business is war, and for the first battle, you have to project overwhelming force. [Fake! It’s gotta be fake! I knew a housewife couldn’t pull this off!] [Yep! This is all a ploy to trick the male lead into thinking she’s some kind of big shot. So pathetic!] The comments convicted me of being a vain, fraudulent loser. I ended the stream and stretched. My phone buzzed. It was Adrian’s mother, my mother-in-law, Eleanor Spall. I answered, but before I could speak, her shrill, venomous voice shot through the phone. “Sophie! What new drama are you stirring up now! I’m telling you, you’ve dragged the Spall family name through the mud!” [Ooh, the evil mother-in-law has arrived! Sophie is so dead!] [Tear her apart, Eleanor! This woman needs to be taught a lesson!] I held the phone away from my ear and pretended to clean it. “Mom, what was that? The signal’s bad, I can’t hear you.” “Don’t you play dumb with me!” Eleanor’s voice got even louder. “Luna told me everything! Not only did you pick a fight with Adrian, but you sold that poor girl’s belongings! How can you be so malicious!” “Oh,” I said flatly. “So you’re calling to condemn me?” My calm tone seemed to stun her. She sputtered, “Sophie! Don’t you forget your place! Who do you think gave you the life you have today? Without Adrian, you’re nothing! I’m warning you, apologize to Luna this instant, then go beg Adrian for forgiveness. If you don’t, you can get out of this family!” Listening to her hysterical shrieking, my gaze turned to ice. For three years, for Adrian, for this family, I gave up my career and my friends. I traded my ambitions for an apron. I thought I could earn their respect, their love. But in the end, to him and his family, I was nothing more than a possession they could scold and discard at will. [Cry! Beg for forgiveness! Don’t you love the male lead?] [Why isn’t she saying anything? Did the yelling break her brain?] I took a deep breath. When I spoke again, my voice was perfectly calm. “You’re right, Mom.” Eleanor was stunned into silence, likely shocked by my sudden obedience. [She caved already? How boring.] “I shouldn’t have sold Ms. White’s things,” I continued. “And I certainly shouldn’t have made Adrian angry. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” Without waiting for her to respond, I hung up. Then, I blocked her number. Take care of it? Of course. Just not in the way they expected. I opened my laptop, logged into a long-dormant email account, and sent a message to my assistant. “Set up a meeting with Leo Hayes at Starlight Entertainment. Tell him I have a business proposal.” With that done, I checked my streaming dashboard. First stream: peak viewership 128, total sales $9,900. Not a spectacular number, but just enough to get the platform’s attention. Sure enough, a call came through from someone claiming to be a platform manager, asking if I was interested in a contract and offering to boost my traffic. I politely declined. I wasn’t interested in traffic someone else gave me. I was interested in creating it. For the next few days, I streamed for two hours every day like clockwork. I sold a random assortment of items, from cheap snacks to mid-range skincare. And without fail, every single item sold out the instant it was listed. My stream became something of a legend on the platform. A streamer with fewer than a thousand followers was pulling in sales numbers that rivaled the top channels. [These numbers are so obviously fake. Why isn’t the platform doing anything?] [I’ve already reported her. Streamers who fake their data should be banned!] [What is she even trying to accomplish? What’s the point of this fake success?] The comments were completely baffled. Adrian finally noticed my “little hobby.” He came home for dinner for the first time in ages. At the table, he tossed his phone in front of me. The screen showed my stream’s homepage. “Sophie, do you think this is funny?” His face was dark, his eyes filled with scorn. “A housewife playing influencer? If you’re not embarrassed, I am.” I slowly swallowed my food and dabbed my lips with a napkin. “It’s my prerogative.” “Your prerogative?” Adrian sneered. “To fake orders, scam people, and make a fool of yourself online? Sophie, this is your last warning. Shut down the stream. I don’t want to see this pathetic garbage ever again.” His tone was dripping with condescension, as if my efforts were nothing more than a childish tantrum. [The male lead is finally laying down the law! So commanding!] [Just apologize, Sophie. Don’t push him any further.] I set down my fork and looked up at him. “And if I don’t?” Adrian’s gaze turned glacial. “Then you’ll find out.” The next day, as I was preparing to go live, I discovered that the bank account linked to my streaming platform had been frozen. Not only that, the credit limit on all of my personal cards had been reduced to zero. This was Adrian’s move. He thought that by cutting off my money, he could clip my wings and force me back into his cage. [Hahaha, nice one! He should have done this ages ago!] [Let’s see her fake her sales now! No money, no power! Checkmate!] The comments were gloating. But watching the mockery scroll by, I didn’t feel a single spark of anger. Because this was the moment I had been waiting for. I opened Twitter and, using my long-standing personal account, “Sophie Sterling,” I posted for the first time in years. “Cash flow issues. Tonight at 8 PM, I’m going live to talk about my ‘soon-to-be-ex-husband’.” Attached were two images: a photo of our marriage certificate, and a screenshot of my frozen bank account. The post was a bombshell. Adrian Spall was the golden boy of the city’s business world—young, brilliant, handsome, and the subject of countless magazine covers. But me, “Mrs. Spall,” had always been carefully shielded from the public eye. My Twitter account was instantly swarmed. #AdrianSpallMarried #WhoIsMrsSpall #AdrianSpallFreezesWifesAssets The three hashtags shot to the top of the trending list, a bright red “VIRAL” icon blazing next to them. Adrian’s call came at the exact moment the story blew up. His voice was tight with barely suppressed fury. “Sophie! Are you insane? Delete that tweet right now!” I laughed softly, my tone lazy. “Mr. Spall, it’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?” I could hear his ragged breathing on the other end, mixed with Luna’s anxious murmuring: “Mr. Spall, please don’t be angry, I’m sure she didn’t mean to…” “Sophie,” Adrian’s voice came again, a tremor in it he couldn’t hide. “What do you want?” What did I want? I looked at the rapidly climbing number of RSVPs for my upcoming stream and smiled. I watched the “reader” comments fly by in a panic. [She’s crazy! This woman is completely nuts! This is mutual destruction!] [Why am I… kind of excited for this?] I spoke clearly into my phone. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mr. Spall. 8 PM. My stream. Let’s settle our accounts in front of the entire country.”

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My husband’s mistress was dead. Raped and murdered. That same afternoon, my husband and I were taken to the police station. I honestly didn’t know he was having an affair. If it weren’t for this murder case, I might have stayed in the dark forever. To eliminate suspects, the police fingerprinted both of us and questioned our whereabouts during the time of death. The victim was Melissa Bradley, 28, an office worker. She was killed around 11 PM on the night of July 30th, 2019. Cause of death: her carotid artery was severed by a sharp object, leading to fatal blood loss. That meant today was the third day since her death. 1 Only three days had passed, so the timeline was still fresh in my mind. I clearly remembered my husband was with me the entire night, sleeping soundly beside me. Naturally, I told the police the truth. My husband and I were questioned in separate rooms. I was interviewed by a man and a woman. The man, Detective Miller, was about thirty and the deputy head of the Homicide Division. The woman, Detective Evans, was in her late twenties and strikingly beautiful. They probably saw the red rims of my eyes—a pregnant woman who had just discovered her husband’s infidelity—and worried I was on the verge of a breakdown. Their questions were gentle. Detective Evans, in particular, looked at me with kind eyes. “Mrs. Reed,” she began softly, “I need you to think very carefully. Are you absolutely certain your husband never left the house on the night of the murder? Is it possible he snuck out while you were asleep?” Her question caught me off guard. I considered it for a moment. “Detective, ever since I got pregnant, I’ve been sleeping very heavily. I go to bed early every night. All I can say for sure is that my husband was there when I fell asleep, and he was there when I woke up.” The two detectives exchanged a look. Curiosity got the better of me. “Detective, in a rape case, can’t you collect DNA from the victim’s body? If you suspect my husband, you could just run a test.” Even as I said it, I was thinking, they were already having an affair. Why would he need to rape her? The killer can’t be my husband. Detective Evans shook her head. “The killer was clever. No viable evidence was left behind. It’s making the investigation… complicated.” “Oh,” was all I could say. She then asked how far along I was. I told her a little over four months. She smiled and glanced at my stomach. “You’re showing quite a bit. It could be twins.” She then offered some comforting words, reminding me that pregnant women are prone to emotional swings and that I should try not to dwell on things, to just go home and take care of myself. I was genuinely touched by her kindness. After a bit more small talk, I was allowed to leave. I thought my husband would be coming home with me, but Detective Miller informed me that they needed him for further cooperation. He couldn’t leave just yet. With no other choice, I went home alone. When I got back to our apartment complex, I learned from a neighbor that several officers had been there. They had reviewed the building’s security footage and asked our neighbors if they’d heard our door open or close between 9 PM and midnight on July 30th. When I asked what she’d told them, my neighbor said she hadn’t heard a thing and had reported as much. Her words were a great relief. I assumed my husband would be spending the night at the station. He didn’t answer his phone when I called. But to my surprise, just after I’d had dinner and gone to bed, he came home. He was as cold and distant as ever. I started to get up to heat up some food for him, but he stopped me. “Honey,” I asked, “I called you earlier. Why didn’t you pick up?” “The police took my phone,” he said flatly. “They need to copy my chat logs and call records.” The thought of all the sweet nothings he’d whispered to that woman on his phone made my stomach turn. But then I thought of the baby in my belly and forced it down. The woman was dead. What was the point of fighting over it now? But I was wrong. Just because I was willing to let it go didn’t mean others were. I had just drifted off to sleep when a violent, suffocating pressure on my throat jolted me awake. My eyes flew open to see my husband, his face contorted with madness, strangling me with all his might. He was trying to kill me. 2 I struggled wildly, pushing at his unyielding arms as I choked out the words. “Na… Nathan… I’m… I’m pregnant with your child… Are you… really going to kill us both?” At the last second, my words broke through his rage. He slowly released his grip, but his hands shot to my shoulders, pinning me to the bed. His eyes were bloodshot, blazing with fury. “Laura,” he roared, his voice a raw wound, “tell me the truth! Did you have Melissa killed?” His violent outburst terrified me. I shook my head frantically, stammering, “Nathan, you’re… you’re wrong. I would never do something like that.” “Hmph. Is that so?” he sneered. “You’d better hope I don’t find out it was you. Because if I do, I’ll kill you with my own two hands.” With one last venomous glare, my husband got out of bed and left the room. He didn’t come back that night. I tossed and turned, his furious face burned into my mind. I didn’t fall into a fitful sleep until the sky began to lighten. I was woken again, this time by the insistent ringing of the doorbell. After listening for a moment and realizing no one was going to answer it, I dragged myself out of bed and headed downstairs. But as I descended the staircase, the scene in the living room made me scream. My husband. Nathan. He was slumped motionless on the sofa. And on the floor at his feet was a vast, dark pool of blood. He had cut his wrists. A bloody scalpel lay discarded on the coffee table. The horrifying image sent another scream tearing from my throat. I couldn’t look again. It was too gruesome. My body went limp, and I collapsed onto the floor, shaking uncontrollably. The doorbell kept ringing, growing more urgent after my screams. I wanted to answer it, but I had no strength left. All I could do was sit there on the cold floor and sob. I don’t know how much time passed before the door was forced open. Detective Evans and Detective Miller rushed in, followed by two uniformed officers. They all froze at the sight of my husband. Miller immediately called for the medical examiner, while Evans rushed to my side, helping me to my feet. The ME arrived quickly. The preliminary finding was suicide, with the time of death estimated around 2 AM. It hadn’t been a peaceful end. His face was twisted in a grimace, as if he’d witnessed something terrible in his final moments. Detective Miller told me that my husband was Melissa Bradley’s killer. I couldn’t believe it, but he said the evidence was conclusive. They had pulled the security footage from both our building and Melissa’s. Though Nathan had managed to avoid the blind spots in our building, he wasn’t as familiar with Melissa’s complex. A camera had captured a clear shot of him there at 10 PM on the night of the murder. It seemed impossible. Miller went on to explain that they’d found text messages on Nathan’s phone where he and Melissa had arranged to meet. Their initial theory was that he’d killed himself out of guilt and fear of being caught. The news was a physical blow. I sank to the floor, my body shaking like a leaf in a storm. They took my husband’s body away for a full autopsy. Our home was now a crime scene, the entire living room cordoned off with yellow tape. That dark stain on the rug made my stomach churn every time I looked at it. After taking my statement, Detective Evans was deeply sympathetic. She put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Laura,” she asked in a low voice, “I see bruises on your neck. Did Nathan abuse you?” Her question reminded me of the previous night’s attack. I wiped my tears and whispered, “I confronted him about the affair last night. He… he got angry and lost control.” Detective Evans listened, her expression thoughtful. After a moment, she said, “The neck is a vital area. He was trying to kill you. Why didn’t you call the police?” 3 Her words startled me. I took a deep breath, my hand instinctively going to my throat. “Detective, he was my husband. The father of my child.” Seeing my response, she dropped the subject. As they prepared to leave, she suggested I stay at a nearby hotel if I was afraid to be in the house alone. She gave me her card and told me to call if I needed anything. I nodded and watched them go. I grew up in the countryside, and my parents were still there, miles away. Nathan’s parents lived out of state. We had both found jobs here after college and bought our house together. It was a big house, over two thousand square feet. Now, it was just me. The thought was so overwhelming that I could barely breathe. I went upstairs, packed a small bag, and checked into a nearby hotel. After a small meal, I took out the bank cards I’d found in Nathan’s wallet. I called the automated banking service for each one. To my shock, I discovered he had over half a million dollars in savings. I never knew his PINs. But recently, I had intentionally asked him to take me shopping for baby supplies. Each time he paid, I discreetly watched him enter his code. I gambled that, like most people, he used the same PIN for everything to avoid forgetting it. I was right. I got it on the first try. Since becoming pregnant, I’d suffered from severe morning sickness and had to quit my job as a makeup artist at a photo studio. Nathan had always been guarded about his finances, giving me a meager five hundred dollars a month for living expenses. It was a constant source of resentment for me. I put the cards away, feeling drained and exhausted. I lay down on the bed and fell asleep almost instantly, only to be plunged into a nightmare. I dreamt I was paralyzed in bed, unable to move, while Melissa Bradley and my husband, Nathan, stood over me, their faces twisted into sinister grins. Together, they reached out and wrapped their icy hands around my neck. I woke with a start, my heart pounding. It was just a dream. My throat was parched. As I reached for a glass of water, my phone, lying on the nightstand, buzzed. It was Detective Evans. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I took a deep breath before answering. She asked which hotel I was staying at, saying she had a few more questions. I gave her the name. About thirty minutes later, she arrived, this time alone. I let her into the room. She smiled politely. “Ms. Reed, your husband’s death appears to be a suicide, but the autopsy revealed a significant amount of estazolam in his system. Quite a high dose, in fact. Did he suffer from any related medical conditions?” “Estazolam?” I repeated, racking my brain. “Oh, the sleeping medication. Yes, my husband had insomnia. He’d take a couple of pills when he couldn’t sleep.” “Is that so? Because the amount found in his system was equivalent to at least five pills, not two. How do you explain that?” At her words, I smiled. 4 It was a smile uglier than tears. With a sigh, I said, “Detective, put yourself in his shoes for a moment. Your mistress is suddenly dead, murdered in such a brutal way. Could you sleep soundly? If you already had insomnia, wouldn’t you take a higher dose just to escape the torment?” My explanation left her speechless. After a moment, she looked at me with a strange, searching expression. “Ms. Reed, I expected you to be distraught and overwhelmed by your husband’s death. I did not expect your first priority to be checking his bank account balances.” Her words hit me like a slap. She continued, “Our background check shows that your husband’s parents are still alive. Now that their only son is dead, don’t you think you should inform them?” “His parents are elderly. I haven’t figured out how to break the news yet. And I’m pregnant. I’ll need money to raise this child. I have to plan for the future. Detective, you police certainly involve yourselves in a lot of things.” My tone was sharp and unapologetic. Detective Evans seemed taken aback by the steel in my voice, so contrary to my fragile appearance. She gave an awkward laugh and apologized. Before she left, she casually mentioned something else. A security camera on the building across from our house had been malfunctioning. Due to a wiring issue, the camera had, at some point, shifted its angle and was now aimed directly at our living room window, capturing a partial view of the inside. She gave me another one of those meaningful smiles and left. Her words kept me awake all night. Sure enough, the next day, Detective Evans called again. She asked me to come down to the station, saying there was a new development in my husband’s case. My heart pounding with anxiety, I went. They led me straight to an interrogation room. Once again, it was Detective Evans and Detective Miller. I sat in silence, waiting for them to speak first. Detective Miller played a video on the large screen behind him. It showed a woman in a traditional silk qipao. The image was blurry, but her face was visible. Her long, dark hair was a tangled mess, framing her face in a way that was genuinely terrifying. She looked like a ghost. In the video, she slowly descended a staircase, walked to a window, and pulled the curtains shut. Then, the screen went black. I watched, confused. Although the footage was grainy, I recognized the living room. It was ours. “Detectives,” I asked, bewildered, “who is that woman? What is she doing in my house?” They exchanged a smile. “Ms. Reed,” Evans said, “on the night your husband died, you were the only other person in the house. Are you telling us that woman isn’t you?” “But that’s not me,” I said, my voice rising in anger. “It might not look like you at first,” Miller chimed in. “But with some white makeup and a deliberately ghoulish look, it’s not impossible.” “I’m pregnant. The person in that video is not pregnant.” My statement made them look at each other, unable to argue. Seeing this, Evans said decisively, “The woman in the video does bear a striking resemblance to the deceased, Melissa Bradley. But we don’t believe in ghosts. Laura, would you mind letting me see your stomach?” Her request made me laugh, a bitter, angry sound. “So now you think I’m faking my pregnancy?”

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1 The wedding rehearsal was in full swing when my fiancée, Ava, suddenly gagged and covered her mouth. Her adopted brother, Alan, his face a mask of panic, swept her into his arms and rushed her to the hospital. Half an hour later, my phone rang. “I’m pregnant.” Joy surged through me, but her next words were delivered with a terrifying calm. “It’s Alan’s… He’d just been dumped that night, shivering from the cold rain. I was just trying to keep him warm, I swear, I never thought…” “We have to keep this from Mom and Dad. He’ll move in to take care of me, and we’ll figure it out after the baby is born.” “Postpone the wedding for a year. You handle the guests, make the apologies.” My throat tightened, a knot of concrete lodging itself there. I couldn’t force out a single word. She continued, her voice devoid of emotion, “And you need to quit your job. Right now. I can’t risk any stress these next few months, and Alan’s career is taking off. He can’t be distracted.” A laugh, sharp and bitter, escaped my lips. “Alright then.” She hung up, seemingly satisfied. But what she didn’t know was the bet I’d made with someone else. If I wasn’t married by thirty, I’d marry her. And today, of all days, was my thirtieth birthday. … Perhaps my calm was too unnatural. Three seconds after she hung up, Ava called back. “Richard, I’m sorry. I know this is my fault. But you have to believe me, I only see him as a brother. The baby was a complete accident.” I let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “Right. Such deep brotherly love. Keeping each other warm right into bed. How touching.” The line went silent for a beat, then she sighed, a sound heavy with manufactured weariness. “I understand if you’re angry. Yell at me, hit me, I don’t care. But Alan’s an orphan. Even though Mom and Dad adopted him and treat him like their own son, the family would never accept this. They’d throw him out on the street.” “So, I need you to claim the baby as yours. It’s perfect, actually. You’ll be home from your job, so no one will ever suspect it isn’t yours.” I tilted my head back, forcing the heat from my eyes. My voice was a dry rasp. “Ava… let’s just not get married.” “Not get married?” A few seconds of stunned silence, then her voice exploded in my ear. “Richard, are you kidding me?! You’re the one who’s been begging me to set a date for months, going on about how we’ve been together for five years!” “Everyone in our circle knows you’re my fiancé! Do you think marriage is some kind of game? When did you become so childish, Richard?” I could picture her perfectly, brows furrowed in that familiar, condescending way. Her next words were a threat, just as I expected. “Listen to me, Mr. Reid, I’m only going to ask you this once. Are you really calling off this wedding?!” My fingers clenched around my phone, the plastic groaning in protest. A bitter smile touched my lips. “Yeah. I’m done with you, Ava.” She scoffed. “I don’t have time for your little tantrums. Do whatever you want.” The line went dead. I stood alone in the center of the grand ballroom, under the weight of a hundred shocked stares. With a single, sharp tug, I ripped the boutonnière from my lapel and ran. Ava’s parents moved to block my path, her father striking first. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Richard? Just because her brother took her to the hospital, you’re going to ruin this wedding? Make the Sterlings a laughingstock in front of hundreds of guests?” Ava’s mother added with a disdainful sniff, “I always said you weren’t right for her. The Sterlings have a legacy, a name that means something. The Reids? You’re just new money. It was never a match.” “But my daughter insisted, so what could I do? And now look at the mess you’ve made!” Her father sneered. “Fine! Call it off! Better now than later, before that temper of yours tarnishes the Sterling name for good.” The fault was entirely Ava’s, yet here they were, painting me as the villain. I clutched the crushed flower in my fist, my fingertips trembling. “It was your daughter who canceled the wedding. As for the reason… you should ask her. It’s too humiliating for me to say.” Hearing it was Ava’s decision only made them bolder. “Even if she did, you’re the groom! You don’t just run off without a word! You should be on that stage, apologizing to our guests!” “What did your parents teach you? You have no grasp of basic decency. How could you ever be a son-in-law to this family?” I took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m not marrying Ava. Now, if you’ll excuse me, please get out of my way.” “You!” Their faces contorted with shock, clearly unprepared for such defiance from the normally placid man they knew. I didn’t spare them another glance, striding past them toward the dressing room. “You ill-mannered brat!” Ava’s mother shrieked at my back. Someone was already waiting for me inside. The couture gown she wore hugged her flawless figure perfectly. As she turned, the light caught the soft curve of her cheek, but the dark circles under her eyes told a story of sleepless nights. She saw me and glided forward, that familiar, sweet smile playing on her lips. I looked away. “I thought a certain someone swore they’d never set foot at my wedding.” She leaned in close, her warm breath ghosting over my ear. In that instant, our eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, I saw the stubborn girl from ten years ago. “Richard Reid, a bet’s a bet.” I pressed my lips together, silent. Panic flashed in her eyes. “You didn’t forget, did you?!” “I don’t care! We’re getting married in three days. If you don’t show up…” She paused, taking a breath as if steeling herself. “I’ll show up at your house and drag you to the courthouse myself!” Before I could refuse, she spun around and darted out of the room. A real laugh, genuine this time, bubbled up from my chest. That idiot. Of course, I remembered the bet. Our families had been friends forever. We grew up together, too close to ever be lovers. Ten years ago, she confessed her feelings, and I told her we were better off as friends. The look of hurt on her face had prompted her to make a wild bet. I never thought I’d lose. I had just changed out of my tuxedo when a picture from Ava landed on my phone. A mountain of my belongings was piled up on the curb in front of our villa, dumped like trash. But it was the wedding quilt my mother had handmade that stabbed me in the heart. My mom, who had never touched a needle in her life, had spent three months hunched over it, her fingers dotted with pinpricks of blood. The intricate patterns of intertwined swans, embroidered in vibrant silk, were now sullied, screaming at me from inside a cheap, clear plastic bag. 「Come get your junk. Now.」 「If you don’t, I’m having the housekeeper trash it.」 I stared at the screen, a chill seeping into my fingertips. She knew exactly how to twist the knife. I could leave everything else, but not that quilt. 「Fine. I’m on my way.」 The night before the wedding, Mom had pressed it into my hands, her eyes shining. “Be happy for a lifetime, my son.” But when I arrived, the curb was empty. It had only been half an hour. I told her I was coming. Was she that desperate to be rid of me? Rage ignited in my gut. I shoved the front door open and stormed inside. The scene before me plunged me into an icy abyss. Ava was perched on the edge of the dining table while Alan knelt before her. His hands were on her waist, his cheek pressed against her swollen belly, a look of tender adoration on his face that was like a physical blow. “Ava,” Alan murmured, his voice soft. “The baby just kicked me.” A smile I’d never seen before graced Ava’s lips, a look so soft it could turn to water. “So feisty. Just like you were as a boy. I hope he gets your eyes.” Alan’s lips curved in a gentle smile. Ava leaned down and brushed a kiss across his mouth, her tone suddenly laced with guilt. “Are you sure you want to leave after the baby is born? You could… you could stay. To help me with him. A child needs his real father.” Alan pressed a finger to her lips, shaking his head. “Ava, if I stay, what about Richard?” At the mention of my name, Ava flinched, her expression darkening. “Him? This ‘breakup’ is just a tantrum. Once the baby’s here, he’ll come crawling back, begging to help. He comes from a family of sharks. All they see is the bottom line. Where’s the dignity in that?” “Have you forgotten how he chased after me? The way he groveled? It makes me sick just thinking about it.” Silent tears tracked down my cheeks. My brave confession, the one that had taken all my courage, had disgusted her for all these years. The Sterlings were the most prestigious family in the city’s art scene, and Ava was its youngest star, a master of modern art. Five years ago, she came to my father with a portfolio, seeking investors for the new Sterling Arts Foundation. Dad was utterly charmed and introduced us. It was love at first sight for me. I shamelessly begged her to teach me how to paint. She’d pointed a brush at me, exasperated. “You’re hopeless! Zero talent!” I just grinned. “Then be my girlfriend. We’ll complement each other.” Her eyes flickered to Alan, who was sketching quietly nearby. She suddenly grabbed my hand, a self-mocking smile on her face. “Fine.” Overjoyed, I’d pulled her into a hug, completely missing Alan storming out of the room or the way her body went rigid in my arms. Only now did I understand. Her heart had always belonged to Alan. No wonder she never taught me to paint again, never even let me into her studio. A bitter taste filled my mouth. I was about to turn and leave, but I couldn’t forget my mother’s quilt. “Richard!” Ava’s head snapped up, a mocking smirk playing on her lips. “What are you doing, lurking in the doorway like a creep? I threw your things out. Having second thoughts already?” I dug my nails into my palm. “The quilt. Give it back.” She blinked, her expression turning colder. “Some old blanket? What would I want with that?” “My mother made it,” I said, my voice starting to shake. “Give it back, and I’ll leave.” Seeing the tears welling in my eyes, she frowned. “You’re crying? Are you insane? Over a stupid blanket?” “YES!” I roared, the tears finally breaking free. Ava ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. She opened her mouth to say something, but Alan spoke first, a sudden realization dawning on his face. “Richard, please don’t yell at Ava. I had the maid put your things in the guest room.” As he spoke, he gently caressed her stomach, his own eyes reddening. “Richard, can’t you stay? If it’s because of the baby… I can… I can ask Ava to get rid of it. His existence was a mistake. Neither of you wants him…” His voice broke, and he dissolved into racking sobs. “DON’T YOU DARE!” Ava’s voice was a raw, uncontrolled shriek. She collapsed into Alan’s arms, glaring at me with pure venom. “He can leave, but he is not touching my child! You and this baby are all I have now!” “Richard, if that’s why you came, then get the hell out of my house!” I let out a cold laugh and stalked toward the guest room. The quilt was tossed on the floor, stained with grime and dotted with cigarette burns. The beautiful embroidered swans were now a filthy, unrecognizable mess. My finger trembled as I pointed at it. “Alan. Explain.” He shrank back timidly. “I-I didn’t mean to. I thought it was just… trash.” He bent to pick it up. “Don’t be angry, Richard. I’ll wash it for you.” But before he could touch it, Ava lunged, shoving me with all her might. I stumbled backward, my head cracking against the sharp corner of the bedframe. A starburst of pain exploded behind my eyes, followed by the warm trickle of blood down my temple. “Don’t touch it, Alan! Don’t dirty your hands!” I didn’t make a sound, just looked at Ava, a ghost of a smile on my face. I needed to see, once and for all, if she had a heart. She stood with her arm around Alan, her eyes filled with an all-consuming loathing. “How much? I’ll pay you for it! I’m begging you, just stop. Stop torturing me and my brother with this insignificant piece of cloth. Does it make you feel powerful?” A gaping hole opened in my chest. She’d always been distant, but she had never looked at me with such hate. She must despise me now. Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore. Why was I still here, just to be an object of her disgust? I gave up. The quilt was ruined. I didn’t want it anymore. And this ruined woman… I didn’t want her either. I pushed myself to my feet. “Ava, I don’t need your money.” As I turned to leave, she grabbed my arm, a flicker of something like regret in her eyes. “You’re upset today. Go back to your parents’ place for a few days to cool off. I’ll come get you in three days.” I shook her hand off and walked out of the house that was never truly my home. … Back at my parents’ house, I explained the whole sordid affair. My mother let out a long sigh of relief. “Son, I’m thanking my lucky stars! What if you’d only found this out after you were married? What would you have done?” “And the Sterlings have the nerve to look down on us for being business people, for having the ‘stench of money.’ Look at the shameless filth their ‘cultured’ family produced!” My father sighed. “Let’s not talk about it. It’s hard enough on Richard as it is. I’ve already told my assistant to pull all our funding from the Sterling Arts Foundation. The Reids are done with the Sterlings.” I was about to bring up Chloe when my mother suddenly said, “Oh, that’s right. Chloe stopped by today. She even brought her dowry.” She pulled a velvet box from a drawer. “That girl certainly doesn’t waste any time.” Inside was a pair of antique jade pendants, a family heirloom. It was then that it truly hit me. Chloe was serious about the wedding in three days. Later that night, a message from Alan popped up on my phone. 「Richard, please come back.」 「I’ll move out. I’ll convince Ava to end the pregnancy.」 「You two have been together for five years. You can’t let me ruin that. I’d feel guilty for the rest of my life.」 I stared at the screen and scoffed. If he wanted to play games, he could play them with his sister. I typed back two words: 「Do you.」 Then, I blocked his number. With that done, I leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, a hollow feeling echoing in my chest. My phone buzzed again. A video call from Chloe. “Richard,” she said, her eyes sparkling on the screen. “Make a heart with your hands for me.” I blinked. “Why all of a sudden…” A heart? How corny. “I don’t care,” she pouted, leaning closer to the camera. “Do it now.” Her childish expression made me smile. I quickly flashed a heart sign, feeling goosebumps rise on my own skin. She immediately clutched her chest and closed her eyes in an exaggerated swoon. When she opened them again, she winked. My heart skipped a beat. “Look outside. A gift in return.” She smiled, and the call ended. Suddenly, the night sky outside my window erupted in light. Hundreds of drones formed a twinkling heart, which then morphed into a line of text: 「HAPPY BIRTHDAY, RICHARD」 Tears blurred my vision. With all the drama today, I’d completely forgotten my own birthday. But she remembered. It was a little cheesy, but her sincerity was real, and I loved it. Ava, on the other hand… every year for my birthday, she’d simply write “Happy Birthday” in her elegant script. She never even signed my name. “My art has collectible value,” she would always explain. “If I put your name on it, its value decreases.” This year, she’d just said, “I’m too busy with the wedding. No time.” But this “busy” wedding planning? I was the one who visited twenty different bridal shops to find her dress. I was the one who compared over thirty quotes from different venues. I was the one who stayed up all night handwriting three hundred invitations. The only thing she participated in was a five-minute fitting for her main gown, and she spent the entire time checking her watch. The signs were all there. She never loved me. A sharp pain seized my heart, and I blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears. I’d cried enough today. On my birthday, at least, I could afford myself a little dignity. The buzz of my phone woke me from a deep sleep. I groggily answered it. Ava’s voice, raw with panic, screamed through the speaker. “Richard, get to the hospital right now! Something’s happened to Alan!” I shot up in bed, instantly awake. Were his texts for real? Without even changing, I bolted out the door in my pajamas and slippers. When I burst into the hospital room, I found Alan propped up comfortably against the pillows while Ava tenderly peeled an apple for him. They looked like a picture of domestic bliss, while I stood there, one slipper half-off, looking like a complete fool. The moment she saw me, Ava flew into a rage, grabbing my arm and dragging me to the bedside. “Kneel for my brother!” I stared at her, utterly bewildered. Before I could process her words, a brutal kick landed on the back of my knee. My kneecap slammed into the hard linoleum floor, a searing pain shooting up my leg, paralyzing me. “Ava! Are you crazy?” I glared up at her. Her eyes were burning with a terrifying fury. “He slit his wrist! He almost died! Don’t you dare call me crazy, right now I want to kill you!” Right on cue, Alan began to sob. “Ava, I sent Richard a message to apologize, and he blocked me. He must hate me so much… He never wants to see me again. What’s the point of me even living…” As much as I despised him, I didn’t want a death on my conscience. I quickly scanned him. On his wrist was a thin, half-centimeter scratch, already scabbed over with antiseptic. This was his suicide attempt? A wave of bleak despair washed over me. I twisted my lips into a grimace. “Ava, if I’d come tomorrow, would the wound have healed completely?” She exploded. “Richard! How can you be so cruel? If I hadn’t found him in time… Do you have any idea what happens when someone loses that much blood?” Love really is blind. A tiny scratch had sent her into a panic, yet she was completely oblivious to the blood matting the hair on my own forehead. She must love him to death. My heart felt like it was sinking, weighed down by a stone. I gritted my teeth and said nothing. My silence seemed to enrage her further. She shoved the fruit knife at me, her voice dripping with venom. “Since you think it’s no big deal, then give yourself the same cut. See how it feels. You owe my brother that!” I stared at her in disbelief. This was the woman I had loved unconditionally for five years. In that single moment, my heart turned to ice. Fine. One cut. Then my debt to her would be paid. Lowering my eyes to hide the tears, I picked up the knife and drew it lightly across my wrist. Alan let out a theatrical gasp. I struggled to my feet and held my arm out for Ava to see. “Is this enough?” Blood dripped steadily onto the floor. Her eyelashes fluttered, and she shot my arm a look of disgust before turning to comfort the “traumatized” Alan, muttering under her breath. “Who told you to cut so deep? You’re hopelessly stupid.” I laughed without a sound and stumbled toward the door. Her voice followed me, cold and commanding. “Richard, you stay at your parents’ house and think about what you’ve done! I’ll come get you in three days.” I laughed so hard the tears finally fell. Ava, we are never, ever seeing each other again.

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Returning early from abroad to surprise my sister Nina, I found the house empty. Then I spotted a piece of her dress through the bars of a locked dog cage by the garden gate. Fumbling with the latch, I flung the door open to find Nina curled into a ball inside the cramped, one-square-meter doghouse. “Why are you sleeping here?” I asked, stunned. “Come out; I brought your favorite cream puffs.” “No! Cream puffs are for the Master. Puppies aren’t worthy. Puppies only eat kibble,” she frantically shook her head. My stepmother Brenda’s voice slithered from behind. “Nina finds school too hard. She says being a dog is more comfortable. It was her idea to live here.” I turned. Brenda, heavily pregnant, wore the two halves of the Vance family crest around her neck – the symbol of our family’s power, belonging to Nina and me. Noticing my gaze, she patted her belly with a smirk. “It’s a boy. So I get Nina’s half of the crest, and yours too.” A dark smile touched my lips. She didn’t know our father had married in and lost the ability to have children the year Nina was born. 1 The second daughter of the Vance family, who should have been living a life of pampered luxury, was chained in the yard like an animal. The sight of the iron chain around my sister’s neck sent a blade of ice through my heart. No wonder she hadn’t contacted me once in the three years I’d been away. Every time I asked my father, he’d brush me off, saying her studies were too demanding. Nina’s bedroom had long been taken over. The villa had been redecorated, every trace of my mother’s presence erased. I helped Nina out of the cage, brushing the dust from her clothes. The dress she wore was one I’d given her three years ago. It was now tattered and torn, barely covering her. I took off my own jacket and draped it over her small shoulders. “Brenda, you dare treat the daughter of the Vance family like this? Do you have a death wish?” “Is that any way to talk to your mother!” My father, Mark, appeared behind Brenda, flanked by a group of men I didn’t recognize. Their eyes raked over me, dripping with malice. “My mother is dead,” I snapped. “That thing is nothing.” “Sloane! Brenda is my wife, which makes her your mother and the lady of this house! Apologize to her this instant, or you are no longer my daughter!” “A backwoods housekeeper who slept her way into this house is worthy of being my mother? And you, Mark, have you forgotten whose name this family carries?” My mother was the 75th Matriarch of the Azure Syndicate, a woman who commanded respect in every circle, legal and illicit. She held the Azure Crest, the key to commanding eight thousand chapters across the continent. A woman born to rule, who had, for some inexplicable reason, fallen for a man like my father. She had threatened her own life to get her family’s approval for him to marry in. My sister and I both took our mother’s name, Vance. My mother split her Azure Crest in two, giving one half to me and the other to Nina, warning us never to use its power unless absolutely necessary. Then, a sudden illness took her from us. My father claimed a young child needed a mother’s care and brought his childhood sweetheart from his backwater hometown to “help.” “When I agreed to let Brenda in this house, it was as a nanny, not as its mistress!” Mark’s hand cracked across my face. “I’m in charge now! If you don’t like it, you can get the hell out!” I clutched my stinging cheek. “Don’t you forget, you’re living in a villa my mother bought before she ever met you. This is Vance property. If anyone’s getting out, it’s you and her!” “I’ve been too soft on you!” He raised his hand again, but Brenda stopped him with a sickeningly sweet display of concern. “That’s enough, darling. She’s just a child, she doesn’t know any better. I won’t hold it against her.” She turned her saccharine smile on me. “Sloane, dear, it’s not that I’ve been cruel to your sister. She’s the one who finds school too tiring. She wants to live like a dog.” “Of course, I didn’t want her living in a kennel. She threw terrible tantrums about it.” “She went on a hunger strike when I refused. I had no choice but to let her have her way. If you don’t believe me, ask your father. Or ask Nina herself.” Mark snorted. “Nina is a disgrace. She’d rather be a dog than go to school. A child with no ambition is no daughter of mine!” Nina tugged on my sleeve, her voice a dry rasp. “Sister, I don’t like school. I like being a dog. I like the kennel.” “I’m a puppy. Woof, woof.” “You are not a dog! You are a human being!” My eyes swept the grounds. None of the old staff were here. The butler, the maids, the bodyguards—all replaced with these hostile strangers who watched me like vultures. “I don’t care what happened before. But I’m back now, and my sister will not be your pet!” Brenda’s fake smile never wavered. “Well then, Sloane, perhaps you should be the one to discipline her from now on. We certainly can’t.” She picked up a rubber ball from the ground and tossed it across the lawn. Instantly, Nina dropped to all fours and scrambled after it. She snatched the ball with her teeth and trotted back, dropping it into Brenda’s outstretched hand. Brenda threw it again. As Nina started to chase it, I grabbed her and pulled her to her feet. “Nina! You are a person, not a dog! You walk on two legs! You hold things with your hands! Promise me, you won’t act like a dog anymore, okay?” Nina just shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. “No, I’m a puppy. I like being a puppy.” Brenda laughed, a loud, ugly sound, dangling the ball in her hand. “Want to play again?” Nina’s tongue lolled out, and she panted excitedly. “Yes! Yes!” “ENOUGH!” I rounded on Mark. “Mom told you to take care of Nina before she died. This is how you take care of her!” He just shrugged. “It’s not my fault if she has no self-respect.” “Get the key and take that chain off her neck!” No one moved. I glared at the staff. “Are you all deaf!” “Go get the key,” Brenda said calmly, and only then did someone move. It was clear I held no authority here. The moment the chain was unlocked, Nina was overcome with panic. She hunched over, trying to crawl back into the kennel. “I don’t live in the house! I’m a puppy! I have to stay in the cage!” I wrapped my arms around her. “Nina, don’t be afraid. I’m taking you to a doctor right now.” There was no time to even change her clothes. I rushed her to the hospital. The examination revealed a horror story. Beyond the severe psychological trauma, her body was a canvas of abuse. Clusters of old and new injuries covered her chest and back, conveniently hidden by her clothes. The doctor said she’d been whipped and beaten with rods. There were large, scarred-over burns. Several ribs had been broken and healed improperly. There was even evidence of trauma to her skull. Listening to the doctor’s detached report, I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face. These people were monsters. I held Nina close. “It’s okay, Nina. I’m here now. I’ll protect you. No one will ever hurt you again.” When we returned to the villa, Brenda was waiting, her pregnant belly leading the way. “Sloane, dear. Your half of the Azure Crest. It’s on you, isn’t it?” My luggage was in the living room, torn open and its contents strewn across the floor. “Who gave you permission to touch my things!” “Sloane,” my father said, “give your mother your half of the crest. She’s carrying your little brother. The family business will be his to inherit now.” I laughed in his face. “The Azure Syndicate values bloodline above all else. Only the Vance line can lead it. And you think the bastard in her belly is worthy of even being considered a successor?” Mark’s face turned a sickly green. “How dare you! That is your brother, not a bastard!” “She knows the truth.” Brenda leaned against Mark, her voice trembling with manufactured hurt. “Your father is the only man I’ve ever been with. How could you say such a vile thing?” “Apologize to your mother!” Mark roared. I ignored him, pulling Nina with me toward the stairs. He continued to shout at my back. “After your mother went to all the trouble of having your room specially prepared! She even got your favorite fruits! Is this how you repay her?” I got Nina inside my room and slammed the door, locking him out. I could hear him yelling for the guards to drag me out, but Brenda’s sickly-sweet voice eventually calmed him down. I gave Nina a bath, dressed her in fresh clothes, and sat with her until she finally drifted off to sleep. Only then did I allow myself to rest. My own team would arrive tomorrow. And then, we would settle this. I drifted into a restless sleep, waking with a jolt in the dead of night. Nina was gone. Panic seized me. I threw off the covers and ran out of the room. I found her in the dining room, kneeling on the floor, serving breakfast to Brenda’s nephew. Chad saw me and sneered. “My aunt said Nina’s mine to marry. She was born to serve me.” “Good puppy,” he said, spitting a half-chewed piece of toast onto the floor. “Here’s a treat for you.” Nina immediately bent down to pick it up with her mouth. Chad roared with laughter. “You’ll even eat my leftovers! You really are a dog!” He stood up and climbed onto Nina’s back. “Run, puppy! Run fast and I’ll give you another treat!” And so, my sister crawled on all fours, carrying him around the room. “Faster! Are you trying to starve? Any slower and you won’t even get kibble!” Nina picked up her pace. Chad pulled a few pieces of dog food from his pocket and tossed them ahead of her. She scrambled to eat them. “Stupid mutt, all you think about is food!” I had seen enough. I stormed forward and sent him flying off Nina’s back with a single, brutal kick. Chad hit the floor with a heavy thud. He scrambled to his feet, screaming, “You bitch! You dare hit me!” “Guards! Tie her up!” “Who dares!” I pulled Nina into my arms, shielding her. “Chad, get on your knees and apologize to my sister right now, and I might consider letting you live. Otherwise, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.” “Oh, listen to you! You think this is still your mother’s house?” he sneered. “This family is run by my uncle now! The Azure Syndicate is his! Who the hell do you think you are?” “Grab her!” The guards swarmed us, pinning me and Nina to the floor. Brenda rushed over, playing the peacemaker. “Sloane, my nephew is just spoiled. He means no harm, he was just playing with Nina.” “Here,” she said, her voice dropping. “You give me the crest, and I’ll make him apologize.” “You want the crest? In your dreams!” Her mask of civility finally shattered. “You ungrateful bitch! Fine! Search her! The crest has to be on her!” “There you are,” I said with a cold smile. “I was getting sick of your fake smile anyway.” “Hmph. You little slut. If you were as obedient as your sister, I might have let you stay, be a dog by my side. But you’re too wild. I can’t control you. Looks like we’ll have to send you off to one of our ‘re-education’ camps in the East to learn some manners.” “You wouldn’t dare!” “Once I have the full crest, the entire Syndicate is mine. What wouldn’t I dare?” “Ma’am, I found it!” a guard shouted. He handed my half of the crest to Brenda. Her eyes lit up with a feverish greed. She took her half from around her neck and clicked them together. “Finally! The Azure Syndicate is mine! An empire spanning the continent, endless wealth… it’s all mine!” I let out a cold laugh. “You have a trinket. Don’t you think you’re celebrating a little early?” “The Azure Crest can command all eight thousand chapters! With this, I am the new Matriarch!” “You aren’t worthy.” “Still talking tough when you’re about to die! Take her and Nina away! Send them to the camps!” I glanced at my watch. They should be here by now. As if on cue, a squad of black-clad figures swarmed into the villa, surrounding it completely. In a blur of motion, they neutralized the guards holding us and formed a protective circle around me and Nina. Brenda, who had never seen anything like this, shrieked and hid behind her remaining men. “Who are you people!” “This is the Azure Syndicate’s Praetorian Guard.” “The Syndicate’s men! Excellent!” Brenda held up the united crest. “I have the Azure Crest! I am your new leader!” “Now, on my command, seize Sloane and Nina Vance!” The black-clad guards didn’t move a muscle. Brenda grew frantic. “Are you all blind? This is the genuine Azure Crest!” The lead guard stepped forward and handed me an envelope. “Miss Vance. We have what you requested.” I took it and held it out to Mark. “Dad. Take a look.” He took it suspiciously. Brenda immediately crowded in to look over his shoulder. He opened the envelope. The contents made their faces drain of all color.

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The fourth time Devon broke up with me, his eyes were glued to another girl’s tear-streaked Instagram story. “Just play along,” he said, his voice low. “She has a weak heart. Can’t handle any stress.” I touched the faded mark on my ring finger where a promise once lived and watched him, my lips pressed into a thin line. He broke up with me every time he found a new target. That way, he said, it wasn’t cheating. His friend snickered. “You really letting her go, Jules? Thea’s been your little shadow since you were kids.” Devon scoffed, cutting a piece of steak and holding it to my lips like I was a pet. “My Thea’s the most obedient girl in the world, aren’t you?” I swallowed the steak, along with the bitter taste in my mouth, and nodded. As I turned away, I heard him make a bet, his voice dripping with confidence. “Give it three days. She’ll be back, hugging her pillow and begging me to take her back.” My phone felt hot in my palm. A new message had just come in. 【Thea, can’t you just let me be there for you?】 I wiped the corner of my mouth, erasing the last trace of pepper sauce, and typed a single word. 【Okay.】 1 The moment the message sent, my phone rang. Every head in the room, including Devon’s, turned to me. Before I could even answer, his friend let out a derisive laugh. “Whoa, I didn’t even know she had a phone. I thought our little Thea, with her social anxiety and all, just stayed locked up in her tower.” “No joke, man. If I hadn’t heard that ringer, I would’ve sworn her only hobby was staring at the front door, waiting for Devon to come home.” “Oh, shit. Then she must’ve seen my comment on Devon’s post about Lana’s ballet performance. The one where I said you two were soulmates. Hope we didn’t hurt your feelings, Thea.” The table erupted in laughter. I stood there, clutching my phone, feeling small and helpless. When he’d had his laugh, Devon tapped his wine glass with a silver fork. “Alright, that’s enough. You keep bullying my Thea like that, and you’ll have to deal with me.” “Right, right. Devon loves his girl the most.” “He may play the field, but Thea’s the one who’s always there.” Their mocking eyes darted toward me, each glance a physical sting. A cold dread washed over me, and I turned to flee. Devon’s hand shot out, grabbing my arm. His other hand went to my neck, yanking off the silver chain I always wore. “Lana loves vintage things. You don’t mind if I let her borrow this for a bit, do you?” His fingernail dug into the half-healed burn on my skin. I’d gotten it two days ago, making soup for him. He didn’t notice the slight wince of pain, just gave me a roguish, charming grin. I looked down at the locket in his palm. Tucked inside was a tiny, folded note he’d written for me on my eighteenth birthday. 【Thea is my life. I love Thea.】 He had given me the chain itself when I was fifteen, on a night of flash floods. He’d carried me on his back out of our collapsing apartment building, and later, he found the chain to soothe my frayed nerves. It was all his, really. What right did I have to say no? “Be my guest.” His friend burst out laughing again. “She’s always so agreeable. You’re a lucky man, Devon.” The air grew thick, suffocating. I wrenched my arm free and ran. I could still hear their booming laughter as the private dining room door swung shut behind me. The call had disconnected. A string of texts followed. 【Thea?】 【What happened? Why aren’t you answering?】 I slid down the cool hallway wall, tears blurring my vision. But I bit my lip, hard. I refused to cry for him again. The “Lana” they were talking about was Lana Thorne, a dance major still in college. Three months ago, Devon had been an honored guest at his alma mater’s centennial celebration. He’d seen her and been instantly captivated. He pursued her relentlessly, showering her with designer bags and luxury cars. He even gave her our promise token. It was a simple red cord bracelet I had braided myself, staying up for a week straight. I had even gone to a special retreat in the mountains to get the thread, hoping to imbue it with blessings. For years, even as it faded, he had never taken it off. But this time, he gave my heart away so easily. Last night, Lana had finally agreed to be with him, on one condition: she wouldn’t be the other woman. So, Devon broke up with me. Again. He swore it was just to fool the girl, that his heart belonged only to me. I had tolerated his cheating, his distractions, a thousand times before. But this time, I was really letting go. My phone buzzed again. I pulled it out. 【Thea? Answer me, please. Don’t make me worry.】 I took a deep breath, composing myself, and typed. 【Elias, I’m ready for a home now.】 Elias’s call came through instantly. I could imagine his excitement, and I knew that in the heat of the moment, people do impulsive things. So I let it ring and sent him a text instead. 【Focus on your business trip. Securing that new equipment for the hospital is too important. No mistakes.】 His reply was instantaneous. 【Yes, ma’am! Counting the seconds until I’m back. Wait for me!】 I let out a small, watery laugh, and the tears I’d been holding back fell like broken pearls. After the “breakup,” I didn’t go back to the house I shared with Devon. I checked into a hotel. Sleep didn’t come easy. In my dreams, Devon flickered between an angel and a demon. We were childhood sweethearts, our families equals in business. Our parents had always planned for us to marry. We fell in love for real when we were older. But then, a cruel twist of fate—a car accident that stole my parents and sent my family’s business into a nosedive. Even though Devon and I had already had our engagement party and set a wedding date, his parents suddenly refused to acknowledge me. But back then, Devon was completely devoted. He fought with his parents, determined to be with me. But after my parents’ death, I shut down. I couldn’t bear to be around anyone. A deep depression set in, and I developed a crippling social anxiety that often left me mute in front of strangers. Devon stayed by my side through it all, his constant presence a lifeline, always trying to make me smile. I was so moved. I thought I would follow him to the end of the earth. Halfway through the dream, the scene shifted violently. Devon had his arm around a new girl, a canary in a golden cage, and he was backing me into a corner, his words sharp and humiliating. His parents burst in, screaming at me, calling me shameless. I woke up with a gasp, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. Outside, a storm raged, thunder shaking the windows. I touched my forehead; it was burning. My phone’s notification light was blinking. It was Lana. A series of risqué selfies, taken in the bed I shared with Devon. I threw the phone aside and curled up under the covers. I don’t know how long I was out, but the ringing of my phone woke me again. It was Elias. “Thea, I miss you so much. I still have another week here…” His voice was a deep, magnetic hum that made me smile. But when I tried to answer, a hoarse croak came out, startling us both. I didn’t want him to worry. I lied and said I just had a small cold and had already made a doctor’s appointment. He sighed in relief, then fussed over me for a few more minutes before hanging up. Worried he might call the hospital to check, I dragged myself out of bed and called a cab. By the time I ran into the emergency room, I was soaked. Before my number was even called, a group of immaculately dressed young women cornered me in the hallway. They held up their phones, live-streaming. “Hey everyone, we’re Lana’s girl squad, and you’re not going to believe who we found! This is the home-wrecker who’s trying to steal Lana’s man!” “We’re here today to pay our respects! Smash that like button, everyone! Let’s get this home-wrecker trending!” They shoved and pushed me. I shrank against the wall, clutching my wet clothes, struggling to breathe. “Get a good look at her, people! Keep your men away from this viper!” One of them grabbed my chin, forcing my face into the camera. I tried to push them away, biting my lip in humiliation. “You bitch! How dare you fight back? We’re not saying anything that isn’t true!” “Lana’s too nice to deal with you herself, so we’ll teach you a lesson for her!” My shirt ripped. I tried desperately to cover myself, shaking my head wildly. I looked around for help, but the onlookers just watched, captivated by the drama. Just as despair set in, Devon appeared. He was backlit by the hospital lights, a savior striding toward me. A wave of relief and sorrow washed over me. “Devon…” I choked out, my voice thick with tears. “Help me…” He shot me a look of pure venom, then rushed past me to shield Lana, who was standing off to the side, silently crying. “Thea, did you have to follow her here? She just had heart surgery!” The taste of blood filled my mouth, sharper and more bitter than the day his mother had slapped me. I curled into a ball against the wall, my body shaking uncontrollably. “Devon, I don’t feel well. Can you take me to see the doctor?” Lana murmured, leaning against him. Perhaps because I was so silent, Devon finally deigned to look at me. The moment his eyes met mine, Lana clutched her chest and collapsed into his arms. His attention snapped back to her. He scooped her up and strode toward the examination room, his face etched with worry. As he carried her away, Lana glanced over his shoulder and gave me a triumphant smirk. Her friends followed, chins held high. The show was over. The crowd dispersed. All I could hear was the drumming of the rain. Staring out at the storm, my mind drifted back to when I was eighteen. Devon, covered in blood, had carried me on his back to this very clinic. He was so exhausted his lips were white, and he stumbled several times, but he never loosened his grip, whispering softly in my ear. “Don’t be afraid, Thea. I stabbed the guy who hurt you. I’m here. No one will ever hurt you again.” His young back wasn’t broad, but it was my entire world, my sanctuary. I had clung to him, my voice a faint whisper in reply. We made it to the clinic, and he collapsed before I did. The doctor checked me over. “You just have some scrapes. Your boyfriend, on the other hand… he has multiple stab wounds. The one on his side is serious. He’s lucky you got here when you did.” The boy who would have died for me was now protecting another woman, spewing poison at me. The image of him carrying her away shattered the memory of the boy who had once carried me. I lowered my head, no longer wanting to watch. In my heart, I said goodbye to him, and to the girl I used to be. My number was called. As I approached the examination room, I saw that the doctor on duty was a good friend of Elias’s. The thought of my pathetic state getting back to Elias was unbearable. I covered my face and fled. Outside, the storm still raged. I took a cab back to the hotel, stripped off my wet clothes, and tried to bring my fever down with a cool cloth. The phone on the bathroom counter lit up. It was Devon. “Thea, where the hell are you? How did you even know Lana had a follow-up appointment today? If I hadn’t gotten there in time, you would have bullied her into another heart attack!” I didn’t argue. I just hung up. A second later, a notification popped up. A new post from Devon. 【A new beginning.】 The picture was of him and Lana kissing. Around her delicate, white neck was my silver chain. I liked the post. Then I unfollowed him. A message from Elias came through immediately. 【Thea, you lied to me. I called the hospital. My colleague said you never checked in. How are you feeling?】 A warmth spread through my chest. I typed and deleted several messages before finally settling on one. 【I’m fine now. Just took some fever reducer and feeling a little sleepy. Focus on your work. Don’t worry about me.】 The phone went quiet. I smiled. Elias was always so considerate. The future head of the prestigious Thorne Medical Group, a man worth billions, yet he always listened to me. I had Devon to thank for meeting Elias. If it hadn’t been for his constant cheating, his endless breakups for other women, the crushing weight of it all wouldn’t have driven me to seek therapy. And I never would have met Dr. Elias Thorne. He was a top psychiatrist, yet he chose to see patients at his family’s private clinic out of a genuine desire to help. At first, it was just a professional relationship. He was my confidant, the one person I could talk to about the emptiness in my life. He was the only person I could talk to. As time went on, my visits became more frequent, my condition worse. Elias was baffled. In his entire career, he’d never had a patient who deteriorated under his care. It made him focus on me even more, and somewhere along the way, his professional concern blossomed into something deeper. I had rejected his advances at first. But after Devon’s latest, most public betrayal, I finally saw things clearly. I accepted Elias. I waited until the sky cleared before I went back to the house. I just wanted to pack my things and leave, but when I put my key in the lock, it wouldn’t turn. The lock had been changed. I stood there for a moment, stunned, and pulled out my phone to call Devon. But then the door swung open. Devon’s mother stood in the entryway, flanked by a team of maids, looking at me with disdain. “Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. The trash my son finally threw out. What are you doing back here? Trying to steal something while he’s not home?” My hands twisted the hem of my shirt. “Mrs. Vance, I just…” “Shut up!” She cut me off with a wave of her hand and gestured to the maids. “Throw her things out.” My suitcases were tossed out onto the muddy lawn. My most prized possession, a sketchbook, landed in a puddle. Every page was filled with drawings of Devon. I had been learning to draw for ten years, all for him. But he was ashamed of my “pathetic little hobby,” and he never let me tell anyone about it. Even when a well-known art critic saw some of my sketches online and offered to mentor me, Devon had belittled my talent until I gave up the opportunity. I bit my lip and knelt to rescue my drawings. As I picked up the soaked book, a piece of paper fell out from between the pages. A letter, in Elias’s elegant script. “Thea’s eyes are like shattered stars.” I must have brought the sketchbook to one of my sessions. I had no idea when he’d slipped it in. The tears came, hot and fast. Devon’s mother stood over me, her voice dripping with contempt. “What are you crying for? So unlucky! The Vance family took care of you for ten years. That’s more than enough charity. Now get lost!” She shoved me, grabbing my arm and trying to drag me away. I clutched the letter, letting the mud stain my clothes, my skin, my everything. On the third day after our “breakup,” Devon called. “Thea. Have you learned your lesson?” His voice was scolding. I said nothing. After a long, tense silence, he chuckled. “You’re still the same. So jealous. You can’t stand to see me with any other girl. I told you, I was just having a little fun. I would have come back to you when I was done. Did you have to be so vicious and go after Lana?” A lump formed in my throat. I wanted to scream, to defend myself, but the words wouldn’t come. “Forget it. It’s pointless trying to reason with you. Since you refuse to change, you can keep reflecting on your mistakes. When you finally realize you were wrong, I’ll come back.” The line went dead. I let out a bitter laugh and blocked his number. I had missed three days of work. I went to the Vance Corporation building during my lunch break to resign. But before I could even speak to my manager, the head of HR found me. She slapped a termination notice on my desk. “Mr. Vance said to give you this when you showed up,” she sneered. My colleagues, who should have been at lunch, were all at their desks, watching the show. Their stares felt like physical blows, and I found it hard to breathe again. I scrambled to pack my things, desperate to escape. Just then, a delivery man walked in. “A Miss Thea Collins? I have a delivery for you.” He placed a massive bouquet of fiery red roses in my arms. I found the small card tucked inside. 【Thea, a friend of mine needs an illustrator for her gallery. The job is yours whenever you’re ready.】 It was from Elias. My boring clerical job had been Devon’s idea. I hated it, but I did it to make him happy. None of my colleagues liked me, but I gritted my teeth and did my work. But Elias… he always told me to just be myself. With his encouragement, the contemptuous stares of my colleagues didn’t seem to hurt so much. I put the flowers down and swept everything off my desk—pens, papers, pictures, everything—into the trash can. Including a framed photo of me and Devon. The HR manager’s jaw dropped. I picked up the roses and walked out without a backward glance. I was about to call Elias to thank him when my phone rang. It was Devon, from a new number. He was screaming. “Thea! Lana just collapsed and was rushed to the hospital! What did you do to her this time?!” Staring at the unfamiliar number, I found my voice. “Devon, if you have a problem with your eyes, go see a doctor. Stop using me as your punching bag. We are broken up.”

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For eight years, I helped build my boyfriend’s dream from nothing. On our anniversary, we were still in the same attic apartment. He gave me the only egg from his soup. “Eat, Lena. You need strength.” I held my cancer diagnosis and said I wanted to break up. “I can’t wait anymore, Ethan.” He smiled, ruffling my hair. “Don’t be silly.” “I have cancer.” The pain was so sharp I barely remember his response before he rushed off to work—our life already felt like a long-distance relationship. After my follow-up, I went to his glass tower. The receptionist stopped me. “You need an appointment to see the CEO.” I stood frozen. I used to sneak upstairs as a delivery girl. Since when did I need an appointment to see him? 01 Ethan and I were broke. The kind of broke where you count loose change for laundry. How could he possibly be a CEO? I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t. But then, through the frosted glass of a conference room, I saw him. He was dressed in a tailored suit that probably cost more than our rent for a year. Beside him, a young woman in a bright yellow dress was playfully tugging on his arm. “I don’t care!” she pouted, her voice a sweet, cloying melody. “You promised you’d take me to the movies. If you’re backing out now, you have to make it up to me!” Ethan’s smile was a mixture of exasperation and pure indulgence. “Alright, alright. That bag you were looking at… how much was it? Four hundred thousand?” The girl practically bounced with joy, throwing her arms around his neck and planting a kiss near his ear. Ethan pulled a credit card from his wallet, tapping her affectionately on the head as he chuckled. “You little troublemaker.” I watched, feeling like I was trapped in a nightmare. Four hundred thousand dollars. That was enough to buy us a year’s worth of instant noodles with an egg in our attic. All these years, our finances were so tight, I never dared to bring up money, terrified of adding to his pressure. The only time we’d talked about it was the night I got the diagnosis. I held the report in my trembling hands and tried to sound casual. “The cheapest bottle of pills is four thousand three hundred dollars. Can you believe it? It’s robbery! But the guy selling knock-offs downstairs from the hospital only charges eighteen hundred. I could save more than half!” I forced a laugh. “What do you think? I could deliver food during the day and drive for Uber at night. Maybe I’d even make it long enough for you to marry me, hahaha.” We were face to face, but the silence that followed was deafening. I couldn’t even hear him breathe. My fingernails dug into my palms, the paper of the report growing damp with sweat. Damn it. I had wanted to say it with a smile, but a sob was already caught in my throat. Just before a tear could fall, his phone rang. I quickly wiped my eyes and pushed him towards the door, telling him to take the call. Just forget it, I thought. I was a dying woman. The last thing I should do is drag him down with me. Today, I’d worked up the courage to see him, thinking that if I could just say goodbye in person, it would be enough. But now, watching him drop a fortune to appease this girl, it felt like a red-hot poker was twisting in my gut. The pain was so intense it made me gag. Four hundred thousand dollars. It was enough for so many bottles of medicine. Enough time to spend so many more years with him. The glass reflected my own pale face. My lips were colorless, chapped like dry earth. Inside, the girl was vibrant and fresh, her eyes sparkling like jewels. People are drawn to beautiful things. So, in that moment of silence after I told him about the pills, was he thinking about how I was about to die? Or was he thinking about how he was going to spoil this pretty little thing later? I didn’t know. And I realized I didn’t want to know anymore. Suddenly, the conference room door slid open, and the girl walked out, her eyes bright with laughter. She saw me and paused, her gaze filled with curiosity, but her smile never wavered. “Hi,” she said sweetly. “I’m Mia, Mr. Hardy’s executive assistant. Is there something I can help you with?” My eyes were glued to the red string bracelet on her wrist. It was identical to the one Ethan wore. 02 Three months ago, my stomach pains started getting worse. One night, the agony was unbearable. As I fumbled in the dark for some pills, my hand brushed against two red string bracelets on the nightstand. A small wooden charm was tied to each one, carved with intricate symbols. I remembered a coworker telling me about these. You had to make a grueling hike up a mountain to some remote shrine to get them. They were meant to protect your health and bring you peace. One was five hundred dollars. Two of them meant a thousand. That was enough to cover our ramen budget for three months. I was a mix of furious and touched. Furious that he’d spent money we didn’t have, but as my fingers traced the wooden charm, a warmth spread through my chest, and even the pain in my stomach seemed to fade. Giddily, I slipped one onto my wrist, planning to playfully scold him in the morning. “No more wasting money,” I’d say with a smile. But when I woke up, he was standing over the bed, his face a thunderous mask. “That bracelet isn’t for you. Give it back,” he said, his voice cold as ice. “Lena, don’t be so greedy. You can’t have everything.” So, it was for her all along. For the girl standing in front of me now. I forced the bitterness down and managed a weak smile. “Your boss… Mr. Hardy… he seems to take good care of his employees, doesn’t he?” Mia nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes! Even though he comes from a very wealthy family, he’s not arrogant at all. He’s been so kind to me.” Her voice was soft and sweet, her eyes gentle as she pulled out her phone and began swiping through her photo gallery, showing me picture after picture. There they were at a Michelin-star restaurant. At Disneyland. At all the places I could never afford, their faces alight with joy. “He gives me a huge cash bonus every Christmas, and when he found out I’d studied abroad, he started giving me gifts for other holidays too. He got me this bracelet,” she said, holding up her wrist. “I was catching colds all the time.” “Once, another company tried to poach me. Can you believe it? He actually showed me the company’s financials and even his personal bank statements to convince me to stay!” Mia covered her mouth, giggling. “I told him, ‘You only show your bank account to your girlfriend! Why are you showing me?’ He just stared at me for the longest time and said, ‘I just want you to know…’” She trailed off, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She looked up at me. “You know him well, right? Has he ever been this devoted to another girl? What do you think he means by all this?” The pain in my stomach suddenly sharpened, like a knife twisting inside me. I pressed a hand to my abdomen, struggling to swallow the metallic taste rising in my throat. I didn’t know about Ethan’s bank account. I didn’t know about his wealthy family. In his heart, I wasn’t even his girlfriend. What right did I have to be jealous? I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. I realized that seeing Ethan, saying goodbye, it didn’t matter anymore. I straightened my back, forcing myself to stand tall. My voice came out as a whisper. “Please tell your boss to find some time to return that watch to me.” “And tell him… we’re done.” The words had barely left my lips when a familiar, furious voice cut through the air from behind me. “What do you mean, we’re done? Lena, are you playing games with me?” 03 I turned to see Ethan standing a few feet away, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl, his eyes filled with impatience. I didn’t understand. I was the one who had been deceived. How had he twisted it to make it seem like I was the one playing him? I ignored him. With Mia standing right there, I didn’t want to cause a scene. But Mia’s face had gone pale. She grabbed my arm. “Ma’am, what… what is your relationship with Mr. Hardy?” “The front desk said you didn’t have an appointment. I assumed you were a business partner, but now…” I froze, unsure how to answer. She didn’t know that the receptionist had blocked me, that Ethan hadn’t answered my calls. The only way I’d gotten this far was by showing them a three-year-old screenshot of a text from him: “Lena, as soon as I make it, I’ll marry you. I promise.” I had treasured that screenshot like a precious jewel for three years. But the look the receptionist gave me was the kind you give a pathetic fool. And she was right. Who clings to an empty promise for that long? It was the only proof I had. He and Mia had countless photos together—at Disneyland, in fancy restaurants—each one a portrait of intimacy and happiness. We didn’t have a single decent picture together. Seeing our silence, Mia’s eyes welled up with tears. She turned and began pounding her small fists against Ethan’s chest, her voice choked with emotion. “Ethan, you have a girlfriend? Then why were you so good to me? I just need a straight answer! What am I to you?” She was so brave, so sincere. Even asking such a foolish question, she seemed utterly endearing. Ethan stood there, taking her blows, a look of profound pain on his face. Watching the drama unfold, I was suddenly reminded of my old self. I used to want to ask him, “When are we getting married?” But every time, the words would die on my lips, afraid of pressuring him. They would turn into, “Should we have fried rice for dinner?” After a long, heavy silence, Ethan finally turned his gaze to me. It was a look I knew all too well—a silent plea. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I would spare him the trouble of speaking the words himself. “I’m not his girlfriend.” So this is what it looked like when Ethan Hardy loved someone. Money, time, status—whatever Mia wanted, he gave it to her instantly. No hesitation, no empty promises of “someday.” Not like me. I waited eight years, and all I got was, “Don’t be so greedy.” Even when I was sick, I could only joke about not having long to live, and then I was left helpless by his silence. The pain in my stomach flared again, and tears began to stream down my face. It was obvious now. They had a silent understanding between them. Of course. You can’t hide love. You can’t stop yourself from wanting to give them the world, from wanting to possess them, from feeling like every second apart is an agony. He had never given any of that to me. I suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to laugh. To laugh at my mother, who had been right for eight years when she told me to leave him. And to laugh at my own stupidity. I used to be so naive, thinking he was just a workaholic. Now I knew. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to love. It was just that I wasn’t the one he loved. 04 Choking back a sob, I held my hand out to him. “Let’s just end it here. I don’t even want to know why you lied to me.” “Just give me back my watch. And let’s not see each other again.” A crowd of onlookers had gathered by the door. Someone scoffed loudly. “I’ve never seen someone ask for a gift back. So tacky.” “She’s probably just some gold digger trying to cause a scene!” Ethan’s jaw tightened. He’d heard them too. “Don’t you all have work to do?” he roared at the doorway. The crowd scattered. He then turned to Mia, his voice softening as he stroked her hair. “Go on, I’ll explain everything in a minute.” Now it was just the two of us, in a silence so profound I could hear my own heart pounding—a frantic, chaotic rhythm in my chest. I never wanted this. To be so humiliated, so utterly pathetic. But that watch… it was the only thing I had left of my father. It was the gift my mother had given him when they first fell in love. On his deathbed, he had pressed it into my hand. “Lena, honey, you take good care of this watch. Don’t let anything happen to it.” I had to get it back. I was afraid he’d be angry with me when I saw him again on the other side. I held my hand out, insistent. “Give it to me.” A humorless laugh escaped Ethan’s lips. His eyes bored into mine. “You’re really something, Lena. You’ve been after my money this whole time, haven’t you? First you pretend you didn’t know I had it, now you’re trying to break up with me. Playing hard to get? Let’s see how long you can keep up this act!” My nails dug into my palm. I stared into his eyes and asked, each word deliberate and sharp, “Ethan, what are you talking about? You were the one pretending to be a broke failure. When have I ever asked you for a single dime?” He shot me a cold, dismissive look and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. He didn’t light it, just rolled it between his fingers, agitated. His voice was laced with contempt, each word a shard of ice piercing my heart. “Three years ago. You asked me for an apartment in Midtown. That’s when you started plotting all this, wasn’t it?” I was stunned. It took me a moment to remember. Three years ago, we had just moved to the city. The summer was humid, and moisture seeped into the walls of our tiny rental, leaving dark patches of mold. He’d patiently painted over them, then turned to kiss me in the tiny space where we could barely pass each other. “Just a little longer,” he’d whispered. “After I finish this project, we’ll move to a bigger place. Somewhere with more light.” I had dodged his kiss and laughed, teasing him. “No way. I want to live in Midtown! I want a penthouse with a skyline view!” The paintbrush had slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. He straightened up and just stared at me for the longest time. And I, like an idiot, thought he was seriously contemplating our future together. I see now. Back then, he was already planning how to punish me. I let out a long, shuddering breath as tears streamed down my face. So that’s all our eight years together meant to him. A gold-digging scheme from my end, and a weapon for him to use against me.

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The year James cheated on me, I paid a fortune for the compromising photos and leaked them online. I shattered his reputation. To get back at me, he engineered a way to make me walk away with nothing, and then he delivered his final threat. “As long as I’m in Seacrest City,” he’d said, his voice cold as steel, “don’t even think about coming back.” I was forced out of the country. For five long years, no one in Seacrest remembered that James Vance had an ex-wife named Josephine. All they knew was that the love of his life was a woman named Tessa. But now, staring at the embossed invitation from Seacrest, a slow smile spread across my face. I turned to the man beside me. “How about,” I said, my voice a low murmur, “I go in your place?” 1 After all, there are some debts that have to be collected in person. Only then can you truly call it the end. Invitation in hand, I was about to enter the venue when a black Maybach screeched to a halt in front of me, blocking my path. A woman stepped out. “What’s this?” she purred, her eyes raking over me. “Are they letting in any stray now?” She laughed, a sharp, unpleasant sound. “Five years. I almost thought you had enough pride to die out there. But I guess,” she examined her fiery red nails, “you couldn’t make it after all. Crawling back to beg for scraps?” “Josephine.” Tessa flung her expensive leather handbag at me. “Why don’t you beg me? Just a little. If you beg, I might see if anyone here would even look at you,” her gaze traveled up my body, landing on my face with a sneer. “You pathetic—” The word never left her lips. I snatched the bag and slammed it into her face. Then I grabbed a fistful of her hair and smashed her head against the car door. The sickening thud echoed in the quiet street, and a thrill, hot and undeniable, shot through me. My blood was boiling with a vicious excitement. “Tessa,” I whispered, leaning close to her ear, “five years ago, you called me Mrs. Vance. You knelt at my feet and begged me to take you in.” A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Did five years make you forget who’s the master and who’s the dog?” “Or did climbing into James’s bed and becoming the laughingstock of the entire internet make you forget what shame feels like?” “In that case,” I patted her cheek, the slap echoing softly, “why don’t I teach you a lesson?” I yanked her hair back, ready to slam her head against the door again. “You’re insane!” Tessa shrieked. A bodyguard lunged forward, grabbing my wrist in a crushing grip. “Who do you think you are!” he bellowed. His fingers dug into my skin, pressing down on the jagged scar that circled my wrist. A sharp pain shot up my arm, and I winced, but my smile only widened. “Five years, and he’s managed to train some loyal mutts!” I twisted, throwing a punch that connected squarely with the bodyguard’s jaw. As he staggered back, I drove my foot into his groin. He crumpled in pain, and I wrenched the steel baton from his grasp, turning my attention back to Tessa. “Tessa.” I hefted the baton, my smile cold and sharp. “I forgot to tell you.” I raised the baton high. “Now that I’m back, I have no intention of letting you go.” I swung the baton down, the air whistling. I heard Tessa’s terrified scream. “Josephine!” “James won’t let you get away with this!” “James will kill you!” “James!” The baton was ripped from my hand. Before I could even turn, Tessa’s voice rose to a hysterical, broken wail. “James, save me! James!” “It’s been five years!” “Five years, and she still wants to kill me!” “Save me!” The force of the pull sent me stumbling backward into a hard chest. A familiar scent, one that sent a chill down my spine, enveloped me. A voice, calm and measured, spoke from above my head. “Josephine.” “Five years,” James’s fingers clamped around my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “And you’re still so reckless.” “It seems,” his eyes, cold and dark, met mine. I stared at the face I hadn’t seen in half a decade, the same perfectly handsome face that graced magazine covers, and I felt a wave of nausea. “That you still haven’t learned what you should and should not do.” “Hmm?” 2 Trailing behind James was a crowd of his business partners, all of them hovering a few feet away, too intimidated to approach. They watched as James held my chin in his unforgiving grip, his words dropping like stones in the silence. “Apologize to Tessa. Beg for her forgiveness.” A ghost of a smile played on his lips. It was the same smile he’d worn five years ago when he’d thrown a one-way plane ticket in my face. “Do that,” he said softly, “and I’ll overlook your sudden return.” My blood ran cold. He tossed the baton to the ground, where it landed with a sharp clang. Just like five years ago. I had walked in on him with Tessa, my world shattering around me. I had cried and screamed, demanding an explanation. He had simply held Tessa in his arms and warned me. “Tessa isn’t like you. She’s delicate. Don’t scare her.” “Josephine, we’ve been together for too long. So long that I can’t find any passion with you anymore. As long as you behave, the title of Mrs. Vance is yours. But if you dare to hurt Tessa, I will end you.” Back then, I didn’t understand. I was so sure he loved me. I was certain that the years we’d spent building our lives from nothing meant something. I hired a private investigator, and when I got the photos, I plastered them all over the internet. No matter how much money he threw at it to bury the story, I paid more to make sure he and Tessa paid the price. Just as I’d planned, Tessa was expelled from her university, a social pariah. But my victory came at a devastating cost. I still remember the day James forced me to sign the divorce papers, giving up everything. His voice was like ice. “Your brother’s life,” he said, “is in your hands.” “Josephine. What’s it going to be?” Now, looking at him, I felt that same chill. “James.” “Five years,” I met his mocking gaze with a smile more vicious than his own. “Is this how you greet an old flame?” “If that’s the case, then I have a gift for you, too.” In one swift motion, I plunged a small, hidden blade into his abdomen. I watched the shock bloom on his face, my hand never ceasing its motion, twisting the blade, feeling the slick warmth of his blood on my skin. My laugh grew louder. “James.” “Do you like it?” “If you do,” I started to pull the knife out for another strike, but he grabbed the blade with his bare hand. The edge sliced through his palm, but he seemed not to feel it, his grip like a vise as his eyes locked with mine. “Josephine, after five years, you’ve really—” “Outdone yourself.” He kicked me hard in the chest, wrenching the knife from my grasp. He stood over me, looking down. “You want me dead that badly, don’t you?” “Josephine,” James stepped closer, his foot pressing down hard on my wrist. The old scar screamed in protest, and I bit back a cry of pain as he leaned down. “Too bad. This city is mine.” “If you want to take my life,” he dropped the bloody knife in front of me, “you’re not qualified.” Tessa scrambled over, her face a mask of horror as she saw the blood pouring from James’s wound. She burst into gut-wrenching sobs, turning on me with a shriek. “Josephine!” “Five years ago, you leaked those photos and ruined my future! You tried to destroy me and James! He had a heart and let you go, only sending you away! How could you be so vicious, so evil, that you’d come back and try to kill him!” Tessa threw herself in front of James, shielding him like a mother hen, her carefully constructed image shattering as she screamed at me. “If I had known that being soft on you back then would lead to you hurting James today,” she sobbed, “I would have—” “I would have killed you myself!” 3 The little beggar who once cried and pleaded for me to take her in. The country girl James wouldn’t even deign to look at. Now she was a high-society woman, screaming at me as if she had the right. I looked at Tessa, then at James, whose expression softened with pity for her, and I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. I began to applaud them. “You know,” I said, my smile wide and mocking, “you two really are perfect for each other.” “What’s that saying again?” I pretended to think. Then, as if struck by a revelation. “A bitch and a dog,” I said, my eyes locking with James’s darkening face, “together forever. Hahahaha.” “Isn’t that right, James?” “Hahahaha.” “You’re asking for it!” James shoved Tessa aside and lunged at me, but his rage gave me the opening I needed. I snatched the knife from the ground and charged forward. As the blade sank into Tessa’s side, I saw the composure on James’s face crack. The man who was always in control let out a raw, desperate roar. “Tessa!” “TESSA!” Tessa’s face was ashen. She collapsed into James’s arms, her eyes still soft as she reached up to touch his face, her gaze filled with adoration. “James,” she whispered. “I protected you, too.” “James…” Her eyes fluttered shut. As she lost consciousness, James lost his mind. He scooped her into his arms, screaming, “Doctor! Somebody get a doctor!” Before he raced toward the hospital entrance, he turned, and his eyes met mine. They were filled with a murderous rage. “Josephine!” “There’s something I’ve wanted to tell you for five years,” his eyes were blood-red. “Before you signed the divorce papers, when I told you your brother was still showing signs of life…” “I was lying.” He turned away, tossing the final, devastating words over his shoulder. “He was already dead long before you signed anything.” “Your signature was just to get you to disappear from Seacrest for good.” A bolt of lightning split the sky. The thunder cracked, and in my mind, I heard my brother’s weak voice calling my name. I saw the truck hurtling towards me, saw Aiden use all his strength to push me out of the way. He crumpled under the wheels, his eyes gentle as he reached for me. “Jo…” “It hurts,” I had crawled to him, holding him, my world collapsing. He had squeezed my hand. “But protecting my sister…” “It was worth it.” After that day, I lost the only family I had left in the world. Aiden was in a coma, separated from me by a heavy hospital room door. James had dragged me out, throwing me to the floor and pointing at my unconscious brother. “Josephine, why do you think your brother was there?” “He saw the photos. He was coming to find you.” “Did you ever think, Josephine, that in your quest to hurt me, the person you’d really destroy wouldn’t be me, but your only brother?” “Sign the papers, Josephine.” He had thrown them at my feet. All the strength had drained from my body. I stared at the agreement, and I heard James’s voice, a lifeline in the darkness. “Sign it, and I’ll make sure your brother doesn’t die.” “Agree to leave Seacrest forever, and I promise to take care of him.” But later, as soon as my plane took off, I received a video from Tessa. In it, my brother was being buried in a crude, unmarked grave. Tessa’s voice was a triumphant sneer. 4 “This is what you get for crossing me, Josephine.” “That car crash was no accident,” her words were thorns, wrapping around my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. “It was just a little lesson from James. He never expected your brother would be stupid enough to die for you.” “So whose fault is that?” “It’s yours, you bitch.” I had scrambled to get off the plane, desperate to go back, but the cabin was filled with James’s men, their eyes watching my every move. I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t go home. I spent five years abroad. Five long years. I felt those thorns grow into a monstrous tree inside me, its branches constricting my lungs with every breath. And to think, even his promise was a lie. I screamed, trying to lunge at James, but his bodyguards pinned me to the wet pavement. I could only watch as he carried Tessa away. I screamed until my throat was raw. “James!” “I will make you pay!” “James! I will kill you! I swear I will kill you!” The crowd of onlookers jeered. “She’s insane! Everyone knows Mr. Vance runs this city!” “I heard about what happened back then. To get justice for Miss Wen, he had her brother’s bones ground to dust and scattered. Miss Wen even livestreamed it.” My mind went numb. Someone else whispered, “Damn, ground to dust? That’s brutal.” “What do you expect? Mr. Vance said that whoever makes Miss Wen unhappy, he’ll make them a hundred times unhappier. Even his own wife.” “But didn’t he build his empire with his ex-wife’s money?” The voices faded. The rain fell in sheets, a deluge that matched the storm in my soul. The words ground to dust and livestream echoed in my head. I could see the video playing on a loop, Tessa smiling sweetly into the camera five years ago. “I didn’t want Mr. Vance to go to such lengths for me, but he said that whoever makes me unhappy, he’ll make them a hundred times unhappier.” The box containing my brother’s remains was opened. “No,” I choked out, a raw, hoarse sound. No one heard me. I watched, helpless, as James scooped up a handful of ash and let it drift into the wind. It was as if I could still feel my brother’s warmth in the air, a painful comfort in the cold, wet night. “No.” I screamed it over and over, begging them, pleading with them not to do this to my brother. A ringing phone pulled me back to the present. I was on the line with someone, sobbing hysterically. “I want revenge! I’ll make James pay! I want Tessa dead! I want them both dead!” Tessa’s injury wasn’t serious. It was a shallow wound, and she was playing it up for James’s sympathy. Seeing him fuss over her, ignoring his own injury, she smiled. “James,” she said softly. “After this is all over, let’s get married, okay?” Even after five years, even after all the lavish gifts and public affection, he had never given her the title of Mrs. Vance. She took his hand. “I don’t want us to miss any more time.” “James,” her voice was thick with emotion, “I just want the right to officially stand by your side.” She looked so fragile, so devoted, that James’s expression softened. But before he could answer, the hospital room door was kicked open. I stood there, covered in blood and mud, a knife still clutched in my hand. I met James’s shocked, then resigned, gaze as he muttered. “You really don’t know when to—” Quit. The word died on his lips. I was already on him, driving the knife straight into his heart. I grabbed his hair, my voice a venomous hiss. “James! Today is the day you die!”

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The stray cat I’d been feeding brought me a half-dead white snake. I nearly fainted from shock, but then, a series of pop-up comments appeared before my eyes: [OMG, the snake-man protagonist was supposed to meet the kind-hearted main female lead, but a stray cat just snatched him up as a gift for its human. I can’t.] [This cat is a menace! Bad kitty! Poor snake!] [The ultimate prize just fell into the lap of a side character. Our snake-man hero is loaded; whoever saves him gets showered with gold later!] My eyes lit up. Gold? I immediately scooped up the snake and rushed inside. A snake that was basically a living, breathing money tree? Finders keepers! 1 After cleaning and bandaging the white snake’s wounds as best I could, I placed him in a large glass terrarium. Staring at the nearly seven-foot-long serpent, a wave of fear washed over me. This was a pet snake? Someone had a very skewed definition of “pet.” I thought they were supposed to be, like, the thickness of a few fingers. I rummaged through my apartment and found a few pieces of frozen meat in the fridge, tossing them into the tank. The snake flicked its tongue, glanced at the frozen offering, and coiled up in the opposite corner with an air of pure disdain. “Yeah, I know it’s not much,” I sighed, “but I can’t afford fancy steak right now. And since you’re my pet—” Before I could finish, the snake’s head shot up. [LMAO, the shock in his golden snake eyes! Did I hear that right? Who did you just call a pet?!] [Protagonist: I was brought here against my will! Against! My! Will! Do you understand?!] [Ugh, where’s that feline culprit?] The culprit, a fat orange tabby, was pointedly ignoring the drama, noisily crunching on his kibble. Crunch, crunch, munch, munch. He seemed to be enjoying it immensely. [Protagonist: I will never stoop to eating cheap garbage like that fat furball!] [I would rather starve!] [What is the point of this pathetic existence!] This snake was a picky little thing. Not a great habit to have. I ignored him and went back to the kitchen to make a bowl of instant ramen, dropping in an egg and a couple of lettuce leaves. A gourmet meal, perfectly balanced! I had just finished slurping the last noodle when the doorbell rang. I shuffled over and opened it a crack to find several of my neighbors, armed with brooms and knives, looking ready for war. “Tanya! Where’s the snake?” “Don’t hide it from us! Someone saw the orange cat drag a snake into your apartment. We were worried about you living all alone, so we came to help.” Their eyes immediately locked onto the long, pale creature in the terrarium. “That’s the one! Don’t be scared, Tanya, we’ll kill it for you!” As they raised their makeshift weapons, the white snake shot up in alarm, slammed the lid off the tank, and slithered across the floor with a dry, rustling sound, heading straight for my bedroom. Not my bedroom! Mr. Henderson and the others charged in after it. “Where’d it go?” Mr. Henderson rubbed his eyes. I pretended not to see the white coil clinging to the ceiling fan. “It must have gotten away,” I said quickly. “It doesn’t bite, and you know how much I love animals. I was actually thinking of getting a pet anyway.” The can of bug spray in Mr. Henderson’s hand clattered to the floor. “A young woman like you, keeping a snake that long? Aren’t you afraid it’ll crawl into your bed at night?” I forced a tight smile, my fingers digging into the doorframe. “It’s just for fun. And, you know… for self-defense.” Mr. Henderson gave me a helpless look. “Well, if you’re sure, then—” CRASH! The ceiling lamp, along with the snake, came crashing down. Before anyone could react, the snake had wrapped itself around my body, its head rubbing affectionately against my cheek. “See?” I said, my voice trembling only slightly. “I told you he’d make a great pet.” 2 The pop-up comments flew across my vision, a cascade of mockery aimed at the hero: [So much for his pride. That lasted all of one second.] [LMAO, the whiplash! One second he’s all ‘I will never be a pet,’ the next he’s like, ‘You know, pet life doesn’t sound so bad!’] [Look how tightly he’s clinging to her. He’s terrified of getting bludgeoned by the neighbors!] [I’m not gonna lie, I’m a little jealous of the snake right now. Tanya’s figure is… wow.] [Am I the only one focused on her body? That’s my dream physique right there. Drop the workout routine, girl!] … My neighbors left, shaking their heads. I tugged on the snake’s tail, trying to peel him off me, but he wouldn’t budge. He blinked his curious golden eyes at me as if he’d discovered a new continent. His tail gave my skin a tentative little rub. His forked tongue flicked out, tasting the air near my neck. He stared at me for a moment, then nuzzled into the curve of my neck. When his golden, slitted pupils met mine, I could have sworn I saw a faint blush cross his scales. “Um,” I said, my voice strained. “Could you maybe get off now? I’m having a little trouble breathing.” The snake finally unwound himself. On his way back to the terrarium, he bumped into the wall three times and hit the corner of the coffee table twice. [HELP! Our snake hero is so blissed out his brain has short-circuited!] [This poor, innocent snake has never known such pleasure in his twenty-plus years of life.] [Red alert! He was so bold wrapping himself around her, and now he can’t even slither in a straight line. LMAO.] [Is he that pure? I bet when he was pressed up against her, he was already planning out names for their future snake-babies.] [EMERGENCY! I think my snake has brain damage!] 3 I don’t know if it was my “self-defense” comment that did it. But from that day on, things changed. When I left in the morning, the white snake would be coiled by my front door. When I came home at night, he would follow me around like a shadow. He’d join me at the dinner table. He’d climb onto my bed at night. My already small apartment felt even more cramped. Maybe my phone was listening, because ever since I got the snake, my social media feed was flooded with snake content. Snake behavior, different snake species, even diagrams of snake reproductive organs… But I wasn’t interested in snakes. I was interested in money. I kept scrolling. Suddenly, a video of a man with chiseled abs, tagged “#BlackSnake,” filled my screen. “Hey, girl. You like a black snake like me?” a ridiculously seductive voice purred from my phone’s speaker. I jumped. Okay, so I wasn’t just interested in money. I was also interested in men. My morals were directly proportional to my bank account balance. I quickly hit the like button and started typing a comment: “The algorithm gets me.” Just then, the white snake, who had slithered over without me noticing, swiped his tail across my screen. He hit: Reduce recommendations for this type of content. Then, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, he slithered over to the other side of my bed. I pondered his motives. Hmm. It was probably the same reason Ginger the cat got upset when I fed other strays. Basic biological possessiveness. 4 The news that I was keeping a snake spread through the neighborhood like wildfire. The local seniors held a meeting and decided that a snake was not a sustainable long-term solution for my security. They concluded that I was only feeling unsafe because I was a single woman living alone. So, the next day, they showed up at my door armed with a stack of photos of eligible bachelors. “This one has a great income, but he’s a little short. His parents are locals, though, and he’s not bad-looking,” one of the ladies, Mrs. Gable, said, pointing. “This one is tall and handsome, but his job isn’t very stable.” Mrs. Gable turned to me. “Tanya, honey, what’s your type? You have a steady job, and even if you don’t have savings, you’re a beautiful girl. You don’t have parents to worry about these things for you, so let us be your family and help you out. Don’t be shy, tell us what you want!” I’m a simple woman. Life is hard enough; if my husband was ugly too, how could I go on? I scanned the photos, and my eyes landed on a handsome guy named Sean who was even a little younger than me. “Him,” I said. “I like the handsome ones.” Mrs. Gable beamed. “I get it, I get it! We’ll set it up!” They left, happily planning the logistics of our first date. I closed the door and turned around, only to be met by a pair of intense golden eyes. For a second, I felt a pang of guilt, as if I’d just cheated on him. Mrs. Gable was efficient. A date was set for the next evening. As I was about to leave, the white snake suddenly wrapped himself around my waist. “No, I can’t take you with me.” This snake was a temporary arrangement. I had a future to think about, and I was serious about finding someone to date and marry. Bringing a snake was absolutely out of the question. But he only tightened his grip, his eyes conveying a silent, stubborn refusal. I tugged at his tail, trying to uncoil him. “Stop messing around.” A few seconds later, he was wrapped around me again. Defeated, I had no choice but to cancel the date. 5 That night, the snake made himself right at home on my bed, wiggling and twisting around as if he’d won the lottery. When I came back from my shower, I found him coiled up on my bra, fast asleep. I gasped and lunged to grab it. But he held on tight, refusing to let go. [The protagonist’s mating season is hitting hard, he can’t control it. Only the scent from her clothes can get him through it.] [Look how content he is. He doesn’t need money. He needs this.] [You can’t blame him. Our boy has awakened.] I was no match for his strength. So I grabbed a laundry pole and aimed it at the most vulnerable spot on his neck. “If you don’t let go right now, I’m going to poke you!” He understood. He glanced at the pole, then reluctantly slithered off the bra. Just as I lowered the pole, he darted forward and dove right inside my pajama top. He wrapped himself around my torso several times, then poked his head out of the collar. We stared at each other, eye to eye. [What a genius. Who needs the bra when the real thing is right here?] [Ahem, just asking for a friend, are they… impressive? I’m in a hurry.] [It’s just two of them, Tanya honey, you can handle it!] “Get. Down.” I pointed at his head, my voice firm. He shook his little head. No. Sigh. Whatever. The comments made it sound like this was a temporary phase. If I let him cling for a little while, maybe he’d calm down. 6 That night, I fell into a deep sleep and had a strange dream. In the dream, a colossal white serpent was wrapped around my body, its coils tightening until I felt like I was going to be torn apart. I gasped for air, tried to scream for help, but nothing worked. I woke with a start, my forehead beaded with cold sweat. There was something cool and smooth in my hand. I looked down and sucked in a sharp breath. The white snake was coiled around my hand, sleeping peacefully. The pop-up comments went into overdrive: [What just happened? Why is my screen all blurry?] [You can’t see? Hehe, I saw everything. I’m a premium member.] [Where do I subscribe?! Tell me! I’ll pay extra!] [Look at Tanya, all dazed and confused. She thinks it was just a dream!] [Our snake hero is super sensitive to smells. When his mating season hit tonight, all he could think about was her scent. He couldn’t help but sneak over for a few secret kisses.] **[I saw it! First, he ******, and then he just passed out from exhaustion.] My eyes widened in horror. I flung the snake off me. He opened his golden eyes, looking at me with pure, bewildered innocence. [Oh no, she found out.] [He’s so hurt. She thinks he’s dirty.] [He tried so hard to resist, but she just smells too good.] [He’s just a baby snake! How could he possibly resist the temptation of cuddling? It’s just snake nature.] [Don’t say any more. He’s so ashamed he can’t even face her.] … The white snake lowered his head and quickly slithered out the open window.

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My daughter, Lily, and my nephew, Leo, are the same age. My mother-in-law always said, “One spot per address, that’s the rule.” That’s why my mom shelled out three hundred thousand dollars for the down payment on a small condo for us, right inside the boundary lines for the prestigious Northwood Elementary School. But when I went to Lily’s orientation, the system couldn’t find her registration. I thought my husband, Mark, must have made a typo. But the principal looked at me, confused. “Mrs. Davis, the information your husband submitted was for a boy. Do you have two children?” 1 “What do you mean?” I leaned over her desk and spun the monitor toward me. There it was. The proof of residency, the deed to the condo my mother paid for, had been used to register a student. And under the student’s information, a small, typed line: “Enrollment confirmed by parent/guardian signature.” My voice trembled. “Confirmed? When did I confirm any of this?” “But… the child has already started school. His uncle—your husband—dropped him off this morning…” The principal’s face paled as she fumbled through a file folder. “Here. This is your husband’s signature on the final registration forms. He said he was the point of contact for all school matters, and that you were fully aware of the arrangement…” “Like hell I was!” The words exploded out of me. I shot up from the chair, banging my hip on the corner of the desk. My purse strap caught and tore, a long scratch marking the leather. I didn’t care. I stabbed the elevator button and headed straight for the first-grade wing. My sister, Sara, who had come with me for support, was scrambling behind me. “Chloe! Slow down!” she yelled. “You forgot your purse!” I didn’t look back. One thought hammered in my head: “Get to Room 101. Get to Room 101 and see who it is.” The door to Room 101 was slightly ajar. I could hear the smug, self-satisfied voice of my sister-in-law, Brenda. “See? This is what a top-tier school gets you. The classroom is so bright, look at these ergonomic chairs! My Leo is practically guaranteed an Ivy League spot now. Oh, you’re the best, Mark. Your sister knew she could count on you.” I shoved the door open. Mark’s mom was standing by a desk, beaming as she stroked my nephew’s hair. Brenda was holding a box of Godiva chocolates, feeding them to Leo one by one. And my husband, Mark, was at the desk, carefully writing Leo’s name on the cover of a pristine new textbook. The sound of the door banging against the wall made them all jump. Mark’s head snapped up, his face went ghost-white, his eyes filled with panic. He rushed over, grabbing my arm, mouthing silently, “Not here. Please, Chloe. We can talk about this at home. Don’t make a scene.” I ripped my arm away from him and snatched the book from his hand. “Where did you get this? This is the special edition set my mom brought back from London for Lily! Did you steal it?” Mark’s mom shot me a sideways glance, her lips curling into a fake, placating smile. “Oh, Chloe, you’re here! Come, find a seat!” Brenda shot to her feet. “What do you mean, steal? Lily can get another set. Leo wanted this one. He gets first pick, he’s the man of the house now.” My fingers were shaking with rage. “Chloe, let’s go,” my sister Sara said, pulling at my arm, her voice low and urgent. “Making a scene here won’t solve anything. This whole family is shameless. We need to get home and call a lawyer. If we wait, Lily might lose her chance to enroll anywhere this semester.” I looked down and saw Sara was holding Lily’s little unicorn backpack. My daughter was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide, her lower lip trembling as tears welled up. Seeing my sister pull me away, Brenda smirked and held out the half-empty box of chocolates. “Here, Chloe. Since you were so generous, this is a little thank-you gift from me. Leo really appreciates his auntie.” Sara was dragging me toward the exit. Mark scrambled after us, grabbing my other arm. “Chloe, just calm down. Please, listen to me.” “Brenda’s going through a messy divorce. The economy’s tough, she can’t afford a place in this district… Leo’s just a kid, he deserves a good school. Can’t you do this for me, for my family? Yell at me all you want at home, but don’t do it here. You’re hurting my mom and my sister’s feelings…” The entire time, he never once looked at our daughter. Every word was an excuse for his own despicable actions, a plea for his precious sister and nephew. I stopped walking and turned to look at Lily’s heartbroken little face. She was always such a good, sweet kid. And on her first day of school, the path I had laid for her had been stolen. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, the sharp pain like a bucket of ice water snapping me back to reality. Mark was still rambling on with his sob story. I screamed, “He deserves a good school? Your mother told me the spot at her house was for Leo, which is why MY MOTHER bought a condo for Lily! Are you all playing dumb?” “Are you crazy, Chloe?” he hissed back. “We keep it in the family! He’s our nephew! Is it really worth making such an ugly scene over? Besides, what’s wrong with the local public school? You’re just being selfish! Now get out of my way, I need to take Lily to get registered there.” 2 “Our nephew?” I told my sister to take Lily to the car. “Mark,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Those Chanel earrings your sister is wearing? I’ve been looking for them for a month. And that new tablet her son is playing on? My dad sent that from Germany for Lily’s birthday. Your family has a real talent for swapping things out, don’t you?” Mark’s face stiffened. He stammered, “She just borrowed the tablet… Leo really wanted it, and Brenda started crying when I said no…” “He really wanted it? Why doesn’t he wish for a new dad while he’s at it? You’re scared of making your sister cry, but you’re not scared of me divorcing you?” I took a step closer. “I was the one who stood in line for hours in that lottery just to get an application for this school. I asked you to handle the final paperwork because my sister was in labor. But one phone call from Brenda and you run off, leaving our daughter’s future in the dust. I show up today to find out the spot my mother paid for has been given to your nephew. Have you no conscience? Or did I do something in a past life to deserve being tormented by the Davis family?” Before he could answer, Brenda marched over. “Chloe, I am begging you, have some compassion. Everyone falls on hard times. Remember when you needed that specialist for your pre-wedding checkup? Who got you that appointment? Me. And after you had the baby, didn’t I help you out? The hell I’ve been through raising a kid alone is way worse than what you’re feeling today! Leo calls you ‘Auntie,’ but you only think about your own daughter. How can you be so selfish?” “You dare bring that up? Does your family just think I’m a total pushover? Someone you can walk all over for the rest of my life?” If murder wasn’t a crime, I would have thrown them all off a cliff. “You’ve been through hell? I’ve been played for a fool by your entire family, and I’m not the one who’s suffering? My daughter doesn’t have a school to go to, and she’s not the one who’s suffering?” “I’m sending MY daughter to a good school with MY family’s money! It has nothing to do with you!” Brenda clearly hadn’t expected me to fight back so publicly. She grit her teeth, stormed back into the classroom, grabbed the books, and threw them on the floor outside. Then she stomped on them. “Who cares about your stupid limited edition! My son doesn’t want your secondhand crap anyway!” The commotion drew a crowd of other parents and a few frantic teachers who tried to intervene. I had no energy left to fight. I turned and walked away. As the elevator doors slid shut, I could faintly hear Brenda’s curses and Mark’s pathetic attempts to explain. And in that quiet, descending box, a strange calm washed over me. My sister was right. When you look like an easy target, people will never stop targeting you. 3 Worried about Lily, Sara drove us back to our parents’ house. Lying in my childhood bed, staring at the ceiling, the last eight years of my marriage replayed like a corrupted film reel. When I first met his family, Brenda had been sickeningly sweet, grabbing my hand. “I’ve always wanted a sister to go shopping with and talk to. And now, here you are!” Minutes later, while Mark was on the phone, she handed me a brochure for a comprehensive fertility and health screening. “It’s nothing personal, sweetie. It’s just, you’re young, you’ve probably never had a full workup. This package is two thousand dollars, and I had to pull some strings to get you an appointment.” I was mortified. I told her Mark and I already had our own physicals scheduled. Her smile vanished. She grabbed Mark as soon as he returned and berated him. “Why do you need a checkup? You’re a man. It’s the woman who needs to be checked out, make sure everything is clean and ready to produce an heir!” Then came the wedding planning. His parents took a back seat; Brenda made all the decisions. “Let’s keep it traditional,” she’d announced. “My parents will contribute ten thousand towards your down payment, and your parents can match it.” But at the wedding reception, during the toasts, she got up and gave a speech. She went on and on, thanking her parents for their “incredibly generous fifty-thousand-dollar gift” that “made Mark and Chloe’s dream home possible,” while my parents’ contribution was glossed over as “a lovely fund for their honeymoon.” Those words caused a ripple of whispers through the reception hall. The looks of pity, confusion, and even a little scorn felt like needles in my back. They didn’t know my parents had paid for our entire downtown condo, a retail space, and both our cars. Her parents’ check was a fraction of that. Why would she lie? My sister was furious and confronted her. Brenda just smiled sweetly. “Oh my goodness, was I mistaken? I just think it’s a bit tacky to talk about money, you know? We’re all family now. What matters is what we know, not what outsiders think.” It got worse. After the wedding, she posted a photo of me from our wedding day next to my medical report, with the most disgusting caption: “Welcome to the family, Chloe! So glad my brother finally invested in some blue-chip stock. Let’s hope the dividends are high! 😉 #Certified” I completely lost it. Mark and I had our first major fight. He called his sister right in front of me, his voice harsher than I’d ever heard it, telling her she was out of line and had to delete it immediately. On the other end of the line, Brenda burst into theatrical sobs. “It was a joke! How could you turn on me like this? I dropped out of community college and worked two jobs waiting tables to put you through grad school! I sacrificed everything for you, for this family! Have you forgotten? And now you attack me to defend your new wife? You’re breaking my heart!” She screamed at him that he was ungrateful and told him to choose: his wife or his sister. We were newlyweds. Of course he wouldn’t choose divorce. He just sat there, deflated and miserable. He had stood up for me, and I knew he was caught in an impossible position. His father, who was still alive then, stepped in and made Brenda apologize. For Mark’s sake, I forced a smile, played the peacemaker, and accepted her half-hearted apology. A year later, Brenda announced she was pregnant. My in-laws were overjoyed and bought her a small house in their town. I tried to stay out of it. It was their money. My philosophy was to keep a polite distance. But she never stopped calculating. She was always fishing for information about my family’s import-export business, about my sister’s finances, about our assets. The battle lines were drawn long ago. 4 My parents travel constantly for their business. Just before school started, a big shipment to Europe got held up in customs, and they had to fly out on short notice to deal with it. Before she left, my mom made sure the deed for the condo was solely in my name, reminding me over and over to handle Lily’s school registration. But then my sister went into labor, and I rushed to the hospital to be with her. I left the deed and all the registration documents with Mark. He beat his chest and promised he’d take care of everything. Thinking back, it was all part of their plan. A conspiracy between him, his sister, and his mother to play me for a fool. They knew my parents were out of the country and my sister was preoccupied. They saw their window, thinking I was isolated and they could pressure me into giving in. After all, the kid was already in school. What was I going to do, flip the table? “Can’t you sleep, honey?” It was Sara’s voice from the doorway. I quickly sniffled back a tear. “Just a lot on my mind.” “Tell me the truth, Chloe. Have they always treated you like this? You’ve gotten so quiet over the years.” It wasn’t just me. It was Lily, too. Brenda and I were pregnant around the same time. After I gave birth, I was weak, and Mark had just been transferred to a project in another city for six months. Brenda suggested I move in with their mom for a while. She wasn’t working, she said, and could help with the two babies. One day, I came home to the sound of Lily’s blood-curdling screams. I dropped my bags and ran into the bedroom. The scene made my blood run cold. Lily’s right ear was a mess of blood. My mother-in-law was dabbing at it with a tissue. I was so scared my knees felt weak. “What happened?” When Lily saw me, she cried even harder, reaching for me with her tiny arms. Leo started wailing, too. Brenda rushed in, clearly shaken, and scooped up her son. “They were just playing,” she stammered. “Kids don’t know their own strength. It was just a game of darts, he accidentally nicked her…” A game of darts? She had let her son use my daughter as a living dartboard. That’s when I saw it. A cheap plastic dart was stuck in Lily’s ear, the sharp metal tip piercing right through the delicate cartilage. Seeing my expression, Brenda tried to backtrack. “Lots of girls get those cartilage piercings for fashion, right? Look, she got one for free! Saved you some money down the line.” I exploded. “SHE’S NINE MONTHS OLD!” My mother-in-law had been there the whole time. How could she not know how dangerous that was? How could she let her daughter entertain herself by hurting my child? Thankfully, after three stitches at the ER, the doctor said there would be no permanent damage. I called Mark and screamed at him until I was hoarse. That night, I called a lawyer. I was done. But then, I’d watch Lily sleeping, crying out for “Dada” in her dreams, and my resolve would crumble. Mark showed up at my parents’ house and knelt on the doorstep for hours, swearing he would never let me or Lily get hurt again. It’s clear now that I was a fool to believe his pathetic lies. He’s been a parasite’s host for so long, he’s become a parasite himself. He’s willing to be bled dry, but now he expects me and my daughter to be the blood bank, too. What a joke. As the last tear fell, I felt strangely calm. What was the point of an emotional breakdown? They had orchestrated this whole thing because, in the past, I had always backed down for the sake of my child. I gave them the illusion that I was a doormat. Too bad for them. They made a fatal miscalculation. They can mess with me. But they don’t get to mess with my daughter.

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