Author: Momo Chan

Liam and I were the classic story: from high school sweethearts to walking down the aisle. But on the eve of our wedding, he died in a tragic accident. I was sobbing, on the verge of collapsing, when strange lines of text began to drift across my vision. 【CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THE TRAGIC HEROINE THAT HE FAKED HIS DEATH?!】 【Liam’s little canary ran off after she heard he was getting married. He faked his own death overnight to chase her across the ocean. The heroine is crying at his grave while the canary is crying in his bed. I’M SO MAD.】 【It’s such a shame. When he comes back, the heroine won’t know a thing and will just happily marry him anyway…】 Half a month later. News of my engagement to the crown prince of A-City’s high society became the talk of the town. Liam’s best friend, who was in on the whole scheme, rushed to confront me, his voice full of indignation. “It’s barely been a month since Liam died! Are you really that desperate to find a replacement?” I just smiled. “He’s dead. I can’t be expected to stay a widow for him forever, can I?” 1 When the lines of text, like comments from some invisible audience, first appeared, I thought it was a hallucination brought on by grief. But they didn’t stop. 【If the heroine goes up to the rooftop right now, she’ll find out the male lead isn’t dead at all.】 【She’s barely eaten in two days because of him. She can hardly walk. How is she supposed to get to the rooftop?】 My legs felt like they were filled with lead, but I dragged myself towards the stairs, towards the rooftop. As I neared the top, I heard a voice I knew better than my own, laced with a familiar, playful teasing. “Is my funeral still going on?” The voice was coming from the phone of Liam’s best friend, Leo. “Not over yet, man,” Leo replied. “What about Aurora? She hasn’t suspected anything, has she?” “Not a chance,” Leo said with a chuckle. “She’s been running around, taking care of everything. She nearly passed out from grief yesterday. Probably still crying in her room right now.” Liam’s tone was casual, unconcerned. “Just do me a favor and comfort her a little.” Sam, another one of his close friends, chimed in. “But seriously, Liam, you must have really fallen for that little canary of yours. Faking your own death to chase her to England, and making all of us act in this drama with you.” So, the comments were real. My hand tightened on the railing, every cell in my body trembling. Then I heard Liam’s voice again. “Whether I’ve fallen for her or not is none of your business. Just help me keep it from Aurora.” Leo asked the question that was echoing in my own shattered heart. “So, are you still getting married?” “Of course,” Liam said without a moment’s hesitation. “When I get back, the wedding is on as planned. But a guy’s gotta have one last crazy run for love before he settles down, right?” “That’s true.” “Once you’re married, you’re tied down to one person. You don’t get chances like this again, haha.” The three of them laughed, a conspiratorial sound that froze the blood in my veins. A shudder wracked my body. I had prayed countless times for the slimmest possibility that Liam was still alive. I never imagined it would be like this. 2 【OMG, my girl sees the truth! I hope she wakes up and smells the betrayal.】 【GET OUT THERE AND DESTROY THAT SCUMBAG!!!】 But I didn’t rush out to expose them. I turned around and walked silently back down the stairs. After a bout of dry-heaving over the toilet, I stared at the woman in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and raw from nights without sleep, her face a haggard mask of grief. I splashed cold water on my face, then used a towel to wipe away the tear tracks. 【Of course. She knows the truth and she’s still going to silently accept it. I’m so pissed.】 【Well, yeah, she’s madly in love with him. She probably heard him say he’ll still marry her when he gets back and decided to just swallow her pride.】 【I don’t know… I think she’s not revealing her hand just yet. I think she’s planning something big.】 I walked out of the room. Leo handed me a tissue, his face a perfect picture of concern. “Aurora, try not to be so devastated. Liam wouldn’t want to see you like this.” I looked up at his handsome, lying face. “You know,” I said softly, “what if Liam isn’t really dead?” 3 Panic flashed in Leo’s eyes for a split second before he composed himself. “H-How could that be? Aurora, they pulled his jacket and shoes from the river. You saw them yourself.” A week ago, Liam’s car had plunged off a bridge into the river late at night. The police theorized he’d escaped the car only to be swept away by the fierce current. I had waited by the riverbank all night, refusing to sleep. The rescue team searched for days, finding only his coat and one of his shoes. The news had shattered me. Today was supposed to have been our wedding day. I had spent the morning clutching our photos, crying until my head throbbed. And now, I find out it was all a show. My grief, my heartbreak—it was all just a joke to him. 【He could have learned anything, but he chose to learn how to keep a canary on the side. So disappointing.】 【I know, right? At first, I thought this was going to be a super sweet romance. I didn’t expect to be fed a spoonful of crap.】 【She’s a gorgeous, top-tier socialite. If he doesn’t want her, I’ll take her!】 The wave of nausea and sorrow that threatened to overwhelm me was soothed, just slightly, by the strange, supportive comments scrolling past. Leo continued his performance. “Aurora, don’t let your imagination run wild. If Liam could see you now, his heart would break.” His heart would break? How ironic. This morning, I was grateful to him for helping me with the funeral arrangements. Now I realized he was just another snake in the grass. 4 Following a tip from the bullet comments, I found the TikTok account of Liam’s canary. I realized with a jolt that I’d seen her before, right under my nose. She was a minor influencer signed to Liam’s own media company. Her name was Jenny. Her account handle was “JennyLovesLiam.” Her latest video was a street view of London. Two hands tightly clasped, followed by a dusty, travel-worn embrace. The small mole on the man’s hand, at the base of his thumb, was painfully familiar. The caption read: “In a year of pure love, he abandoned his arranged marriage to a socialite and crossed the world for me. The winds of A-City have finally blown all the way to London to find me.” The video had gone viral. The comments were filled with people gushing over their “epic romance.” “CEO chasing after his runaway canary, this is literally a novel coming to life! Aaaaah!” “I know this plot! It means the rich guy really loves YOU, girl! The fiancée is just a plot device to push him to chase after his true love~” “Wow, rich guys really are the most romantic. Can I get a link to your sugar daddy, please? LMAO.” The bullet comments in my vision had a different take: 【Are these commenters even real people? This isn’t some romantic novel, it’s a story about a homewrecker.】 【‘Arranged marriage,’ lol. They’re really trying to make the scumbag look good. The heroine’s original arranged marriage was with the book’s main villain!】 5 Liam and I weren’t an arranged marriage. When I met him in high school, my parents had already selected a fiancé for me: Julian Thorne, the crown prince of the powerful Thorne family. But I didn’t want to marry him. My own parents’ marriage was a loveless transaction. Growing up, I watched them play the happy couple in public, only to bring different partners home behind closed doors. The rare moments they were together were filled with endless arguments and accusations. I was sick of such a hypocritical, broken home. So, I resisted the arranged marriage with everything I had. In my junior year, Liam became the guy who sat behind me in class. When I was at my lowest, he was like a happy puppy, wagging his tail and inching closer. Saying yes when he asked me out felt like the most natural thing in the world. We went from high school sweethearts to the altar. We were the couple everyone envied, the ones who had made their fairytale romance a reality. I basked in their admiration, believing I had found my true love. I never imagined that the person I thought would never betray me had been keeping a canary all this time. In her videos, Jenny called him “hubby” in a cloyingly sweet voice. She posted “A Day in the Life with my Sugar Daddy,” and her followers begged for more. Liam would hold her, filming trendy hand-dance videos with her. His face was never fully in frame, but it was obvious he was enjoying himself. His so-called “business trips” were all trips with her. Countless nights I thought he was working late, he was actually in the arms of another woman. Once, I told him not to work so hard. He’d cupped my face and said, “I need to earn your parents’ respect. And I want to make more money to give you a wedding that everyone will envy.” Five minutes before his “accident,” Liam had sent me a text: “No matter what happens, Liam will love you forever.” I had read that message and cried every single time. Now, all of it had shattered like a soap bubble. 【He even has his excuse ready for when he comes back. He’ll say he was washed downstream, rescued by a family, and had amnesia.】 【And the crazy part is, the heroine believes him! She marries him and begins a lifetime of misery, constantly forgiving his cheating until she dies of depression. Who even writes this kind of misogynistic, old-school garbage anymore?!】 【But wait, the plot has changed now! Our girl knows the truth ahead of time! I hope she doesn’t make the same mistakes!】 6 I went downstairs. Liam’s mother was sitting on the living room sofa. When she saw me, her swollen, red-rimmed eyes shot daggers at me. “If you hadn’t been rushing my son to come back, he wouldn’t have driven off that bridge! You’re the one who killed him!” Liam had been on a “business trip.” The day after his “accident” was the day we were scheduled for our wedding dress fitting. He’d crashed on his way back to me. When I first heard the news, I had swallowed my own grief to comfort his mother. She had shoved me away. “You’re a curse! A jinx! You killed my son!” 【A blessed woman will not enter a cursed house. Heroine, get out while you still can!】 【She won’t. A few days ago, his mom called her a husband-killer and a bad omen, and she just blamed herself for everything. After being abused by this old hag, she gets abused by the ‘resurrected’ scumbag.】 Liam’s mother and I had never gotten along. He had promised me we wouldn’t live with her after we got married. But for the past few days, consumed by guilt, I had let her take all her anger out on me. But now, watching her clutch a black-and-white portrait of Liam, she just looked like a pathetic clown. A small, sharp laugh escaped my lips before I could stop it. She exploded. “What are you laughing at?” She shot up, ready to slap me. Sam rushed to intercept her. “Auntie, please calm down. Aurora is just overwhelmed with grief, her mind isn’t right. Don’t take it personally.” Leo chimed in, “Aurora, just apologize to his mother.” I walked slowly toward Liam’s mother. She must have thought I was going to grovel again, because she turned her head away in disgust. “I don’t care what you say, I’ll never forgive you. You and my son were only engaged, not married. Don’t even think about getting a cent of his inheritance.” But I just leaned in close. And whispered in her ear, “Your son got what he deserved. When are you planning on joining him, you old hag?” She clutched her chest, gasping, and fell back onto the sofa. 【HAHAHA, the old witch is having a stroke! I’m waving the flag for our girl! Let’s see who dares to mess with her now!】 【So satisfying! She’s not taking any more crap!】 The relatives in the room descended into chaos, all rushing to her side. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “She’s the one who killed my son! Leo! Sam! Call the police! Have her arrested!” 【Liam’s mom is genuinely unhinged. No wonder she raised such a scumbag son.】 【Our girl is finally fighting back! Aaaah, I’m so happy!】 【I just hope this is for real. I’m so worried she’ll fold the second he comes back…】 I let tears well up in my eyes. “Since you hate me so much, Auntie, I guess the only thing I can do is move out.” “Aurora, don’t say things you don’t mean,” Leo pleaded. “Don’t try to stop me,” I said firmly. “My being here only makes her feel worse. My decision is final.” Leo and Sam exchanged a look. This was clearly not part of their plan. Leo slipped into a corner to text Liam. 7 Liam’s reply came quickly: “My mom’s just like that. She had a hard time raising me. Tell Aurora to just let her have her way.” “But… she won’t stop yelling at her. Aurora is dead set on moving out.” “So let her move. When the time comes, I’ll just tell her to move back in, and she will.” “Okay, fine. I won’t try to convince her then.” I couldn’t hear their conversation, of course. But the bullet comments kept me informed. After I had packed up all my belongings from the bedroom, my best friend, Nina, arrived with the moving company she’d called for me. “Aurora, are you sure you’re okay?” she asked cautiously. She had seen me at my most broken over the past few days. “I’m fine,” I said, shaking my head. “Right now, I just want to find a place and move out as soon as possible.” An idea suddenly struck her. “My brother has a penthouse he hasn’t used since he moved abroad. Why don’t you stay there for a while? You can move out once you find your own place.” The bullet comments suddenly exploded. 【Our dark and broody villain is finally making his entrance! It’s a shame he doesn’t have a bigger role in the original story, but honestly, I love his character type.】 【He sent the heroine a message, and she still hasn’t replied. Blackening value +10000.】 Villain? Julian? I didn’t even have his number. The last contact I had was an old, forgotten social media account from middle school. It seemed to have been hacked; every couple of months, it would send me a suspicious-looking link. I’d always been afraid it was a virus, so I’d never clicked on them and had muted the chat. That’s why I had completely missed the message he’d sent me a week ago: “Do you need help?” The news of the search for Liam’s body had been all over A-City that night. A video of me, crying during an interview, had gone viral on TikTok. Many people had offered their condolences, sympathizing with my loss. Julian’s message had come on that day. Since I hadn’t seen it, I hadn’t replied. After a moment’s thought, I typed out a polite response: “No, but thank you.” A reply came back instantly: “Okay.” I remembered the day Liam asked me out. He’d met me in the grove of trees next to the school building. The wind was blowing fiercely. As I pushed a strand of hair from my face, I saw him. Julian. He was standing at the end of a second-floor hallway, his hands resting casually on the railing, his dark, intense eyes fixed in my direction. I looked at him. Then I looked down. And smiled at Liam. “Okay,” I said. It wasn’t until Liam kissed my cheek that I looked up again. The boy at the end of the hallway was gone. Only the branches of the trees remained, swaying violently in the wind. 8 I shook off the memory. The room was nearly empty of my things. The framed photo of Liam and me on the nightstand had been knocked over. I stepped on it with my high heel, and the glass shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. He wasn’t dead, but as of this moment, he was dead to me. As I left the house, his mother was still screaming obscenities at my back. “And don’t you dare come back! You’re not welcome to visit my son’s grave, ever!” 【This old hag is so afraid the heroine will fight her for the inheritance. As if Aurora, with her massive family fortune, would care about her scraps.】 【Is your son the emperor? Visiting his grave is a privilege now? Even a dog wouldn’t bother.】 “Auntie, that’s enough,” Sam said wearily. He and Leo walked me to the door. “Aurora, if you need anything, just let us know.” “I won’t. I just want to be alone.” “You know, you might be right,” Leo added. “Maybe Liam is still alive. The police never found a body, right? If we just wait a little longer, maybe there will be good news.” 【Liam’s afraid she’ll do something drastic after moving out, so he’s having his minions give her a sliver of hope.】 【Little does he know, our girl already knows the truth. What a trio of clowns.】 I had my own properties, but they were all rented out. I couldn’t just evict my tenants, so I took Nina up on her offer and had my things moved to the Thornes’ empty penthouse. When Nina handed me the key, I asked, “Your brother won’t be coming back suddenly, will he?” “No way. I just asked him a little while ago. He said he has no plans to return anytime soon. And even if he did, he rarely stays at that place. He usually goes back to the main family estate. You’ll be fine there.” I slept for two days straight, letting the swelling around my eyes go down. That night, Nina invited me out to a bar for a quiet drink. After a few glasses, I saw Leo and his crew. I had no desire to speak to them, so I looked away, pretending I hadn’t noticed them. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him take out his phone, snap a picture of my profile, and send it to Liam. “Hey man, ran into Aurora at a bar. Looks like she’s drowning her sorrows. Should I go over and say something?” “Yeah… I know I didn’t handle this well. She’s been through a lot.” Leo put his phone away and started walking towards me. Halfway there, another message from Liam buzzed on his phone. “Actually, never mind. Don’t bother. Let her feel the pain of losing me. When I ‘come back from the dead,’ she’ll cherish me even more, won’t she?” 9 “That’s true. You’re the expert on this stuff, man.” “Just keep an eye on her for me. Bars can be sketchy. Make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.” The bullet comments scoffed: 【‘Make sure she doesn’t get into trouble,’ he says. LMAO. You can lie to your friends, buddy, but don’t lie to yourself.】 【Hey, rich boy, I dare you to make your fake death a real one. That would be a plot twist.】 Sam sighed wistfully. “Man, when am I going to find a girlfriend as beautiful, devoted, and rich as Aurora? I’d die for a girl like that.” Leo shot him a look. “You could always try to steal her from Liam now.” “No way. Liam would kill me when he gets back.” Over the years I was with Liam, a few of his friends had tried to hit on me privately. When he found out, he cut them off without a second thought. But that cheap possessiveness was not the same as loyalty. Just then, a notification popped up on my phone. JennyLovesLiam, whom you follow, has posted a new video. “VLOG: 23 days until my sugar daddy has to go back home. Today he took me to see the Northern Lights!” The comment section was filled with heartache. “Why does he have to go back?! Can’t he just stay with you forever?!” Jenny replied: “I’m just in it for his money and his body, lol. He’s with me for a month, then he has to go back for his arranged marriage. Time for me to find my next target~” Her followers wailed. “NOOOO, don’t be so tragic!” “I hate fiancées who don’t know their place. Go away, go away, go away!” The bullet comments in my vision were less sympathetic: 【This homewrecker acts so carefree, but she’s the one who chases him back to A-City a few weeks after he returns.】 【Yup. She pretends to be his cousin so she can move into his house and walk in and out of their marital home like she owns the place.】 【Big Rig Trucker Wang: Meet me on the interstate. We need to talk.】 I had spent the last two days binge-watching her videos. The process was like taking a small knife and slowly, methodically carving Liam out of my heart. It was painful, but effective. Grief was gradually being replaced by disgust. Now, watching their sickeningly sweet displays of affection, what I felt most was a sense of relief, like a survivor of a near-fatal disaster. You love having an audience for your happiness so much? Fine. I’ll be happy to grant that wish. I forwarded her account to a friend in the media. “I have a big story for you. Interested?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385242”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was kidnapped by Lana Hill—the ex-wife Damian Thorne claimed to despise. With Damian forced to watch, she took a steel pipe and beat the three-month-old child out of my womb. “This is the price you pay for choosing her, Damian!” she screamed, her face a mask of pure hatred. He had once told me, “If you want revenge, Lana, you’ll have to kill me in my own bed.” After I was rescued, Damian drove a blade through her womb and had her stripped bare, then cast her into the Warrens, the city’s most lawless slum. From that day on, everyone in the city of Crestfall knew: I, Ava Reed, was Damian Thorne’s reason for living. But one week before our wedding, in the hushed quiet of a bridal boutique’s fitting room, I saw him press her against the wall. He was kissing the scarred landscape of her back with a reverence that felt like a punch to my gut. Lana bit his Adam’s apple, her voice a low growl. “You owe me for every one of these scars. How are you going to pay me back?” “How do you want to be paid?” “The same slum you threw me in? I want Ava to experience it, too.” Damian was silent for a beat, then a slow, dark smile spread across his face. “Fine. As you wish.” 1 Noticing his slight hesitation, Lana pushed, her voice sharp and demanding. “What? Feeling sorry for her now? Weren’t you just saying you’d die for a chance to be inside me again?” Damian scoffed. “She’s my wife. If I don’t feel for her, am I supposed to feel for you?” He pulled on his shirt, ready to leave. A flicker of desperation crossed Lana’s eyes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth to his. He recoiled slightly. “What are you, a rabid dog?” “For you? I’d be anything.” Damian took a deep, ragged breath, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. “Pregnant, and you still can’t keep your hands to yourself. Christ, I ought to put you down.” Lana’s laugh was triumphant. “You’d never.” “Shut up.” I couldn’t listen to another word. Pregnant? So, her womb was fine. Damian had lied to me. I raised a trembling hand to my own stomach. Three months ago, the child she had beaten out of me felt like it had dissolved into a pool of warm blood that now clung to my skin, sticky and damning. The memory of Damian’s face, contorted with rage, was seared into my mind. “You killed my son. You’ll never have a child of your own again.” Eight stabs. He’d left Lana with just a breath of life before having her stripped naked and thrown into the Warrens. I’d watched in the rearview mirror as countless grimy hands dragged her into a squalid hovel. It was all a show. A grand, grotesque performance just for me. I wiped away a tear, not of sorrow, but of pure, unadulterated rage, and a bitter smile touched my lips. He’d gotten so used to the good girl, so comfortable with my devotion. Damian had forgotten I was raised on wolf’s blood. Stepping out of the fitting room, a sales associate noticed my pale face. “Miss Reed, are you alright? Can I help you with anything?” My eyes lifted to the centerpiece of the grand hall: the wedding gown Damian had commissioned for me, a one-of-a-kind creation. An hour ago, seeing it had filled me with visions of a lifetime of happiness. Now, it looked like a blade, sharp and cold, plunged into my heart and churning through flesh and bone. The pain was so intense I bit my lip until I tasted blood. I pointed at the dress. “Burn it.” Without a glance at her stunned expression, I pushed open the heavy glass doors and walked out into the cold air. It was late when Damian came home. He wrapped his arms around me from behind just as I closed the files on my phone—five gigabytes of videos and photos sent from an anonymous source. “You didn’t like the dress? Why did you have them burn it?” he murmured into my hair. “It was dirty.” He stiffened, his senses instantly on alert. His grip tightened. “Alright. If you don’t like it, we’ll get rid of it. I’ll have an even better one made for you, my love.” He leaned in to kiss me. But as his face drew near, the images from the video—their bodies entwined, their passionate cries—flashed in my mind. I saw the faint lipstick smudge on his neck, caught the scent of lily of the valley clinging to his clothes—her scent. A wave of nausea crashed over me. I shoved him away and bolted for the bathroom, vomiting until my body convulsed. When I emerged, the entire household staff was lined up in the living room, trembling. Damian sat on the sofa, flicking a lighter open and closed. The dancing flame cast sinister shadows on his grim face. “I pay you a fortune to look after my wife, and this is the care she receives?” These people had been handpicked by Damian himself, their loyalty bought with a price that bound them to him, life and death. If something happened to me, they would pay for it. A young maid fell to her knees, terrified. “Mr. Thorne, we all know Miss Reed is your life. We would never be careless! We’ve been meticulous with everything, from her food to her safety.” A bodyguard entered, ignoring her pleas. He dragged her out, her screams echoing down the hall. A moment later, a sickening thud silenced them. The room was frozen in terror. No one dared to breathe. “Still no one can figure it out?” Damian’s voice was dangerously calm. “Then you’ll all have your hands broken.” My lips tightened. I stepped forward. “It has nothing to do with them. It was my own issue. Let them go.” Damian pulled me into his arms, using his expensive sleeve to gently wipe the moisture from my face. “Since my wife has spoken, we’ll let it go. For today.” But the next morning, every single member of the staff had been replaced. 2 Even with incense burning, the faint, coppery smell of blood lingered in the living room. Damian acted as if nothing had happened, patiently feeding me spoonfuls of nourishing porridge. I swallowed mechanically, a chilling coldness seeping into my bones. Before, I might have convinced myself this was a twisted display of his all-consuming love for me. Now, it was just a pathetic, third-rate farce. He was a masterful actor, and his performance made me sick. “You look beautiful today, baby,” he said, his eyes crinkling. “Any special plans?” I managed a smile. “There’s an auction. I have a surprise for you.” As we were about to leave, his phone rang. A unique ringtone—two long tones, one short. A signal. Before he could answer, I snatched the phone and ended the call. “I want your full attention today. Unless that was a call you couldn’t miss?” My gaze seemed to scorch him. He rubbed his nose, a nervous tic. “Just work. Of course, my wife is more important.” On the way, the phone rang several more times, the same coded ringtone growing more frantic with each call. I could see the irritation building on his face, his composure fraying at the edges. Just as he looked ready to snap, we arrived. I handed the phone back to him. “Go on. Answer it.” He snatched it eagerly, completely missing the icy glint in my eyes. But before he could dial, the doors to the auction hall swung open before us. On the massive wrap-around screen, the image of a man and a woman locked in a passionate embrace assaulted his senses. The man’s face was blurred, but the woman… her face was in perfect, high-definition focus. The familiar, decadent sounds filled the room, and the color drained from Damian’s face. I walked past him and took a seat in the front row. “Some kind soul sent this to me,” I said, my voice carrying in the suddenly quiet hall. Ignoring his ashen face, I added mockingly, “Damian, darling, did you know your ex-wife was so… adventurous? She doesn’t seem to be very picky.” A murmur went through the crowd. “That man’s build… looks a bit like Mr. Thorne, doesn’t it?” someone whispered. “Don’t be ridiculous,” another shot back. “Everyone knows Ava Reed is the love of his life. His ex-wife is the monster who killed their baby. He hates her guts. He’d never touch a woman like that.” Reassured, the crowd grew bolder. A man hoping to curry favor with us snickered loudly, “I gotta say, though, the woman’s got a hell of a body. Getting my blood pressure up just looking at her.” “I’d pay good money for a night with that,” another voice boomed. As the vulgar comments filled the air, Damian’s face grew darker with every passing second. His fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white, yet his voice was deceptively soft when he spoke to me. “Ava, please. Lana was with me once. This is humiliating for me, too. Take the video down. Whatever you’re angry about, I’ll deal with her later for you.” Deal with her? Like he did in the fitting room? I smiled coldly. “Alright.” The screen went black. Damian had barely breathed a sigh of relief when his pupils dilated in horror. From the ceiling, a giant golden cage was slowly lowered onto the stage. Inside, bound hand and foot with tape across her mouth, was Lana Hill. She was huddled in a corner, trembling. Her revealing clothes showed off the scars on her body, which had been artfully covered by an intricate tattoo of a mountain landscape, the ink twisting over her skin. It was a sight that ignited a primal lust in every man in the room. The hall erupted. “A million! I’ll pay a million for her, Miss Reed!” “Five million! She’s mine tonight!” “Get in line! I’ll pay whatever it takes!” Amidst the roaring bids, I turned to Damian, my smile as sweet as poison. “Darling, the money from selling Lana can pay for my new wedding dress.” “Enough.” Damian’s facade finally shattered. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at me, his voice a raw, desperate roar. “Ava, stop this! Let her down right now! The man in that video… it was me!” 3 His confession fell into a dead silent room. I slowly looked up at him. In that silent, charged space, he saw the dead, empty coldness in my eyes, and his heart gave a violent lurch. His voice softened, turning pleading. “Ava, it’s my fault. I can explain everything. Punish me however you want, but Lana is innocent in this. She’s… she’s pregnant with my child!” Lana. Not the monster he claimed to hate, but Lana. I stared into his eyes. “And what about our child? Did our baby die for nothing?” He answered as if he’d rehearsed the lines, his tone sickeningly reasonable. “Lana has already agreed. She’ll give you this child. We’ll raise it as our own. Boy or girl, all our assets will go to them. The three of us will be a happy family.” His shamelessness left me stunned for a solid two seconds before I burst out laughing, a harsh, grating sound. “You lied to me, you got the woman who murdered my child pregnant, and now you want me to raise your bastard? And you think that’s some kind of gift to me?” My voice dropped to a venomous whisper. “Damian, aren’t you afraid the ghost of my child will come for you in the middle of the night?” His face instantly turned cold. “What do you mean, ‘bastard’? This is our child too. When did you become so bitter and cruel, Ava? You can’t even tolerate a child? You disappoint me.” He sighed, as if burdened by my pettiness. “Just let her go, Ava. I’ll make sure Lana only sees the child a few times a week. Hasn’t she been punished enough?” I was so furious I could only laugh. Then, I slapped him. Hard. The words were squeezed from between my clenched teeth. “Let her go? In your dreams.” I pointed to the man who had offered the highest price. “Mr. Russo, she’s all yours. Enjoy.” Russo hesitated for a moment, glancing nervously at Damian. I added, “If you don’t take her, I’m not refunding the auction price.” That settled it. He clenched his jaw, stormed the stage, and started dragging Lana toward a back room. Damian moved to follow, but I spoke from behind him, my voice a blade of ice. “Damian Thorne, if you take one step into that room, we are finished.” His body went rigid, his eyes looking as though they were about to bleed. Suddenly, a woman’s piercing shriek tore through the room. “Damian, save me—Ah!” All rationality abandoned him. He charged into the room like a madman. A gunshot rang out, and his bodyguards swarmed in, dragging out a blood-soaked Mr. Russo. Damian completely lost control, kicking and stomping at the man’s groin like a wild animal. It was Lana’s sobbing that finally broke through his rage. He lifted her into his arms and strode past me, bumping my shoulder without a second glance. Just then, Lana, nestled safely in his embrace, lifted her head and shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice. “You pathetic bitch, did you really think you meant anything to him? Damian has always loved me! And here’s something you don’t know: after I beat that little bastard out of you, Damian himself ordered the doctors to have your uterus transplanted into me!” “Shut up!” Damian’s face went white. He shot a panicked look at me. But Lana just laughed, emboldened. “You’re useless now, Ava. A broken, barren hen that will never lay an egg.” The world went silent. I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. A roar filled my ears, and my mind went blank. No wonder my body had felt so alien after the D&C. The man I had loved for six years. He had personally destroyed my chance of ever being a mother. All for the woman who had murdered our child. A vicious, churning pain erupted in my chest, a pain so dense it felt like it was going to tear me apart from the inside out. I doubled over, each breath a fresh slice of agony, like death by a thousand cuts. A flicker of guilt and pity crossed Damian’s face. He started to step toward me, but Lana went limp in his arms. “Damian,” she whimpered, “my stomach hurts… the baby… is something wrong with the baby?” At the mention of the child, that fleeting trace of concern for me vanished. He looked at her, his priorities clear. Without another thought, he swept her up and rushed away. As I watched his retreating back, the last ember of warmth in my heart died, leaving behind nothing but cold, hard ash. I leaned against the wall, my gaze empty, staring at nothing. It took a long time before I could raise my phone and dial a number that had lain dormant for years. “I’ve made my decision. I’m coming back. The marriage alliance with the Hawthornes of the North… I’ll accept.” 4 Damian returned that night. He knelt in the center of the living room and, in front of me, had his bodyguards lash him ninety-nine times with a whip. Blood seeped into the grout between the marble tiles, the metallic stench making me sick. I turned away, picked up the divorce papers from the table, and held them out to him. “Sign them. We were legally married but never had the wedding. Not many people know. It will be a clean break.” He looked as if he’d been struck by lightning, the color draining from his face. He shook his head frantically, reaching for my hand. “No, Ava, I won’t divorce you. I love you, Ava, I love—” I stepped back, and he stumbled forward, falling to the floor. His eyes darted to the fruit knife on the side table. In a crazed motion, he snatched it and plunged it into his own abdomen. Damian had made his start in the city’s underworld; he was ruthless with others, and even more so with himself. He forbade the staff from calling a doctor and waved away his bodyguards. His eyes were locked on me as he gave a weak, pained smile. “Is that enough to make you feel better? If not, I can do it again.” I stared at the blood pouring from his wound, then finally lowered my gaze. “The divorce, or the baby in Lana Hill’s womb. Choose one.” The smile froze on his face. Damian disappeared for three days. When he returned, he looked like a hollowed-out shell of a man. He threw a medical report on the table in front of me. An abortion report. His face was a mask of agony. “Lana’s baby is gone. Are you satisfied now?” I didn’t even glance at it. He sighed, a sound heavy with exhaustion, and knelt before me, taking my hands in his. “Ava, I’ve sent Lana away. Can we please go back to how things were?” He orchestrated the murder of my child, ensured I could never be a mother again, and now he thought a simple, dismissive “sent her away” could erase the soul-crushing pain I endured. Damian was always so arrogantly certain that if he just bowed his head a little, I would forgive him for anything. He didn’t know. We could never go back. Seeing my silence, he tried a different tactic. “Some friends are throwing a ‘finally-off-the-market’ party for us tonight. Let’s go together.”

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1 At the opening gala for the new exhibition, a notification popped up from my husband’s social media—a post he’d hidden from my feed. “May my muse astonish the world.” The girl in the photo was wearing my missing “Morning Star” brooch, a bespoke piece. Just then, a spotlight flared to life on stage, and the host’s voice boomed through the hall. “Please welcome the brilliant emerging artist, Luna Jiang!” It was the girl from the photo. I smiled, snapped a picture of the stage, and sent it to my husband, Warwick. “If I reported a theft, how many years do you think she’d get?” As I hit send, a bank of camera flashes illuminated the side of the stage. My husband, Warwick Vance, was standing there, his gaze fixed on the woman in the spotlight with an expression of pure adoration. I walked straight up to him. “Warwick, darling,” I said, my smile unwavering. “Fancy seeing you here.” … The moment our eyes met, the tender smile on Warwick’s face froze. I acted as if I hadn’t noticed a thing, my voice laced with concern. “You look so pale, Warwick. Are you not feeling well?” Mr. Davies, the gallery director, approached us just then, his eyes darting between us. “Ms. Sterling, you and Mr. Vance know each other?” He gestured toward Warwick, his tone full of admiration. “Mr. Vance here is the new honorary director of our gallery! We have him to thank for funding both our young artist sponsorship program and the complete overhaul of our security systems. We’ve even named the east wing ‘The Vance Light’ in his honor.” Mr. Davies beamed at Warwick. “Mr. Vance, if you had told us you were coming tonight, we would have arranged the head seat for you!” He must not have heard the intimate way I’d said Warwick’s name. My lips curved into a smile as I looped my arm through Warwick’s rigid one. “Oh, we’re more than just acquainted, Mr. Davies.” “We’re legally married.” I tilted my head, my smile never faltering. “Right, darling?” A tremor ran through Warwick’s arm. He managed a strained smile. “I was just passing by and saw there was an event, so I thought I’d drop in. I didn’t want to disturb anyone.” He brushed past the director’s question, his voice low as he introduced me. “This is my wife, Kathy Sterling.” His eyes flickered away, unable to meet mine. I didn’t expose his pathetic lie on the spot. Instead, I turned my attention to the stage, feigning admiration. “Mr. Davies, who was Miss Jiang’s mentor? Her work has such a spark.” At the mention of her name, the director became effusive. “Luna? A true prodigy. An incredible talent from a very humble background. She’s the rising star we have the highest hopes for. Mr. Vance was the one who discovered her—her patron. He not only brought her to our attention but has provided immense support to the gallery on her behalf.” I nodded slightly, listening in silence. As the evening wound down, Mr. Davies eagerly led Luna over to us. “Luna, come and meet the esteemed Kathy Sterling! Ms. Sterling is the one who established our ‘Voyager Fund’ for new artists.” He added with a chuckle, “What a coincidence that your patron is Ms. Sterling’s husband.” Luna greeted me respectfully, her words a perfect blend of awe for me and gratitude for Warwick. She projected an image of humility and fragility, but I could see the calculating assessment—and the hostility—she couldn’t quite hide in her eyes. My gaze settled on the brooch pinned to her dress. “Miss Jiang,” I began, my voice soft, “for someone from such a humble background, how can you afford a custom piece from ‘Morning Star’?” I paused, letting the silence hang in the air. “It’s a remarkable coincidence. It looks almost identical to a one-of-a-kind piece I lost a while ago.” The color drained from Luna’s face. She shot a desperate, pleading look at Warwick. He gave her a sharp, warning glare. She immediately lowered her head, her voice a small, wounded whisper. “The brooch… I made it myself, a replica from design sketches using cheaper materials. The diamonds are just crystals. It may be a fake, but I wanted the presentation of my work to be perfect.” I didn’t press further. I just turned to Warwick and gave him a slow, meaningful smile. “Darling, I was particularly fond of that brooch. If I find out some sticky-fingered thief made off with it, I’ll make them pay dearly.” Warwick’s face was a thundercloud. He seized my wrist, his grip tight, his voice strained. “Kathy. It’s time to go home.” 2 The heavy front door clicked shut behind us. I turned, my eyes cold steel. “Warwick, you had better have a damn good explanation.” He rushed forward, his words tumbling out. “Kathy, I swear, there’s nothing between us! The girl is incredibly talented, but she comes from nothing. It was just… a moment of weakness for a promising artist…” I cut him off with a scornful laugh. “Sponsoring her when she was a minor? Fine. But she’s twenty now, perfectly capable of standing on her own two feet.” “Starting next month, you will pay only the gallery’s basic contract fee. Not a single cent more for materials. I’ll have Mr. Davies arrange an assistant’s position for her at the gallery; it won’t interfere with her creative work.” I stared directly at him, laying out my terms, one by one. “You will cut off all contact with her. That includes the sponsorship. From now on, the money will be transferred directly from my personal account to the gallery.” “And,” my gaze intensified, “everything you’ve given her—the brooch, anything else—will be returned. In its original condition. If Luna Jiang wants to be a high-minded artist, she can stop acting like a canary in a gilded cage.” A storm of emotions crossed Warwick’s face before he finally slumped in defeat and nodded. He turned and walked away without another word. Years ago, the Vance family, desperate for a foothold in the cultural sector, had sent their meticulously groomed heir to me. He was refined, tasteful, and elegant. Though I had little interest in romance, I saw the value in a power merger and agreed to the marriage. After we married, we discovered a shared passion for the arts and enjoyed several years of genuine harmony. Though the passion had faded recently, we remained respectful partners. I understood that all marriages eventually settle into a quiet routine, but I would never, ever tolerate betrayal. The next day, as promised, Warwick returned with everything. The ‘Morning Star’ brooch lay nestled in its velvet box on the table before me. “Kathy, I’ve made it clear to her. We won’t have any more contact,” he vowed, his tone earnest. Seeing his compliance, the fire in my chest cooled slightly. I said nothing more. The moment Warwick left, a friend request popped up on my phone. It was from Luna. I was wondering how she got my contact information when a second request came through. Assuming it was about the sponsorship, I accepted, ready to handle it professionally. Before I could type a single word, my screen was flooded with her messages. “Ms. Sterling, don’t you think you’re overreaching? You’re nothing but a parasitic vine living off your husband’s capital.” “By what right do you take back the gifts Mr. Vance gave me?” “He paid for them with his own money! He can give them to whomever he wants!” “You call yourself a great curator? What kind of power trip is this, crushing a young artist like me?” I read the defiant words, a cold smile spreading across my lips. Not a delicate flower, then. A venomous little snake with fangs. I typed back slowly. “Warwick and I are legally married. Our assets are shared. It is my right to spend his money. But every cent he spent on you is marital property. If I wanted to, I could sue you for malicious appropriation and make you pay back every last penny, with interest.” “Miss Jiang, is this how an artist who depends on sponsorship speaks to her patron? I suggest you learn your place. It wasn’t easy to claw your way out of some backwater village into the city. Don’t throw it all away.” “I’ll let this slide as youthful impulsiveness. But if there is a next time, your contract and your assistant position will be gone.” The chat window went silent. She didn’t reply. I didn’t give it another thought. I’d seen countless girls like her, trying to climb the social ladder on their backs. They rarely end well. 3 Just then, my mother called. “Kathy, darling, your grandmother misses you. Can you come to the estate for a visit soon?” Grandmother’s health had been declining for years, and Warwick and I made a point to visit whenever we could. With my latest exhibition just wrapped up, my schedule was clear. “Of course,” I said cheerfully. “Warwick and I will come together.” The night before our trip, however, Warwick called. “Kathy, I’m so sorry. There’s an urgent merger at the company. I have to fly to Zurich immediately. I won’t be able to go with you.” His voice was thick with apology. “I’ve already prepared the nutritional supplements for Grandmother, don’t forget to take them. I promise I’ll make time to see her as soon as this project is over.” Work had always been our priority. “Alright,” I said, understanding. Back at the family estate, I was strolling with Grandmother through the nearby botanical gardens when she suddenly pointed into the distance. “Kathy, look. Doesn’t that man look a bit like Warwick?” My heart sank. I followed her gaze. It was him. Even from the back, I recognized the cashmere coat from the photo he’d sent me that morning. Beside him, Luna Jiang leaned in affectionately as they stood before easels, seemingly sketching the scenery. I forced the rage down, laughing lightly. “Grandmother, your eyesight is getting worse. He’s on a business trip in Zurich. How could he possibly be here? The wind is picking up, let’s go sit in the teahouse up ahead.” Once I had Grandmother settled, I sent my live location to Warwick. Then I called him. “Warwick. You have three minutes. Get here now.” His voice on the other end was surprised. “Kathy? What are you doing nearby?” I laughed, a sound devoid of humor. “I should be asking you that. Aren’t you supposed to be in Zurich?” He stammered. “Luna… she was having creative block, and today is her birthday, so I brought her out for some inspiration…” “Shut up,” I snapped. “Get to the location I sent you. Immediately.” He refused outright. “Kathy, I’m the one who brought her here. I can’t just abandon her. You and Grandmother go on ahead. I’ll explain everything when I get back tonight.” “Warwick, if you are not here in three minutes, you will face the consequences.” Before I could finish, he hung up. When I tried to call back, his phone was off. A moment later, Luna’s social media feed updated. [Someone said they’d block out the whole world just to look at the scenery with me~] The accompanying photo was of Warwick’s back as he held a delicate paper umbrella over her head. I was trembling with fury. I opened my chat with Luna. “Have Warwick call me back in the next three minutes, or you will both regret it.” The message was met with silence. Three minutes passed. Nothing. I didn’t hesitate. I called my assistant. “Terminate all cooperation with Luna Jiang. Immediately.” Then, I screenshotted Luna’s post and uploaded it to my own account. [Husband lies about a business trip to take his sponsored student on a ‘creative retreat,’ then blocks his wife’s calls. Thoughts?] The post exploded. [What is happening? Isn’t Mr. Vance supposed to be the perfect doting husband? Is this real?] My feed blew up with comments and shares. Soon, Warwick’s name was flashing on my screen, call after call. I declined and blocked his number. The next morning, Warwick’s parents dragged him to my door. The second they were inside, his father’s foot shot out, kicking him hard. “You disgraceful whelp! You’ve dragged the Vance family name through the mud!” His mother, trembling with rage, slapped him squarely across the face. They continued to berate and hit him right in front of me. When they had vented enough, his mother turned to me, her tone shifting. “Kathy, Warwick was just momentarily foolish. There’s really nothing going on with that girl. Don’t take it to heart.” His father kicked him again. “Get on your knees and apologize to Kathy!” Warwick dropped to his knees with a thud. When he looked up, his eyes were bloodshot. “Kathy, I was wrong. I swear I’ll never contact her again. Please, just forgive me this once.” Looking at his pathetic state and the sincerity in his eyes, I couldn’t bring myself to throw away our entire relationship. 4 I sighed, my voice heavy. “Warwick, this is the last time.” As a show of his resolve, Warwick deleted all of Luna’s contact information right then and there. In the following days, he came home on time every evening. He even started learning to cook to please me. Our relationship seemed to return to the warmth of our early years. I believed the chapter with Luna was closed, and I threw myself into preparing for my studio’s annual exhibition. After countless sleepless nights perfecting the new series, everything was finally ready. I told my team the official opening was in three days and sent them home to rest. The next morning, Faye, one of my signed artists, called me. “Kathy… I… I’ve been replaced.” I was stunned. “But the exhibition isn’t for two more days.” Faye’s voice broke. “Mr. Vance… he moved the opening to today!” My mind went blank. I grabbed my car keys and bolted out the door. When I arrived at the gallery, Warwick was on stage, confidently answering questions from the press. And standing beside him, glowing under the lights, was Luna Jiang. The paintings hanging behind her were Faye’s new series—the work she had poured her heart and soul into. Shaking with rage, I stormed the stage. “Warwick! What is the meaning of this?” He flinched when he saw me, a flicker of panic in his eyes, but he quickly composed himself. “Kathy, Faye wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t make it. I asked Luna to fill in at the last minute.” The words were barely out of his mouth when Faye emerged from the crowd. “I am not sick! Mr. Vance’s secretary informed me that I had been replaced!” A wave of murmurs swept through the audience. I pointed at Luna, my voice dripping with ice. “Take down her paintings and get her out of here. This is my exhibition. Who the hell is she to display the work of an artist from my studio?” Tears welled up in Luna’s eyes. “Ms. Sterling, I didn’t know anything about this, please, don’t do this to me…” Warwick pulled her behind him protectively. “Kathy, this was my decision. Don’t take it out on Luna!” I laughed coldly. “Warwick, you’ve crossed every line for her. This project was my baby, and now you’re interfering with this, too? Have you forgotten how you knelt and swore to me?” Luna’s sobs grew louder as she clutched Warwick’s sleeve. “Mr. Vance, please don’t fight with Ms. Sterling because of me… It’s all my fault. I’m just not worthy of your kindness…” Seeing her tear-streaked face, Warwick glared at me. “Kathy, this project might be your work, but it belongs to my company! As the president, what’s wrong with me replacing one artist?” Before I could argue, he cut me off, his voice rising in accusation. “You’re too controlling! You cut off her funding over something so trivial and had the gallery suspend her work! You even hired people to harass her! She’s just a child, fresh out of school, and you’ve pushed her to the brink of a depressive relapse! I wouldn’t be helping her if it weren’t for that! I’m cleaning up your mess!” I was so furious I laughed. “My mess? Warwick, you’re a master of self-deception! How dare you be so self-righteous about your affair!” His nerve was struck. He flushed with anger. “Kathy, if you cause any more trouble, I will have you removed from your position immediately! You can be a stay-at-home wife!” CRACK! I had reached my limit. I slapped him, hard. He clutched his cheek, his face dark with fury, and called for security. “Get these two crazy women out of here! Don’t let them ruin the exhibition!” Faye and I were brutally dragged out of the gallery. Staring at the closed doors, I let out a cold, sharp laugh. I took out my phone and dialed the director of my family’s investment group. “Immediately cease all investment in Vance Industries and sever all partnerships. Recall all our personnel. Three days. I want Warwick Vance to have nothing left.”

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For five years, I was the top executive assistant to the CEO of Thorne Corporation, living less like an employee and more like a servant hired to clean up the messes of him and his fiancée. When he had an affair, I sanitized the scene. When his fiancée, who suffered from severe anxiety, had a meltdown, I was her 24/7 punching bag. When she checked up on him, I was the shield. When she hunted for his mistress, I was the scapegoat. Coffee thrown in my face and slanderous rumors were just part of the job description. Marcus Thorne thought he could buy my life with a pittance of a salary and a hollow phrase like “I value you.” That all changed the night Liana Bloom broke into my apartment with a knife, and he said with a frown, “Alice, just apologize, and we can put this behind us.” I looked at them, and a slow, cold smile spread across my face. Fine. One a monster, one a madwoman. A match made in hell. In that case, I would take everything they held dear, piece by piece, and smash it all to smithereens. 1 My phone vibrated violently across my desk, the clock on the screen reading 2:00 AM. Liana Bloom’s name glowed like a death sentence. I had just wrapped up 48 consecutive hours of high-intensity work, and my eyelids felt like they were lined with lead. I rubbed my throbbing temples and forced down the wave of irritation as I answered. “Alice! Why isn’t Marcus answering my calls? Did you hide him from me? Are you with him?” Liana’s voice was a choked sob. I glanced at the glass wall of the CEO’s office, seeing the entangled silhouettes of two figures reflected in the dark pane. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, but I kept my voice steady. “Miss Bloom, Mr. Thorne is in an overseas video conference. It’s been running for six hours, and his phone is on silent.” “You’re lying! I know you’re in there with him!” she shrieked. “Put him on the phone! Now! Right now!” Her voice was so shrill it felt like a shard of glass in my ear. “I’m sorry, I don’t have the authority to interrupt the CEO’s meeting.” Even through my exhaustion, my tone was placid. How could I tell her that her fiancé was actually in his office with a young influencer, and that after my official workday ended at six, my job had been to clear the building, greet the girl at seven, and then stand guard outside, a forced audience to their six-hour tryst? As expected, her next words were an accusation. “You’re just an assistant! Who the hell are you to keep me from my own fiancé? Are you trying to sleep your way to the top? Let me tell you, I will never let you succeed!” The line went dead, immediately followed by a barrage of dozens of abusive text messages. I stared at the screen filled with vile curses, my face a mask of indifference as I screenshotted each one and saved them to a private, encrypted folder. How many times had this happened? I’d lost count. I had reported it to Marcus before, but it always ended the same way: with him telling me that managing Liana’s “anxieties” was part of my job. My KPI. Just as I was about to pass out from exhaustion, the office door swung open. Marcus emerged, his arm draped around the influencer. “Alice, go in there and clean up. Leave no trace,” he commanded, his tone casual, entitled. “Liana is sensitive, and she’s been dropping by unannounced lately. I don’t want her to see anything.” This wasn’t the first time. Marcus loved the thrill of fooling around in his office, never a hotel, never his home. But he was terrified of exposure, so I was his permanent lookout and his clean-up crew. And in the eyes of his fiancée, Liana, the blame for every one of his infidelities landed squarely on my shoulders. The next day, during a break in a client meeting, Liana walked up to me, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. “Alice, you’ve worked so hard. Here’s a coffee, on me.” Before I could react, she “tripped,” sending the entire scalding contents of the cup onto my white silk blouse. Gasps erupted around us as Liana’s eyes filled with crocodile tears. “Oh my God, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to! Are you okay, Alice?” Marcus rushed over at the commotion. He took one look at the scene, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He immediately wrapped an arm around Liana, comforting her. “It’s alright, Lia. I know you didn’t mean it.” Only after soothing his fiancée did he turn his irritated gaze to me, drenched and humiliated. “Alice, we have another client meeting shortly. Go get yourself cleaned up.” He added, as an afterthought, “It’s just a shirt. I’ll have finance approve fifty bucks for a replacement. They can take it out of next month’s travel budget.” Fifty bucks? The designer blouse I had splurged on to maintain a professional image for his company had cost me five hundred. My colleagues shot me looks of pity, but mostly, it was weary resignation. Everyone knew that as the CEO’s executive assistant, I earned barely more than an intern, did the work of three people, and was expected to silently endure the whims of the boss’s unhinged fiancée. That evening, Marcus kept me after hours, his tone one of faux confidentiality. “Alice, I know today was difficult. I got home late last night, and Liana is very perceptive. She smelled a different perfume on my clothes and assumed you were getting too close.” I had reached my breaking point. I told him Liana’s behavior was severely impacting my work and showed him the screenshots of her abusive messages. His gentle demeanor vanished, replaced by a flash of anger. “Alice, you disappoint me. I hired you for your calm and steady nature. I trusted you to keep Liana calm.” His voice hardened. “Do you know how many Ivy League graduates would kill for a position at Thorne? I gave you, a state school graduate, this opportunity because I valued you. Is this how you repay me?” “Mr. Thorne, I am simply reporting a serious issue—” He slammed his tablet on the desk, cutting me off. “What kind of job do you think you’ll find if you leave Thorne Corp? Or is it that you’re unwilling to placate Liana because, just like all those other women, you have inappropriate feelings for me?” “I do not—” “Good. Then remember that your job includes managing my fiancée. If you can’t handle it, I have no problem finding an assistant who can.” A chill ran down my spine. After everything I had done for him and his company, I was still just a disposable cog in his machine. Seeing my crestfallen expression, his tone softened. “Think about your rent next month, Alice. And your parents back home, your sister who needs your support.” He knew exactly where to twist the knife. For this mediocre salary, for the “respectable” job my parents were so proud of, for my younger sister’s leukemia treatments that had started five years ago, I swallowed my pride one more time. My submission bought me a brief period of peace. A few days later, Marcus handed me a small, velvet jewelry box. “It’s Liana’s birthday tomorrow. I need you to give this to her. I’ve got plans that night, so just keep her company until morning.” “Sir, that’s not appropriate—” “It’s perfectly appropriate. Take her shopping. The company will reimburse you for thirty percent of any expenses.” He continued, his voice smooth as silk. “I gave you this job, I gave you access to the core of my business. You owe your entire career to me.” So, not only was I to spend the night with his fiancée so he could cheat, I was also expected to cover seventy percent of the costs myself, all as “repayment” for the “opportunity” he’d given me. When I presented Liana with the lavish bracelet from Marcus, she was ecstatic, holding out her slender arm for me to admire, gushing about how perfect they were together. But her mood soured quickly. She demanded I call Marcus and tell him to come home. I knew Marcus had planned a foursome at the office that night. My call would be less than useless. “Miss Bloom, Mr. Thorne has a very important engagement tonight. He really can’t get away. Perhaps I could take you home, or we could continue shopping—” “Shopping? I see what this is. You’re the one keeping me from him, you damn homewrecker!” CRACK! The sharp, stinging slap echoed in the quiet, upscale boutique. Liana looked as shocked as I was for a moment, before her face crumpled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it! But why are you trying to steal my man? Just because he has money, you think you can throw yourself at him?” The other shoppers fell silent, all eyes on us. My cheek burned, a perfect red handprint blooming on my skin. I heard the whispers: shameless, gold-digger, sleeping with a taken man, slut… I wanted to defend myself, but Liana had already collapsed onto the floor, sobbing hysterically, drawing an even larger crowd of onlookers. Fearing what this unstable woman might do next, I had no choice but to half-drag, half-carry her home and hand her over to her housekeeper. My “kindness” was not rewarded. Soon, rumors began circulating at work: I was using unethical means to win projects, sabotaging my colleagues, taking bribes from partners. The source of this slander was obvious. I had had enough. I went to Marcus, demanding he clear my name. When I entered his office, he was lounging on the sofa, a smirk playing on his lips. “Rumors, Alice? You know what they say, where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Perhaps your own behavior hasn’t been entirely professional?” He didn’t care about the truth. He enjoyed this—the power, the control, watching his fiancée toy with me while I scrambled to survive. A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. He had never seen me as a person. I was a tool to pacify his fiancée, an object to display his power over, a cheap and disposable slave. Rage and shock warred within me. I stopped trying to argue. I pulled the resignation letter I had prepared from my bag and slapped it down on his desk. Without a backward glance, I walked out. I didn’t tell my parents I had quit. I didn’t tell them I had no way to pay for my sister’s next round of treatment. I spent my days compiling a dossier on Marcus and Liana—every threat, every incident—while frantically sending out resumes. My family’s situation meant I couldn’t afford to be unemployed for a single day. But my job search was a dead end. Every application vanished into a black hole. The few interviews I landed were mysteriously rejected at the final stage. After a week of this, a text from Marcus arrived. [Alice, you were in the wrong first. But in light of your five years of service, I’m giving you one last chance. Come to the office tomorrow, apologize to Liana in front of everyone, and we’ll consider this matter closed.] I laughed until tears streamed down my face. But my pride wouldn’t let me crawl back, even though he had me pinned. I knew then that he was the one sabotaging my job search. If I was going down, I was taking them with me. I compiled a portion of my evidence, anonymized it, and sent it to several gossip reporters, including several suggestive photos of Marcus with various women. The internet began to stir. My phone rang. It was Marcus, roaring with fury. “Alice, you backstabbing bitch! You think you can threaten me? I will destroy you. You’ll never work in this industry again. Expect a call from my lawyers!” His power was formidable. The posts were taken down by that evening, replaced by a unified narrative from several popular blogs. #Thorne Corp Exec Assistant, Spurned and Bitter, Spreads Malicious Lies# Liana saw the articles. She showed up at my cheap rental apartment with a group of hired thugs. “Alice, you pathetic slut! Can’t live without a man, can you? How dare you spread lies online!” Her eyes were filled with venom. “Get her! Rip that seductive face of hers apart!” As her goons descended on me, a man who had witnessed the slapping incident in the boutique happened to be passing by. He clicked his tongue. “Well, well. The wife finally came to deal with the mistress.” The word “mistress” sent Liana into a complete frenzy. Ignoring my battered body on the floor, she shrieked and pulled a glittering fruit knife from her purse. “It was you! How dare you? Marcus is mine! You can die!” As she lunged, a cold, final despair washed over me. In the shadow of death, I used my last ounce of strength to twist away. The blade missed my heart, but plunged deep into my side. White-hot pain exploded through me. Warm blood gushed out, soaking my shirt. I staggered back, clutching the wound, staring in disbelief at the demonic face before me. Seeing the blood on her knife seemed to snap her out of it for a second, but the madness quickly returned. “Good. Once you’re dead, you can’t seduce my Marcus anymore.” Before the pain and terror could overwhelm me, I fumbled for the phone in my pocket and hit the emergency dial button. Then, I collapsed into a pool of my own blood. The sharp pain in my side and the sterile smell of antiseptic brought me back to consciousness. I was in a hospital. I had been saved.

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The day my sister gave birth to my nephew, she ran off with my wealthy boyfriend. Furious, and armed with a face identical to hers, I knocked on the door to my brother-in-law’s bedroom. I vowed to take her place and make their lives a living hell. Ten years later, my sister came back. She took one look at the thriving nephew I’d raised and my brother-in-law’s booming business and sneered, “I’m giving your boyfriend back. Now it’s time you gave me back the family you stole.” The catch? My wealthy ex-boyfriend was bankrupt. “Dare to cause a scene,” she threatened, “and I’ll tell everyone about your sordid little affair with my husband.” I gritted my teeth and gave in. That night, I booked a flight, my taxi racing toward the airport. But then he was in the back seat, pulling me down onto his lap. “I’m far more useful than that rich boy,” he growled. “Want to try me?” 1 The day my sister gave birth to my nephew, she ran off with my wealthy boyfriend, Percy Waylett. She even had the nerve to send me a selfie of them, tangled together in a hotel bed. The caption read: Goodbye, little sister. You could never beat me when we were kids, and you certainly can’t now. Rage, hot and blinding, surged through me. I stared into the mirror, at the face I shared with my twin, and a dark plan began to form. That night, I knocked on the door to my brother-in-law Liam’s bedroom. If she was going to abandon her husband and newborn son in this city, then she couldn’t blame me for making their lives a living hell. Liam was flustered by his wife’s sudden, cold transformation. But his business was teetering on the edge of collapse, and he naturally assumed his “wife” was angry at him for failing to provide. It was, in his mind, a rage he deserved. So he bent over backward to please me, becoming even more subservient. Every time I berated him, even when I lashed out physically, he would just lower his head in silence, promising that he’d make things right, that he’d give me the life I deserved soon. I knew my brother-in-law was a decent, simple man. I just hadn’t realized how much of a pushover he was. So I turned my attention to her child. By the time he was three, the boy, Leo, genuinely believed I was his mother. But I was a harsh one. I was stingy with food, with affection, and my words were often sharp and cutting. Each time, he’d just bite his lip, his little hands twisting the hem of his shirt, his big eyes welling with tears. He’d whisper, his voice trembling, “Don’t be mad, Mommy… I’ll go kneel outside. Please don’t be angry, it’s bad for you.” …Like father, like son. A matched set of doormats. This continued until the day I went to pick him up from preschool and found a group of kids surrounding him, their fists and feet flying. Something inside me snapped. No one gets to bully my son but me. And I’d never, ever laid a hand on him like that. I stormed straight into the principal’s office. It turned out the ringleader was the only son of a local corporate giant. The principal advised me to let it go, to know my place. I responded by slapping the CEO, who’d been called in, square across the face. Liam spent the next hour apologizing profusely, his head bowed, his voice meek. The sight of his spinelessness made my blood boil. After forcing the CEO to transfer money for medical expenses, I grabbed Liam and Leo and stalked out. On the way home, Liam kept opening his mouth to speak, then closing it. I shot him a glare. “What? You think I was too impulsive?” “Well…” he coughed, embarrassed. “Not exactly…” “Then shut up!” I snapped, turning on him. “Either you pull yourself up and become a man no one dares to cross, so your son never has to face that again, or I’ll handle it myself. Anything’s better than our whole family being doormats!” I never expected him to actually do it. Now, that same CEO has to bribe my assistant with lavish gifts just for a chance to get a meeting with Liam. The Anderson family name means something in this city. No one dares to mess with Leo anymore. After that day at the preschool, I took a hard look at his frail, skinny body. Gritting my teeth, I used my own money—even while Liam was still drowning in debt—to buy a mountain of nutritional supplements. “Look at you! You’re nothing but skin and bones! No wonder you get picked on! Don’t call me Mom until you put on some weight!” Under my tyrannical supervision, Leo didn’t just get bigger. His body fat percentage was perfect. The ten-year-old was even starting to show hints of muscle. Between his physical strength and his new status, no kid his age would dream of touching him. Everything was… good. Leo saw me as his mother. He’d proudly tell anyone who would listen the heroic tale of how I’d faced down a corporate titan in the principal’s office. And Liam saw me as his wife. Once he made it big, he showered me with gifts—designer bags, luxury cars, a sprawling mansion. It was a relentless cascade of wealth. For the first time in my life, I, a woman who had never known such security, allowed a dangerous thought to bloom: I could get used to this. Forever. Until my sister came back. And dragged me out of the beautiful dream I’d built with her husband. 2 “Let’s be honest. The happiness you’ve had these past ten years? You stole it.” My sister, Chloe, sat across from me, blowing a perfect smoke ring into the air. “I may have run off with your boyfriend, but my husband was still my husband. My son was still my son. That didn’t give you the right to slide into my life.” She tapped the ash from her cigarette. “I won’t press charges for you impersonating me. I’m giving you Percy back. Now, it’s time for you to return my husband and son to me.” My fists clenched. Percy’s family had declared bankruptcy a few months ago. He was in a worse financial state than Liam had been ten years prior. “You really have perfect timing, don’t you, Chloe? Ditch your broke husband for my rich boyfriend, and now that the tables have turned, you waltz back in to play the wealthy tycoon’s wife?” CRASH! The heavy glass ashtray shattered at my feet. Chloe’s chin lifted in defiance. “Is that any way to speak to your older sister? And let’s get something straight, Zoe. I may have had a thing with your boyfriend, but you… you seduced your own brother-in-law. You stole my son. My newborn son. Don’t you feel disgusting? Don’t you have any shame? Let’s think about which one of us is truly shameless here.” My breath caught in my throat. She rose from her chair and stood over me, her shadow falling across my face. “If you dare cause a scene, I’ll tell everyone what you did. We’ll see who they call a slut then.” I wasn’t afraid of being called names. Growing up, my only real goal was to have a full stomach. People called me a gold digger when I was with Percy, and I couldn’t have cared less. But then I thought of Leo. I could picture his face, the sweet way he called me ‘Mom’. If this all came out, what would he think? And Liam… what would he think of me? Taking a deep breath, I finally spoke. “Give me three days.” Chloe’s brow furrowed. “What? Don’t I need to pack? Don’t I need to erase every trace of myself from their lives for you? All the ways they’ve changed in the last ten years… don’t you need me to write you a memo?” A cold smile touched her lips. “You try any tricks, and I swear, I’ll ruin you.” 3 At dinner that evening, both Liam and Leo could tell something was wrong. As soon as we finished eating, Liam followed me into the bedroom. He knelt at my feet, looking up at me with worried eyes. “Did someone hurt you?” “Liam,” I said, my voice flat. “What would you do if, one day, you had a different wife?” The gentle smile on his honest face cracked and fell away. “You want to leave me?!” I cupped his face in my hands. “Why are you so worked up? I’m just asking a hypothetical question.” “No!” he said, his voice a low growl. He’d never been this forceful with me before. “I would never replace you. If you leave, I’ll raise Leo alone for the rest of my life. If you died, I’d raise him until he’s eighteen and then come find you.” “Hey!” I pressed my hand over his mouth, not wanting to hear such morbid words. “What if,” I started, choosing my words carefully, “what if someone who looked exactly like me came to take my place? Would it matter then?” Chloe and I had always been rivals; we never introduced our boyfriends to each other. Liam had no idea she even had a twin sister. “My love,” he said, capturing my hand in his. “What kind of person could live with their partner for ten years and not notice when an identical imposter takes their place? That’s not love. And believe me, no one in this world loves you more than I do.” I had to fight to keep the corners of my mouth from turning up. “You’re being cheesy.” He didn’t mind. He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, and then turned to draw my foot bath. This was our routine, a ritual that had persisted through all these years. Even in the beginning, when my words cut him the deepest, he would swallow his hurt and quietly wash my feet. I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I started wanting him to do this for the rest of my life. Thinking I was upset over some slight, Liam made a grand gesture the next day. He bought an entire office building in my name. The ribbon-cutting ceremony was the talk of the city. He stood before the cameras and declared to the world that I was the only wife he would ever have, that I was more precious than all the gold in the world. That evening, I arrived at the celebratory gala, only to find a familiar figure already there, wearing a gown identical to mine, laughing and chatting with the circle of socialites I had come to know. 4 Catching sight of me from the corner of her eye, one of the women gasped, her eyes wide. “My goodness, Mrs. Anderson! You really do have a twin sister!” “Chloe…” I breathed, staring at her in disbelief. She arched an eyebrow, her gaze dripping with disdain. “Oh, look everyone. This is the dear sister I was telling you about. The one who’s trying to seduce her own brother-in-law.” My fists clenched at my sides. “Oh, that explains it!” one of the women chirped. “We were wondering why Liam would make such a public declaration of loyalty. He must have known you were up to something.” “Everyone knows how devoted Liam is,” another added. “Having the same face won’t do you any good, dear.” “Honestly,” a third chimed in, “when it’s true love, you can tell the difference even with identical twins. A little homewrecker like you should give up on such shameless schemes.” These were the same women I had shared jokes and gossip with just days before. Now, they couldn’t tell us apart. Because Chloe had gotten there first, they simply assumed she was the woman they’d known for years. Chloe ran with it. “Zoe, darling,” she said, her voice laced with fake sympathy, “this is exactly why I never introduced you to Liam. I was afraid you’d get ideas. But I’ve never mistreated you, have I? Every time you said you were broke, I sent you money. What’s this? Are you trying to cut out the middleman and go straight to my husband for a handout now?” “You—!” I seethed, taking a step forward. Suddenly, a look of pure terror flashed in Chloe’s eyes. Before my hand could even get close to her, she stumbled backward dramatically. “Ah! Zoe, why are you pushing me?!” She didn’t just fall; she collapsed into the champagne tower. A cascade of crystal and golden liquid crashed down around her, drenching her in an instant. The socialites immediately swarmed, forming a protective barrier between us. “You ungrateful little brat! It’s bad enough you’re trying to steal your sister’s husband, but now you’re assaulting her!” “And showing up in the same dress! Have you no shame?” “Don’t think you’re special just because you have the same face. Liam would never want a whore like you!” I was about to retort when a familiar, authoritative voice cut through the chaos from behind me. “What is going on here?” “Liam!” I spun around. But he walked right past me. He went straight to Chloe and wrapped her in his arms. “Honey, are you hurt? Let me see.” Chloe just bit her lower lip, her eyes red and brimming with unshed tears as she shook her head. She didn’t say a word, but her silence screamed of profound victimhood. “Mommy!” A small figure darted through the crowd and threw his arms around Chloe. “Mommy! Are you okay?” Seeing the son I had raised, Chloe froze for a second. Then, a watery smile touched her lips as she gently stroked his cheek and shook her head again. “Mommy… sob… Mommy…” Leo clung to her, crying his heart out. It struck me then that he was so much more emotionally open with her than he ever was with me. They say blood is thicker than water. It seemed that even after ten years apart, a child could still pick his real mother out of a crowd, guided by some primal instinct. And run to her. “Ma’am,” Liam said, helping Chloe to her feet. He turned to me, his eyes as cold as ice. “You may be my wife’s twin sister, but that does not give you the right to harm her. She is your sister, but more importantly, she is the woman I love.” I gripped the fabric of my dress, my knuckles white. “As for your behavior here tonight,” he continued, his voice dangerously low, “I will be contacting my lawyer. You will be held accountable.” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Just yesterday, he had said that swapping one identical face for another would only matter to someone who wasn’t truly in love. Apparently, Liam Anderson wasn’t truly in love with me. 5 I kept my promise to Chloe. The next day, I wrote out a detailed memo covering the last ten years of Liam and Leo’s lives—their habits, their preferences, their milestones. Then, I packed my things and left. To avoid raising suspicion, it was me who went home with Liam and Leo after the gala. I sat on the edge of the bed, silent and numb. Liam approached cautiously, gently taking my hand. “What’s wrong? Are you still angry with your sister?” I pulled my hand away without a word. He stubbornly took it again, his grip firm but gentle. “I told you, you’re the only woman for me. The fact that she has your face isn’t an advantage. It just disgusts me.” My head snapped up, my eyes meeting his. “You don’t believe me?” he asked, clearly thinking I was Chloe. “Tomorrow. I’ll have her sent out of the country. I’ll make sure she’s never allowed to come back. How does that sound?” I stared at him for a long moment before finally speaking. “That won’t be necessary.” Tomorrow, I would be leaving the country myself. When we lay down to sleep, I turned my back to him. He continued speaking, trying to get my attention. “I heard them talking. Your sister’s boyfriend went broke, so she got some… inappropriate ideas? His name is Percy Waylett, right?” I frowned in the darkness. So that was the story Chloe was spinning. A tale of a pathetic gold digger who, after her rich boyfriend lost his fortune, tried to seduce her successful brother-in-law. “Percy Waylett is bad news,” he murmured against my hair. “The fact that she was with him says a lot about her character.” A wave of resentment washed over me. I needed to salvage some shred of my dignity. “He was alright,” I said coolly. “Good in bed.” A warm, strong arm wrapped around my waist from behind, pulling me back against a solid chest. “My love,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble. “Nothing and no one can ever come between us.” “Mm,” I murmured, closing my eyes. Tomorrow, I’ll be gone. You two can have whatever twisted love story you want.

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1 My husband died at sea, saving his one true love. By the time they notified me, the fish had already had their fill. The officer on the line asked if I still wanted them to search for the body. I waved it off dismissively. No need to waste public resources. With the official death certificate in hand, I had my husband, Jerry, legally erased from existence. Then I called his lawyer. It was only after hanging up that I finally let myself laugh. I popped a bottle of champagne that night. The inheritance I was supposed to split was now two-thirds mine. That was definitely worth a celebration. … My husband, Jerry, was dead. He’d taken his old flame, Abby, out for a spin on his yacht. A freak wave slammed them into the rocks. He gave her the only life jacket, and the ocean took him instead. When the Coast Guard called, they told me a shark had taken his head. His headless torso had been floating on the surface. A few fishermen were about to haul it in when another shark appeared, clamped down on the body, and dragged it back into the deep. All they recovered were his wallet and his waterlogged phone. As one of the city’s most prominent entrepreneurs, everyone expected a grand search for Jerry’s remains. The police asked if I wanted to call in a specialized recovery team. “No,” I said, my voice firm. “Let’s not waste public resources.” An hour later, I was at the county records office with the death certificate. The clerk teared up when she saw his ID. “Mr. Hayes was such a good man. My condolences, Mrs. Hayes.” I had to bite back a smile. She wasn’t wrong. Jerry was a very good man. He was scheduled to sign our divorce papers in two days, right before signing a marriage license with Abby. Instead, he died, leaving me with a mountain of assets. With no body to bury, I had to improvise for the cremation. I gathered all the useless paperwork from his corporate office, threw in his personal effects, and set it all ablaze. After it cooled, I scooped the ashes into a plastic bag, making a mental note to buy a proper urn tomorrow. I met with the lawyer to liquidate Jerry’s estate. Six companies, eight luxury cars, sixty-six commercial properties, and eighty-eight residential units, not to mention the gold bars in his bank vault and a sprawling portfolio of stocks and bonds. I was busy counting the zeroes when the lawyer cleared his throat. “Mrs. Hayes, it appears your husband had already transferred the titles of two properties to a Ms. Abby Chen before his passing.” What? I would not allow anyone to ruin my lucky numbers. I turned to the lawyer, my voice turning to ice. “Anything he gave her… I can get it back, right?” He was a million-dollar-a-year lawyer for a reason. He understood immediately. That same day, data recovery specialists worked their magic on Jerry’s ruined phone. By the afternoon, a courier was delivering a legal notice to Abby’s doorstep. She stormed into my house just as I was pouring a glass of champagne. She snatched the glass and lunged, aiming to douse me. “Maya! What the hell is the meaning of this letter?” I sidestepped neatly, and the champagne splashed harmlessly onto the floor. “My handmade Italian rug,” I mourned, looking at Abby with mock pain. “Don’t worry, I’ll add it to your bill.” “Who do you think you are, demanding these things from me? Jerry gave them to me! We were about to get married! They’re mine!” “Ms. Chen, are you unfamiliar with the law?” I scoffed. “Gifts given during our marriage are considered marital assets. I have every right to demand their return.” Her face went pale. She fumbled for her phone. “You didn’t discuss this with Jerry, did you? I’m calling him right now. Just you wait, he’s going to tear you apart.” At that, a real laugh escaped me. “Don’t bother. The reception is terrible from inside a shark’s stomach.” Her eyebrows twisted in fury. “You are a vile, poisonous woman, Maya! You were married to him! How can you say something so horrible?” I let her finish her tirade before calmly pulling Jerry’s ID from my purse—cut cleanly in two. “Still don’t believe me? Here’s his ID. I just had it invalidated this morning.” Abby stared at the two halves, her disbelief warring with a creeping dread. “This is just another one of your tricks. I’m calling him, and you won’t see a single penny of his money!” She frantically dialed his number. A moment later, a phone started ringing from inside my handbag. I pulled out Jerry’s phone. The screen was lit up with a single word: ‘Wifey.’ The color drained from Abby’s face. “Why do you have his phone?” “I told you. He’s dead.” “Then where’s the body?” “Shark food,” I said with a shrug. “Ms. Chen, have you forgotten? You two were on that yacht together. How is it that you’re the only one who came back?” “I thought… I thought…” Abby’s legs gave out, and she crumpled to the floor. Her body started to tremble, her eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks like perfect, glistening pearls. I rolled my eyes. Honestly, tears are just as bad for the rug. After a few minutes of sobbing, she shot to her feet and made a beeline for the marble pillar in the living room. “Jerry, I’m coming with you!” I jumped back, startled, and quickly dialed my phone. “911? Yes, there’s a woman attempting suicide in my home.” The police arrived quickly. After getting the story, they escorted a hysterical Abby out. As they left, I couldn’t help but call after her. “Remember to return my property, or I’m suing!” One of the officers shot me a look that clearly said, The woman is having a breakdown, and you’re still harassing her? I just shrugged. We were talking about millions of dollars. Who wouldn’t be a little stressed? A few days later, I started planning Jerry’s funeral. He had so many wealthy relatives, and I’d spent years giving them generous wedding gifts and condolence money. Now, it was time to reap my harvest. I sent out notifications to Jerry’s sprawling family tree and hired an ‘expert’ from the cemetery to help me pick a plot. He showed me all the prime locations with good “energy,” but I wasn’t interested. My eyes were drawn to a barren patch on the edge of the grounds, where nothing grew. “Absolutely not,” the expert said. “If he’s buried there, his descendants will lead lives of hardship.” I clapped my hands together. “Perfect! It’s got great feng shui and it’s cheap. We’ll take it.” Jerry and I never had children, so there were no descendants to worry about. With the plot and a new urn secured, I hired a top-tier funeral service to give Jerry a send-off worthy of his status. During the service, I dabbed at my dry eyes with a tissue while discreetly eyeing the growing pile of condolence envelopes. Rich people, god love them. The envelopes were getting fatter and fatter, and it took all my willpower not to grin. Just as the funeral was winding down, Abby appeared. She was dressed in black, holding the hand of a small boy, maybe seven or eight years old. She walked directly to the front, facing Jerry’s portrait. The already quiet room fell into a stunned silence. Every eye was on her. “Leo,” Abby’s voice was frail, “kneel. This is your father.” As the boy started to bend his knees, I rushed forward and gently pulled him back up. “Careful, little guy. You can’t just go around calling any man ‘Dad.’” Abby’s eyes flashed with anger. “He’s my son with Jerry!” “Oh,” I said, my gaze dropping. “Is he now? That’s what you say. But who can prove it?” “We can.” Two figures appeared in the doorway. It was my mother- and father-in-law, whom I hadn’t seen in years. “You venomous bitch!” my mother-in-law shrieked the moment she saw me, lunging forward. “My son is dead, and you notify everyone but his own parents? What are you plotting?” I wasn’t about to let her claw my face off. I took a step back, and with a flick of my wrist, my hired bodyguards intercepted her. From a safe distance, I said, “Mother, wasn’t it you who told me never to contact you again unless I was dead?” She seemed to have forgotten the day she threw me out of her house with those exact words. “You evil woman! You must have killed him! You’d do anything for his money, you shameless whore! You’ll rot in hell for this!” She continued to struggle, desperate to get her hands on me, but my security was earning their pay, holding her tight. “Mother, surely you know how Jerry died? He was with Chl—” “Leo, come here! Say hello to Grandma and Grandpa!” Abby interrupted, pulling the boy toward them. My mother-in-law instantly softened, crouching down to caress the boy’s face. “So this is our grandson. He looks exactly like Jerry did as a boy.” She looked up at Abby, her voice thick with emotion. “Abby, you poor dear. It must have been so difficult, raising him all by yourself for all these years.” The whole reunion scene was making me sick. “Mother,” I said, my voice dripping with false concern. “You can’t just believe everything she says. We don’t even know who this child’s father is.” Abby bristled. “Are you suggesting Leo isn’t Jerry’s son? I’m telling you, he is! I was already pregnant when we broke up. I’ve been raising our son on my own ever since.” My mother-in-law chimed in, “Anyone can see this boy has Hayes blood! You, on the other hand, you barren woman! You can’t even have a child of your own, so you attack those who can.” Emboldened by her new ally, Abby’s confidence surged. She launched into a tearful monologue about the struggles of being a single mother and the discrimination she faced. “Is that so?” I cut through her performance without mercy. “Funny, I heard you were married to someone else overseas. And that he left you because you cheated on him.” “You’re lying!” Abby sobbed, turning back to my mother-in-law. “I can endure the insults, but it’s Leo… a boy needs his father!” My mother-in-law, completely won over, rounded on me. “You useless, barren woman, Maya! You’ve never been a mother, you wouldn’t understand! I understand Abby’s pain perfectly!” I spoke softly, my voice carrying through the silent room. “Mother, even if this child really is Jerry’s, you’d need proof, wouldn’t you? Otherwise, anyone could walk in here with a child, claim it’s your grandson, and you’d just accept it?” “I have proof,” Abby declared, her back straightening. “Jerry didn’t believe Leo was his at first, either. So we did a paternity test. The report is still in the drawer of his office desk. Go see for yourself, Mother. Then you’ll know.” Well, well. Things were escalating quickly. It wasn’t just me; you could see the fascinated, hungry expressions on the faces of every guest. This funeral was turning into quite the spectacle. Hearing this, my mother-in-law immediately ordered someone to go to Jerry’s office and retrieve the report. I tried to intervene again. “Mother, can’t we deal with this after the funeral? It’s not a good look, making a scene in front of all these people.” She snorted. “What’s the matter, Maya? Afraid that if the test proves he’s Jerry’s son, he’ll get a piece of the inheritance? Let me tell you something, you need to be more generous. If I were in your shoes, I would welcome Leo with open arms.” There was no stopping her. After Abby gave specific instructions on where to find the document, one of the family assistants rushed off to Jerry’s company headquarters. I took the opportunity to make a quick phone call myself. He returned in less than half an hour.

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I’ve been divorced nine times, and I’ve used the same lawyer for every single settlement. So, when I walked in for my tenth divorce, the stoic man of law finally cracked. “You’ve had a busy year, haven’t you?” I arched an eyebrow and smiled. “Isn’t this the career path you opened up for me?” He let out a sharp sigh and tossed the divorce papers onto the desk in front of me. “I’m your first ex-husband, Mila, not your personal divorce attorney. Stop coming to me for this.” Later, when all nine of my other ex-husbands showed up trying to win me back, he was the one who blocked their path, grabbed my hand through gritted teeth, and declared, “That’s it. We’re going to Vegas. The kind of married you can’t get out of.” I pulled my hand away and echoed the same cold tone he’d used on me years ago. “Sorry. You were just a substitute.” 1 I strolled into the law firm, designer bag swinging from my arm, and placed the necessary documents on the polished mahogany desk. “Mr. Watson, darling. I need you to draft a divorce agreement for me.” The man, previously engrossed in a file, looked up. The eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses narrowed almost imperceptibly. He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Hah.” I met his gaze, a playful smile on my lips. “Is that how you treat your clients now, Julian? Should I file a complaint?” Julian glanced at me, his expression an unreadable mask. I tapped my nails impatiently on the desk, and he finally fixed me with a look of pure exasperation. “This firm has plenty of excellent attorneys who specialize in family law. You don’t have to come to me every single time.” “But I only trust you,” I said, my expression one of utmost sincerity. He was the first to break. “IDs, marriage certificate. Any children? Division of assets?” I calmly pulled up a chair. “No kids, no marital assets. I’m the at-fault party. I’ll walk away with nothing.” The rhythmic clacking of his keyboard stopped. Julian took a deep, controlled breath, clearly reining in his temper. “This is the tenth time, Mila. What the hell are you playing at? Ten divorces in one year. Every time, you’re the one ‘at fault.’ Every time, it’s right after the one-month cooling-off period. Is marriage just a game to you?” I looked at him, my face a picture of innocence. “Have I broken any laws?” “…No.” “Well, there you go. Consenting adults can get married and divorced as they please. It’s my right. What does it have to do with you?” Julian’s jaw tightened. “It has nothing to do with me. Except for the fact that I’m one of your ex-husbands. Don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate to keep coming to me?” 2 “Inappropriate? But didn’t you teach me this was how it’s done?” I asked, tilting my head with a saccharine smile. He ignored me, slapping the freshly printed divorce agreement down on the desk. “I hope this is the last time.” “I’ll take that as a blessing.” I scooped up the papers and headed out. Leaning against a sports car parked outside was a young man in a baggy baseball jacket and a cap pulled low. He watched me approach with a lazy, roguish grin. This was my current husband, Leo Sterling, the rebellious younger son of the Sterling empire. A notorious playboy who valued his freedom above all else. And, very soon, my ex-husband. “All settled?” he asked. I waved the papers. “Done. Take a look, make sure it’s all good. If so, our marriage is officially over.” He took the agreement, his eyes scanning the text. “Huh. I thought you’d try to find some excuse not to sign, like all the other girls who tried to trap me. No demand for a payout?” I gave him my best professional smile. “Please don’t insult my work ethic. This is part of the service. You can still contact me during the cooling-off period if needed.” Leo pouted, a flicker of genuine disappointment in his eyes. “Right. Well, thanks for this. If it weren’t for you, my family would be forcing me down the aisle with some heiress I can’t stand.” I patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep our divorce quiet for now. How long we can keep up the charade is up to you.” That’s right. I’m a professional wife. My clients are almost exclusively from the upper echelon: single, wealthy, handsome men who, for one reason or another, need a wife but don’t want a real marriage. Some are fending off pressure from their families; others are high-powered executives who need a spouse for corporate events but fear a messy attachment. That’s where I come in. I play the part of the perfect, flawless wife. We sign a detailed prenuptial agreement. When my services are no longer needed, we divorce, and they pay me a very generous fee. It’s purely transactional. No messy feelings involved. I was about to bid farewell to my latest client when a sleek limousine pulled up to the curb. 3 A stunningly beautiful woman with delicate features stepped out. She froze for a second when she saw me, because we were dressed almost identically: a soft pink knit dress paired with a light mocha-colored cardigan. The trendy, gentle “cool stepmom” look. The only difference was that her outfit was a limited-edition designer original, and mine was a high-end replica. She shot me a glance, a smirk of pure disdain playing on her lips. I knew her. Isabelle Croft. Hollywood’s new “it girl,” fresh off her win for Best Actress at the Crystal Spire Awards. A bona fide superstar. A moment later, a tall, impeccably dressed man emerged from the law firm. It was Julian. Isabelle’s face lit up as she rushed to his side, linking her arm through his. “I’ve been waiting forever. You didn’t answer my texts, so I just came to find you. You’re not mad, are you?” A rare, faint smile touched Julian’s usually cold face. “Let’s go. I just finished up. What are you in the mood for tonight?” Isabelle didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes drifted back to me, a sly smile on her face. “Your ex-wife was pestering you again, wasn’t she? I wondered why you weren’t responding.” Her voice was just loud enough for the four of us to hear. It wasn’t surprising that Isabelle and I knew each other. We went to the same acting conservatory. Her career skyrocketed from day one. And me? With my uncanny resemblance to her, I became her official body double after she hit it big. Yep. I was the one who took on all the scenes she deemed beneath her. Even my bizarre, short-lived marriage to Julian was her doing. She was the goddess, the one that got away. I was just the stand-in. Julian and Isabelle’s college romance was the stuff of campus legend. But after she became a star, she dumped him, fearing he would tarnish her image. In a fit of rage and heartbreak, Julian found me—the budget version of Isabelle—and married me. I was clueless for the longest time. It was only after a drama-filled saga worthy of a 50-episode TV show that they finally reconciled their misunderstandings and got back together. Julian generously gave me half of his assets and kicked me, the budget wife, to the curb so he could be with the premium model. That whole sordid affair was a revelation. It hit me: if being a substitute wife was this lucrative, why stop at one? Ten would be even better. It was a clear path to financial freedom, and it paid a hell of a lot more than being a body double. Julian’s gaze flickered from me to Leo, his voice laced with ice. “She was here to file for another divorce.” “Another one?” Isabelle looked me up and down with contempt, then sized up Leo. “Tsk, tsk. Looks like your standards have slipped. You’ll take any street punk you can find now. First, you were my stand-in to marry Julian, and now you’ve found a new way to grift, have you?” I snapped my fingers and grinned shamelessly. “You’re right. I can’t compete with your market value. My ex is just a plain, unassuming trust-fund kid.” My eyes darted to the man beside me. The “plain, unassuming trust-fund kid” in question, Leo, raised an eyebrow in mock confusion. Then he whipped off his baseball cap, revealing a face handsome enough to grace magazine covers, and slung an arm around my shoulders. “She’s right. I’m just a regular guy with a few billion to my name. Nothing special.” He winked at me. “By the way, ex-wife, what are you planning to do with the fifty million I’m giving you in the settlement?” 4 I had to physically restrain myself from applauding. The man was a genius. Isabelle, for all her fame, had only been a big name for a few years. She came from a modest background and had clawed her way to the top. Just last week, she’d boasted to the media that she didn’t need to marry into wealth because she was the wealth. A bold claim from someone whose net worth probably hadn’t even hit nine figures yet. I knew Leo was backing me up, so I played along. “First, I’ll buy a yacht. Then a private estate. Then maybe I’ll acquire a production company and hire a certain A-list actress to be my body double.” Leo nodded thoughtfully. “Good. You’re thinking about your career, not just squandering it. My guidance is clearly paying off.” Predictably, the smile on Isabelle’s face froze. Her eyes flickered towards Leo, as if she was suddenly trying to place him. She was an actress, after all, and she recovered quickly. Her expression shifted from aggressive to one of gentle, pitying concern as she addressed him. “You probably don’t know this, handsome, but that’s just how Mila is. Money means more to her than anything. You should be careful. Don’t let her fool you.” She then delicately tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tightened her grip on Julian’s arm. “Darling, we’re going to be late for our reservation. Let’s not let irrelevant people ruin our evening.” Before leaving, she even had the audacity to ask Leo for his number. Right in front of Julian. I watched with a smirk. Leo just shook his head. “Sorry, I’m a married man. We’re in our cooling-off period, but I can’t be unfaithful to my wife. I must politely decline all advances from beautiful temptresses.” Isabelle’s face turned a shade of puce as she stalked off. Julian’s expression wasn’t much better. He shot me a final, complicated look before they sped away in their luxury car. Perfect. Our little performance had clearly gotten under their skin. As the car disappeared, I turned to Leo and held out my hand. “So, ex-hubby. About that fifty million…” He gave me a high-five. “Are you kidding? I don’t have fifty million. What about the two million we agreed on for my fee? Can I pay you in installments?” Great. I’d met someone who was an even bigger bullshitter than me. “No way. No delays, not one penny less. If you’re short, I’ll show up at your family’s estate and make a scene.” He was even more shameless than I was. “Or… we could make this marriage real. Then all my money would be your money. What do you say?” In his dreams. I was a career woman, and my career was making money. 5 After parting ways with Leo, I went straight to the bank. Sure enough, a short while later, two million dollars appeared in my account. I took a deep breath and checked the balance. Excellent. My first major financial goal was within reach. Soon, my phone rang again. The caller ID read: ‘Ex-Husband #9.’ “Hello, Ms. Thorne? There’s a family gathering this Saturday at 8 p.m. that requires your attendance. The usual fee will be deposited into your account.” Ex-Husband #9 was a top-tier surgeon named Dr. Aris Thorne, age 32. Consumed by his work, he had no time or interest in dating. Like my other clients, he was using me to fend off relentless pressure from his family to get married. We had finalized our divorce last month, but our contract stipulated that for six months post-divorce, I was still obligated to play the part of his wife as needed. Business was booming. I pushed all thoughts of Julian and Isabelle out of my mind. No man, no matter how infuriating, was going to get in the way of me making money. My one and only focus was the hustle. 6 On Saturday evening, I dressed in a very domestic, yet subtly expensive, outfit. A certain level of investment in my appearance was necessary; I couldn’t embarrass my clients. Aris was a busy man with a touch of social anxiety, a love for quiet, and a severe case of germaphobia. So, I took a cab to the address he provided. He was waiting outside, dressed in a casual white jacket. At 6’2”, he was tall and lean, his hair impeccably styled. His handsome face had a cool, distant air. As I got closer, I caught the faint, sterile scent of antiseptic. I glanced down at my own outfit. Good. Also white. For a true germaphobe, any color other than white was just a different shade of dirty. He gave me a slight nod and, like a gentleman, offered his arm. I saw the pristine white gloves on his hands and chuckled nervously. I didn’t dare place my bare hand on him. I slipped on the pair of lace gloves I’d brought for this exact purpose before taking his arm. The slight frown on his face instantly relaxed. I followed him into a grand European-style villa in an opulent neighborhood. He’d called it a “family gathering,” but there were at least thirty or forty people already seated. How awkward. We were the last to arrive, putting us right in the spotlight for public scrutiny. As soon as we sat down, a wealthy-looking woman next to Aris’s mother began her attack. “Well, look who finally decided to show up. We never see you at our get-togethers. I hear you’re a housewife? What do you do all day?” What do I do? I count money, lady. My time is billable by the second. Aris frowned, glaring at the woman. I kept my composure and replied softly, “Aris works such long hours. As his wife, it’s my duty to manage our home. But I also focus on my own intellectual pursuits. He calls me a housewife because he worries about me and respects my choices. I’m actually quite independent.” The subtext was clear: Mind your own business. My husband is happy to support me. The woman was effectively silenced. I reached over and placed a hand on Aris’s. “Isn’t that right, darling?” A rare smile touched his lips. “My wife is absolutely correct.” The atmosphere had just settled when a discordant voice cut through the room. “Oh? A housewife? So, you have no other source of income, Ms. Thorne? You just rely on Dr. Thorne to support you? That doesn’t sound very independent to me.” I looked up and, to my astonishment, saw Julian. And next to him was Isabelle. He was in a tailored suit, she in a lavish evening gown. In this so-called “family gathering,” they looked ostentatiously out of place… and frankly, ridiculous. Julian’s gaze on me was colder than ever. I hadn’t expected to see him at Aris’s family event. He wasn’t on the guest list Aris had prepared for me. 7 Aris leaned in and explained. Julian was the high-priced legal counsel for his mother’s company. She had apparently taken a liking to him and invited him personally. In a year and a half of doing this job, this was the first time I’d had two ex-husbands in the same room. But it was fine. I could handle this. So, Julian wanted to humiliate me? Just you wait. I pasted on a smile and instinctively snuggled closer to Aris. “Honey, it sounds like someone is questioning my integrity.” Two could play at the innocent, manipulative game. Aris proved to be an excellent employer. He spoke in a calm, level voice. “Of course, she has other income. But my wife’s personal ventures are just small hobbies. Nothing compared to the businesses you all run. We wouldn’t want to bore you with the details.” Julian scoffed. After taking his seat, he made it clear he wasn’t done with me. “What kind of investments are we talking about? Perhaps I could offer some analysis, Ms. Thorne?” He kept calling me “Ms. Thorne,” making it painfully obvious to everyone that we knew each other. Even Aris noticed. He squeezed my hand, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “You know him?” Know him? He’s ex-husband #1. The man who started it all. “Mr. Watson is a competent lawyer, is he not? I’m sure he has a code of ethics. Since when did you branch out into investment banking?” I stared him down. If he said one more word, I was going to lunge across the table and rip his smug mouth off his face. He fell silent. But Isabelle, who had been quiet until now, couldn’t resist. She was a big star, but among these old-money matriarchs, she had zero clout. She was desperate for attention. Seeing me next to Aris, she put a hand to her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh my goodness, Mila! Wait a minute. I just saw you at Julian’s office a few days ago, getting divorce papers. How are you Mrs. Thorne today? Julian, darling, have I been filming too much? Tell me I’m not seeing things.” Her words were a grenade thrown into the quiet dinner party. Every head turned, eyes wide with gossip-hungry curiosity. Beside me, Aris’s body went rigid. His handsome brow furrowed, and he began to rub his wrist—a nervous tic. My employer was angry. This was not good. My cover was about to be blown. I shot to my feet, my eyes instantly welling with tears as I fixed my gaze on Isabelle. My voice trembled with righteous indignation. “Ms. Croft, I have no idea what you mean by that. As a public figure, you should be more careful with your words. Aris and I have been married for over a year. And I will not stand by and let someone spread malicious rumors about our relationship!” Isabelle stared at me, momentarily stunned, before a sly, triumphant smile spread across her face. “Rumors? Is that what you call it? You’ve already moved on to another man, and you’re still trying to play the victim?” Damn it. She wasn’t taking the bait. She was determined to destroy me. Aris’s parents, recovering from their shock, now looked furious. “Ms. Croft, is what you’re saying true?” Isabelle lifted her chin smugly. “Dr. and Mrs. Thorne, don’t be too upset. I know this woman. We were classmates. You probably don’t know about her glorious past. While we were still in school, loan sharks came looking for her. Her own mother jumped from the roof of our university’s main building.” Her voice dripped with false pity. “What kind of person could come from a family like that? I felt sorry for her, so I hired her as my body double. And what do you think she did? She tried to seduce a producer in the middle of the night, trading her body for a role… heh.” She paused, looking at me with relish. “Mila, do I need to go on? Stop deceiving everyone.” In an instant, every gaze in the room turned on me, filled with the same contempt and disgust I remembered from all those years ago. A slow, cold smile spread across my face. I tightened my grip on my wine glass. 8 I started calculating. If I scarred her face, how many months would I get? Just then, Aris, who had been silent, stood up. He gently placed his hand over mine, pulling me into his side. He looked at the room, his expression calm and unwavering. “I apologize to you all. My wife and I have had some disagreements recently, but we have never considered divorce. I had no idea our private matters would be used by someone with malicious intent to stir up trouble. I am so sorry. Had I known, I never would have brought her to this dinner, only to have her slandered and unjustly accused.” He turned to me, his eyes filled with sincere concern. “Darling, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” I was so moved I could have cried for real. I leaned against his shoulder, squeezing out a few fake tears while secretly patting his back in gratitude. Where else could I find such a perfect client? My mistake had almost blown our cover, and here he was, this socially anxious man, stepping up to defend me. I decided right then and there: I was giving him a 30% discount on my fee. At that moment, Julian also stood up. He grabbed Isabelle’s arm, stopping her from saying anything more. He adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses on his nose. “Isabelle, you’re drunk.” He then addressed the room. “My apologies, everyone. My girlfriend has been working too hard lately and seems to be confusing reality with her movie scripts. I have never seen Ms. Thorne in my office. We only know each other from a brief conversation at a banquet some time ago.” Isabelle stared at Julian in disbelief. I was just as shocked. I never thought Julian, of all people, would have a sudden attack of conscience and cover for me. 9 The dinner party, needless to say, ended on a sour note. Aris led me out, but as we reached the garden, we ran into Julian, who had used the excuse of taking a drunk Isabelle home. He had clearly been waiting for us. The two men faced each other, the air crackling with tension. Aris took off his jacket and draped it over my shoulders. “It’s getting chilly. Don’t catch a cold.” Only then did he look up at Julian. “Mr. Watson. Can I help you?” Julian’s eyes were fixed on the jacket around my shoulders. His voice was hard. “I need to speak with Mila.” A corner of Aris’s mouth lifted in a scornful smile. “I’m afraid that’s not convenient. Your girlfriend has deeply upset my wife. She needs to rest.” “Is that so? My apologies. In that case, would Ms. Thorne herself be willing to speak with me and accept my apology?” I wanted to say no, but I knew I needed to talk to him. He had drafted all my previous divorce agreements; he knew every one of my ex-husbands. His presence here tonight felt too calculated to be a coincidence. I gave Aris an apologetic look. “Wait for me in the car. Give me five minutes.” Aris was a gentleman. Even though I could feel his anger, he just squeezed my hand tightly before letting go. He smoothed down a stray piece of my hair and leaned in close, his voice a low whisper in my ear. “Don’t worry. I’ll be right here. Call me if you need anything.” Then, in a clear act of possessiveness, he pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. His breath was warm against my skin, and I was stunned. It was the first time Aris had ever initiated such close contact. Before he left, he shot one last, cold glare at Julian. The moment he was gone, Julian strode toward me, backing me against the garden wall. “Mila, are you going to tell me what you’re doing or not?” he hissed. “Three days ago, you were filing for divorce from that rich kid, and now you’re playing wife to your ex-ex-husband. What kind of sordid business are you running?”

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1 After Charlie’s childhood best friend drove her company into the ground, he wanted to take the hundred thousand dollars I had saved for me and our baby and give it to her. I begged him to give the money back, but all he said was, “Zoe will earn it back. You need to think long-term, Anna, not act like some paranoid miser.” When I demanded his friend sign a promissory note, he called me cold and heartless. Later, when she cried that she’d lost all the money and was going to starve, Charlie held her and promised to take care of her for the rest of her life. I quietly packed my bags and called my father. “Dad, you were right. Charlie is a piece of work. I’m coming home to take over the family business.” Just as I hung up, Charlie walked out of the guest room and said softly, “Anna, go make some soup for Zoe. She’ll be hungry when she wakes up.” I ignored him and headed for our bedroom. His face darkened, and he blocked my path. “Anna, it’s a hundred thousand dollars. Are you going to keep this up? Don’t you have an ounce of compassion?” he boomed. “If you’re not going to listen, then get out.” His voice was so loud it woke Zoe. She emerged from the room, draping herself over Charlie’s shoulder and shooting me a look of pure disdain. “Seriously, Charlie? You were the king of campus from high school through grad school. Your family’s well-off. How did you end up with such a cheapskate?” Charlie sighed, his gaze softening as he looked at Zoe. “Not everyone can be as generous and easy-going as you.” He glanced at my stomach. “And now, with a baby on the way, it’s too late for regrets.” I clutched my abdomen, watching the raw impatience on Charlie’s face. Could I even have this baby? My last check-up hadn’t been good. The doctor said it was a high-risk pregnancy and that the fetus was struggling. To carry this child to term and ensure its health afterward—from prenatal care to the first three years—would cost at least a hundred thousand dollars, with no guarantee of a healthy baby. And now, every day, I could feel the tiny life inside me growing weaker. That hundred thousand dollars was gone. My father would only help me if I divorced Charlie. When I’d ignored his objections and married him, my father had forbidden me from ever mentioning our family’s wealth, warning that it would cost Charlie his job. I was only three months along. Maybe it was better not to bring an unhealthy child into the world to suffer, especially with a father like this. But the thing that cut the deepest was that Charlie knew. He knew that money was meant to save my life and our child’s life, and he still gave it to Zoe without a second thought. If two lives—mine and our baby’s—meant less to him than Zoe, then there was no reason for us to stay. I turned to grab my suitcase from the bedroom. Zoe lunged forward and snatched it away from me, her voice a shrill command. “Stop it, Anna! Don’t you dare pull this ‘running away from home’ crap to make Charlie feel bad.” Her tone shifted, becoming theatrical. “I’ll go out drinking with my clients tonight. I, Zoe Archer, will get that money back for you if I have to drink myself into a hospital bed, okay?” Charlie, who never set foot in the kitchen, heard the commotion and rushed out. Zoe had changed into a flimsy, black silk slip dress and was heading for the door. She patted Charlie’s shoulder as she passed. “Don’t worry, buddy. I won’t let you down. I’m going to go earn that money right now. You just handle your wife.” Charlie panicked and threw the deadbolt on the front door. A tiny flame of hope flickered in my chest. Was he afraid I would leave? He strode toward me, and I held my breath, waiting for an apology. Instead, his voice was laced with ice. “Anna, you are the most vicious woman I have ever met. You’re a woman, yet you’re trying to force Zoe to sell her body to pay you back?” Before I could even process his words, he snatched my purse from my shoulder and tossed it directly into the fireplace. He glared at me, his eyes cold. “Let’s see how far you get without your ID or credit cards.” Then he turned to Zoe, his voice melting into a gentle murmur. “Zoe, we’ve known each other our whole lives. You’re more than family to me. Don’t worry about the money. We can sell the house, sell the car if we have to. Now, go change. I’ll take you out for a nice dinner.” He glanced back at the fireplace. “The smoke from that burning plastic is probably toxic. We can’t eat here.” I scrambled to the hearth, trying to retrieve my purse, but it was already a molten ruin. My driver’s license, my last few hundred dollars in cash, all gone. The screen of my phone was cracked and blackened from the heat. Fearing it might explode, I rushed to the kitchen for a pair of BBQ tongs and carefully fished it out. As Charlie and Zoe left, he deliberately locked the door from the outside—three full turns of the key. I was trapped. Had he forgotten? I hadn’t eaten either. The morning sickness was relentless, and I was too weak to cook. We had no snacks in the house; I’d been too sick to go shopping. All I could do was lie in bed, my stomach cramping with hunger while waves of nausea washed over me. I wanted to make a simple bowl of soup, but I didn’t have the strength. 2 I knew something was terribly wrong when I felt a warm gush and the coppery smell of blood. With the last of my strength, I crawled to the window. Seeing a light on in the apartment below, I grabbed a long laundry pole from the balcony and started banging on my neighbor’s window, screaming for help. The woman downstairs, Mrs. Gable, knew me. She knew about my difficult pregnancy. “Anna, honey, don’t panic!” she yelled up. “I’m calling 911 right now! I’ll get the building manager to open your door!” Ten minutes later, the paramedics and the manager were there. The door was open. I frantically borrowed Mrs. Gable’s phone and called Charlie. I had no money, and he had just received a bonus of nearly twenty thousand dollars. He picked up on the second ring. “Charlie, you need to come back,” I gasped. “I’m bleeding. The paramedics said I might lose the baby.” I heard Zoe snort in the background. “God, Anna, you sound like one of those desperate housewives in a soap opera, using the baby to get your husband’s attention.” The blood was flowing faster now. I screamed into the phone, all pretense of civility gone. “Have you no shame? He’s a married man! Stop clinging to him!” Zoe didn’t reply. She just tossed the phone aside, but the line stayed open. I could hear music blasting—a karaoke bar. It was Charlie and Zoe, singing a duet of some classic rock anthem about friendship. I could just make out the lyrics. One word, one life, one beer, one ride-or-die… I screamed Charlie’s name, but he couldn’t hear me over the music. Then, their voices rose together in a final, triumphant chorus. Through the hurt, through the pain, through it all, I’ll remain… I hung up the phone. I shouldn’t have held out any hope. For Charlie, friendship would always come first, even if it meant sacrificing his wife and child. But were they just friends? The sobs finally broke through, raw and uncontrollable. I called my father. He promised to have a friend in the city bring me cash immediately and said he’d have all my documents replaced within a day. Only then did I let the paramedics load me onto the ambulance. The surgery was under general anesthesia, but I still felt a deep, crushing pain in my chest. Charlie had been so excited about this baby. We’d picked out names for a boy and a girl. He knew how dangerous this pregnancy was, but the moment Zoe needed anything, he forgot everything else. I always thought that once the baby was born, once we had more time, he would see how much I loved him, how warm our home could be. I thought he would eventually choose us over her. How naive I had been. When I woke up, Charlie was sitting by my bedside. But Zoe was lying at the foot of the bed, under the covers. No wonder my back was so cold; her icy feet were pressed against my waist. I shoved her legs away. Zoe’s eyes fluttered open. She shot me a glare, then kicked me hard under the blankets before dramatically tumbling onto the floor. Charlie leaped to his feet and scooped her up. “Who kicked me?” Zoe mumbled, pretending to be half-asleep. “Jeez, what a jerk.” He cradled her in his arms, his face a mask of fury as he turned on me. “Anna, do my friends mean nothing to you? Zoe was worried sick about you. She’s exhausted, but she stayed here to keep you company. I saw she was cold, so I put her in your bed to warm up.” I almost choked on my own rage. Even a person with zero common sense knows that recovering from a miscarriage requires rest and warmth. And Charlie wanted me, the one who had just lost a child, to be his friend’s personal bed warmer? “Get out, Charlie!” I screamed. “I want a divorce!” Zoe scrambled behind him, pointing an accusing finger at me. “Anna, I won’t hold it against you for kicking me out of bed. But if you talk to my best friend like that again, I won’t be so forgiving.” She looked me up and down. “Who do you think you are? You’re just some girl from out of town. Charlie married you, he supports you, and what do you do? You deliberately get rid of the baby he wanted so badly. He’s been standing here for hours, and this is how you treat him?” Her eyes darted to Charlie, then back to me. “And who was that man who paid for your surgery? You’ve been seeing him on the side, haven’t you? That’s why you got rid of the baby!” I pushed myself up, grabbed the bowl of fruit from the nightstand, and hurled it at her. Charlie pulled Zoe into his arms, catching the fruit with his other hand. He looked at me, his face etched with profound disappointment. “Anna, are you lashing out because you’ve been caught?” “Haven’t I been good to you? You were the only woman I ever loved, the only one I wanted to marry. Why would you betray me?” His words hung in the air. The two expectant mothers in the neighboring beds and their husbands were now staring at me with open contempt. Zoe shot me a triumphant smirk. “Come on, buddy,” she said, pulling Charlie’s arm. “Let me buy you breakfast. As for your wife, let her stay here and think about what she’s done.” Charlie sighed, patting Zoe’s back. “Friends are so much better than wives. At least you care about me.” 3 My hands clenched into fists under the blanket. Had he forgotten? He used to have terrible stomach problems. For three years, I cooked him special, nutritious meals every single day until he was better. His “friend,” on the other hand, only ever dragged him out for heavy drinking and greasy food—the very combination that had once landed him in the hospital with a perforated ulcer. I was the one who nursed him back to health. He’d forgotten all of it. Exhausted, I drifted off to sleep. Less than an hour later, I was shaken awake. It was Charlie, his face a cold mask. “Hey. I’ve signed the discharge papers. Get up. Someone else needs the bed.” I clutched my aching stomach. “Why? I’m not well enough to leave.” “It’s just a miscarriage, what’s the big deal?” he said impatiently. “I got a refund on the hospital fees. I need to go with Zoe to a meeting with a client. If we can land this contract, it might save her company.” I stared at him, bewildered. “What does that have to do with me?” Zoe waltzed in, dangling a new designer handbag. “We were five thousand dollars short for this little gift for the client, so we had to use your hospital deposit.” She gave me a condescending look. “And don’t look at me like that. I know your lover boy paid for it. When I make my money back, I’ll pay you both back. Not that I want your dirty money, but Charlie spent his whole bonus trying to cheer me up last night, and I can’t let my buddy down.” Charlie grabbed her arm. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.” At the door, he seemed to remember something. He pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and threw it at me. It fluttered onto my face. “I’m going with Zoe. Get yourself home. We’ll deal with you and that man of yours when I get back.” The moment they left, my father’s friend, Arthur, arrived with my father himself. I broke down, sobbing in my dad’s arms as I told him everything. He immediately hired a lawyer to handle the divorce, worried that Charlie would harass me while I was trying to recover. My father chartered a private jet to take me home. Just as we were about to take off, my father’s assistant came aboard with a gift bag. “Mr. Thorne, a contractor downstairs asked me to give this to your daughter. He’s hoping to secure his bid for this year’s project.” He presented the bag to me. “Perhaps you’d like to see if you like it?” I recognized it immediately. It was the same bag Zoe had been holding in the hospital. So, this was her brilliant plan: buy a gift to bribe my father for a business opportunity. What a coincidence. I looked at the assistant. “Tell the person who sent this that the money used to purchase it is tainted. We will never do business with them.” He nodded, understanding, and made the call before we took off. Back home, I found hundreds of missed calls and a flood of messages from Charlie on my old phone. Anna, have you lost your mind? All I did was lend some money to my childhood best friend. Why are you demanding a divorce? Is this because of that guy who paid your hospital bill? I saw his car, his watch. They’re worth millions. Are you leaving me because you think I’m poor? I’ve worked my ass off for you! I went from making nothing to a six-figure salary in three years! I’ve supported you this whole time! I tossed the phone in a drawer and started using a new one. He wasn’t wrong. He was incredibly driven. Most of his peers were still struggling to find stable jobs, but he had already made a name for himself in the city. When Zoe wasn’t around, he was a good partner. I cooked, he cleaned. He was frugal, didn’t smoke or drink, and spent less than five hundred dollars a month on himself. I earned a decent salary, and we managed to save almost everything, putting away a hundred thousand dollars in our joint account in just three years. I had been so close to proudly telling my father that I could make it without his help. But the moment Zoe reappeared, none of it mattered. Charlie would give her everything without a second thought. Even if nothing physical had ever happened between them, I couldn’t accept a husband who valued his friendship, his “bro code,” more than his wife. A week later, my father, using methods I didn’t ask about, got Charlie to sign the divorce papers. The decree was finalized. To celebrate my return, my dad decided to throw a massive gala and publicly announce that he was transferring fifty percent of the company’s shares to me. It also meant officially changing my surname from my mother’s back to my father’s. Seeing the silver in his hair, I agreed. Because I was still recovering, I was sensitive to the cold. Even though the occasion called for a gown, I opted for a chic, custom-tailored Chanel suit. It was warmer. I was standing in a quiet corner, nibbling on a piece of cake, when a hand clamped down on my arm.

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Before graduation, Holden Blackwood, the heir to a fortune, got brutally dumped by the most popular girl in school. I was gnawing on a dry bagel, sidling up to him as he stared blankly out the window, his textbooks forgotten. “You know,” I said, “I kind of look like her. Why don’t you go for me instead?” He was silent for a long moment, then he handed me the single perfect rose he’d been about to give her. I accepted my role with zero guilt, milking it for all it was worth. A million dollars a month, I demanded. He didn’t argue. He sent two. After we got married, it was clockwork. Sex four times a week, always on schedule, service with a smile. Everyone said Holden had finally found his true love. Until the day his assistant quietly pulled me aside. “That new secretary Mr. Blackwood just hired… I hear she used to be the most popular girl back in your high school. “Ma’am, he seems to really like her. He gave her your favorite private lounge…” 1 I only ever wanted Holden Blackwood for his money. The man was a hopeless romantic, the kind who showered his girlfriend with gifts. While I was scraping by, so hungry I’d count a stale bagel as a meal, I could only envy Sophia, who wore $200,000 earrings before she even had a diploma. What I couldn’t understand was why she’d throw away a man like Holden for some broke scholarship kid. So, the moment Sophia slapped Holden across the face and stormed off, I blocked her path at the classroom door. “Are you two really over?” She shot a disdainful look at my frayed school uniform and flicked my hand off her arm. “Yes. We’re over.” “So, can I make a move on him?” Her eyes raked over my shabby clothes, and a smirk blossomed on her face. “Sure. Go for it. If you actually manage to land him, I’ll give you these earrings.” My gaze fixed on the glittering diamonds he’d given her. I nodded. At our graduation party, when Holden walked in with his arm wrapped around my waist, Sophia’s smile froze on her face. The second Holden stepped away to the restroom, she requested a song for me. As the lyrics “cheating bitch” echoed through the bar, the room fell silent, all eyes turning to me. “You’re pathetic, Chloe,” Sophia sneered. I knew exactly what Holden saw me as. A stand-in. A replacement. But I just grabbed a bottle of champagne, popped the cork, and poured the entire thing over her perfectly styled hair. Then, I plucked the earrings from her lobes. “A bet’s a bet,” I said coolly. “If you didn’t want me to have him, you shouldn’t have gotten engaged to that charity case.” “Chloe!” she shrieked, lunging at me. But a strong arm yanked me back, and Holden took the force of her slap for me. He pulled me out of the bar, and we drove in suffocating silence. He was hurting, I knew. His heart still ached for her. And I knew my place. I followed Sophia on Instagram. Every new outfit she posted, I bought the exact same one. And I’d wear it on our designated nights together. Each time he saw me dressed in her style, a flicker of something unreadable would cross his face. I knew he was looking at her, not me. That he secretly stalked her profile too, seeing in me a ghost of the girl he’d lost. My best friend, Mia, was furious for me. I was his wife, after all. But I didn’t mind. I asked for a million a month; he gave me two. I pushed my luck and asked for three; he wired me five. With a life like this, who needed love? I was born into a world devoid of affection and money. I would claw at any opportunity to make a buck, shame be damned. As long as Holden was still interested in this game, I was going to play my part to perfection. On our first anniversary, Sophia posted a new photo. A delicate butterfly tattooed on the nape of her neck. Tears streamed down my face as the needle dug into my skin, but ten agonizing hours later, I had a perfect replica. When Holden emerged from the shower, toweling his hair, he stopped dead. He saw me, perched on the bed in a lavender lace nightgown, the fresh tattoo on my neck exposed. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” “Don’t ever do this again,” he said, his voice flat. He showed no interest in the butterfly. “And get rid of all your purple clothes.” My heart sank. Lavender was Sophia’s favorite color. Was he tired of me mimicking his first love? Was my time as the stand-in finally over? “I mean, it must have hurt,” he clarified, flicking my forehead gently. “From now on, you don’t have to copy her. I’ll still give you plenty of money.” The next day, our housekeeper cleared every last purple item from my closet. I didn’t care; I’d always hated the color anyway. She replaced them with racks of elegant black dresses. I ran my hand over the exquisite fabric. He knew I loved black? But if I wasn’t Sophia’s clone anymore, what was my purpose? To test the waters, I asked for eight million. He gave me an unlimited black card. A companion card to his own. While shopping with Mia, she poked me. “I thought your plan was to stick it out for five years, then take the money and run. It’s almost been five years. When are you filing for divorce?” I found my gaze fixed on a display of tiny baby clothes in a shop window, and for a moment, I was lost in thought. 2 I had been Holden Blackwood’s substitute for five years. I didn’t know what it felt like to truly love someone. My only reference point was a faded memory of my mother, before she left with another man. The kindest thing she ever did for me was knit me a scarf. Now, my fingers were covered in bandages, but the scarf was finished. It seemed Holden didn’t need it anymore. It was one of our nights, and he was half an hour late. I waited on the sofa until I drifted off, only to be woken by a soft kiss. “Sorry,” Holden murmured, his breath hot and restrained as he undid his tie. “A client added a last-minute clause. I got held up.” For the first time ever, I pushed him away. “When are you planning to divorce me?” His breath hitched. “What are you talking about?” I looked up at him. “I know she’s back. You even gave her my favorite lounge at the office. I checked—my access has been revoked.” His muscles tensed. “Holden, don’t get me wrong. I won’t cling to you. I don’t even need a huge settlement. Just give me—” He was already on his phone, his tone colder than I’d ever heard it. “Secretary? What secretary? What’s this about the lounge? Since when does my staff get shuffled around without my approval?” On the other end, the head of HR stammered, “Mr. Blackwood, she showed us photos of the two of you from back when you were dating. She said… she said your wife stole you from her. And your wife does look a lot like Ms. Sophia, and the photos were definitely of you, so we just assumed…” Holden’s expression was glacial. “Blacklist Sophia from the entire industry. I want to see my wife’s access to that lounge restored within the hour. And you? Go to accounting and pick up your final paycheck.” The HR manager tried to protest, but Holden had already hung up. I stared at him, stunned. He turned and pulled me into a fierce embrace, his lips crashing down on mine. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against my mouth. “I had no idea. I’ve been away from the main office…” I believed him. He was always jetting around the globe for business. But no matter how far he was, he never missed one of our four nights a week. Still, a seed of doubt remained. I clutched the front of his shirt. “You’re not worried she’ll be heartbroken? Blacklisting your old flame like that?” “What old flame?” he growled, kissing me until I was breathless. “I only have you.” “Are you… telling me how you feel?” “Yes.” “Then, Holden,” I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding on tight. “What am I to you?” He paused, then his lips found mine again, more intense this time. “You’re my wife.” A shiver went through me. “Then from now on, I’m going to start acting like it.” “It’s about time you did.” Neither of us slept that night. 3 My knitting had improved. I unraveled the first scarf and re-knit it, making it bigger, warmer. But then Mia sent me a video. In the clip, Holden was in Monaco. After a meeting at his private villa, he was walking under a black umbrella as it poured. He passed Sophia. Since being blacklisted, she had nowhere to go. She couldn’t even make rent. Soaked to the bone, her purple dress clung to her curves. She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears, her voice trembling in the wind. “Holden…” He hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he walked right past her without a backward glance. “Holden! Have you forgotten everything we had?” she cried out after him, her voice desperate. He never turned around. I breathed a sigh of relief. It seemed he knew his place. But I had underestimated Sophia’s persistence. The storm raged all night, and she stood outside his villa all night. Until she finally collapsed. A black umbrella appeared in my line of sight on the screen. Sophia forced her eyes open, looking up at the man holding it. Holden was perfectly dry, his chiseled face unreadable. But the umbrella was tilted, ever so slightly, in her direction. The next day, Holden flew back to New York as planned. But he gave Sophia the villa in Monaco. “Chloe, what does this mean?” Mia fretted. “Holden only ever spends money on his women!” I thought for a moment. “If he sees me as his wife, then I’ll act like one.” That same day, Sophia was evicted from the villa. And for the first time since our wedding, Holden missed one of our nights. I called him a dozen times. He didn’t pick up. He came home the next day, looking exhausted, his eyes bloodshot. “Did you have her thrown out?” I didn’t flinch. “Yes.” “Who gave you permission to be so unreasonable?” The accusation in his tone stunned me. I looked up. “Are you saying that as your wife, I’m supposed to tolerate your ex-girlfriend living in our property?” Holden didn’t answer. He just scowled and tossed his phone at me, a video playing on the screen. In it, Sophia was being dragged into an alley by a group of men, her purple dress torn to shreds. Holden’s voice trembled with rage. “If I hadn’t gotten there in time, she would have been… violated.” I stared coldly at the screen. “What do you want me to do?” “Go to the hospital. Apologize to her.” “Holden,” I pushed the phone back at him. “I will not apologize to the other woman.” “The other woman?” A cruel, unfamiliar sneer twisted his lips. “If we’re getting technical about it, aren’t you the other woman?” The air left my lungs. He didn’t see my shock. He just turned and walked away. For the first time ever, he slammed the door. I sat alone on the sofa until the dead of night, my phone buzzing with messages from friends. Chloe! What’s going on? Why did Holden drop everything to sit by some other woman’s hospital bed? They’re saying she’s his first love. That’s not true, is it? Chloe, get to the hospital! You’re about to lose your husband! I didn’t reply to any of them. Instead, I packed my bags. When Holden came home three days later, he saw my suitcase and let out a short, humorless laugh. “What’s this? Running away from home?” I handed him the divorce papers. “It’s over. You can keep the settlement.” The teacup in his hand froze midway to his lips. 4 He scanned the agreement, page by page, his expression grim. His hands were trembling slightly. “Divorce me? Who’s going to give you that kind of money?” “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Blackwood. I won’t starve.” He hesitated. “Fine. We can get a divorce. But you have to return every penny I ever spent on you.” I froze. After five years as his stand-in, I’d earned a lot, but I’d also spent a fair bit. Seeing my hesitation, a flicker of relief crossed his face. “Can’t pay it back? That’s fine. Just as long as you don’t…” “I can.” He stared at me. I’ve always been insecure about money. No matter how much I had, I never spent lavishly. Even with a nine-figure bank balance, my idea of a feast when Holden was out of town was still ramen with a couple of eggs. Over five years, I’d made hundreds of millions, but I’d only spent two. I handed him my bank card. Then I reached up and unclasped the $200,000 earrings from my ears—the ones that would just about cover what I’d spent. “I won these from Sophia in a bet. Technically, they’re mine. Here. Now we’re even.” I took his hand and placed the earrings in his palm. As I turned to leave, he dropped them with a clatter and grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go! I didn’t really mean it!” The famously eloquent Holden Blackwood was suddenly at a loss for words. “Holden, let me go—” I snapped, turning back, but the words died in my throat. A single tear hit the back of my hand. I stared at him, incredulous. “Are you… crying?” “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his eyes red. “Don’t do this to me.” I’d never seen a man like him cry. If a photographer caught this, Blackwood Industries’ stock would plummet. So I sat down, and I listened. It turned out he hadn’t been at the hospital for days. He’d asked his friends to send me those messages to provoke me. He thought I had been the one who arranged for those men to attack Sophia. He couldn’t accept me doing something so vile. Kicking her out was one thing, but hiring thugs to violate a woman was something else entirely. He had put her in the hospital and visited her frequently only to ensure she wouldn’t press charges against me. “Calling you the other woman… I was angry. I’m so sorry,” he pleaded, his eyes swimming. I was silent for a long time. “Holden, you really hurt me this time.” A flash of pain crossed his face. “But I’ll give you one more chance.” His eyes lit up. “I want you to cut off all contact with Sophia. Send her away. Far, far away.” “Okay,” he squeezed my hand, clutching it like a lifeline. “I promise.” 5 Holden was a man of his word. The next day, Sophia was on a flight out of the country. Her destination: the same place her broke ex-boyfriend was currently backpacking. Holden seemed consumed with guilt over hurting me. His right-hand man secretly tipped me off—at this weekend’s press conference, Holden was going to officially announce his wife to the world. We had a secret marriage. As his canary in a gilded cage, I’d never had a problem with it. But now, I found myself looking forward to the announcement with a giddy anticipation. He was more passionate than ever during our nights that week. Afterwards, he’d hold me tight. “There’s a press conference this weekend,” he’d murmur. “I want you to come with me.” I smiled, pretending not to know. “Okay.” That weekend, I arrived as planned. Holden’s assistant personally led me to a seat in the front row, right where the spotlight would hit. The entire room was a sea of flashing cameras and reporters holding microphones like weapons. Everyone was desperate to know who the woman Holden Blackwood had hidden away for all these years really was. The assistant handed me a bouquet of roses—my favorite Bulgarian reds, their petals still jeweled with morning dew. They must have been flown in. Amidst the buzzing anticipation, Holden finally made his entrance. I watched from my seat as his eyes found mine across the room. A slow, intimate smile spread across his face. He held my gaze as he brought the microphone to his lips. “The woman I’m about to introduce,” he began, his voice echoing through the hall, “is the girl I fell in love with at first sight, back in high school.” Love at first sight? I blinked, confused. The curtains behind him swept open. The roses were gently taken from my hands and passed to another woman. “She was my first love, Sophia.”

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The day before my wedding, the car I was in drove through a freak temporal anomaly. Eight hours for me was twenty years for the world. When the police asked if I had any family they could contact, I stared out the window at a billboard featuring my fiancé’s face and shook my head. “No one. My parents are gone. I have no one left.” The moment he pushed open the precinct doors, words scrolled across my vision, like comments on a livestream. 【Luna, hurry up and tell him who you are! Your fiancé is a titan of industry now.】 【The one that got away is back! Kick out that cheap replacement he married, and you’ll be set for life.】 They said he had become one of Crestview’s elite, that in twenty years, he had never forgotten me. I looked at the man before me, a stranger in a tailored suit, and my voice was hollow. “Who are you? I don’t know you.” 1 With bloodshot eyes, Lucas Hart crushed me in an embrace. “Luna, you’re finally back!” I fought my way out of his arms, my voice sharp and final. “Sir, I think you have the wrong person. I don’t know you.” He stood there, clad in a bespoke suit, a ridiculously expensive Rolex glinting on his wrist, his red-rimmed eyes locked on me. Across my vision, the ghostly comments flew by, lamenting the fortune I was so foolishly turning away. But they didn’t know. I’d lived this life before. In my last life, I had thrown myself into his arms in this very police station, weeping with joy. It was a joy that soured into the cruelest of tragedies. Lucas took a step forward, reaching for me again, but I flinched away. The officer beside me moved between us, his posture wary. “Mr. Hart, what exactly is your relationship to this woman?” Lucas’s gaze never left my face, a storm of emotions churning in his eyes before settling into a quiet calm. It was a long moment before he spoke. “Her parents were my mentors. I suppose that makes me something of a big brother to her.” The comments erupted again, insisting he was just easing me into the truth, using the “brother” angle so as not to overwhelm me. I lowered my eyes, a bitter smile touching my lips. I should have known. He wouldn’t acknowledge me as his fiancée. That girl was supposed to be a memory, tucked away and cherished, not a living, breathing complication. The Lucas of today was a wealthy man with a beautiful family. My reappearance was nothing but a problem. Last time, I was blind to this. I believed his love was as unwavering as mine. I’d rushed to reclaim my title as his fiancée, deluding myself into thinking I could take back everything he had built with his wife, Sophia. It was a delusion that led to a gruesome end, with not even a body to bury. So this time, I would play the part of the amnesiac. This time, I would not interfere with his perfect life. After verifying his identity, the police prepared to release me into his care. “I don’t know him,” I insisted, digging my heels in. “I’m not going with him.” He pulled out his wallet and from it, a faded photograph of me with my parents. “Come on, Luna. Your parents left some things for you at my house. Consider it a keepsake.” But I saw it clearly. Tucked into another fold of his wallet was a vibrant, happy photo of a family of three. As he pulled out the old picture, a small, laminated photo slipped out and fluttered to the floor. It was my old student ID. 【Oh my god! He’s kept her picture for twenty years! He’s so in love!】 【I knew it! He only ever loved her! That Sophia is just a stand-in!】 The comments lauded his undying devotion. All I felt was a searing irony. A man with a wife and child—what was the point of pretending to be a tragic, romantic hero? “Luna, if you don’t come with me, you can’t get your records updated. You’ll be a ghost in the system, unable to do anything.” I hesitated, then finally, I followed him. The ride back was suffocatingly quiet. The plush leather of the Rolls-Royce’s back seat felt vast, yet it couldn’t contain the turbulent current flowing between us. After what felt like an eternity, he broke the silence, his voice low. “You really don’t remember anything about me?” “Nothing at all.” I shook my head, meeting his probing gaze with a calm, practiced smile. I wasn’t lying. I truly didn’t know this man. The Lucas I knew was a poor but proud boy, twenty years old, who would blush at a single word from me. Love and jealousy were written plainly on his face. He didn’t have this man’s money or his cunning. A ride on his beat-up bicycle was enough to make his whole day. He would never have wavered between me and another woman. In my past life, this older Lucas had hidden me away in a lavish villa, a dirty secret, torn between his wife and me. In the end, his indecision destroyed us all. I glanced over. He was rubbing his eyes, a habit I remembered. I could see the silver creeping at his temples. I ran a thumb over my bare ring finger. He still hadn’t noticed the ring he gave me was gone. Once I find the person I need to find, I will walk away from him and never look back. 2 Sophia was impeccably preserved, looking barely over thirty. The animosity in her beautiful eyes was sharp and undisguised. Lucas was about to make introductions when his phone rang. He stepped away to take the call, leaving me alone with her in the grand foyer. I tried to force the word ‘Sophia’ out, to greet her as his wife, but the sound was trapped in my throat. She approached me with a bowl of what looked like hot pear cider. “Here, drink this. It’ll soothe your throat.” The moment I reached for it, her wrist tilted. The bowl crashed at my feet. Scalding liquid splashed onto my instep. It was autumn now, but I was still wearing the flimsy summer sandals I’d had on before I got in the car. When Lucas ended his call, he saw a tearful Sophia, a stunned me, and a floor littered with porcelain shards. “Luna, what did you do?!” he roared, his voice cracking like a whip. “Apologize to Sophia, now!” His hand clamped around my wrist, the force of his grip bruising the bone. The comments flared. 【Just you wait, Lucas! When her memory comes back, you’re going to regret this!】 【Maybe he thinks he’s too old for her now? Is that why he’s pushing her away?】 A chill settled deep in my bones. No, that wasn’t it. In the twenty years I was gone, he had fallen in love with someone else. The scales of his heart had long since tipped in favor of the wife and child who had stood by his side. Sophia quickly intervened. “It was nothing, I just lost my grip. Luna, are you alright? Did it burn you?” She retrieved an elegant shopping bag from a nearby closet. “I got you some new clothes. Why don’t you go change?” Lucas took the bag from her, glanced inside, and shoved it back into her arms. “This is the couture gown I had made for you. You can’t just give it to anyone.” His voice was cold. “I’ll get new clothes for Luna.” I kept my head down. “Thank you… brother,” I mumbled. I slipped on a pair of disposable slippers and followed them into the living room. I sat on the sofa, but my eyes were drawn to the room around me, a museum of their life together. In my last life, I was never allowed in this house. 3 Only now did I see the full, crushing weight of their happiness. In their wedding photo, Sophia was radiant, nestled against Lucas. The date in the corner was three years after the day I disappeared. An entire wall was a mosaic of their life, a dense collage of memories documenting two decades. There were photos of them traveling the world, from the Eiffel Tower to the pyramids of Giza. There were photos tracing their son’s growth, from a swaddled infant to a toddler taking his first steps, to the lanky teenager he was now. The steam from the cup of tea they’d placed before me blurred my vision as memories from my past life flooded back. When I first returned, I thought he was still the same Lucas I loved. He had held me, sobbing, telling me over and over how overjoyed he was to have me back. He said his life without me had been an agony, every second a torment. He said Sophia and their son were just a responsibility, a duty to appease his parents. And I believed him. I foolishly thought we could go back. But the one time I secretly went to see Sophia and their son, he flew into a rage. “You’re still such a child,” he’d snarled. “You can’t possibly understand the pressures a forty-year-old man faces.” My eight hours had been his twenty years. His habits had changed, his tastes had changed. I couldn’t keep up with the new world. I didn’t know how to use a smartphone, didn’t understand the new slang he used. I could see the impatience, the annoyance, hidden beneath his weary sighs. That annoyance peaked two years after my return. He suddenly announced he wanted to end things. “Luna, I have a wife and son. The twenty years we lost is a chasm we can never cross.” “I can compensate you,” he’d offered. “A car, a house, money… just name it.” I’d spent the entire night screaming, smashing everything in the house. He just sat on the sofa, chain-smoking until dawn. Neither of us would yield. So I took the fight to his office, to his company, and finally, to the press. Whether it was the weight of public opinion or my relentless campaign, I’ll never know. But one day, Sophia took their son and jumped from the roof of their high-rise apartment. From that day on, Lucas hated me with a passion that burned for thirty years. He never saw me again, instead leaving me to the mercy of his staff, who found creative ways to torment me. Just before he died, he sent a message: “If only we had agreed to just be brother and sister the day you came back.” So, in this life, no matter how the ghostly comments plead my case, I will stick to my story. I have amnesia. This time, I’m not chasing some phantom love. I just want to find my footing in this new world, reclaim what my parents left me, and then disappear from his life forever. Lucas’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Luna, go apologize to Sophia.” I lifted my head, my gaze bypassing Sophia and landing squarely on him. “Are we… really brother and sister?” The comments scrolled faster. 【Whoa, whoa! Is this it? Is the big reveal coming?】 【She’s going to tell him! I knew she wasn’t an amnesiac!】 【Get ready for the groveling to begin!】 Lucas’s eyes flickered. “Yes,” he said, his voice firm. “We are.” Then, a little softer, “Did you remember something?” 4 I smiled and shook my head. “No. Just asking.” He let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh of relief. His fingers tapped a light rhythm on the tabletop. I knew that sound. It was the sound of his relief that I remembered nothing. The front door clicked open, and a young boy with a backpack walked in. “Dad, who is she?” Lucas opened his mouth, but seemed to struggle with how to introduce me. I spoke up first. “I’m your aunt.” The boy, Leo, eyed me suspiciously. “How come I’ve never seen you in any of the pictures?” he mumbled. Dinner was soon served. Sophia urged me to eat more. The table was laden with rich, elaborate dishes, but not a single one was something I liked. I felt a wave of dizziness. I remembered when Lucas and I were starting out, so poor we could barely scrape by. A single fancy meal was a cause for celebration that lasted for days. As I drifted in memory, the doorbell rang. A moment later, Lucas walked back in holding a McDonald’s bag. My eyes instantly flooded with tears. The comments went wild. 【She told him she wanted McDonald’s right before she got in the car!】 【He remembered for twenty years… I’m not crying, you’re crying.】 But in the next second, Leo leaped up and excitedly grabbed the bag from his father. “I knew you’d remember, Dad! It’s Wednesday—our family McDonald’s night!” Wednesday was McDonald’s night. That was my thing with Lucas. Our wedding was set for a Thursday, and the Wednesday before, we were so busy we never got a chance to eat. It was the one thing I kept complaining about. “I’ll get it for you as soon as I get off this thing, I promise,” he had laughed over the phone. “Luna, what’s wrong?” Sophia’s concerned voice cut through the haze. I lowered my head, forcing down a mouthful of rice. My voice was thick. “It’s nothing. I was just… thinking about my parents.” Lucas was gone from dawn till dusk, consumed by work. The household was Sophia’s domain. And she found endless reasons to torment me. One day, the dishes I washed were still greasy. The next, the floor I mopped wasn’t clean enough. Then, the clothes I hung had too many wrinkles and she had to re-iron everything. Before I could even defend myself, she would sigh, her eyes downcast. “It’s my fault, Lucas. I didn’t explain the house rules clearly enough… Oh, never mind. I’ll just go do it all again.” Lucas would only scowl at me and tell me to stop being so childish. Their son, Leo, was even worse. He secretly took photos of me changing and even tried to sell my underwear online. I brought it up once. Lucas’s face darkened instantly. “He’s a teenager, Luna. How can you even think something so vile about him?” Time truly changes a person. In my last life, sleeping next to the forty-year-old Lucas, my love had created a filter, obscuring the truth. I never realized he was no longer the twenty-year-old boy I adored. Ping. A notification on my phone. My official records were finally updated. That night, my phone rang. “City Hall. Ten a.m. tomorrow.” “I’ll be there.” The next morning, I ran into Lucas right outside the building. “Luna? What are you doing here?” I clutched the marriage certificate in my hand, its crisp edges digging into my palm. “Nothing. Just taking a walk.” If he had only asked one more question, he would have known I was there to get married. 5 Sophia’s voice called from the car. “Lucas, darling, hurry up! We’ll be late for work.” With them both gone for the day, I found the safe in Lucas’s study. Inside was the letter my parents had left me, along with the company’s original shareholder agreement. With these, I could take back what was mine. The password was still our anniversary. The first day of spring. The comments were still fawning over his supposed sentimentality. It just made me sick. I was dragging my suitcase down the street when a car careened out of control, heading straight for me. I collapsed in a pool of my own blood. My first instinct was to call Lucas. I dialed his number again and again, until the world went black. He never picked up. When I woke up, Sophia was sitting by my bed. “You’re finally awake, Luna.” Her voice was laced with faux concern. “Lucas and I were so busy with our fertility treatments for a second baby, we didn’t hear the phone.” I stared at her. “A second baby?” “We’re hoping for a girl this time,” she said, smiling sweetly. Her eyes fixed on me, and then, with a flick of her wrist, she smashed the jade bracelet she was wearing against the bedside table. Lucas walked in at that exact moment to the sound of Sophia’s theatrical sobs. “Lucas, darling! Luna… she broke the only thing your mother ever gave me!” He rushed to her side, shielding her with his body. It was the second time he’d fallen for such an obvious, pathetic trap. But this time, Sophia added a new twist. “Lucas, I don’t think she ever lost her memory. If she’s been faking it this whole time, then all of this… it would finally make sense.” His eyes snapped to me, filled with a dawning, terrible suspicion. I met his gaze. “She’s right, Lucas. I never lost my memory.” “And I never did a single thing to Sophia. The pear cider, the bracelet… it was all her.” His face contorted, a storm of shock and betrayal washing over him. His eyes reddened. I stared right back at him, my voice clear and steady. “I never wanted to destroy your family. That was your own self-important fantasy. Did you really think the twenty-year-old me would still be in love with a forty-year-old man?” The veins on the back of his hand stood out in sharp relief. “Stop it, Luna! Don’t say such things! I don’t believe you!” he roared. “If you never lost your memory, how could you be so calm? How could you not… not come running back to me?” The comments exploded. 【No way! Absolutely no way! If she remembered everything, with how much she loved him, she’d never be this cold!】 【I don’t buy it. She’s just saying this to get a reaction out of him, to make him jealous!】 My gaze shifted to the still-sobbing Sophia. I slapped her, hard, across the face. The sound echoed in the sterile room. “I was trying to be civil, but some people just keep shoving their face in for a slap.” “Luna!” Lucas lunged for my wrist. But his hand was caught mid-air, stopped by a grip of iron. A tall man with sharp, intelligent eyes stepped between us, pulling me gently behind him. His gaze on Lucas was like ice. “Allow me to introduce myself,” the man said, his voice a low baritone. “I’m Richard Vance. Luna’s husband. Legally.” I peeked out from behind him, holding up the marriage certificate. “It’s true. We’re legally married. And I have absolutely no interest in you.” “I never lost my memory, Lucas. I just lost interest.”

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