Author: Momo Chan

I sent the text to my best friend, Sophie, then hopped in the shower. A simple message: We’re getting married next month. When I got out, my phone, usually quiet, was a bonfire of notifications. The group chat, dormant for weeks, had exploded with 99+ messages. Curiosity piqued, I opened it. Everyone was tagging Ethan. Congrats, man! Eight years, about damn time! Dude, when did you propose? You kept that locked down tight. Dibs on best man. I’m calling it now, no arguments. I frowned. Ethan was getting married? To whom? Then a message from Jess, Ethan’s lifelong best friend—the “one of the guys” girl—popped up. Son, getting married is a big deal. Why didn’t you tell your old lady? The next message was from Ethan himself, and it was tagged to me. @Olivia, what’s this? The silent treatment wasn’t working, so now you’re trying to force my hand? 1 After I texted Sophie about the wedding next month, I went to take a shower. When I came back, my phone, which was usually dead quiet, had blown up. A group chat I was in had over 99 new messages. I opened it, curious. Everyone was tagging Ethan. [Congratulations! After eight years, you’re finally tying the knot.] [Ethan, my man, when did you propose? You kept that under wraps.] [I call best man, don’t even try to fight me on it.] I frowned. Ethan was getting married too? Just then, Jess, his female best friend, sent a message. [Son, how could you not tell your mom about something as huge as getting married? You ungrateful child!] The very next second, Ethan tagged me. [What, the silent treatment didn’t work, so now you’re trying to force a wedding?] The lively chat went dead silent. The shock of his words hung in the air for a long, awkward moment. My heart stuttered. I frantically scrolled up through the chat history and there it was, a message I’d sent by mistake. [Hey gorgeous, I’m getting married on the 28th of next month. Make sure you book the time off. You’re my maid of honor.] I sighed, exasperated with myself. My thumbs were already flying across the keypad, typing out a clarification. But Ethan beat me to it. [@Olivia, forget it. I’m not marrying you. If you’re really sorry, pack your shit and come back on your own. Stop with these ridiculous games.] He added another message. [And on your way back, pick me up some tacos from that place you know I like.] Seeing his words, my hands froze over the screen. A friend in the chat, clearly confused, finally broke the silence. [Wait, so there’s no wedding?] Ethan replied instantly. [Of course not. You think I’m ready to be tied down? Please.] Jess chimed in. [Told you. As if my son would get married and his own mom wouldn’t know.] [But you guys have been together for eight years. I heard that if you date for more than ten, it’s hard to ever get married.] Ethan’s reply was casual, dismissive. [So it’s hard. Then we just won’t. Who cares?] One of the kinder friends must have felt the sting on my behalf. [Uh, dude… Olivia’s still in the chat.] Ethan just sent back a smug-looking emoji. Jess then typed, [Alright, can you guys just drop it? Think how awkward this is for Olivia!] Then she tagged Ethan. [Son, you on for some ranked matches?] Ethan: [You log on first. Daddy’s on his way.] And then, one last tag for me. [@Olivia, when you get back, tidy up the apartment and take out the trash. I’m about to game, don’t bother me.] I took a deep, steadying breath. I deleted the apologetic explanation I had been typing and started fresh. [Sorry everyone, I was in the shower and just saw this. I’m getting married on the 28th of next month at The Empyrean Ballroom. You’re all welcome to come if you’re free.] I paused, then typed the final sentence. [By the way, the groom isn’t Ethan.] I hit send. Then I exited the chat for good. 2 Ethan and I got together our freshman year of college. It was an eight-year relationship. He was the one who pursued me, a grand, campus-wide campaign that everyone knew about. But once he had me, it was I who did all the compromising. Every time we fought, I was the one to apologize. If I didn’t, he could go two months without speaking a single word to me. Our most recent fight was because he’d stayed up all night gaming with Jess. Jess was his childhood friend, and their jokes often crossed a line that made me uncomfortable. The worst I ever heard was when Ethan, on an open voice chat, said to her, “If I carry this match, you’d better be on your knees ready to worship me.” Jess, never one to be outdone, shot back, “If you can actually fly, I’ll blow you… all the way to the top.” I couldn’t listen anymore. I lost my temper right then and there. Ethan’s reaction was to call me dramatic. He said he only saw Jess as a brother. They used to go skinny-dipping in the creek as kids, for God’s sake. If he was going to make a move on her, wouldn’t he have done it by now? I cried all night, my hurt completely invisible to him. He just kept playing with Jess, duo-queuing until the sun came up. Only when Jess said she was tired did he finally put down his phone to sleep, without a single word to me. The next morning, my mom called. She told me a friend from my hometown had just gotten married and asked, again, when it would be my turn. I suddenly remembered a conversation from a few weeks prior. I had asked Ethan if he ever thought about marriage. He had laughed, that careless, charming laugh of his. “Don’t even think about it. I don’t have a single thought about marriage right now. If that’s what you really want, you’re with the wrong guy.” In that moment, something inside me settled. A profound, quiet clarity. I hung up with my mom. I calmly got out of bed and looked at my reflection in the mirror, my eyes swollen like walnuts. I packed my bags. When Ethan finally got up, I placed my key on the counter by the door. “Ethan, I’m leaving.” He just scoffed, said nothing, and walked back into the bedroom. After breaking up with Ethan, I let my family set me up on a few dates. It was clumsy and discouraging at first. I was ready to give up, convinced that you couldn’t shortcut your way to real connection. But then, on the very last setup, I met him. The man I had always hoped for. With our parents’ blessing, we dated for two months and decided to get married. When I was with Ethan, marriage felt like an impossible mountain to climb, fraught with obstacles and endless considerations. But when I met the right person, I realized it wasn’t a mountain at all. It was just the natural flow of a river reaching the sea. I had, for the most part, already forgotten Ethan. If it weren’t for today’s misfired text, he might have stayed a ghost. I used to think that forgetting him would be the hardest thing I’d ever have to do. I won’t deny it; the first few weeks after moving out of his place were brutal. I was constantly checking my phone, my moods swinging from irrational anger to deep, hollowing sadness. I had no appetite. I couldn’t sleep. I know exactly how painful that process is. It feels like being pulled into a bottomless abyss, sinking so fast you can’t even catch your breath. And it went on like that. A day, then two, then a month… Until one day, I was eating, and I tasted something I loved. Really tasted it. I finished my plate and went back for seconds, then thirds. I knew then. Ethan and I were finally a closed chapter. 3 The next day, Daniel and I went for our engagement photoshoot. Daniel is my fiancé. He’s thirty, tall, with a quiet, refined grace. He’s the complete opposite of Ethan. Daniel is mature, stable, and his emotions are a calm sea. He discusses things before they become problems. Being with him feels safe. It feels like coming home. Ethan was a wildfire. Passionate, full of restless energy, completely impulsive. He would wake me in the middle of the night to go on a spontaneous hike, or he’d invite a dozen of his friends over on a Tuesday night when I was exhausted from work, without a word of warning. He never once considered anyone’s feelings but his own, his actions dictated solely by the whim of the moment. I used to believe that love was about mutual sacrifice, about bending yourself to fit another person. But with Daniel, I’ve learned that with the right person, you don’t have to change or force anything. You just… fit. We were halfway through the photoshoot when my phone rang. I was taking a break, sitting in a folding chair, and I saw Ethan’s name on the screen. Honestly, I was surprised. I never thought Ethan would be the one to call me first. Especially since he hadn’t so much as sent a text after I blew up the group chat last night. I answered. “What’s your game?” he asked, his voice cold and clipped. “What’s this ‘the groom isn’t me’ bullshit? Your little tricks are getting more elaborate.” It was true that our cycle of fighting, me giving the silent treatment, and me leaving had happened before. Each time, I was pathetically trying to make him care, to make him miss me, to prove that he loved me. And each time, it had failed. In the end, it was always me who caved, who apologized, who begged to come back, dragging my suitcase back to his apartment. And he would always greet me with a smug, dismissive, “If you knew this was going to happen, why did you bother in the first place?” Looking back now, I can’t fathom why I allowed myself to be so utterly spineless. It was like I was possessed. So this is what it’s like to have your brain completely hijacked by love. “It’s not a trick, Ethan. I’m really getting married. And the groom isn’t you,” I said, my voice calm and distant. “Hah.” A scornful laugh. “Olivia, I’ve already taken the step of calling you. I’d advise you to take the win and quit while you’re ahead.” “Believe what you want.” I had nothing more to say and was about to hang up. “When you come home tonight, grab me some tacos from that place I like. We’ll call it even for this whole mess.” And with that, he hung up on me. I was genuinely furious. But was I angry at his staggering arrogance, or at the pathetic, weak version of myself who used to put up with it? Clenching my jaw, I opened the group chat from last night. I selected a candid shot the photographer had just taken—of Daniel and me, laughing, our faces close together. And I posted it.

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The day Rhys Caldwell threw me out, he did it to ruin me. And then he divorced me. The snow in Chicago that afternoon was a thick, blinding curtain. I had his baby in my belly and a permanent limp in my left leg—a souvenir from the accident where I’d saved his life. I hobbled away from the grand stone mansion that had been my home, my prison. He watched from the second-floor balcony, a new woman tucked into the curve of his arm. A cigarette dangled from his fingers, the smoke a lazy curl in the frigid air. He was savoring the spectacle of my destruction. The days that followed were a special kind of hell. To survive, I had to agree to marry a man in his forties, to become a stepmother to his eight-year-old son. But the night before the wedding, Rhys dragged me back to his house. His face was a mask of fury I had never seen before, his voice a blade of ice as he cornered me. “You kill my child behind my back, just so you can go play mommy to some old man’s spawn?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Sadie… how dare you?” 1 On the day Rhys kicked me out, the snow fell like ash. I was holding my six-year-old sister’s hand, about to step past the wrought-iron gates, when Arthur, the butler, stopped me. “Miss Miller,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Mr. Caldwell’s instructions were that you are not to take a single thread that belongs to this house.” He gestured delicately. “The down coat you’re wearing, and the boots… Mr. Caldwell purchased those.” I understood. I lowered my gaze, my silence a shield as I unzipped the parka and slid it off my shoulders. I pulled off the warm, fur-lined boots. The wind hit me instantly, driving icy pellets against my bare arms. A violent shiver wracked my body. Stepping onto the thick blanket of snow, my bare feet screamed in protest. I looked back, up to the second-floor balcony. Rhys was there, leaning against the railing with a casual indolence. His left arm was wrapped around Brooke, his right hand holding that cigarette. He was watching me, his expression one of detached, pleasant amusement. Brooke, however, was glowing with the pure, unadulterated triumph of a victor. She unlooped a gray cashmere scarf from around her own neck and let it drop, a soft spiral falling through the air. “Why would Rhys ever want something so… cheap?” she called out, her voice laced with laughter. “Arthur, make sure that goes in the trash.” I had knitted him that scarf two months ago. He had wrapped it around his neck, smiling, and brought my hands to his lips. “My wife has magic in her fingers,” he’d murmured. Now, it was all ash. My family was bankrupt. My father was in prison. Rhys didn’t have to pretend anymore. The day he’d forced me to sign the divorce papers, he had looked at me with cold, dead eyes and dismantled me, piece by piece, with his words. “Sadie, do you know why I never wanted to be on top when we were in bed? Why I never wanted to see your face?” “Do you know why I had to take a scalding hot shower for an hour every single time after I touched you?” “Because the sight of you makes me sick. Because the thought of you, of what you are, is disgusting.” His voice was low, clinical. “If I hadn’t needed to destroy your father, did you really think a woman who throws herself at men like you would ever have been an option for me?” The words were poison, a slow-acting venom that constricted my chest until I couldn’t breathe. Tears burned my eyes, hot and useless. It was then that I finally, truly accepted it: he had never loved me. And so, I didn’t tell him I was pregnant. There was no point. With an ocean of blood and betrayal between us, our story was always destined to be a tragedy. This child never should have been conceived. 2 With no money and no insurance, my only option was a back-alley clinic in a part of town I’d only ever driven through. My luck held true to form. I started hemorrhaging on the table. For a few minutes there, I almost died. When I woke up, my little sister, Paige, was asleep in a chair beside the bed, her face tear-stained. I stroked her fine, blonde hair. “It’s okay, sweetie,” I whispered. “I’m okay.” I said it for her, but a cold fear was still coiled in my gut. If I had died, what would have happened to Paige? It was just the two of us now. We only had each other. I had to live. I had to find a way to raise her. Making money, I learned quickly, was brutal. The only real skill I had was dancing. I’d trained my whole life. But the car crash four years ago—the one where I’d swerved to shield Rhys’s side of the car with my own—had shattered my leg. It had healed, but not perfectly. A slight, almost imperceptible limp remained. You had to be looking for it to see it, but it was there. An echo of the break. I could never dance professionally again. After weeks of dead ends, I decided to start a food cart. Grilled cheese and tomato soup. I’d grown up with private chefs, clueless in a kitchen. But Rhys had loved grilled cheese, a simple comfort food from a childhood he never talked about. I had taught myself to make it for him, perfecting the golden crust, the perfect cheese pull. I never imagined that stupid skill would one day become the only thing keeping my sister and me from starving. The business was surprisingly good. I worked late into the frozen nights, my fingers swelling with chilblains until they were raw and cracked, but I never complained. I just never expected Rhys and Brooke to appear in the warm glow of my cart’s lights. They were a vision of wealth and glamour, arm in arm, a perfectly matched set. Their presence made my own worn coat and exhausted face feel like a costume for poverty. Brooke looked me up and down, a hand flying to her mouth in mock surprise. “Wow. Who would’ve thought the great Sadie Miller, the debutante of the year, would end up looking like she sleeps on the street?” I had a line of customers. I didn’t have time for this. “If you’re not buying, please move,” I said, my voice flat. Brooke immediately crumpled against Rhys’s arm. “Rhys, see? She’s still so mean to me!” Rhys, ever the protector, shot me a look of pure ice. “I’d advise you to be polite to Brooke,” he warned, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Otherwise, I can’t guarantee this little… venture… of yours will still be here tomorrow.” It was a naked threat. And with the power he wielded in this city, I knew it was one he could effortlessly enforce. I clenched my fists inside my coat pockets, biting the inside of my lip until I tasted blood. I said nothing. Seeing my submission, Brooke’s smug smile returned. Rhys looked down at her, his voice softening. “You said you wanted soup. Are you still hungry?” “Starving,” she chirped. A sale was a sale. I needed the money more than I needed my pride. I took a deep breath and pointed to the Square reader taped to the counter. “It’s fifteen dollars. You pay first.” A moment later, the transaction pinged on my phone. I turned to the griddle and began to cook. 3 I thought that night was just a fluke, a cruel twist of fate. But the next day, two of Rhys’s men showed up. They didn’t say a word. They just overturned my cart, sending soup and bread spilling into the gutter, and smashed my equipment. The official reason? Brooke had been hospitalized with food poisoning. And the only thing she’d eaten the night before was my grilled cheese. It was an obvious, transparent lie. A setup. I couldn’t understand it. She had Rhys. She had won. Why couldn’t she just leave me alone? From that day on, it became a pattern. Rhys sent his men to harass me every single day. No matter where I moved my battered cart, they found me. My business was destroyed. I didn’t know how I was going to make next month’s rent. Finally, out of options, I called him. I begged him to leave me in peace. “The food poisoning wasn’t me, Rhys, I swear it. Can you please, just this once, believe me?” He didn’t. His voice was hard, unforgiving. “You want me to leave you alone? Fine. Get on your knees and apologize to Brooke.” I was silent, stunned. “You will kneel for twelve hours,” he continued calmly. “Then we’ll call it even. Otherwise, you can forget about ever selling a sandwich in this city again.” This was the man who once claimed he would catch the stars for me if I shed a single tear. Now he was trying to break me, to humiliate me for Brooke’s amusement. But even in poverty, even in desperation, I still had a spine. I wiped away a hot tear of fury. “You know, Rhys, you’re a real piece of work. Tormenting a woman to soothe your girlfriend’s ego.” My voice shook. “I was so blind. I can’t believe I ever loved you.” His breathing on the other end of the line hitched, becoming ragged and heavy, as if I’d struck him. “You think I give a damn about your love?” he snarled, the words tearing from him. “Sadie, you were nothing to me but a tool for my revenge.” It was a vicious thing to say, but my heart was already so numb, so scarred over, that it barely registered. I bit back with the first cruel thing that came to mind. “Good. Because to me, you were just a placeholder. Something to do.” Before he could explode, I hung up the phone. 4 When I got back to our tiny apartment, Paige saw my red-rimmed eyes. She reached up and gently touched my face. “Did someone bully you again, Sadie?” she asked, her small voice full of concern. “I wish I could grow up faster, so I could protect you.” Our mother had died of an illness not long after Paige was born. Our father… well, our father was never the nurturing type. Paige had always clung to me. I forced a smile and smoothed back her hair. “What if we left this city?” I asked softly. “Just you and me. Would that be okay?” She nodded immediately. “Anywhere you go, I’ll go.” Then she hesitated. “What about Dad? Is he coming with us?” She was too young to understand the full scope of it. She knew something bad had happened, that we were poor now, but she didn’t know Dad was in prison. I chose my words carefully. “Dad made a mistake, a big one. He’s being punished for it. He… he won’t be home for a very, very long time.” She tilted her head. “What did he do? Was it really bad?” Yes. It was really bad. Twenty years ago, to force a sale on a valuable piece of land, he had set fire to the Caldwell family’s factory. Rhys’s father had been asleep in the office that night. He never made it out. So, of course, Rhys hated my father. He hated my entire family. His quest for revenge was the most normal thing in the world. He’d changed his name, hidden his past, and waited years to avenge his father. It was an act of filial piety. My dad was a criminal. He deserved what he got. I would never defend him. But I couldn’t not blame Rhys. He could have chosen a hundred other ways to get his revenge. Why did he have to use my heart as his weapon? And even now, with his vengeance complete, he wouldn’t let me go. He just kept pushing, kept tormenting me. I was powerless against him. The only option was to run. To save money, I booked tickets on a Greyhound bus to Madison. A slow, lumbering route away from my life. But on the city bus to the station, Paige suddenly collapsed. I rushed her to the nearest hospital in a blind panic, my world shrinking to the sound of sirens. And there, under the harsh fluorescent lights of the emergency room, my world fell apart completely. Paige had leukemia. The words echoed in the sterile room, shattering everything. I sat by her bed, the sobs ripping through me, unstoppable. Paige, small and pale against the white sheets, squeezed my hand. “Don’t be sad, Sadie,” she whispered, her voice impossibly small. “I don’t feel bad. Really.” She looked around the room. “I don’t like it here. I don’t want shots. Can we just go home?” I knew what she was doing. She knew I didn’t have any money. My brave, sweet, selfless little sister. A fresh wave of guilt and self-loathing crashed over me. I was so useless. I couldn’t even afford to save her life.

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For my boyfriend’s birthday, I gave him a jar of lucky stars, each one folded by hand. He took the glass jar with a smile, then his expression shifted. “You know, you’ve really got some nerve.” I froze, the words not computing. “What do you mean?” “I bring you to a hundred-dollar-a-plate restaurant for my birthday, and this is what you give me?” Ryan lifted the jar, his fingers curled around it in distaste. “Look at what Tessa got me. Look at what my friends got me. This thing isn’t even garbage.” He continued, his voice dripping with condescension. “Spending a few bucks on craft paper to get a fancy meal… this is the first time I’ve dated a girl who’s so… calculated.” And with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the jar into a nearby trash can. I walked over, retrieved it, wiped it clean, and placed it carefully inside my purse. Tessa, Ryan’s best-friend-who-happened-to-be-a-girl, had given him a pair of Air Jordans. His other friends had given him gifts worth a few hundred dollars. None of them could compare to what I’d given him. If Ryan didn’t want the Maybach, well, I guess I’d just have to drive it myself. 1 A brand-new Maybach was parked at the restaurant’s entrance, gleaming under the valet lights. Ryan and his friends had been drooling over it since we arrived, their conversation a chorus of longing for that kind of wealth. “If I could afford a Maybach, my ancestors would probably rise from their graves to throw a party,” one of them said. Tessa winked at Ryan. “Just wait. When I make my first million, I’ll buy one. And the passenger seat is all yours.” I hadn’t paid them much attention, my mind buzzing with anticipation for the moment Ryan would see his gift. After the dinner plates were cleared and the cake was cut, it was time for presents. As his girlfriend, I assumed I would go first. I was just reaching for my bag when Tessa shouldered me aside. “Back off, everyone! I get to give the first gift to the birthday boy.” “Go for it, Tessa. No one’s fighting you,” Ryan said, his smile indulgent. His eyes never once landed on me. A prickle of annoyance went through me, but I swallowed it down. It was his birthday. I wouldn’t make a scene. Tessa produced a shoebox, shoved it into Ryan’s arms, and then playfully punched his shoulder. “So, birthday boy, want me to help you put them on?” Ryan’s face lit up. It was obvious he loved the Jordans. If I hadn’t been there, I’m sure he would have taken her up on the offer. After a few other friends had given their gifts, Tessa tilted her chin toward me. “Paige? What about you?” Honestly, at that point, I didn’t want to give him my gift anymore. But before I could say a word, Tessa snatched my purse. “God, you’re so slow,” she grumbled, her impatience a performance for the group. “Always so hesitant. I’ll get it for you.” As if she couldn’t wait to humiliate me, she pulled out the glass jar of paper stars and burst into laughter. “Holy shit! I had no idea people still did this. Folding stars for a birthday present?” she howled. “Ryan, man, you hit the jackpot. Found yourself a real keeper. She sure knows how to get a good meal.” The whole table erupted in laughter. Ryan laughed, too. He took the glass jar from her, turning it over in his hands. Then, he looked at me, and his smile vanished. “Paige,” he said, his voice suddenly cold. “You know, you’ve really got some nerve.” 2 I blinked, certain I’d misheard him. Why would he suddenly curse at me? Ryan let out a short, bitter laugh and started his tirade. “I bring you to a hundred-dollar-a-plate restaurant for my birthday, and this is what you give me?” he asked, his voice rising. “So what if you folded them by hand? I don’t feel the love. I just feel insulted. Like you’re just trying to get by with some cheap gesture.” He held up the jar, his face a mask of disgust. “Look at what Tessa got me. Look at what my friends got me. This thing isn’t even garbage.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that was loud enough for everyone to hear. “Spending a few bucks on craft paper to get a fancy meal… this is the first time I’ve dated a girl who’s so… calculated.” And with a flick of his wrist, he tossed the jar into a nearby trash can. I bit down on my lip, a sour, bitter taste filling my mouth. The man who had been my intimate partner just hours ago was now a stranger, his words sharper than any knife. I knew, in that instant, that this was over. “Ryan, if my gift is that embarrassing to you, then I’ll take it back.” I walked to the trash can, fished out the jar, and used a napkin to wipe away the grime, piece by piece. “Hey, Ry, maybe you should just keep it,” Tessa chimed in, her tone dripping with fake sympathy. “The poor girl probably stayed up all night folding those. You can take it home and worship it like a family heirloom.” She was pretending to help, but her eyes were dancing with glee. “You want it? You can take it home and worship it,” Ryan shot back. He then turned to me and held out his hand. “Give it here. I’ll accept your… cheap gift.” He paused, then added, “But Paige, I think you owe me a real present. Either that, or you can Venmo me for your share of dinner. Everyone goes dutch these days. Even if we’re a couple, you can’t just take advantage of me like this.” Cheap? Take advantage of him? Suddenly, I knew I couldn’t just let this go. At the very least, I no longer had any reason to protect his ego. “Ryan, I put my heart into preparing this gift for you. And you call it cheap, throwing it in the trash without even opening it,” I said, my voice steady and clear. “You knew my stomach has been acting up and I can’t eat spicy food, yet you ordered every single dish with extra chili. I haven’t had a single bite. And you have the audacity to say I’m taking advantage of you?” I took a breath. “Fine. Let’s tally it up. Let’s calculate everything we’ve spent on each other over the past year and see who’s really been taking advantage of whom.” Throughout our relationship, I had always been the one to yield, to smooth things over. Even when we fought, I never embarrassed him in front of others. Now, being confronted so publicly, Ryan’s face flushed with anger. He lashed out. “What was I supposed to do? Unfold every single star to see if you wrote some cheesy love note inside?” he sneered. “Or were you going to tell me you hid a Maybach key in there?” He took a step closer. “Paige, get real. We’re about to graduate. You’ve said it yourself, you’re going back to your small town to take over the family business. I’m different. I just signed with a top firm. My future is bright. Unlike yours, which is… back in the middle of nowhere.” 3 I understood. The graduation breakup. It all made sense now—why Ryan had been picking at me all night. He’d landed a big job, decided I wasn’t good enough for him anymore, and was engineering a way out. And in his mind, my “hometown” was synonymous with “the middle of nowhere.” Looking at Tessa’s smug expression, I had a feeling she had something to do with him getting that job offer. “And what if I told you,” I said, my voice quiet but firm, “that there really is a Maybach key in there?” Every head at the table swiveled toward me. The silence lasted for three seconds. Then, the entire room exploded with laughter. “A Maybach key? You mean like a lighter or a kid’s toy? Hahaha!” “Dude, Ryan, you better open that jar! I want to witness you becoming a Maybach man! Hahaha.” “Ry, your taste in women is something else. She’s a world-class daydreamer, hahaha!” Amid the cacophony of ridicule, Ryan looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “Alright, Paige, that’s enough,” he said, his voice tight with humiliation. “I won’t ask you for another gift. Just go home. Don’t embarrass yourself any further.” Of course, I was leaving. But I had a few more things to say first. “Ryan, you say my gifts are cheap? The watch you’re wearing right now, the electric razor you use, the cologne you spray, the Converse on your feet—which one of those didn’t I give you?” I demanded. “Since you think they’re so cheap, give them all back.” His eyes flickered for a moment before he hardened his expression again. “You’re the one who wanted to give them to me. It’s not like I asked.” He was right. I had given them to him willingly. It was my first serious relationship, and gifts were my love language. Anything he ever mentioned wanting, anything he didn’t have, I wanted to buy for him. Thinking back on our year together, it was a one-way street. I was always giving; the gifts he gave me could be counted on one hand. The most significant one was the silver necklace I was wearing. I still remembered what he said when he put it on me. “Paige, I know silver isn’t gold. But trust me, once I graduate and land a great job, I’ll make real money. I’ll buy you a gold necklace, a gold bracelet, I’ll have you dripping in gold.” And now, he’d landed that great job. And the first thing he did was humiliate me in public to force a breakup. The promises of men. A cruel joke. It was laughable, really. 4 Perhaps realizing he sounded a bit like a freeloader, Ryan started trying to defend himself. “It’s not like I never gave you anything. And I paid for most of our dates, and I sent you money on holidays.” He sighed, trying to sound reasonable. “Paige, a relationship is supposed to be about mutual affection. It gets ugly when you start keeping score.” Ugly was one word for it. The truth was, I paid for most of our dates. The few times he paid were for small things, like fruit from a stand or a couple of milk teas. As for the holiday money, he’d Venmo me $52, and I’d send him $520. In this relationship, my investment, both emotionally and financially, dwarfed his. I had no idea how he could stand there and accuse me of taking advantage of him. Whatever. Arguing with a scumbag was a waste of time. I’d just have to chalk it up to a bad investment of my heart. Since I was the one who pursued him, I would be the one to end it. “You’re right. It has gotten ugly,” I said calmly. “Ryan, we’re done.” I grabbed my purse and turned to leave. Tessa blocked my path. “Leave the jar. Ryan promised I could take it home and worship it.” She smirked. “And that necklace he gave you? Leave that too.” “Please move,” I said, my voice low. She didn’t budge. I stepped to the left; she mirrored me. I stepped to the right; she blocked me again. I stopped, took a deep breath, and slapped her across the face. Caught completely off guard, Tessa stumbled sideways, knocking into the table. As she was about to fall, Ryan lunged forward to play hero. She collapsed dramatically into his arms. The next second, Ryan’s hand flew up and he slapped me back. My face stung, the force of it bringing tears to my eyes. But I ignored the pain. I drew my leg back and kicked him, hard, in the shin. He yelped and buckled, pulling Tessa down with him. He must have tried to cushion her fall, but by some strange twist of fate, as they tumbled to the ground, their mouths crashed together in a clumsy, disgusting kiss. The scene was both ridiculous and nauseating. People always say the “girl best friend” is just an excuse to have a backup on the sidelines. I never believed it, because Ryan always said, “We’ve known each other since middle school. If something was going to happen, it would have happened by now.” Now, I had no choice but to believe it. The air between them had been thick with unspoken things for a long time. A surge of impulse shot through me. I took two steps forward and gave Ryan another kick for good measure. You want to kiss? Go on, then. Kiss all you want. 5 I walked out of the restaurant, my mind racing as I tried to figure out how to get home. Ryan came chasing after me, Tessa and their friends trailing behind. “Paige, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you say we’re breaking up. And I’ll forget about you kicking me. But you hit Tessa. You need to apologize to her.” Seriously? Was a clean break really this difficult? “Why should I apologize to her?” Ryan looked at me with an expression that said, don’t be difficult. “Just apologize. Tessa helped me a lot with landing this job offer. As my girlfriend, you should be thanking her, not slapping her. It’s completely out of line!” “We already broke up,” I said coldly. “What does your job offer have to do with me?” When I’m in love, I can be a hopeless romantic. When it’s over, I’m decisive and I don’t look back. That was a rule I made for myself. “Ry, don’t waste your breath on her,” Tessa said, stepping forward. She was holding a beer bottle. “You think you can just hit me and walk away? Not that easy. Today, you either get on your knees and apologize, or you take this bottle of beer and…” “Ah—!” Tessa’s foot slipped, and she stumbled. The beer bottle flew from her hand, arcing through the air and crashing right into the window of the Maybach parked at the curb. A collective gasp went through the group. “Holy crap! My dream car just got hit.” “A car that expensive… how much is that repair going to cost?” “I have no idea.” “Damn, Tessa really knows how to make an entrance.” … The color drained from Ryan’s face. He didn’t even move to help Tessa up. Instead, he rounded on me, his eyes blazing. “Paige! Look what you’ve done!”

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After my mother married a titan of industry, my new stepbrother and his pack of trust-fund princes formed what they called “The Tribunal.” Their mission was to expose me. To bait me into cheating on a fictitious boyfriend, then tear away my mask of innocence. “She’s not my sister,” I heard him ranting to them over the phone. “Don’t let the innocent act fool you. She’s been around the block more times than you can count.” “A girl like that is cheap,” one of his friends chimed in. “No class. You could whisper a few sweet nothings and she’d roll over like a puppy.” A slow smile spread across my lips. I scheduled a meeting with the one who sounded the most pliable, the youngest of the princelings. “Do you think they’re too big?” I asked, my voice a soft murmur. The handsome boy stared at me, his face flushing a deep crimson. “No. They’re… great.” I moved behind him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, my voice laced with a practiced melancholy. “I’ve been self-conscious my whole life because of my body,” I whispered. “People can be so cruel. But you’re not like them, are you? You’ll protect me, won’t you?” He stammered, his voice cracking. “Yeah. I will.” Virgins. So wonderfully easy to mold. Later, his back ramrod straight, he announced to his friends that he was going to be my fiancé. The Tribunal imploded. “Carter! What the hell is wrong with you? Betraying us like that?” “I was supposed to be the one to seduce her! What are you doing proposing?” 1 I was born beautiful. That, combined with good grades, meant I’d been the center of attention since kindergarten. But my mother always had one piece of advice for me: “You need to smile less.” I’d ask her why. “An easy smile,” she’d say, “is an open invitation for cheap men.” If my gorgeous mother so much as accidentally smiled at a man, they’d swarm her like flies. I was the opposite of my mother. I always had a smile on my face. And anyone who ever crossed me would find themselves facing my retribution, delivered from the shadows, with a smile. Then, my mother found my long-lost biological father—a bona fide tycoon—and we moved into his world. That world included a stepbrother I could have done without, Liam. The moment we met, we both knew we were destined to be enemies. He mouthed two words at me from across the grand foyer: “You’re fake.” Then, with a smirk, “Watch me fix you.” I just smiled back, all innocence. 2 That night, Liam burst into my room. He was holding a dead mouse by the tail, which he flung onto my bed with a triumphant grin. He wanted to see me scream. To see me panic. My reflexes were faster. In one fluid motion, I snatched the dead rodent and shoved it down the front of his designer jeans. Then, clad in my silk robe, my feet bare, I ran screaming into my parents’ bedroom. I pitched my voice high, forcing tears. “Liam was spying on me in the shower!” In a family of this stature, even the hint of incestuous scandal is poison. My father, seeing my tear-streaked face, turned a shade of purple. He grabbed the nearest heavy object—a golf club from the corner—and laid into Liam’s backside. “If you ever pull a stunt like this with your sister again, you’re out of this house!” Later, after our parents had left, Liam stood there, his rear end probably swollen to twice its size. He glared at me, his voice a low hiss. “You just wait.” He immediately got on the phone with his friends to vent. “The mistress’s daughter can’t be anything but trash. I’m going to get them both kicked out of this house!” “Don’t let the innocent act fool you. She’s probably slept with half the city!” “She’s in art school—that’s like, a hundred grand a year. Where do you think she got that money?” As Liam spoke, his voice echoed from two places: his room down the hall, and the speaker of my own phone. On my first day in this house, I’d installed a listening app on his phone. Every secret they plotted, every move they planned, was laid bare before me. A text from one of them popped up. [Rhys: I get it. The purer they look on the outside, the dirtier they are underneath.] Rhys was the group’s resident playboy. Handsome, ridiculously wealthy, and a constant feature in gossip columns. He was a staunch bachelor, a silver ring permanently fixed on his left pinky finger as a symbol of his commitment to being non-committal. At his suggestion, the boys officially formed “The Tribunal” and drafted a battle plan. Rhys was the chief strategist. His persona for this operation: the reformed rake, a wild man ready to be tamed by one special woman—me. It was a role he’d used to devastating effect on countless women before. He was confident his plan was foolproof. Meanwhile, Rhys’s best friend, Ethan, was cast as the sweet, younger guy who falls for me at first sight. His job was to make a move while Rhys was supposedly winning my heart. The moment I took Ethan’s bait, my stepbrother Liam would lead a charge to catch us in the act. Then, Ethan would turn on me, accusing me of playing them both, and produce photographic evidence that would utterly destroy my reputation. They saw themselves as arbiters of justice. They had sworn an oath to help Liam drive the conniving mother-daughter duo out of their home for good. 3 Rhys spent a month wooing me online, meticulously mapping my likes and dislikes. In our chats, he’d casually drop hints about his family’s immense fortune. He got my address and a parade of luxury goods began arriving at my door. A sweet-talking, wealthy playboy, offering himself up on a silver platter? Of course, I wasn’t going to say no. [Rhys: She’s so clueless. I sent her a bag from last season and she acted like it was Christmas.] Liam, playing the diligent wingman, brought me to a party at Rhys’s villa. The air was thick with smug anticipation. A coterie of insiders watched me, their eyes glinting with schadenfreude, waiting for the trap to spring. This was a hunt, and I was the prey. A host in a clown mask stood in the center of the grand hall. Suddenly, the villa plunged into darkness. “Power outage?” I feigned panic, reaching out and grabbing a hand I assumed was Liam’s. But I knew instantly it wasn’t. My fingers brushed against something hard and cool. A man’s ring. Liam never wore rings. A sophisticated, woodsy cologne filled the air around me—it smelled expensive. At the same time, the clown’s voice echoed through the darkness: “The loser of our last party game must kiss a member of the opposite sex for one full minute.” Whispers erupted around me. “Wasn’t Rhys the one who lost? I thought he had a rule about not kissing women.” I felt the person next to me lean closer, and a small smile touched my lips. So many girlfriends, yet he pretends he doesn’t kiss anyone. Such a hypocrite. There was nothing I despised more than someone who was a bigger phony than I was. I kept up my act, feigning nervousness. I sensed him dipping his head toward me. I tilted my chin up, meeting him halfway. His lips were soft, wet. The kiss was clumsy, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. I frowned internally. Why is he so green? Doesn’t he even know how to kiss? But then, another hand, firm and practiced, wrapped around my waist. Shit. I kissed the wrong one. This must be Rhys. I bit down lightly on the stranger’s lower lip. He let out a muffled grunt. I heard Rhys curse under his breath, a sharp, “Fuck.” Then, he yanked me forcefully into his arms. The lights flickered back on. 4 Rhys’s face was a thundercloud. He stared at the glistening moisture on my lips, his cold eyes scanning the room. His suspicious gaze finally landed on Ethan, who was staring intently at the floor. I stood there, blinking, my face a perfect mask of pure, wide-eyed innocence. “The new girlfriend is gorgeous, Rhys. You two look perfect together.” “Damn, that must be true love. I’ve never seen Rhys kiss a girl so hard he bruised her lips.” The crowd was playing its part, their voices dripping with cheerful praise. Rhys, already seething, felt his face darken further at their words. Because he knew perfectly well he wasn’t the one who had just kissed me. But he quickly shifted gears, his expression melting into one of tender affection. He took my hand and led me to a plush sofa. He was determined to conquer me tonight, so no matter how furious he was, he had to swallow it. There were two men in the room who stood out from the rest. Rhys, seated to my right, and Ethan, across from me. Both were easily over six feet tall. The man who had kissed me in the dark was about that height. Ethan’s role in the plan was to swoop in and seduce me after Rhys and I were “together,” during a manufactured rough patch. As a co-conspirator, it was logical for Rhys to suspect him of jumping the gun. Noticing Rhys’s glare, Ethan looked up, confused. I, seated beside Rhys, offered Ethan a small, sweet smile. He instinctively returned it with a brilliant, boyish grin. A flash of fury crossed Rhys’s eyes. His grip on my hand tightened. I scanned the room again. Besides those two, there was one other man who was just as tall. His back was to us as he headed for the second-floor staircase. Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and legs that seemed to go on forever. His proportions were perfect. A shame I couldn’t see his face. Liam let out a cold laugh, leaning close to my ear. “Don’t even think about it. That’s Carter Monroe. He’s way out of your league.” “If Rhys didn’t have a thing for you, I never would have brought you here. I have no idea what he sees in you, anyway.” Liam was working hard, using reverse psychology to play his part as Rhys’s wingman. The other actors in the room chimed in on cue. “We’ve never seen Rhys fall for a girl this hard.” The mood lighting shifted, and the loud party music faded into a soft, romantic ballad. Rhys took the silver ring from his pinky—his symbol of eternal bachelorhood—and pressed it into my palm. His gaze was intense, his eyes full of feigned adoration. Another round of cheers and whistles erupted from the crowd. The atmosphere was intoxicatingly romantic, far more effective than a straightforward confession of love. Any other girl would have been blushing, her heart pounding. I simply sat there, a placid smile on my face, accepting every ounce of affection Rhys directed my way. Believing he had already won, a flicker of boredom crossed Rhys’s face, his eyes turning cold and distant for a split second. I watched his micro-expressions, then produced a perfectly timed blush. I tugged on his sleeve and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, “That was my first kiss.” The triumphant look on Rhys’s face instantly curdled. He shot a cold, mocking glare at Ethan, who was still preening like a peacock, flashing smiles in my direction. I excused myself to the restroom. My phone lit up. [Rhys: @Liam, I thought you said your sister had a ton of boyfriends? She just told me that was her first kiss.] [Liam: She’s faking it, obviously. Probably just like you, claiming you’re a virgin after a hundred girlfriends.] [Rhys: Fuck you—I actually am!] A moment later, Rhys’s last message was deleted. After scrolling through their chat, I opened my own messages, finding a conversation from before I’d arrived at the villa. A kind soul had sent me an anonymous warning. [Unknown Number: Don’t go. It’s a setup.] I’d replied with the ramblings of a girl hopelessly in love. [Sienna: Rhys is so good to me. He really loves me. To be honest, I wasn’t that into him at first, but… that was my first kiss tonight. I think I’m falling for him. His kissing technique is a little clumsy, though. Hasn’t he ever watched a tutorial or something?] As I stepped out of the restroom, a tall man in a black casual suit was standing there, a scowl on his handsome, aloof face as he stared at his phone. Then he looked up at me. I saw that his lower lip was split. And I recognized that expensive, woodsy scent. 5 I take back what I said about Rhys and Ethan being the most handsome men in the room. The man in front of me was beautiful. He had sharp, phoenix-like eyes that held a natural coolness when his face was at rest. Right now, however, they were clouded with a mixture of shame and anger that softened their icy edge. And, I noted, his ass was better than Liam’s. Carter Monroe seemed to find my gaze overly bold. His lips pressed into a tight line. I adjusted my own expression, summoning the wide-eyed, innocent smile I’d practiced in the mirror a thousand times. “Your lip… it looks like you’re hurt.” The coldness in his eyes intensified. He gave me a long, deep look, then strode away. I watched him go, noticing he was walking stiffly, almost marching, and he stumbled slightly on the stairs. Liam’s sharp eyes caught us emerging from the same hallway. He was already typing in their group chat. [Liam: Whoa, did she just try to hit on Carter Monroe in the five minutes she was in the bathroom? He’s not interested in women. She can forget it.] [Ethan: Rhys, you kissed her pretty hard. You better not get too attached before it’s my turn.] [Rhys: Who cares about her? She’s just a gold digger. Do whatever you want, just make it quick. Don’t wait too long, or she’ll actually fall in love with me and you won’t even get a taste.] [Ethan: That confident, huh?] [Rhys: Fuck off! Go be the other man. And don’t forget to take pictures for proof.] 6 Rhys excused himself to take a call, a deliberate move to leave the stage clear for me and Ethan. I went out to the balcony for some air. Ethan, wearing a white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal his collarbones, radiated a vibrant, collegiate energy as he approached me. “Sienna,” he said, his voice earnest. “Please don’t fall for Rhys. He’s had so many girlfriends. He’s not a good guy.” Ethan, like Rhys, had a flexible relationship with morals and ethics. They would do anything to achieve their goals. He leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “I don’t care if you like other guys, Sienna. If you’re with me, my house, my cars… they’re all yours.” He produced a bracelet from his pocket. I recognized it as a new piece from Cartier’s collection, worth well over a hundred thousand dollars. Except this one was a fake. Before I could refuse, he had fastened it onto my wrist. I have to admit, Ethan had a real talent for being the other man. I thought it, so I said it. Hearing the compliment, Ethan’s face froze. I slipped the bracelet off. “If you want to land a sugar mama, your looks are a good start. But you don’t need to pretend you’re rich and pass off knockoffs.” The realization that I thought he was the gold digger sent a wave of crimson across his face. He snatched the rejected bracelet, his voice rising in indignation. “I spent a ton of money on this! How can it be a fake?” Then, right before his eyes, he saw that the contact for the “private shopper” he’d used had blocked and deleted him. He stared, stunned, for three seconds, then pointed an accusing finger at me. “Even if I were looking for a sponsor, I wouldn’t choose you! I know you don’t have any real money. The family fortune is all going to Liam!” I sat back in the wicker swing, leisurely watching his performance. When he mentioned the inheritance, a small smile played on my lips. Ethan glared, defiant. “Am I wrong?” I gently stroked his cheek. “Do you know why Liam has never been the favorite in our family? Because his mother was the other woman. She broke up my parents, which is why my mom took me and ran away.” His eyes widened. This was the complete opposite of the story they’d been told. In their narrative, I was the daughter of the mistress. I continued, my voice soft and fragile. “But Liam is innocent in all this, of course. So we never pursued it. My parents were the ‘it’ couple back in college. There are tons of photos. It’s easy enough to verify.” “Love can’t have impurities. So many men have confessed their feelings for me, but they’re all so… phony. So boring. But Rhys… Rhys is different. He’s interesting.” “But after meeting him tonight, I realize he’s not what I imagined. It feels like… he doesn’t love me as much as I thought.” The sheer volume of new information left Ethan stunned and speechless. I tapped the tip of his nose with my finger. “Don’t look for shortcuts, little brother. You should focus on your studies.” I slipped off my painfully high stilettos and ignored him, sitting alone on the swing. Melancholy. Lonely. It was another one of my favorite roles to play. Ethan was young. Girls his age, full of life and energy, were a dime a dozen. To catch someone like him, I couldn’t just play the innocent little girl like I did for Rhys. I had to add a little color, a little mystery, to pique his curiosity. And once a man becomes curious about a woman… He’s already lost. 7 Ethan plopped down next to me, making the swing rock. His mission was to seduce me into cheating. He wasn’t going to give up and go home just yet. I turned my head to look at him as a breeze blew past, sending a lock of my carefully styled hair brushing against his cheek. His eyes darted around for a moment. He decided to fully embrace the “poor college student” persona and shot back a question. “Sienna, being an artist is expensive. Did you ever… you know… take any shortcuts to get by?” “I mean, a girl as beautiful as you… you must have had a lot of boyfriends, right?” He fired off two questions, his tone laced with an acidity he didn’t even seem to notice. I let out a soft laugh. He bristled again. “What’s so funny? I was just asking.” I watched him, amused. Ethan looked away, uncomfortable. Then, realizing he was losing ground, he stubbornly met my gaze again. My eyes crinkled into a smile. “Shortcuts? Didn’t you do your homework before you started pursuing me?” “That painting that sold for over a million at auction last year? I painted that to pay for my tuition.” Ethan’s immediate reaction was disbelief. Liam had told him I was nothing but a vapid, pretentious fraud. When I told him the name of the painting, his disbelief turned to shock. “But the artist of that piece was some old man who died three years ago!” I smiled, tapping his forehead gently. “Silly. It was a made-up identity. Just a bit of marketing flair. Who cares about the details? After all, a painting is always worth more after the artist is dead.” “As for ex-boyfriends… I’m beautiful. It’s only normal that a lot of men have pursued me.” “Or do you not think I’m beautiful enough?” I leaned closer, close enough to see my own reflection in his pupils. Physical proximity is a shortcut to intimacy. Suddenly, Ethan couldn’t meet my eyes. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His gaze darted away. He was clutching the fake bracelet so tightly his knuckles were white. He had genuinely believed it was real, just bought carelessly from a random contact without a second thought. I sighed, taking the bracelet from his hand and slipping it onto my own wrist. “I accept the sentiment.” Even as a fake, the bracelet caught the faint light of the evening, glinting on my wrist. Against my obviously well-cared-for skin, it looked particularly garish. Ethan watched me, his gaze deep and searching. Finally, he spoke. “I’ll buy you a real one someday.” I didn’t take him seriously. “Don’t worry about it,” I said languidly. “Instead, you could help me put my shoes back on. I’m tired today. I don’t feel like moving.” Without hesitation, Ethan knelt down and took my foot in his hand. When he saw the raw, bloody scrape on my heel, his voice was sharp with displeasure. “Why would you wear shoes like this? Your feet are torn up.” I replied lightly, “All of Rhys’s ex-girlfriends wear high heels. I thought he might like it.” The hand holding my foot froze. Ethan stood up, his voice stiff. “If you’re tired, then don’t walk. I’ll carry you back.” Fearing I might refuse, he quickly added, “Don’t worry, we can use a side entrance. No one will see. I know this place well.” In his concern, he’d slipped up. He forgot he was supposed to be a poor college student and revealed his intimate familiarity with a multi-million dollar mansion. I didn’t call him on it. I closed my eyes, feigning exhaustion. When he set me down in a quiet lounge, a pair of soft slippers had replaced my heels. He’d gotten them from a maid. [Rhys: It’s been forever. Where are you? Where is she?] Ethan sent a photo of me, asleep on the sofa. He was a decent photographer; he’d made me look beautiful. [Rhys: Ha. A classic gold digger. Won’t even take off a hundred-thousand-dollar bracelet when she’s sleeping. You really went all out, man. The bag I bought her was only like, twenty grand.] Ethan didn’t mention what had really happened. He just vaguely agreed with Rhys. [Ethan: So, according to the plan, you’re going to start giving her the cold shoulder in a few days so I can move in, right?] [Rhys: Yep. Tomorrow, you guys stay out of it. I’m going to her art studio. Time to play with my little artist.] Ethan pressed him for details, but Rhys was deliberately vague, his reply dripping with sarcasm. [Why all the questions? Did she get to you? Forgetting who your friends are?] Ethan immediately went silent. Until he had more information, he wouldn’t dare reveal his hand. I smirked, watching these conniving little boys, each with their own agenda. It was time to raise the stakes.

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Rhys was sick of me clinging to him. At his own birthday party, in front of everyone, he made sure I knew it. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Is following me around all day really that interesting?” That same night, I suffered a miscarriage at the party. Rhys, however, was with Isabelle’s parents. As I was being rushed into the emergency room on a gurney, I saw him pushing Isabelle’s father in a wheelchair. I called to tell him I’d lost the baby. His response was a careless drawl. “Call a doctor. What good is telling me?” The day he had his own car accident, he lay in a hospital bed, the corners of his eyes red as he begged me to just look at him. I smiled, a cruel, dismissive curve of my lips. “Call a doctor. What good is calling me?” Later, when I finally stopped clinging to him, he was the one begging me to speak. 1 I was married to Rhys Sterling for three years. He was the golden boy of Manhattan’s elite, and I was just a small-town girl who got her ticket to the big city because my grandfather had saved his. At Rhys’s birthday party, a crowd of his friends swarmed him, their laughter slick with privilege. “Bro, why’d you marry her anyway?” one of them asked. “Yeah, man. You and Isabelle were so good together. What made you let her go?” Rhys took a delicate sip of his champagne, his gaze lifting to flick over the person who’d asked. “It was to repay a family debt,” he said, his voice smooth and bored. “Now that she’s pregnant, I guess my duty is done.” My marriage into the Sterling family was a transaction, an arrangement made because my grandfather had once saved Rhys’s grandfather’s life. On the night Rhys proposed, he lit up the entire city skyline with fireworks just for me. The gesture had moved me for a very long time. Only later did I learn that the multi-million-dollar display was never for me. I stood there, in a world where I didn’t belong, clutching my champagne flute so tightly my knuckles were white. In the three years I’d been married to Rhys, his entire circle had frozen me out. I was an outsider, a ghost at their banquet. I’d heard whispers of a name—Isabelle. Rhys’s ex-girlfriend. From the moment we were married, Rhys had been obsessed with me getting pregnant. On our wedding night, he held me with an impatient urgency, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered, “Summer, let’s have a baby. Soon.” I thought he loved children. It wasn’t until today, hearing him dismiss our marriage as a debt and our child as a completed task, that I understood the truth. “But you still set off all those fireworks for her,” someone pressed. “That show on your proposal night cost millions. Don’t try to tell us there weren’t any feelings involved.” Rhys looked down, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips. “That was just because Isabelle loves fireworks.” He paused, letting the cruelty land. “And I wanted to piss her off.” That spectacular, city-stopping display… everyone had said it was proof that the great Rhys Sterling had finally bowed to love. The media had crowned me the luckiest woman in New York. I had believed it, too. Today, Rhys taught me a brutal lesson. The damned fireworks were never for me. They were a move in his twisted game with another woman, a way to make her jealous. From the very beginning, I was nothing more than a tool, a pawn in their love story. 2 I looked down at the birthday gift in my hands. Rhys’s mother had given it to me, insisting I deliver it to him personally. As I approached him, his friends eyed me up and down, their faces alight with the smug anticipation of a good show. Their smiles were laced with ridicule. I thrust the gift into his hands. Rhys frowned slightly. Remembering his mother’s instructions to make him drink less, I glanced at the glass in his hand and said casually, “Rhys, you should drink less.” I quickly added, afraid he’d misinterpret my concern, “It’s not good for you.” Rhys watched me, a flicker of amusement in his narrow, assessing eyes. “Summer, don’t you have anything better to do? Is following me around all day really that interesting?” The people around us whispered and snickered, their laughter a low hum of mockery. They all said I was using the life-debt between our grandfathers to guilt-trip him, that my whole family was full of social climbers. They called me a small-town girl trying to play princess. That, and Rhys’s complete and utter indifference, was a special kind of humiliation. I lifted my chin, straightened my back, and forced a smile. “Yeah,” I said, my voice brighter than I felt. “I must be bored out of my mind to actually care about you.” He shot me a dismissive glance just as his phone rang. He answered, and his face instantly changed. “I’m on my way.” He was the guest of honor, the star of the show. Every person here was desperate for a moment of his time, a chance to secure an investment for their family’s business. As Rhys rushed out, a crowd surged after him. In the shuffle and push of the throng, I lost my footing and fell. A sharp, twisting pain ripped through my abdomen as a warm gush of red spread beneath me. As they loaded me onto a stretcher, a familiar figure caught my eye. It was Rhys. And next to him was Isabelle. He was pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair, who was beaming up at him. “You must be Izzy’s boyfriend! So thoughtful, rushing over the moment you heard I was in trouble.” Rhys didn’t deny it. He and Isabelle simply exchanged a small, knowing smile. Our paths crossed for a fleeting, brutal moment as the nurses wheeled me past them. After the surgery, I called him. “Rhys, I had a miscarriage.” There was a brief silence on the other end, then his voice, casual and distant. “A miscarriage, huh? Call a doctor. What good is telling me?” A single tear slid from the corner of my eye. I closed my lids and let out a bitter, silent laugh. Before I married Rhys, my mother had told me, “Even though your grandfather saved his, the Sterlings are a powerful family. I can’t protect you, so you have to be agreeable. Don’t fight with him. Rhys works hard, so take good care of him.” I opened our message history. A sea of green bubbles, all from me. [Have you eaten?] [Remember to take your medicine.] His replies were curt, perfunctory ‘k’s. Sometimes, he didn’t even bother with that. I, his wife, was lying in a hospital bed after losing our child, while my husband was playing the doting son-in-law at his ex-girlfriend’s parents’ bedside. I remembered when my own mother broke her leg, right after Rhys and I were married. He never even showed his face, just hired a nurse to look after her. But today, for Isabelle’s father, he was bowing and scraping, running errands like a devoted servant. The difference between love and its absence is stark when you have a control group. 3 After the procedure, I packed my bags and went home. The moment my mother saw my ghostly pale face, her eyes reddened. “Summer, honey, what happened to you?” she asked, her voice trembling. I was holding it all together, but the moment I saw my mom, the dam broke. Yet, in her arms, I found the strength to stop. I choked back my tears. “Mom, I want to divorce Rhys.” My mother had always been afraid I wasn’t being treated well. She would constantly cook Rhys’s favorite dishes and have them delivered to the Sterling estate. I told her to stop, but she’d do it secretly anyway. I thought she genuinely liked him, until I found her diary. She thought that if she was a little nicer to Rhys, he might be a little nicer to her daughter. She stroked my forehead. “Okay,” she said, her voice firm. “We’ll get a divorce. We’re not afraid of them.” From outside the room, I heard Rhys on the phone, arguing with his grandfather. “What do you want for your birthday?” the old man asked. Rhys let out a cold laugh. “I want a divorce, so I can marry Isabelle. Would you allow that?” His grandfather’s roar was audible even through the door. “Nonsense!” I waited for him to hang up before pushing the door open. Rhys looked at me, his eyes cold. “How long have you been eavesdropping?” “Not long.” I stood in the doorway and smiled. “Rhys, I have a birthday present for you.” He looked amused. “What could you possibly give me? A cheap, hand-knit scarf?” I placed a single white document on the table in front of him. I shrugged. “Of course, I’m giving you your freedom. What, you don’t like your present?” When he saw the bold letters—DIVORCE AGREEMENT—his expression hardened, his eyes turning dark and cold. Rhys shoved his hands in his pockets, and a harsh, grating laugh escaped him. “Summer, does your family really want to let go of the Sterling money tree? Even if you’re willing, is your mother?” He assumed my mother’s kindness was just her sucking up to him. Rhys had been surrounded by love and adoration his whole life; he had no need for more. In his eyes, my mother’s efforts were just a calculated ploy to secure my position in his family. It was laughable, really. I looked him straight in the eye. “Rhys, are you even worthy?” I left the papers on the table and walked out. A few minutes later, I saw Isabelle’s new post. It was a picture of Rhys’s back, with the caption: [A third wheel is still a third wheel.] It was quickly followed by a screenshot of a years-old chat between them. Rhys had texted Isabelle: [There will be fireworks over the city tonight. If you call me and tell me you want to come back, I’ll call off the wedding.] I didn’t know how she had the audacity to imply I was the other woman. She was the one who took a payout from Rhys’s mother to study abroad. I didn’t even get together with Rhys until a year after they had broken up. 4 The divorce dragged on. During that time, Rhys paraded Isabelle around at every high-profile event. The entire city now knew the epic love story of Rhys Sterling and Isabelle Thorne. And I was cast as the villain, the shameless social climber who used an old family debt to trap him. The rumors nearly sent Rhys’s grandfather to the hospital. He immediately summoned both of us back to the family estate. The old man was lying in bed. The moment he saw Rhys, he grabbed the glass from his nightstand and hurled it at him. “You ungrateful brat! You have a wife, do you understand that? Who gave you permission to run around with that… that floozy?” Rhys’s gaze drifted over to me, a cruel smile touching his lips. “Isn’t the woman who schemed her way into the Sterling family and charmed you the real floozy here?” I shot him a look. If his grandfather hadn’t been there, I would have punched him in the face. Old Mr. Sterling’s face flushed with anger. He pointed a trembling finger at the door and told Rhys to get out. “Summer, you stay.” A cold stare from my side. Rhys’s voice was a low warning. “Don’t say anything stupid.” I clenched my fists. After he left, his grandfather took my hand. “My dear, you’ve been wronged. It was my fault for insisting on this marriage. I could see that you liked the boy, but I never imagined he would be so foolish.” It was true, I had liked Rhys once. But that affection had been systematically destroyed by his blatant favoritism, time and time again. When I was in elementary school, the Sterling family went through a financial crisis, and Rhys was sent to live with my family in our small town. The first time I saw him, he was this clean, pale city boy. He was so beautiful. All the other kids in the village were tanned and weathered from the sun, not delicate and perfect like him. He was supposed to sleep in the same room as me. He looked at me with disdain. “I’m not sleeping with her.” A spanking from his grandfather shut him up. After the adults left, he drew a line down the middle of the bed. No one was to cross it. He wet the bed that night. When he woke up, I was trying to stifle my giggles. His face was a thundercloud. “Don’t laugh. And don’t you dare tell anyone.” Later, I told my mom I had wet the bed. I was always so careful around him, never daring to meet his eyes. He was just too beautiful, like a porcelain doll. My hands were rough, my face was dark from the sun. In a small village, news travels fast. The other kids started teasing me, calling me his little child bride. When Rhys heard it, his young brow furrowed in anger. “She is not my wife. I don’t have a wife that ugly and stupid.” He stayed for one summer. Before he left, his face was still a mask of cold indifference. “If you ever come to the city, look me up. I’ll show you around.” The next time we met, I was eighteen. My mother got sick, and I was sent to live with the Sterlings, a guest in their house. His friends would tease him. “Hey Rhys, isn’t that your little bride from the countryside?” Rhys would shoot me a cold, sideways glance. “No. Don’t talk nonsense. She’s not my type.” “What is your type, bro? I can set you up.” His eyes, full of a strange disgust, would lock on me. “Anyone but her.” My face would burn with shame. I couldn’t look at him. One of his friends laughed. “Well, she’s my type. How about you introduce me?” Rhys sneered. “Be my guest.” Later, he got a girlfriend, Isabelle. Every time our eyes met, I felt a hot wave of shame, as if I were coveting someone else’s man. So I kept my distance. Until I was twenty-two. Isabelle dumped Rhys for money, and the Sterling family decided he should marry me. But the thing is, Rhys was the one who proposed to me. I never forced him, never even confessed my feelings. I took a deep breath and looked at his grandfather. “Grandpa, I want to divorce him.” The old man sighed. “Alright.” 5 As I was leaving, his grandfather insisted that Rhys take me out for the night. He said if, after this one night, I was still disappointed in him, he would grant us the divorce without another word. Rhys was annoyed, clearly not wanting to be saddled with me. He drove recklessly, flooring it all the way to a raucous nightclub. His friends immediately surrounded us. “Summer,” he began, his voice laced with contempt. “If you want to go find a boy toy, be my guest. I’ll even pay for it. Just stop clinging to me all the time. It’s annoying.” His words were like tiny needles pricking my heart. I smiled brightly and said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Okay! Give me the money. I want one who’s handsome, 6’2”, with an eight-pack.” He seemed taken aback by my cheerful agreement. After all, I used to follow him around like a shadow, nagging him not to drink so much when his ulcer acted up, telling him not to smoke. He always complained I was too controlling. My easy acceptance now seemed to stun him into silence. He always accused my mother and me of being gold-diggers, but in all these years, we never took a single penny from the Sterling family that wasn’t earned. A man holding a drink approached me. He had a fox-like beauty, sharp and captivating. Rhys called out to him, then glanced at me. “Leo, you’re here. Perfect. She’s all yours. I’m leaving.” After Rhys walked away, I looked at the man in front of me and turned to leave as well. He grabbed my wrist, leaning in close. “Today is September 28th.” I looked at him, confused. “Nine times twenty is one-eighty. Plus eight… one-eighty-eight. My height, in centimeters.” Suddenly, he was even closer, his voice a low murmur only I could hear. “I also have an eight-pack. I fit your criteria. Want to see?” My heart stuttered as our eyes met. His smile was dangerously alluring. There was something so familiar about his gaze, but I couldn’t place it. I pushed him away, taking a step back with an awkward laugh. “No, thank you.” He just raised an eyebrow at me as I hurried away. As I reached the entrance, my phone rang. It was the hospital. “Is this Ms. Summer Anderson? Your mother has been admitted to New York General. We need you to come and sign the consent forms for surgery.” Panic seized me. I frantically tried to hail a cab, but the club was in a remote area, frequented by the rich kids who drove their own cars. No taxis were in sight. After ten minutes of fruitless waiting, I swallowed my pride and called Rhys. My voice was tight with urgency. “Rhys. Can you give me a ride to the city?” It was Isabelle who answered. A sweet, triumphant smile was audible in her voice. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Rhys just had to defend my honor and drank a little too much. He’s in no condition to drive.” The line went dead. Despair washed over me. A black G-Wagon pulled up in front of me. “Get in.” It was the handsome man from the bar. My voice trembled. “Can you take me to New York General? Please, thank you.” I didn’t have time to think twice. I jumped in. The whole way there, my mind was a blank canvas of fear. Twenty years ago, it was my grandfather. Ten years ago, my father. Today, my mother. Every time I got a call from a hospital, a cold dread filled me. When we arrived, my legs were like jelly. I ran inside, signing papers in a daze. As they wheeled my mother into the ICU, I collapsed onto a bench in the hallway, covered in a cold sweat. Rhys called. “Where are you? Did you really go off with your new boy toy?” I ignored him and hung up. Staring at the closed doors of the ICU, a profound sense of helplessness consumed me. This was the third time. The last two times I sat outside these doors, I said goodbye to my grandfather, and then to my father. When my grandfather passed, I was too young to understand the adults’ grief. When my father died, I was old enough to understand everything. I cried and screamed, begging him not to leave me. Now, I was shaking with fear. If my mother left, I would be completely alone in this world. 6 I was only wearing a thin dress, and the night air was cold. A coat was draped over my shoulders. I looked up and met his eyes, but said nothing. A nurse called me over to pay the bill. I stared at the number, my mind reeling. So many zeros. The nurse glanced up at me. “Don’t bother counting. It’s two hundred thousand. And with your mother’s condition, the costs are only going to go up. Every time we turn on a machine, it’s tens of thousands. You need to be prepared.” I mentally tallied up every dollar I had saved from years of work. I was still twenty thousand short. I called Mr. Sterling, my voice thick with unshed tears. A moment later, a million dollars was deposited into my account. After paying the bill, I felt utterly drained. This stranger, Leo, sat with me all night. He had rushed back at some point, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, carrying two containers of hot porridge. “Eat something. It’ll warm you up.” I ate numbly. I was starving, but I had no appetite. He didn’t touch the other container. When I asked why he wasn’t eating, he just pointed to the ICU doors. “I’m waiting for your mom to wake up.” When they finally wheeled my mother out, I jumped up so fast I nearly fell. The man beside me steadied me with a firm hand. I whispered a thank you. The next day, the Sterlings arrived in full force, including the old man. When Rhys saw Leo, he froze. While I was busy running home to pack some things for my mom, it was Leo who stayed by her side, taking care of her. He was feeding her porridge, his movements gentle and practiced. Rhys stepped forward, reaching for the bowl. “I’ll do it.” Leo pulled the bowl back. “No need.” In the hospital room, Leo politely greeted the Sterling family as if he were the husband, while Rhys stood awkwardly to the side, looking like an intruder. After the family left, only Rhys remained. He and Leo were about the same height, and standing together, they created an oppressive atmosphere. “Leo, this is my mother-in-law. You can go now.” Leo let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Mr. Sterling, you must have a short memory. You’re the one who asked me to take care of her.” Rhys’s face hardened. “That won’t be necessary. I can take care of my own wife. You can leave.” The light in the bar had been too dim to see him clearly, and on the frantic drive to the hospital, my mind had been consumed with worry for my mother. But looking at him now, he seemed incredibly familiar. “Leo, thank you. You should go. You’ve done more than enough these past few days.” After he left, I looked at Rhys, my voice calm. “Let’s get a divorce. I don’t want a single penny of the Sterling money.” Rhys was silent for a long moment. “You’re not thinking clearly right now. We can talk about the divorce later. I’m going to go take care of Mom.” He started to walk past me, but I grabbed his arm. “My mother doesn’t want to see you right now. Go home.” Suddenly, the squeak of a wheelchair approached. Isabelle’s father called out to Rhys. “Look, it’s my Izzy’s boyfriend, here to see me!” I gave Rhys a cold smile. “Go take care of your future father-in-law. My mother doesn’t need you.” A look of panic flashed across his face. I immediately shut the door, leaving him on the other side. He came to the hospital every day. I refused to speak to him. I used to be the one who chattered endlessly, following him around like a lost puppy. I was the one who stopped him from drinking, worried about his health, who forbade him from street racing. “Summer, please say something. I’m not seeing Isabelle anymore. I was only helping her father because of our past.” Whenever I saw him, my face became a mask of cold indifference, the same look he used to give me. But somehow, he couldn’t stand it. I had endured that look for years. “Summer, please don’t look at me like that. It hurts. I won’t drink anymore. I won’t go to clubs. And I will never see Isabelle again.” No, please drink, I thought. Drink until your stomach bleeds. I didn’t say a single word to him until the day my mother was discharged. During that time, Isabelle and her father had even come looking for him at the hospital. In front of me, Rhys had told Isabelle’s father that there was nothing between them. Isabelle, unwilling to give up, kept coming back. Rhys just told her, coldly, to leave and never return.

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To spite his first love, the A-list actor Sean Walters married me. For three years, they remained tangled up in each other’s lives. They embraced and kissed on set, whispered sweet nothings in interviews. The internet said I was the pitiful stand-in. I never got angry. I just smiled and helped him deny every rumor. Until I got pregnant by accident and terminated it without telling him. He was sick with a furious, heartbroken rage, demanding to know why. I stroked the lines of his face and answered calmly, “Because I don’t love you.” The man I love is his dead brother. 1. The whole world knew Sean Walters married me to make Stella Ross jealous. They had a fight right before their wedding, and Stella left the country in a huff. Sean didn’t chase her. He turned around and married me instead. I wore a wedding dress that wasn’t mine and married a man who didn’t love me. Everyone said that the moment Stella came back, Sean would throw me away. But in our third year of marriage, it seemed like Sean was starting to fall for me. He would make me breakfast in bed, coax me awake with soft words, and kiss my lips when I pouted. In our most tender moments, we were lost in each other. In the dark, he would whisper temptations in my ear. “My sweet girl, give me a child. One just as sweet as you.” We were like any other ordinary, loving couple. Until the day I actually got pregnant. Before I had the chance to tell him, Stella Ross came back. On that day, they got back together. 2. The day Stella returned was the night of their college reunion. I heard her family had gone bankrupt and she was hitting up everyone for money. When Sean led me into the room, we saw some rich classmate forcing drinks on her. A hundred grand for every glass she finished, he said. Stella choked and her eyes streamed with tears, but she forced a smile and downed every single one. When she saw Sean, a flash of panic crossed her face. It must have been the humiliation. She quickly looked down. Someone in the crowd jeered, “Stella, if you need money, you should be begging our superstar Sean.” “Yeah, with your history, you roll around in his bed a few times, he’s not gonna be cheap with you.” Sean shot the man a glacial look. “Cut the crap,” he said slowly, his voice lethally soft. A cigarette dangled from his lips as he leaned against my shoulder. “Anyone who pisses off my wife can shut up and get the hell out.” Everyone laughed, calling me “Mrs. Walters,” saying how lucky I was that Sean doted on me so much. No one knew that if Stella hadn’t shown up, Sean wouldn’t have even been here tonight. Stella stared at me, biting her lip so hard it turned white, fighting back tears. The man who’d been plying her with drinks put a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it slowly. “What now?” he purred. “Looks like the great Sean Walters doesn’t want you anymore. But that’s okay. He doesn’t want you, but I do.” “If you’re willing to strip down and show me a good time in bed, I’ll give you a little spending money. How about it?” Sean crushed the cigarette in his hand. His face, already cool, turned to ice. He still cared. It was written all over him. Stella, her eyes shimmering with tears, looked up at Sean. “I won’t,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “I’ll only ever love one person in my life. Even if he doesn’t want me anymore, I won’t let anyone else touch me.” Sean’s hand on mine tightened, his fingers digging into my skin. The classmate, his pride wounded, laughed and called her a bitch. “Who do you think you are, some kind of saint? Fucking hell, I offer you a way out and you spit in my face. Fine. I’m screwing you tonight whether you like it or not.” He grabbed Stella and started dragging her towards the door. She was weak from the alcohol, stumbling against him, her struggles half-hearted. Sean’s eyes were locked on her. I could see it then. He was ready to kill for her. Just as they were about to leave, Sean finally broke. He strode forward and kicked the man holding Stella to the ground. He pinned him there, punching him again and again. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice a vicious snarl. “You touch her again, and I’ll cut off your filthy hands!” The room descended into chaos. Someone was filming. I quickly grabbed Sean’s sleeve, trying to get him to stop. He whipped his head around, his voice dripping with venom. “Who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” I froze, then slowly let go. Stella threw herself into his arms, sobbing. “Sean, don’t fight for me! If you get hurt, it’ll kill me. I was so scared… so scared you really didn’t want me anymore…” Sean didn’t push her away. He held her tight, shielding her from the world. In front of everyone, he walked out with Stella Ross. And left me behind. 3. Sean didn’t come home that night. At dawn, Stella posted on social media. “You said you’d never hold another woman’s hand again.” The post included a picture of two hands, fingers intertwined. The man’s hand had a tiny, crimson mole on the back. It was Sean. And I was the other woman whose hand he would never hold again. Within ten minutes, the post was trending. My haters flooded her comments. “Go, queen! You and Sean are the perfect couple! You have to get back together!” “Morals out the window, I’m shipping this! I just can’t stand to see that scheming bitch Vivian happy!” So many people were waiting to see me humiliated. A few of his loyal fans tried to defend me. “Bro, that’s not you, is it? I’ve been a fan for years, I know how good Vivian is to you. You can’t do her dirty like this!” Sean and I had numerous endorsement deals as a couple. The penalty for a scandal was astronomical. His agent couldn’t reach him, so she called me, begging me to do some damage control, to lie and say we were together. I scrolled through my camera roll and realized, with a pang, how few photos we had together. In the handful that existed, I was the only one smiling. Finally, I chose a photo from a long time ago. Sean, sitting under a desk lamp, reading a book. The soft glow of the lamp enveloped him, making him look so much like the man who always appeared in my dreams, the one who made my heart ache. The moment I posted it, comments poured in. “See? Sean’s at home with his wife! Anyone who says he’s cheating, I’ll rip your head off!” Everyone started attacking Stella, calling her a shameless, attention-seeking liar. Until, a few minutes later, Sean retweeted Stella’s post. Under the picture of their clasped hands, he wrote: “It was me.” He calmly admitted the truth, exposing my carefully constructed lie. Once again, for her, he threw me away. Stella’s fans stormed my page, laughing at me. “LMAO, busted! Sucks to be you, you lying bitch.” “Stella gave you three years and you still couldn’t lock him down. Pathetic.” Who ever said I wanted Sean’s heart? I deleted every trace of him from my phone. I wanted a divorce. 4. The next morning, the studio called me in to deal with the PR crisis. As luck would have it, I ran into Stella the moment I arrived. Sean must have brought her, unable to bear being apart from her for even a moment. She apologized immediately. “Vivian, I’m so sorry about last night. I was drunk and posted something stupid, and Sean just went along with my nonsense. We caused you so much trouble.” “I already told him off,” she continued, her voice dripping with false concern. “He’s always taking my side, never thinks about you. Such a typical man, so clueless.” “And those things people are saying online, that you’re my stand-in… it’s just ridiculous, isn’t it?” “They have no idea how grateful I am to you, for taking care of Sean all these years…” She gave me a sickeningly sweet smile. I smiled back. “I’m Sean’s wife. A wife taking care of her husband doesn’t require thanks from an outsider. You, on the other hand, being called a homewrecker all night… you mustn’t let it get to you.” Her expression flickered. She looked me up and down, her eyes landing on the ring on my finger. “Vivian,” she said, her smile returning, sharp as glass. “You’re wearing my wedding ring. You should give it back.” She reached for my hand. I was done. I yanked my arm back, accidentally hitting her in the face. Suddenly, she swung her designer handbag at my head. The metal clasp caught my forehead, drawing blood. The force of the blow made my ears ring. I raised my hand to strike back, but my wrist was caught from behind. Sean. He had appeared out of nowhere. His voice was ice. “Vivian Shaw, you dare touch her and see what happens.” When I turned, he saw the blood on my face. He froze for a second, then frowned at Stella. “You did this?” Tears welled in Stella’s eyes as she shook her head. “Sean, she called me a homewrecker and tried to hit me! I was just trying to get away, my bag hit her by accident! I didn’t mean to, I’ll apologize!” The moment she cried, Sean melted. He stroked her hair, praising her. “Good girl. If anyone tries to hit you, you hit them back. As long as I’m here, you don’t have to apologize to anyone.” A sudden, sharp pang of envy hit me. The truth was, I cried easily too. But the person who used to wipe away my tears was gone. My agent, Angela, couldn’t take it anymore. She pointed at me, her voice rising as she yelled at Sean. “This is your wife! Sean, are you blind? Coddling this little snake while your wife is bleeding?” “In what world is Vivian not a thousand times better than her?” “Have you forgotten you told Vivian you wanted a baby? That you said being with her was the only time you felt like you had a real home?” “You’re hurting her like this now. Are you sure you won’t regret this later?” I instinctively touched my stomach. A tiny, budding life was hidden inside me. Sean just laughed, a hollow, empty sound. His gaze swept over me, devoid of any emotion. “Maybe I did like Vivian for a little while,” he said calmly. “But Stella’s back. And whether it’s Vivian Shaw, or some other woman, they all need to step aside.” So that’s what it was. A brief, shallow affection. Now that his true love was back, he was done with me. I pulled the ring from my finger—the ring that was never mine—and held it out to him. The smile on Sean’s face slowly vanished. After a moment of tense silence, he reached for it. Angela grabbed my arm, her eyes darting to my stomach, pleading with me. “Vivian, don’t be a fool. You’re…” Stella cut her off, snatching the ring from my hand. She tried to slip it on her own finger, but it was too small. Her smile faltered for a second before she tossed the ring into a nearby trash can. She clung to Sean’s arm, pouting. “Whatever. Don’t be mad for me. I don’t want a ring some other woman has worn anyway. It’s dirty.” Sean ignored her. He was staring at me, his voice low and intense. “You’re what?” I gave him a cool, blank look and turned to leave. Sean. I’m pregnant. You don’t need to know. 5. Sean is an incredibly perceptive person. Angela’s hint was obvious. I’m sure he figured it out. My health has never been good; I’ve been on medication for years. This pregnancy was an accident, and it posed a risk. The doctor advised me to terminate it. And I didn’t want to use a child to stay tangled up with him. Before the procedure, I moved out of our home. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want any trouble. Not that he cared. He didn’t look for me. He just went on with his life. Angela sent me a video. It was from a charity auction. Sean had just gifted Stella a magnificent diamond ring. She was laughing, throwing her arms around him. A handsome couple. A perfect match. Right. I’d almost forgotten. Stella was back. And whether it was Vivian Shaw, or Vivian Shaw’s baby, we both had to step aside. That was fine. 6. The day before the surgery, a sudden, sharp anxiety gripped me. I remembered the jade charm my mother had gotten for me before she died. It was in the safe at home. I decided to go back for it. When I got there, I discovered the entry code had been changed. I stood there, locked out of my own home, a wave of humiliation washing over me. Suppressing my anger, I called Sean. But it was Stella who answered. Her voice was triumphant. “Vivian, it’s my birthday today. Sean insisted on taking me to see a meteor shower. We won’t be back tonight.” “I told him once that lovers who wish on a shooting star stay together forever. I can’t believe he remembered. I’m so happy.” “But I can’t give you the code. I mean, we’re not home. It wouldn’t be right for an outsider to just let herself in…” I hung up, turned to the keypad, and entered today’s date. The door clicked open. The code was Stella’s birthday. Inside, every trace of my existence had been erased. Our wedding photo on the console table was replaced by one of him and Stella. They were young, radiant. He was holding her, his smile genuine and full of joy. My collection of succulents had been thrown out, pot and all. My study had been converted into a piano room for her. I stood there, stunned, then ran to the bedroom. The closet was filled with a row of sexy, lace nightgowns. None of them were mine. The safe was at the bottom of the closet. I pressed my fingerprint to the scanner and, with trembling hands, pulled out my jewelry, the cash, the documents. But the one thing I couldn’t find was the jade charm my mother had left me. It was the only thing I had left of her. Stella knew that. So she threw it away.

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My boyfriend was a boy genius, cold and brilliant, with a pathological aversion to physical touch. We’d been together for years, but we’d never done any of the intimate things couples do. Not a single one. I’d convinced myself that was just his nature, and I was prepared for a life of platonic love. That is, until his birthday. I took a forty-hour trip in a cramped coach seat, all the way across the country, just to surprise him. And I saw him. Standing under a streetlamp. He was smiling as he gave the ponytail of the girl next to him a playful tug, then laced his fingers through hers. In that single, shattering moment, I decided I was done with him. “I don’t do sloppy seconds. Any man another woman has touched is dirty to me.” And the calm, self-possessed boy genius I thought I knew… finally broke. 1 It was the fourteenth day of the silent treatment between Jerry and me, and it was also his birthday. I clutched the gift I’d spent six months of part-time work saving up for and tried to rub some feeling back into my backside, which had gone completely numb after forty hours on a train. Two thousand miles, from my state university in the Midwest all the way to his prestigious campus in the city. Standing under a flickering streetlamp on the edge of the Blackwood University athletic fields, I couldn’t help the nervous flutter in my chest as I imagined his reaction. He’d probably be the same as always. Expressionless. A slight, almost imperceptible nod in my direction. That was just him—an automaton, seemingly devoid of emotion. I sighed, thinking back to what started our fight. Distant figures swam in the hazy light, and then I saw him, a silhouette so familiar it ached. I started forward, but then I froze. He wasn’t alone. A girl in a high ponytail and a sleek tracksuit was looking up at him, laughing at something he’d said. And Jerry… I don’t think I had ever seen such a relaxed, easy expression on his face. As the girl chattered away, he reached out and gave her ponytail a gentle tug. She let out a playful squeal and slapped at his hand. Instead of recoiling, he laughed and joined in her game, their movements light and carefree. The lamplight cast a soft halo around them, a perfect portrait of youth and beauty playing under the moon. It was a scene straight out of a rom-com, but it filled me with a cold, hollow dread. There was a reason for that. The very reason for our fight was Jerry’s… condition. He was the boy genius who’d made headlines back home, fast-tracked into Blackwood University at seventeen. Now, at twenty, he was already a rising star in his academic field. But geniuses have their quirks. Jerry’s was a pathological aversion to physical contact. He avoided all team sports, never took public transit. In middle school, he’d beaten a classmate bloody just because the kid had jokingly touched his hand. And I, his girlfriend, was no exception. We never kissed. We never hugged. We had never even held hands. Once, on our first anniversary, beneath a sky bursting with fireworks, I stood on my toes and stole a quick kiss on his cheek. His eyes remained as flat and calm as a frozen lake, but the way he instantly took a half-step back was a wound that festered for a long time. I always told myself, That’s just Jerry. But sometimes, a bitter resentment would bubble up. On Valentine’s Day, my roommate made her new relationship Instagram official. The picture of their clasped hands was flooded with hearts and congratulations. I couldn’t resist taking a screenshot and sending it to Jerry. I tried to make a joke out of it. Three years together and we’ve never even held hands. I must be one of a kind. His reply was a single, devastating letter. “K.” I was so hurt, I decided not to message him. Fourteen days of silence. And of course, he would never be the one to reach out first. In the end, though, I caved. Just like I always did. I convinced myself it was fine, traveled halfway across the country for him, only to be greeted by this scene. The disconnect was so vast it felt like the ground was splitting open beneath me. A motorcycle suddenly roared past, coming dangerously close to the girl. In a flash, Jerry’s arm shot out. He pulled her behind him, his hand firmly gripping hers. That protective, instinctual gesture was another knife in my heart. And at that same moment, his eyes lifted and found me, standing alone across the street. 2 His face remained a mask of indifference. His movements hitched for a fraction of a second, and then he started walking briskly toward me. The girl, Chloe, let out a little cry and tugged on the corner of his jacket. “Hey, Jerry! What’s the rush?” He didn’t pull away. He just let her hold on as he crossed the street. He stopped in front of me, his gaze traveling down to my worn-out sneakers. “What are you doing here?” The faint light danced in his dark eyes. Before tonight, I would have mistaken that for a spark of warmth. I tried to stretch my lips into a smile. It felt like pulling taffy. I held out the carefully wrapped gift. “Jerry. I came to wish you a happy birthday.” He reached for it, but Chloe’s voice cut through the air. “Oh my god, Jerry! We’re going to be late for our reservation! We have to go, now!” His hand stopped in mid-air. Pulled along by Chloe’s insistent tugging, he took a few steps before pausing and looking back at me. “Well? Are you just going to stand there? Come on.” My feet felt like lead as I trailed behind them, my mind replaying that scene under the streetlamp on a dizzying loop. I knew I was the third wheel, the awkward extra sitting in the front seat of the taxi like a piece of forgotten luggage. But how do you just give up on someone you’ve loved for so many years? From the back seat, Chloe’s cheerful chatter filled the car. She was talking about lab gossip, inside jokes I couldn’t understand. Jerry would murmur a soft response now and then, the atmosphere between them easy and familiar. I couldn’t help but remember. I used to love sharing little bits of my day with him, too. He never really responded, but I didn’t care. Then one day, as I was excitedly telling him about the stray cat that lived near my dorm, he cut me off. “Lily, do you have nothing better to do with your time?” I never bothered him with “pointless chatter” again. I never knew that he would listen so intently to someone else’s. My knuckles were white as I gripped the handle of the gift bag, the plastic digging painfully into my palm. A wave of exhaustion and sorrow so profound washed over me, I thought I might collapse. The taxi driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, noticing my red-rimmed eyes. He chuckled, trying to be friendly. “Hey, son, don’t just talk to your girlfriend back there,” he said, nodding toward Chloe. “Your little sister’s about to cry from being ignored.” The chatter in the back seat died instantly. My vulnerability exposed, I hastily wiped away my tears, a hot flush of embarrassment creeping up my neck. After a moment of silence, Chloe let out a soft, tinkling laugh. “Oh, I am so sorry. We completely forgot you were there.” She leaned forward slightly. “I’m Chloe Sherman, by the way. Jerry’s junior in the program. Though I skipped a grade, so we’re in the same graduate lab now. If all goes well, we’ll be doing our PhDs together, too.” She was still smiling, but there was a sharp, mocking edge to it now. “And you are? What school do you go to? Who’s your advisor? Published anything interesting? Funny, Jerry’s never mentioned you.” So this was Chloe. It was pathetic, I know, but I used to stalk the student forums for Jerry’s university. He was popular, a campus legend, and there were always threads about him. Since he never shared his life with me, it was the only way I could feel close to him. Her name, Chloe, always appeared alongside his. They called them the “Golden Couple of the Materials Science Department.” I’d even seen a photo of them. It was from some competition, the two of them on the winner’s podium, holding a trophy together, their smiles wide and triumphant. I’ll admit it. That picture made me burn with jealousy. The wind whistled past the car window. Jerry remained silent. He didn’t lift a finger to defend me against Chloe’s blatant provocation. “I’m Jerry’s… girlfriend,” I whispered. 3 The restaurant was an exclusive private kitchen specializing in fusion cuisine. A quick glance at the menu made my legs feel weak. Chloe ordered with the practiced ease of a regular. “The heirloom tomato tart, pan-seared scallops, and the duck confit for sure. Jerry loves those.” Did he? I had no idea. Before he was a genius, Jerry was just a kid from a normal family, like me. Our dates were usually at cheap noodle shops or diners. A real splurge for us was hot pot. I’d never even heard of a place like this. Chloe handed the menu back to the waiter. Just as he was about to leave, Jerry stopped him. “And add an order of the Nashville hot chicken. Extra spicy.” Chloe turned to him, her smile unwavering. “Jerry, I thought you never ate spicy food.” He just took a sip of his tea, offering no reply. But I knew. The person who loved spicy food wasn’t him. It was me. I felt that familiar, treacherous sting behind my eyes again. He always did this. Just when I was about to give up, about to walk away, he’d give me the tiniest crumb of hope to keep me chasing after him. Just like that night with the fireworks. After he’d flinched away from my kiss, he’d leaned in, just for a second, and pressed his lips softly to my hair. 4 The food was exquisite, but it tasted like ash in my mouth. After forty straight hours on a train, fueled only by a single pack of crackers to save money, my body was too exhausted to even feel hungry. Soon, the clock struck midnight. Chloe clapped her hands, and a group of waiters wheeled in an enormous, three-tiered cake. It was intricately decorated, with tiny fondant figures in lab coats dotting each layer. They must have been people from their lab. On the very top stood two figures, a boy and a girl, shoulder to shoulder, beaming. As the cake was placed in front of Jerry, Chloe began to speak. “Happy twentieth birthday, Jerry.” Her eyes sparkled as she pointed to the figures on top. “And here’s to us, reaching the summit together.” An entirely inappropriate toast. But that one order of spicy chicken had planted a foolish seed of hope in my heart. I prayed he would reject the cake, that he would say something, anything, to defend my place at his side. He just smiled faintly and thanked her. Then, he closed his eyes, hands clasped together, and made a wish. The candlelight softened the sharp, usually severe lines of his face. He had smiled more tonight than I’d seen him smile in all the years I’d known him combined. Was his wish about me? Or was it the same as Chloe’s toast—a wish for them to conquer the world together? They were geniuses. I was just an ordinary, broke student from a no-name college. The chasm between us had never felt so vast, so brutally real. I had my answer. The candles went out, plunging the room into darkness. And in that moment, my feelings for him dimmed, too. Chloe cheered and applauded. I forced a smile and clapped along weakly. She scooped a dollop of frosting with her finger and playfully smeared it on Jerry’s cheek. He just laughed, telling her to stop messing around. “Oh no, look what I did! I’ve ruined that perfect face of yours,” she giggled. “To make it up to you, I got you a proper gift!” 5 Like a magician, Chloe produced a large, sleek box from behind her chair and presented it to Jerry. The moment he opened it, my vision tunneled. I instinctively shoved the box at my own feet further under the table. Inside her box, nestled in black foam, was a brand-new, top-of-the-line laptop. It was the exact same one I had bought for him. “Your old one is so slow, Jerry. So, I got you a new one,” she said breezily. “I didn’t get anything too expensive, because I knew you wouldn’t accept it. Just picked one at random. You don’t mind, do you?” That laptop cost $1,299. To afford it, I’d spent six months tutoring. Every weekend, I’d take a two-hour bus ride to the other side of the city to teach, just because that tutoring center paid ten dollars more per hour than any place near my campus. The product of all my sweat and sacrifice, something I had treasured and protected… was just something she had “picked at random.” My hand, still holding my fork, began to tremble. Chloe’s eyes suddenly darted to me, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Oh, right! We haven’t seen what our guest of honor brought for Jerry yet.” Before I could react, she circled around behind me. Her hand shot out and snatched the box from under the table. I gasped and lunged for it, trying to get it back. The half-opened box slipped from her grasp and crashed to the floor. The laptop—the one I had cradled in my arms for two thousand miles—hit the polished hardwood with a sickening, final thud. “Oops, sorry,” Chloe said. Her tone held not a shred of apology. I dropped to my knees, fumbling to open the box. The chassis was bent, the screen was a spiderweb of cracks. I pressed the power button. Nothing. Jerry knelt beside me, reaching out to help me up. “Lily…” For the first time all night, I heard a trace of guilt in his voice. I shoved his hand away and numbly placed the broken computer back in its box. Then, I stood up and walked out of the private dining room. The moment I was through the door, I broke into a run. “Lily!” Jerry’s voice, sharp with alarm, echoed behind me. 6 I wasn’t fast enough. He caught me just outside the restaurant’s main entrance, his fingers digging into my shoulders. He was panting, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps. I looked up, meeting his eyes. For the first time, I saw genuine shock in them. His hand trembled as he reached up and touched my cheek, his thumb wiping away a trail of moisture. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. So this is what it felt like to be touched by him. A bitter taste filled my mouth. Tears streamed down my face, soaking the collar of my shirt. Jerry tried to wipe them away, but they just kept coming. Finally, in a move that stunned me, he pulled me into his arms. “Lily, don’t cry. Please, don’t cry…” he murmured, his voice laced with a frantic edge I’d never heard before. He repeated my name over and over again. In my moment of utter heartbreak, I had finally become his exception. But I was no longer the only exception. For all I knew, in all the moments I couldn’t see, he had been breaking his own rules for Chloe, time and time again. “Jerry.” I had been rehearsing this in my head for what felt like an eternity. When the words finally came out, my voice was shockingly steady. “Let’s break up.” He froze. When he pulled back to look at me, his eyes were filled with confusion. “Really, Lily? Over this?” A flicker of something—annoyance?—crossed his face before he sighed, a sound of weary resignation. “Lily, are you trying to get me to comfort you? When did you get so childish?” he asked, his tone flat. “This thing with Chloe… it’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand. Don’t make a scene.” He spoke as if I were a simple equation he could solve without effort, arriving at the perfect answer. He clearly thought I was too simple-minded to grasp the nuances of his relationship with Chloe, and that it wasn’t worth his time to explain it to a mere mortal like me. He just wanted me to stop being “childish” and pretend, like all the other times, that nothing had happened. Like a well-behaved pet. A hysterical laugh tried to bubble up, but it was choked off by a sob. Tears dripped into the corner of my mouth. I raised my hand, fully intending to slap him. But in that instant, all the strength drained out of me. My fingers just scraped across his cheek, leaving a thin, red line. “Jerry, you’re not a genius. You’re just an arrogant, self-righteous asshole.” He stood there, stunned, and slowly raised a hand to his face. Then, a strange look crossed his features. “There. Do you feel better now?”

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At sixteen, I had a sudden, horrifying realization: I was living inside a male power-fantasy novel. And I was cast as the hero’s gold-digger ex-girlfriend. The script said that after four years together, I would dump him for money. He would then rise to the top of the world, a new beautiful woman on his arm for every season, and eventually, he’d come back to rub his success in my face. But even after this revelation, I didn’t deviate from my life’s path. I still aced my way through the best high school, then into the top university. So when the eighteen-year-old hero-to-be stood before me, confessing his feelings, I gave him my most dazzling smile. “Alright,” I said. “But you should know, being Fiona Dursley’s boyfriend is a role you can be fired from.” 1 That one sentence lit a fire under him. Alfred Thorne became far more attentive than his character in the book. Beyond the standard ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ texts, he was constantly asking me out. “I’m busy,” was my standard reply. The top two students in my major this semester would get a fully-funded opportunity to study abroad. It was a golden ticket, and I wasn’t about to let it slip through my fingers. The consequence was that Alfred only ever saw me in class. So today, he showed up before my lecture with a bouquet of flowers. “My dearest girlfriend,” he said, with a flourish, “would you trade this bouquet of red roses for the pleasure of having dinner with me?” Alfred was undeniably handsome, and the grand gesture had half the girls in the classroom swooning. “A boyfriend that hot bringing you flowers? You have to say yes!” someone whispered loudly. I gave the roses a brief, dismissive glance. “Maybe next time you buy flowers,” I said, my voice just loud enough for him to hear, “you should actually find out what kind your girlfriend likes.” The whole class knew. Someone had sent me roses once, and the allergic reaction had kept me out of school for a week. As my boyfriend, Alfred had managed to pick the one flower I actively despised. It turns out, if a person is shallow on the inside, a handsome face can only hold your interest for so long. Later that day, he cornered me outside the library. “Fiona, are you even serious about being my girlfriend?” he demanded. “We’ve been together for a month. How many times have we actually seen each other?” I held up the stack of textbooks in my arms. “I have to study. Is this news to you?” “And for the record, when I told you to perform well, I didn’t mean I wanted a puppy following me around.” I fixed him with a cool stare. “If you don’t finish this semester at the top of your class, we’re done.” For the hero of the story, this was hardly a challenge. But in the early chapters, he was committed to his whole ‘slacker genius’ act—brimming with talent but too cool to apply himself. He was saving the big reveal of his brilliance for the parade of future heroines. As for me, his starter girlfriend? Please. I wasn’t worth the effort. “Are you serious?” Alfred asked, his voice strained. I just rolled my eyes and walked into the library. 2 As I dove headfirst into my work, I could feel Alfred’s eyes on me from across the table. I ignored him. A man without discipline is a man without appeal. When he realized staring wasn’t working, he tried a different tactic. “Fiona, how do you solve this one?” I glanced at the problem he was pointing to and then looked at him as if he were an idiot. “If this is the level of question my boyfriend needs help with, you can leave.” Alfred flushed, realizing he’d picked something on par with ‘1+1=?’ He spent the next ten minutes hunched over his textbook, finally selecting a genuinely difficult problem. I didn’t brush him off. I took my time, walking him through the logic and the shortcuts to the solution. He started off paying attention to the textbook, but slowly, his gaze drifted from the page to my face. “Fiona…” I kept working on my own problem set. “What is it?” His cheeks were tinged with pink. “You’re not what I expected at all.” Of course not. He had been drawn to my face, immediately slotting me into the ‘trophy girlfriend’ category in his mind. I didn’t call him out on it. Instead, I asked, “And what did you expect?” Alfred thought for a moment. “Beautiful, charming… the center of attention.” “And now?” He opened a bottle of water and slid it across the table. I took it with a nod and had a few sips. “Now,” he said, his voice softer, “I see that you’re brilliant and hardworking. You have this… rational kind of charm.” I smiled and leaned across the table, stopping just before our noses touched. My eyes crinkled at the corners. “Good.” Then I went right back to my work, pointedly ignoring the way the tips of Alfred’s ears had turned a fiery red. Soon, the end of the semester was approaching, and the university decided to host an Arts Gala to help students de-stress. The class president came up to me, holding a student activity form. “Fiona, I heard you’re a dancer. Would you be interested in representing our class at the gala?” I remembered this part. In the original story, my sultry dance performance was what caught the eye of the rich heir. I declined. The class president was stunned. “Why not? You’d be amazing.” He pressed on, “You’re already so popular. If you perform, you’ll be the star of the show.” Perhaps. And in the rich heir’s eyes, I’d be no different from a club dancer he could proposition. “Because I’ve already signed up to be the host of the Arts Gala,” I replied politely. 3 I beat out all the other applicants for the hosting gig. But the faculty advisor was worried I’d get stage fright. “Your file says you can sing and dance, but there’s no mention of any hosting experience. You won’t have the same on-stage presence as the others.” “How about I find you a male co-host?” she suggested. “You can support each other, and it’ll take some of the pressure off.” I didn’t argue. “Professor, why don’t I do a run-through with your recommended co-host? We can go over the script and see how it works.” The result was, predictably, a disaster. The guy they’d picked had clearly been pulled in at the last minute with zero prep. With the advisor watching, I had no choice but to go through the entire program script by myself. When I finished, she applauded lightly. “Alright, then. I was worried you wouldn’t be able to carry the show alone, but you’ve proven me wrong.” I apologized to the would-be co-host. He blushed. “No, no, it’s fine! You were just… you were amazing, Fiona. I’ll work harder so maybe one day I’ll get the chance to share a stage with you.” As for why the university didn’t bother holding proper auditions for a male host? Because this was a male power-fantasy novel. All the female characters were props for the hero. Why would any other man get a chance to shine in the spotlight? Even the original host from the book, Laura, was just another conquest for the hero down the line. When Alfred heard I was hosting the gala, his first reaction was excitement. His second was jealousy. “Doesn’t that mean a ton of guys are going to be checking you out?” 4 I pinched his cheek. “Why don’t you ask if I’ll be checking any of them out?” Alfred pulled me into a hug. “I don’t care. You’re only allowed to look at me.” I subtly pushed him away. “That depends on whether you continue to measure up.” On the night of the gala, I abandoned my usual minimalist style. I went all out, renting a stunning evening gown from the university’s costume department. Even as the disposable ex-girlfriend, my looks were top-tier. Otherwise, the hero wouldn’t have spent half the book collecting women who bore a passing resemblance to me. The thought made my stomach turn. I walked onto the stage to a wave of applause and stunned silence. My beauty was an asset—one I wouldn’t overuse, but one I would never discard. The most intense gaze in the audience, of course, belonged to Alfred. But I couldn’t help but notice the man in the front row: Damian Sterling, the book’s secondary male lead. It was hard not to notice him. He and his bodyguards took up an entire row. His eyes were locked on me. I offered a polite, generic smile in his direction and then looked away. 5 After the show, Alfred came on stage with a huge bouquet of white roses. Great. More roses. He tried to hand them to me. “Fiona, I’m so proud of you.” I gave him a quick hug but didn’t take the flowers. Alfred looked confused. “You don’t like them? I made sure to get white roses this time, not red. I thought all women liked roses.” Just then, the rich heir, Damian, made his way onto the stage. “Excuse me for interrupting. Hello, I’m Damian Sterling.” He offered me a bouquet of pristine white tulips. “I feel tulips are a much better match for your elegance tonight, Miss Dursley.” I smiled and accepted the tulips. Alfred’s face started to darken. I tugged on his sleeve. “Alfred, darling, could you reimburse Mr. Sterling for the flowers? It was so kind of him to pick them up for me.” A grin spread across Alfred’s face. He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and shoved it at Damian. “Thanks for the effort, but I’m perfectly capable of buying my own girlfriend flowers.” Damian just smirked. “You have to buy the right ones first.” I thanked him again to break the tension, then looped my arm through Alfred’s and led him backstage. Once we were alone, Alfred, practically bursting with pride, told me he’d turned down a girl who confessed her feelings to him today. “Who was it?” 6 “Laura. The girl who was also trying out to be the host.” So it was her. It seemed my presence in the competition had pushed her into the audience, where she’d met Alfred ahead of schedule and made her move. “And?” “I turned her down, of course,” Alfred said, puffing out his chest. “I already have the best girlfriend in the world.” Speak of the devil. The person handling the backstage cleanup was Laura herself. Her eyes immediately landed on our intertwined hands, her gaze sharp and assessing. “So you’re Fiona Dursley. Alfred’s girlfriend.” I just smiled and said nothing. Laura’s expression soured. “You’re lucky to have a boyfriend like him.” “It’s not her who’s lucky, it’s me,” Alfred interjected, leaning his head toward me. I gave his hair a perfunctory ruffle. “Such a good boy.” Laura looked like she’d been slapped. She dropped what she was doing and ran out, tears welling in her eyes. Once she was gone, Alfred’s smile faded. “Fiona, the reason you didn’t take my roses… is it because you really don’t like them?” I nodded. “That’s right.” He tightened his grip on my hand. “Next time, even if you don’t like them, can you just take them anyway?” I pulled my hand back, my own expression turning cold. Without another word, I started walking toward my dorm. Alfred rushed after me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant… in front of your other admirers, could you give me a little…” I stopped and turned. “A little what?” He wrapped his arms around me. “A little face.” Just then, Damian Sterling happened to be walking by. I tilted Alfred’s chin up and kissed him. Right in Damian’s line of sight. “Was that enough for you?” 7 Alfred’s face was as red as a ripe apple. He stood there, completely stunned, but his eyes shot a triumphant glare at Damian. “Childish,” I muttered. By the end of the semester, Alfred and I were the campus’s model couple. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. But then, a plot twist that wasn’t in the original script appeared. The university was offering a full scholarship for the top two students in our department to study abroad. Originally, Alfred and I were tied for first place, both securing a spot. But my advisor had just sent me a message. There had been a change. Because of Damian Sterling’s family connections, the department had decided to add him to the list. Which meant that either Alfred or I would be cut. Honestly, someone with Damian’s background didn’t need a university scholarship. If he wanted to study abroad, he had a dozen better options. It made no sense for him to pull strings for this one, small opportunity. It was a power play, designed to force Alfred and me to come to him. And in that moment, I realized just how powerless I was. Until Alfred had his big hero moment and leveled up, Damian was effectively the second protagonist of this world. He had the power to crush anyone. Against him, I had no moves to make. I told Alfred about the situation. He was silent for a long moment, then looked at me. “Let’s just give up, Fiona,” he said. “We don’t have to try so hard.” It was like a splash of cold water to the face. I finally understood my mistake. Compared to the hero of the story, blessed with endless good fortune, I was just a disposable stepping stone. Now that I was aware of the plot, how could I possibly have expected him to be my support? 8 I accepted Damian Sterling’s invitation. Studying abroad would allow me to build my own network, to create a bigger future for myself. I had no reason to give that up. If the plot remained unchanged, the domestic market would one day belong to Alfred. My only move was to carve out my own territory overseas. Damian had chosen an absurdly luxurious and stylish cafe. His first words to me were, “Will you be my girlfriend?” “No,” I replied instantly. He was taken aback. “Then why did you agree to meet me today?” He quickly recovered, smiling. “Don’t be so quick to refuse. You can think it over while you enjoy your coffee.” I didn’t say anything. I simply picked up my cup, inhaled the aroma, and then proceeded to add a generous amount of sugar and cream. Damian raised an eyebrow. “That’s pure Blue Mountain coffee, you know.” The implication was clear: I was ruining it. I decided it wasn’t sweet enough and added another sugar cube. “I’m not a fan of making things difficult for myself.” “I came here today to tell you that I am willing to go abroad with you. I am not, however, willing to become your girlfriend.” Damian took a slow sip of his own coffee. “But… if you’re not my girlfriend, why would I give you this opportunity?” I played my next card. “I will break up with Alfred.” I let that hang in the air for a second. “Not to be with you. But to give you an opportunity to pursue me.” Damian burst out laughing. “That is the most interesting proposition I’ve heard all year.” I said nothing more. I just left my contact information on the table. “Let me know when you’ve made a decision. This offer won’t last forever.” I stood up to leave. “You have until tomorrow morning.” I was betting on two things: Damian’s arrogance, and the narrative’s relentless drive to separate me and Alfred. It was a gamble I had to take. 9 Even before I got a confirmation from Damian, I sent Alfred the breakup text. He rushed to my dorm, standing outside the building. It was funny, in a sad way. It was the first time he’d ever come here on his own initiative. He stood there all night, causing a campus-wide spectacle. Finally, worn down by the unspoken pressure from my roommates, I went down to see him. His eyes were bloodshot, his face gaunt. He looked utterly heartbroken. “You’re breaking up with me for this scholarship?” he asked, his voice rough. “You’re going to dump me and run off with that rich guy?” “Not exactly,” I corrected him. “The scholarship is the immediate cause, yes. But the root cause is this: you’re lazy and you have no backbone. You don’t meet the standards for the next phase of my life.” “Next phase?” he repeated blankly. I nodded. “People are supposed to strive for better things. Just because you’re content to coast doesn’t mean I have to accept it. Besides, when this whole thing with Damian came up, what did you do? You stood there and told me to just let it go, spouting nonsense about how things will work themselves out.” “What else did you do?” “That doesn’t mean I have no backbone,” he said, his voice cracking. “I love you. I just don’t want to see you struggle.” I threw my hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Exactly.” “So I’m not struggling anymore. I’m breaking up with you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385184”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

One drunken night, I went wild with Anson, my best friend since childhood. I was in the shower when the text began to scroll across my vision. 【Can all these ‘girl-bros’ just spontaneously combust already? Seriously.】 【Using the ‘best friend’ card to pull this crap… she’s a real piece of work.】 【His one true love has already appeared. Get rid of this pick-me girl, she’s disgusting!】 I stood there in silence for a moment, then pulled the shower curtain closed. When Anson called later, asking me out for another drink, my voice was flat. “I can’t. I’m pregnant.” I paused, then added, “And no, it’s not yours.” 1 We’re adults. We have needs. Anson and I had known each other forever, and he’d always kept his circle clean. So, what happened, happened. Last night was insane. He pulled me from the bathroom to the floor-to-ceiling windows, a whirlwind of tangled limbs and breathless moments. But when his phone rang at the crack of dawn, he was gone, not even remembering to grab me my favorite chicken and wild rice soup from Henderson’s on his way out. And then, in the shower, the stream of text appeared. Once I pieced it all together, I understood. I was the despised “girl-bro.” Anson was destined for someone else. His early morning disappearing act? It was for her. He’d been obsessed with this girl for a week, making a pilgrimage to her coffee shop every single morning, a relentless, charming pest. I was curious. Were these vulgar comments scrolling before my eyes real? The moment I walked into that coffee shop, Anson froze. The girl was leaning over to place a coffee in front of him, a strand of her hair brushing against his arm. His eyes met mine, and his composure shattered. “L-Leah…” The girl looked up at me. I smiled. “One Americano. Black, no sugar.” The comments went wild. 【Who the hell does she think she is, ordering the main character around?! I’m gonna lose my mind!】 【Does she think she’s hot stuff just sitting there? He was never hers to begin with, what’s with the attitude?!】 【He hasn’t even won the girl over yet and she’s already here stirring up trouble. How pathetic can you get?!】 The girl blinked, a little startled. “Would you like that iced or hot, ma’am?” “Hot, thank you.” She turned to get back to work. Anson’s eyes darted around, guilt written all over his face. “How did you find this place?” I didn’t answer. He scrambled for an excuse. “This is… a friend’s shop.” I remained silent. He hesitated, then tested the waters. “Leah, are you mad?” 2 “Here you go, ma’am,” the girl said politely. “Your Americano.” Her pale hand placed the cup on my table. She lingered, making no move to leave. The comments wailed in agony. 【I can’t with this. The moment our girl starts to fall for him, this damn pick-me shows up.】 【Her heart is turning to ice right now!】 【Does this ‘girl-bro’ seriously not get how much she’s in the way? Acting all high and mighty…】 Anson glanced from me to her, then back again. Clenching his jaw, he stood up and took the girl’s arm. “Mia, this is—” “I’m Anson’s…” I cut him off, watching the color drain from his face before finishing slowly, “…best friend. One of the guys.” Both of them went pale. 【Oh my god, she actually had the nerve to say it out loud?】 【It’s okay, girl, I get you. I used to be a pick-me too, until someone beat the crap out of me. Haven’t dared since.】 【This is next level. She’s just straight-up declaring war!】 Beneath the flood of text, Mia’s eyes reddened. Anson shot up, flustered. “Mia, don’t be upset.” I took a sip of my coffee. The bitterness made me wince. I scanned the QR code, paid, and walked out. All I needed was to confirm the comments were real. Dragging this out any further was pointless. As I pushed the door open, the early summer breeze hit my face. Someone rushed out after me, their expression ugly. “Leah, did you come all this way just to give her a hard time?” 3 My eyes fell on the dark red mark on his neck. I pulled a compact mirror from my bag and handed it to him. “You missed a spot.” He froze. His gaze dropped to the mirror, and panic flashed in his eyes. “This… a mosquito must’ve gotten me at some point.” He tried to pull his collar up to hide the mark. A pathetic attempt to hide the obvious. I was already walking away. I was the one who left that mark. What was he trying to explain to me? 4 Luckily, the trip to the coffee shop didn’t take long. Henderson’s was still open. I definitely needed a bowl of their chicken and wild rice soup to refuel. It was a shame, though. Anson was one of the few guys I knew inside and out. The experience was… satisfactory. And free. Guess that’s off the table now. As I was lamenting my loss, the group chat with all our old neighborhood friends started blowing up. Anson: 【Guys, I’m officially taken. Anyone free tonight? Let’s celebrate.】 Someone in the group immediately started teasing him. 【Cut the crap, man. If you wanna drink, just say it. We all know who you’re with.】 【Yeah, seriously. We’ve known Leah longer than you have. Stop showing off.】 Anson sent a series of ellipses. The next moment, a new person was added to the group. A profile picture of a fluffy pink cloud. She sent a voice message. 【Hi everyone, I’m Anson’s girlfriend, Mia! It’s so nice to meet you all! ♡】 The chat went silent for a beat. Then, a flood of welcome emojis filled the screen. Privately, four or five messages popped up on my phone. 【Leah, what’s going on? Did you and Anson have a fight?】 I couldn’t reply to all of them. I decided to just respond to Mia in the main group. 【Welcome.】 Almost instantly, another voice note from Mia appeared. 【Is Leah in this group? I heard she’s like, a really good friend to all you guys.】 5 The comments were howling with laughter. 【LMAO, no matter how smug the pick-me acts, she still has to call the girlfriend ‘sis’ once it’s official.】 【Go, Mia, go! Called her out the second she joined the group. Let’s see what face this girl has left.】 【This is the kind of satisfying drama I live for! Everyone stand and applaud!】 My… arrangement with Anson had been going on for six months. Our closeness wasn’t a secret in our little circle. Even if I maintained the “best friend” persona, I was Anson’s best friend. With one sentence, Mia had demoted me to being everyone’s buddy. The group chat fell silent again. No one dared to touch that line. Only Anson responded, tagging the pink cloud. 【You can’t expect every girl to be as sweet and reserved as you.】 He then sent me a private message. 【She doesn’t know about us.】 【This one’s on me. Can you just let it go?】 It seemed he’d recovered from the initial shock and guilt of seeing me this morning. He was firmly choosing his one true love. I didn’t reply. Then, a notification popped up. A wire transfer from Anson. $5,000.00. Another one. $13,140.00. Large, specific amounts. The kind you can’t easily dispute. I accepted the money. Anson sent a pleading emoji. I was quiet for a moment, then typed a reply in the group chat. 【See you tonight.】 I had made my stance clear. Only then did our friends start chiming in. 【Got it, see you tonight!】 And just like that, the invisible peanut gallery exploded again. 【What’s her problem? Has she never been to a party before? Gotta make her presence known even at his relationship announcement?】 【The female rivalry is strong with this one. The whole ‘girl-bro’ act is just designed to piss off the girlfriend, isn’t it? I’m getting second-hand cringe.】 【Someone please tell this girl to stop being so delusional. Not every guy is secretly in love with her.】 【I think you just perfectly psychoanalyzed Leah lol.】 【She’s a prophet! Get her!】 My eyes scanned the text. Tonight’s party… who said I was going for Anson? 6 I must have been exhausted from the night before. By the time I woke up, it was already late. When I arrived at the restaurant, most of our friends were already there. Mia’s eyes locked onto me instantly. Instead of a greeting, she smiled and tapped a dish on the menu. The peel-and-eat shrimp. “I’d love to have this, but peeling them is such a pain.” Anson, ever the doting new boyfriend, stroked her head indulgently. “I’ll peel them for you.” Mia beamed, then acted as if she’d just noticed my arrival. “Oh, Leah’s here! Why are you sitting so far away?” She feigned curiosity. “Shouldn’t the ‘best friend’ sit right next to the guys?” The table went quiet. She pursed her lips, pretending to realize her mistake. “Oh, Anson… did I say something wrong?” I laughed. “You didn’t say anything wrong.” I looked her up and down. “You seem to know a lot about how ‘girl-bros’ operate. Speaking from experience?” Mia and Anson’s faces changed in perfect unison once again. I leaned back in my chair, enjoying the show. I’d never seen Anson look so cornered before. Now that I was over him, it was actually quite entertaining. 【So gross. Why are these types of girls so annoying? Just because she’s known him longer, she thinks she has some kind of superiority?】 【Leah has such a toxic mouth. Just because Mia saw through her little game, she accuses her of being the same kind of trash?!】 【Wow, she’s great at dragging people down with her. Are you okay, lady?!】 Anson finally met my gaze again. The guilt was gone, replaced by a steely resolve. “Leah, Mia’s young.” The next part was obvious. He was going to tell me to be the bigger person. A friend tried to smooth things over. “Leah, come sit over here with me.” Suddenly, the door to the private room swung open. A voice, dripping with a playful smirk, announced, “Sorry I’m late, guys. The race just finished.” 7 He was the very picture of youthful arrogance, brimming with a devil-may-care energy. He plopped down in the chair right next to me, the one I had my arm draped over. Even through his leather racing jacket, I could feel the heat radiating off him. “Leah,” he purred, “I came just for you.” The room fell silent. Anson’s face instantly darkened. The comments erupted. 【What’s this new game? Is the pick-me playing hard to get now?】 【This trick is so old and she’s still using it? Does she really think he’s going to fall for that?】 【I’m telling you, any social circle with a ‘girl-bro’ is a mess. She’s probably been passed around by everyone in the group. Why else would they all defer to her?】 【Go get a check-up, you skank!】 Ryder picked up a menu from the table, flipping through the pages. “The pot roast, the honey-glazed ham, and the BBQ ribs. One of each, thanks.” After ordering, he turned back to me. “Those are your favorites, right, Leah?” The comments. A stream of ellipses flowed across my vision. 【…】 【…】 【…】 【So Leah found this psycho to make Anson jealous? LMAO, you’re kidding me, right?】 【He might be hot, but the second he opens his mouth, you know he’s a mess. How is this guy supposed to make Anson regret anything?!】 【Wait, hold on… look at Anson.】 Following their lead, I saw it. Anson’s expression had changed completely. His fist, resting on the table, was trembling slightly. I knew why he was losing his cool. When I was a teenager, going through a growth spurt, I loved heavy, greasy food. Anson caught me once and teased me for eating like a slob. That’s how the “one of the guys” nickname started. It wasn’t until I got older and developed a sense of self-consciousness that I made him swear to stop. He only agreed to keep it a secret after I promised him, “Childhood friends, forever and ever.” My favorite foods were supposed to be our little secret. And now, another man was casually listing them off right in front of him. And that man was now gently, tantalizingly, hooking his pinky finger around mine. “I remembered, right, Leah?” 8 Smack. The leather-bound menu hit the table with a loud crack. Everyone in the room turned to the source of the sound. Anson’s face was a thundercloud. The man beside me just raised a dark eyebrow. “What’s the problem, Anson?” he drawled. “Think my order’s too expensive?” His pinky continued its slow, deliberate dance with mine, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “If money’s tight, I can cover it.” Before Anson could explode, the comments did. 【Holy sh*t, what is this guy saying… how can he talk like that!】 【Dude, wake up! Look at the trash sitting next to you! Even if you’re rivals, you shouldn’t fight over a girl like her!】 【This is all her fault. She’s playing one against the other. She must be loving this!】 It seemed the comment section was a big fan of male solidarity. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Anson, however, was furious. “Leah, did you bring him here just to ruin things?” “Hmm? The invitation you sent to the group didn’t include me, Anson?” The two men’s gazes locked across the round table, sparks flying between them. The next second, they both stood up and walked out of the room. Mia’s face was pale. “Anson…” “It’s fine, Mia. Wait for me.” Back in the room, no one spoke. Everyone was used to the friction that sparked whenever these two were in the same place. Even though they were in the same neighborhood group, Anson never showed up to events if Ryder was there, and vice versa. Their rivalry was no act. But the little flower across from me had clearly never seen a showdown like this. Her eyes were red as she looked around at everyone, a picture of vulnerability. I couldn’t be bothered to meet her gaze. I pushed my chair back and stepped out into the hallway. The two of them had picked a less-than-ideal spot for their chat. Just around the corner, I could hear every word perfectly. 9 “Everyone in the group knows about Leah and me. You didn’t?” “I know. So what?” “She’s been in my bed for the last six months. You really want my sloppy seconds?” The click of a lighter echoed from around the corner. Ryder’s voice was lazy, dismissive. “What? You expect her to stay celibate for you or something?” “You’ve got a lot of nerve. Aren’t you disgusted picking up my leftovers?” Before I could storm around the corner, I heard the sickening thud of a fist hitting flesh. Ryder had Anson by the collar, his eyes blazing. “If you don’t know how to talk, then shut your damn mouth, you piece of garbage.” Anson just laughed, grabbing Ryder’s shoulder to retaliate. “Anson!” I shouted his name. His body went rigid. He looked at me in disbelief, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Leah, when did you get here?” I took a steadying breath. “Right before you called me your sloppy seconds.” Ryder let go of his collar. Anson was stunned. “Leah, I’m a man. I know what other men want. Ryder is obviously just…” He didn’t finish. A full glass of wine splashed across his face. A passing waiter froze, his face white with shock. I wiped my hand. “Put this on Room 888’s tab.” The waiter practically fled. I curled my lips into a smile. “Just helping you clear your head. A little lesson in respect.” His jaw tightened. For a few seconds, we just stared at each other. Then, he laughed, a cold, humorless sound. “Is this your revenge for me getting a girlfriend? Using this guy?” “You know what kind of scene he runs in. The dirt, the grime.” His tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek, his confidence returning. “You’re so obsessed with being clean. You really think… you think I’d believe you’d touch someone like him?” From the direction of the private room, Mia’s tearful voice called out, “Anson, where did you go…?” Anson’s expression changed. He strode back towards her. I heard her gasp. “Oh my god, you’re hurt.” 10 How sweet. I didn’t need to see it; the comments were giving me a play-by-play of their tender moment. I started to head back, but a hand caught my arm. Ryder had a bruise forming on the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were fixed on me, intense and unwavering. “The scene might be messy,” he said, his voice low. “But I’m not.” His eyes were burning. “I always knew you liked the clean-cut type.” Just like my favorite foods. I’d never told Ryder any of this, yet he knew it all. I figured some things needed to be said before they started. “I did sleep with Anson.” He went silent. “And I have no intention of ever getting married.” That’s why I needed a partner who was relatively stable and clean. It wasn’t about loyalty. It was about what one of those comments had guessed right. Protecting my health. Ryder’s lips pressed into a thin line, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Then… why didn’t you choose me from the start?” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t very well tell him I’d heard the racing scene was notoriously wild. After all, Ryder had lost a good fifty pounds in the year since he started racing. Aside from illegal activities, the only other explanation was… excessive physical exertion. A waiter carrying a platter of meat dishes walked by. Ryder stopped him. “The food for Room 888? You can cancel it. Just pack it to go.” The waiter hesitated. Ryder pulled him towards the front desk. “It’s Anson’s private room, you think he’s going to stiff you? Pack up these meat dishes, and bring him some king crab and peel-and-eat shrimp instead. Anything that’s a pain in the ass to eat. The man’s trying to do business, help him keep his guests occupied. Now go.” 11 He dragged me out of the restaurant and back to his car. The boyish features were gone, replaced by the sharp, wild edges of a young man. The chubby kid I remembered was a distant memory. He was urgent, pressing me against the back of the passenger seat. His breath was hot and ragged against my ear. “Leah… you said you’d give me a chance.” I pushed against his shoulder, my gaze serious. “How did you know Anson was going to peel shrimp for her?” He wasn’t even there at the time. His lips hovered just above my eyes. “I was worried that bastard would use his new girlfriend to put you down, so I had someone in the group give me a live feed.” After his confession, he leaned in again. My head was spinning, but there were rules that had to be set. “Ryder, I’m not looking for a relationship.” His voice was laced with disappointment. “Leah, please… don’t say that now.” He kissed me like he’d been starving for years, a desperate, reverent touch. After a long moment, he pulled back, breathless but clear-headed. “Not here.” The sports car tore through the empty streets, a blur of motion and sound. He swept me up in his whirlwind, and before I knew it, we were back at my apartment. My consciousness drifted in and out. I had a fleeting thought: so, the chubby kid didn’t just lose weight… he must have been hitting the gym. Hard. Beneath the racing jacket wasn’t a dirty soul. It was a ridiculously ripped physique. Well, then. I was definitely not getting the short end of this stick. The next day, I woke up starving. I vaguely remembered the takeout from last night, none of which I’d had a chance to eat. Then, a delicious aroma wafted in from the kitchen. That smell… it was Henderson’s chicken and wild rice soup. I walked out to see Ryder in an apron. “You’re awake? I’m just finishing up an omelet. It’ll be ready in a second.” My eyes fell to his feet. “Why aren’t you wearing slippers?” He tensed. “I’m not wearing anything that bastard wore.” Fine by me. It wasn’t my feet getting cold. After a few spoonfuls of soup, I realized something was off. “How did you know I like this?” He placed the omelet on the table, his eyes holding an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. “You never told me what you like. But when I care about something… I pay attention.” It sounded almost like an accusation. I didn’t have the energy to analyze it. I unlocked my phone. It was flooded with missed calls. A relentless stream of video calls from Anson. A cascade of 60-second voice messages. No money transfers, so I didn’t bother listening. The comments, which had been absent all night, started scrolling again. 【What is he doing? Did he really fall for her trick?】 【A woman who can navigate a group of guys like that is never good news. Is he not worried about catching something?】 【For all he knows, she was with someone else last night. I don’t get what he’s so worked up about!】 【Ugh, they were supposed to have a perfect night and she ruined it all! Damn bitch!】 Their words reminded me. Ryder had been the one to reach out yesterday. “Now that you’re done with him, does that mean I have a chance?” My answer had been, “I’ll consider it.” And he took that “consideration” straight to my bed? I didn’t like calculating men. They were the type to go after my money. 12 My phone rang. Anson’s voice, furious and frantic, blasted through the speaker. “Leah, where are you? Did you and that asshole just ditch my party?!” I held the phone away from my ear. “I wouldn’t call it ditching.” We did show up, after all. But in our circle of friends, my family’s company was currently the most successful. If I left, it was highly unlikely anyone else would stick around. “Leah, why aren’t you eating your omelet?” Ryder pushed the plate closer to me. The other end of the line went dead silent. Then, Anson’s voice erupted, a raw, broken sound. “Leah, where are you?! Who is that? Is that Ryder? Are you insane?! Do you have any idea what kind of world he’s involved in?!” I didn’t move. Ryder simply picked up the omelet, cut it into small pieces, and waited. After a moment, seeing I had no intention of responding to Anson, he let out a soft, slow chuckle. “The racing world,” he said, his voice smooth as silk but loud enough for the phone to pick up. “If you’re curious, Anson, I can tell you all about it.” The line went dead. 【Wait, what is he doing? She slept with someone else, why is HE throwing a tantrum?!】 【That’s just how ‘girl-bros’ are. They sleep with everyone in the circle.】 【I feel so bad for Mia. She’s probably crying into her pillow right now.】 【Hold on, calling the ‘girl-bro’ first thing in the morning? There’s a flaw in his character arc here…】 So, Anson had been busy too. Impressive. He usually needed a full day to recover after a night like ours. I had to hand it to him, finding the energy to meddle in my affairs after his own marathon session. 13 I’d barely stepped out the door when I got a call from building security. Anson was camped outside my apartment, banging on the door, telling anyone who tried to stop him that he was the owner’s boyfriend. I saw the new ring of hickies decorating his neck in the security feed. I frowned. I never thought Anson would stoop to something so trashy. We both had new partners. What was this, trying to have his cake and eat it too? My phone buzzed with his texts. 【Leah, even if you’re trying to get back at me, you could have found someone better. You know what Ryder is like.】 【I can’t just stand by and watch you ruin your life!】 【Leah, I know you’re hurt, but you can’t do this to yourself, Leah!】 I called security and had them revoke Anson’s access to the elevator. Then I finally took a moment to reply to him. 【Haven’t you cured your hero complex yet?】 Silence. Plenty of people in our old neighborhood circle were in business, their families and fortunes intertwined. If Anson hadn’t made such a scene, I wouldn’t have wanted to humiliate him. The man driving the car kept stealing glances at me. “Leah,” he said suddenly, “there will never be anyone else but you.” I tossed my phone aside and leaned back against the seat. “Fine.” As long as he didn’t try to force me to believe in love, he could say whatever he wanted. 14 For two solid weeks, Ryder and I explored the mysteries of the human body. Pecs, abs… none of them compared to a solid, well-defined… gluteus maximus. He relentlessly insisted he was the cleanest guy I’d ever meet. He gave up drinking, parties, everything. He’d even drive me to a spa appointment and wait in the car downstairs for hours. I couldn’t take it anymore. I kicked him lightly in the shin. “Don’t you ever have races or anything?” “I have one tomorrow, actually. A cross-desert rally. I’ll be gone for days.” I breathed a sigh of relief. But he caught my ankle, his eyes darkening. “So, Leah… to prove just how clean I am, tonight, I’m going to make sure there’s nothing left.” Nothing… left? My mind went blank as he pulled me into his arms. I was too tired to even cry, but through the haze, I thought I heard him whisper softly in my ear. “Leah… can I have my own pair of slippers?” 15 When I woke up, the sun was high in the sky, casting bright stripes across the tangled sheets. Sunlight illuminated the faint, reddish marks scattered across my legs. The apartment was empty. I should have been relieved, but a strange sense of emptiness settled in my chest. Humans really are social creatures. You get used to someone being around, and their absence leaves a void. On the table was a large insulated container. I opened it, and the familiar, comforting scent of Henderson’s chicken and wild rice soup filled the air. It was still warm. As I took a few bites, I thought, it’s just a pair of slippers. What’s the big deal? The group chat, silent for weeks, lit up again. Someone was planning a night out at a new bar, one that was supposedly filled with gorgeous people. I replied with a simple, “OK.” It was still early, so I went out for a bit. I found myself in a designer store, buying a ridiculously overpriced pair of logo-covered slippers. My mind drifted. I remembered how Anson had just brought his own things to my place without asking. And now Ryder… Well, what can I say? The little wolf knew how to be charming. 16 The new bar lived up to its hype. It was packed, a sea of beautiful, laughing people. Our friends had booked the largest booth, and the table was already covered in bottles. Maybe it had been too long since I’d been out, but the thumping music was starting to get on my nerves. Some of our friends were cheering for the attractive people on the dance floor. One of them noticed my mood. “Leah, check out that DJ! He’s super popular right now!” I glanced over. He was pale and pretty, but his wiry frame was nothing compared to the raw, explosive power of a well-built physique. I was bored. After a few drinks, the comments started scrolling again. 【Is it just me, or does Anson not seem to appreciate Mia now that he has her? The sweet moments between them have really fizzled out.】 【I agree. He’s been totally distracted lately.】 【Don’t tell me he’s still thinking about that girl-bro. Is this a case of the ‘grass is always greener’? Ugh, I’m losing my faith in love.】 【Hey hey hey, look! In that booth! Isn’t that the pick-me?!】 【Oh crap, look at Anson’s eyes light up. What a scumbag. I’m done with this story!】 A moment later, someone sat down beside me. He didn’t even grab a drink before getting straight to the point. “Leah, I told you Ryder was bad news.” I looked up and saw the undisguised glee in his eyes. Friends from across the booth, unable to hear Anson over the music, stood up to raise their glasses. To Anson’s right, Mia tugged on his sleeve, her voice soft and delicate. “Anson, it’s that time of the month, I can’t drink…” He acted as if he hadn’t heard her, standing up to clink glasses with our friends. The only two people left sitting on the sofa were me and Mia. Our eyes met. She quickly looked away, embarrassed. 【What is he doing? Can’t he stand up for his own girlfriend?】 【I don’t get it. What kind of ‘one true love’ is this? I was so moved when he was chasing her.】 【Has he been brainwashed by the pick-me?】 【Wait, look at her. What is she doing?!】 17 I flagged down a waiter and ordered two glasses of milk. When I placed one in front of Mia, she looked at me, utterly shocked. Anson noticed and his gaze fell on me, his eyes softening with a strange tenderness. “Leah, you’re looking out for her for me. It’s because you still have feelings for me, isn’t it?” Just as he spoke, the music cut out. Mia’s face went white. Well. Playing the saint isn’t for everyone. I grabbed the friend to my left and swapped seats with him. From the corner of my eye, I saw Mia and Anson arguing about something. Her eyes were red. The next thing I knew, a stack of photos was slapped onto the table. They were thrown with such force that the top one flew off and landed at my feet. The photo showed a man in a racing jacket. In the passenger seat of his car sat a beautiful woman with curly hair. The car was parked in front of a hotel. The time stamp in the bottom right corner… was from today. The sound system must have malfunctioned, because all I could hear was a loud ringing in my ears. Anson was spreading the photos out across the table, one by one. “Leah, take a good look. I told you Ryder was no good!” He grabbed my arm. I don’t know where the rage came from, but I swung my hand and slapped him hard across the face. Anson froze. Even our friends were too stunned to say a word.

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Six years into my crush on Alistair, we ended up in an arranged marriage. Post-wedding, our life was a polite, passionless affair. Two ultra-thin condoms a week, like clockwork. All because of something Alistair once said: “A marriage devoid of emotion is the most stable kind.” So, I carefully concealed the tidal wave of my love for him. Until Alistair’s old flame returned to the country. He started staying out late, choosing cold showers over touching me. I drafted the divorce papers myself and went to find him. That’s when I heard his thoughts. 【I love my wife I love my wife I love my wife I love my wife…】 1 On my wedding night with Alistair, I chugged half a bottle of wine for courage. The alcohol went straight to my head, painting my cheeks a feverish red. Alistair’s elegant hand cupped the back of my neck as his lips descended, soft and gentle. “You’ve been drinking. May I proceed?” he asked. A low “Mmm…” escaped my throat. But a thought, inopportune and sharp, cut through the haze. Even now, doing this, he’s so cool and composed. Well, of course he was. Our marriage was a business arrangement, after all. Soon, I lost the capacity for coherent thought. The traditional wedding dress slipped half-off my shoulders. The cool air on my skin sent a shiver through me. Alistair, in contrast, had only undone two buttons of his shirt. His tie hung loosely, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin and the firm lines of his chest rising and falling with each breath. My mouth went dry. “Alistair…” He let out a low chuckle, his voice a soothing balm. “Tansy, don’t be nervous.” He pinned me to the edge of the bed with one hand. He knelt before me, looking up, and then, without warning, his lips found the small mole on my inner thigh. His voice, husky and deep, mingled with hot breath against my ear. “If it’s uncomfortable, tell me to stop at any time.” My fingers tightened in his dark, tousled hair. How to describe the feeling of being married to Alistair? It was like looking up and suddenly seeing the aurora borealis. A stunning, unbelievable surprise. I wanted to hold on to him, to make it real. What happened after that is a blur, thanks to the wine. I only know that when I woke up the next morning, my legs were so weak I nearly collapsed. And. Alistair was gravely, seriously, discussing the optimal frequency of condom usage with me. “…Five times a week?” My soul, which had been floating somewhere in the stratosphere, snapped back to reality at his last few words. My eyes widened. “Five?” Alistair glanced at me and, without missing a beat, amended his proposal. “Then twice a week it is.” 2 I was the one who suggested postponing the honeymoon. Alistair’s company was in a busy period, and I was about to start a new project as a staff writer for a TV show. But the real reason was, I wanted to wait until there was some semblance of feeling between us. Even a little. Even if it was manufactured. Married life with Alistair was surprisingly harmonious, both in our daily routines and… physically. He had an uncanny knack for attentiveness in that department. The only change was that the “two condoms a week” had become “twice a week, one box per session.” The next morning, as I stood on trembling legs, fumbling to tie Alistair’s tie, my brain was still foggy. “Alistair, on work nights, maybe we should…” I paused, trying to phrase it delicately. “Maybe we shouldn’t stay up so late.” As much as I lusted after his body, I believed in sustainable resources. “I’m not saying no to marital activities,” I clarified, my cheeks flushing. “It’s just… for our health, maybe we could go back to twice a week?” I snuck a glance at his expression as I spoke. My hands didn’t stop their work on his tie, finishing the knot with practiced ease. Whenever Alistair was home, I was the one who tied his tie. Just as he was the one who always dried and styled my hair after I washed it. I was always embarrassed by it, but he would just say, “Do you think my hands are clumsy, Tansy? We’re husband and wife. There’s no need for such formalities.” I cherished those moments. They created the illusion that Alistair loved me. But I knew. I knew he had a past love he couldn’t let go of. Still, it was okay. His life, from now on, would be filled with me. Alistair listened to my suggestion, one eyebrow raised slightly. The sharp, chiseled line of his jaw tensed. “I apologize. I lost control last night. But Tansy, I have needs too.” I froze. His thumb, through the fabric of my silk pajamas, pressed against my aching lower back, rubbing gentle circles as he continued. “I had an unexpected meeting last night, which is why we started so late. I’ll be more mindful of the time from now on. We can start earlier.” “Tansy,” he asked, his tone deceptively casual, “were you uncomfortable yesterday? Do you need me to apply some ointment?” My face turned crimson. I squeezed out a single word. “…No.” Alistair’s dark eyes narrowed. His long fingers tilted my chin up as he leaned in, his body pressing against mine. His lips descended, a searing kiss that quickly became a demanding, breathless plunder. He guided my hand down past his eight-pack abs, and my breath hitched. After a long moment, Alistair’s voice was a rough whisper. “But… you’re right about everything, Tansy.” “For the sake of our health, how about you join me for a workout three mornings a week?” I… My world came crashing down. 3 The tie was a wasted effort. Afterward, Alistair carried me to the bathroom to clean up. He looked down at me, his breath warm against my hair. “Leo wants to get together next week. Are you free?” “He’s invested in a new bar that’s just opening. He invited a bunch of our old high school friends. You know everyone,” he explained. A high school reunion. Did that mean… was Leo going to invite her? I thought for a moment, then shook my head. “I can’t. The studio just added a major supporting character to the script I’m working on. My part needs a lot of rewrites. I’m starting on set soon, so I probably won’t have time. I’m sorry.” Leo, Alistair, and my older brother were all childhood friends. We went to the same high school. When I was a freshman, Alistair was a senior. I used to tag along with my brother and his friends, but my crush on Alistair and my naturally quiet, introverted personality meant I was usually just a silent observer, my eyes secretly following his every move. To get closer to him, I would intentionally get a few problems wrong on my physics tests, just to have an excuse to ask him for help. Then, in the second semester, Sarah transferred into Alistair’s class. She was brilliant and outgoing. Not only did she know Alistair from before, but she also fit seamlessly into his circle of friends. I never expected her to seek me out. “Tansy, you like Alistair, don’t you?” My eyelashes fluttered. I didn’t know how to respond. Not even my own brother knew about my crush. Sarah tilted her head, a half-smile playing on her lips. “But Alistair told me he only sees you as a little sister.” “I’m going to ask him out. If he says yes… Tansy, maybe you should stop using ‘studying’ as an excuse to get close to him, okay?” After Sarah asked Alistair out, she made a point of coming to me for a “heart-to-heart.” “Alistair and I have known each other since we were kids. I transferred here because of him. And thanks to him, I was able to get into this school as a senior. I was going to wait until after graduation to be with him, but I just got an early acceptance to college, so I don’t want to wait anymore. Little sister… maybe you should focus more on your studies from now on.” Later, Sarah and Alistair broke up for some reason. Around the time that song “The One That Got Away” was popular, the topic of old flames came up at a party. Leo had laughed, his tone suggestive. “Alistair’s got one. He’s been single all this time, waiting for someone.” 4 One word from the money-grubbing execs, and my life became a blur of all-nighters, rewriting scripts. On the fifth night of sleeping in my study, Alistair knocked on the door. “Tansy.” He rarely used my full name. I looked up, confused. He walked in, bringing a wave of cool, damp air with him. His tone was unreadable. “Have you forgotten you have a husband? Or are you planning on sleeping in here from now on? A separation?” It wasn’t until he had me pressed against the desk, his lips curved into a smirk, our breaths mingling, that I understood what he meant. I blushed and responded to his kiss, trying to appease him. “Tansy, don’t ever ignore me like this again, okay?” he said suddenly. I blinked, stammering, “I just forgot… about… you know.” “I haven’t been ignoring you…” Before I could finish, Alistair’s eyes darkened. He bit my lip gently, silencing me with another kiss. He didn’t press the issue. The lamp overhead seemed to sway. I bit my lip, my eyes on our intertwined hands. I was starting to feel that our polite, respectful marriage wasn’t enough. Maybe… maybe we could actually fall in love. A thought I’d never dared to entertain before began to bloom in the secret corners of my heart. Could it be that Alistair is starting to like me, even just a little? 5 The night of the party, it was 11:30 PM, and Alistair still wasn’t home. I was debating whether to text him when a message from him came in. 【Drank too much, can’t drive. Staying at Leo’s place tonight. Don’t wait up.】 On a whim, I asked Leo for the address. I wanted to surprise Alistair by picking him up. It was a shame my brother was in Paris on business, or I could have gotten the information more discreetly. I timed my arrival for when their parties usually ended and drove to Leo’s new bar. I was scanning the room, about to call Leo for their location, when my eyes locked onto a figure at the bar. In the dim light, Alistair sat with his back straight, casually swirling the amber liquid in his glass. He exuded an air of cool, refined elegance that was all his own. A smile touched my lips, and I watched him for a long moment before starting to walk over. Then I heard his voice, cool and detached. “…A marriage devoid of emotion is the most stable kind.” My smile froze. The words were like daggers to my heart. A burning sensation welled up in my eyes. I couldn’t bear to hear another word. I turned and fled. I missed Leo’s next sentence. “Cut the crap, Alistair. You can’t even follow your own advice. And you’re trying to convince me to get into an arranged marriage?” I stumbled into the bathroom. The salty tears mixed with the cold water from the sink. The human heart is a greedy thing. Alistair had been so good to me after we got married. He always told me his schedule, remembered my preferences, left a light on for me because he knew I was afraid of the dark… I had mistaken his sense of marital duty for love. After a moment, I looked up at my reflection and forced a hideous smile. “Tansy, you have to be content,” I whispered. I prayed he would never find out about my secret love for him. I composed myself and walked out, only to come face-to-face with Leo and the others. Alistair was at the back of the group, looking down at his phone. Leo spotted me first and waved. “Tansy…” he started, then kicked the guy next to him, who was still rambling on. But the guy didn’t get the hint. He kept talking. “Tansy? Weren’t we just talking about Sarah being back and looking for a job? If she’d come back sooner, maybe Alistair…” 6 Leo jabbed his elbow into the guy’s stomach, finally shutting him up. The familiar name echoed in my ears. I zoned out for a second. Sarah… she was back? Were she and Alistair in touch? “See? I told you. Tansy got the address to pick up her husband.” “Alistair!” Leo grabbed Alistair and pushed his arm into mine. “Go home, you two. Tansy, he’s drunk. Wasted! You can do whatever you want with him.” I blinked, then looked up to see Leo winking at Alistair. I studied Alistair. He smelled faintly of alcohol, but his eyes were clear, his posture relaxed. He didn’t look drunk at all. Just as I was thinking this, Alistair’s gaze clouded over. His tall frame swayed, and he buried his head in the crook of my neck. “So dizzy,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “They made me drink… Did you come all this way just to take me home, Tansy?” His warm breath on my neck sent a shiver down my spine. Amidst the teasing from our friends, I felt flustered and could only manage a soft “Mmm.” Alistair’s lips curved into a smile, and his hand found mine, our fingers lacing together. I looked down, flustered, and led him carefully out of the bar. 【This is the first time my wife has ever come to pick me up.】 Alistair’s deep voice suddenly sounded in my ear. I froze and looked at him. A triumphant smile played on his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He hadn’t spoken, but I heard his voice again: 【Leo’s suggestion wasn’t totally useless after all.】 【My wife is so cute when she’s shy.】 【Hmm, does this mean I can use the third condom tonight?】 7 Waiting at a red light, I couldn’t help but steal glances at Alistair in the passenger seat. He was leaning his head on his hand, his eyes closed, his breathing even. He seemed to be asleep. Did I… did I just hear Alistair’s thoughts? My mood, which had plummeted, was now soaring like a roller coaster. I hesitated, then decided to test the waters. “Alistair, are you really drunk? If you’re not feeling well, I can stop at a pharmacy and get you some sobering medicine.” He slowly opened his eyes, a thin haze clouding their dark depths. “No need.” He rubbed his temples. “Just a headache…” I nodded, my eyes fixed on his impassive face. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back. It was all too fantastical. I couldn’t bring myself to ask. The light turned green. Before I drove off, I glanced at Alistair again. He had shifted positions, his cool, handsome face now in full view. The corner of his mouth was turned up in a barely perceptible smile. I didn’t hear any other voices in the car. The confusion and doubt lingered all the way home. I had just parked the car when Alistair’s phone rang. I caught a glimpse of the caller ID. Sarah. “Alistair, can you come pick me up…?” My hand hovered over the door handle. A sour taste filled my mouth. I slammed the car door shut and walked into the building alone, leaving the “drunk” Alistair behind. Alistair paused, still holding the phone. Sarah’s voice continued on the other end. “Grandpa Alistair knows my new place is still being renovated, so he invited me to stay at the main house to keep him company. But it’s been so long, I don’t know how to get there. I heard from Leo that you guys had a get-together tonight. Why didn’t you invite me? I could have made time.” Alistair watched my retreating figure, a confused look on his face. After a moment, he clicked his tongue before finally answering her. 8 Once inside, I stood in the entryway for a long time, my mind a chaotic mess. After a moment of deliberation, I picked up my phone and texted my best friend. Chloe was my high school classmate and my confidante, the only person who knew about my six-year crush on Alistair. 【Chloe, Sarah’s back.】 【She just called Alistair and asked him to pick her up…】 Chloe replied instantly. 【?】 【At one in the morning, she’s calling a married man to pick her up?】 【Is she insane?】 【Tansy, get a grip. I know it’s an arranged marriage, but you and Alistair are legally married now.】 【Even if Sarah was his first love, they broke up! What she’s doing now is trying to be a homewrecker!】 【And we don’t even know for sure if she was his first love.】 【Remember when he was studying abroad? He was always checking in on you. He even told you he was single.】 I stared at the screen, my mind drifting. When I was a sophomore in high school, Alistair was already studying overseas. But he would message me from time to time, asking about my studies, checking in. After a few times, I got annoyed. “My brother said you’re so busy you only get six hours of sleep a night. You should spend your free time with your girlfriend,” I had replied. “My grades are fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” Alistair: 【?】 The “typing…” bubble appeared and disappeared for a long time before his next message came through. 【Tansy, I’m single.】 【I appreciate the concern, but I still have time to help you with your studies.】 I was stunned. He and Sarah had broken up? A mix of surprise, confusion, and elation exploded in my chest. I made a bold decision: after graduation, I would try to win him over. But then… Leo had personally confirmed that Alistair was single because he was waiting for his old flame. Chloe’s messages were still flooding in when the front door opened. It was Alistair. Our eyes met. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I quickly looked away. It was always like this. The moment I saw him, all the things I wanted to say evaporated. I clutched my phone and hurried into the bedroom. 【Alistair’s back. He didn’t go.】 【But something happened tonight.】 【I’m not sure what he’s thinking now.】 Chloe sent back a facepalm emoji. 【Just ask him.】 【Stop retreating into your shell every time something happens! You’re driving me crazy!】 【Are you just going to let Sarah be a thorn in your side forever?】 【Listen to me. Go put on that battle armor I got you. Ask him while you’re doing it. You won’t have the energy to overthink things. I guarantee you’ll get an answer.】 【The last time I was at your place for dinner, the way Alistair looked at you was anything but innocent. Based on your condom consumption rate, I’d say he’s at least attracted to you. The rest isn’t impossible.】 【Go, Tansy.】

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385182”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel