Author: Momo Chan

The call came from a frantic teacher on the bus, her voice cracking over the phone. “There’s a man… he has a gun.” As the director of the Bright Beginnings Preschool, I did the only thing I could: I called 911. My husband, Mark, a lead negotiator for the city police, arrived on the scene. But instead of taking charge, he gestured to the young intern at his side. The intern, Chloe, pouted, her lower lip trembling just so. “Mark, honey, I’ve never done a real one before. I don’t know what to say.” A fond, indulgent smile spread across my husband’s face. “Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice a low murmur meant only for her. “Just talk to him. Follow your instincts. I’m right here.” Three sentences in, the hijacker’s furious shouting had Chloe’s face burning red. Panicked, she screamed into the receiver. “You’re a dead man! The director’s son, Leo, is on that bus! She’ll make sure you rot in prison for this!” The hijacker, enraged, decided to make an example of someone. A child was murdered. Moments later, a police sniper took the hijacker down. In the chaotic aftermath, I saw my husband wrapping his arms around a sobbing Chloe. “It’s not your fault,” he whispered, stroking her hair. “No one can guarantee a negotiation will work one hundred percent of the time.” Then, he walked over to me, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. “I know it’s hard,” he said, his voice flat. “Leo was unlucky. It has nothing to do with Chloe.” He paused, leaning in closer. “Maybe you could put out a statement for her. Something about her courage and quick thinking, how she prevented more casualties.” I stared at him, the world tilting on its axis. It took a full second for his words to register. He thought the child who died… was my son. Our son. A cold, brittle laugh escaped my lips. “I could write one,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “But I don’t think you two would want to receive it.” 1 When Mark and his intern had first arrived, he’d immediately turned to her. “Chloe, you take point on this one. It’s a valuable field experience.” Chloe’s lip did its signature pout, her voice a saccharine drawl. “Oh, Mark… I’m so nervous. It’s my first time, I don’t know where to even start…” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I rushed forward and grabbed Mark’s arm. “Are you insane? There are twenty-two children on that bus. This is Chloe’s first time in the field? It’s too reckless!” Mark violently shook my hand off. “Audrey, what do you know about this? I’m well aware of Chloe’s professional capabilities. Stop getting in the way.” He turned back to Chloe, his expression softening as he gave her shoulder a supportive squeeze. “Don’t be scared. Just trust your gut and give it a try. I’m right here to back you up, no matter what.” Watching them, so wrapped up in their own private world, a chill snaked up my spine from the concrete. The other parents, who had started to gather, were a mess of tears and frantic prayers, the scene descending into chaos. The negotiation line connected. Chloe took a deep breath, forcing a cloying sweetness into her voice. “Hello, sir, my name is Chloe Hayes, I’m a crisis negotiator. I’m asking you to please remain calm, we can talk about your needs…” She was cut off by a raw, guttural scream from the phone. “Talk about my ass! Get me a car and cash, now, or I start killing kids!” Chloe froze, her face flushing a deep, mottled red. Humiliated, she lost all composure and shrieked back into the phone. “You’ll be sorry! Do you have any idea whose bus you’ve taken? The director’s son, Leo, is on that bus! You touch a hair on any of those kids’ heads, and she will make sure you never see the light of day again! The police will put a bullet in your head!” “Chloe, shut up!” The words tore from my throat. My blood ran cold. “What are you doing? You’re going to get him enraged!” Chloe whipped her head around, her eyes flashing with annoyance. “Director Reed, you don’t understand negotiation tactics, so don’t interfere! I’m applying psychological pressure.” She then turned to Mark, her eyes welling up with tears. “Mark, do you see this? She’s… she’s interfering with my work…” Mark’s glare was like a physical blow. “Audrey, be quiet. Chloe is a professional. I trust her judgment. Stop causing trouble.” But on the other end of the line, the hijacker had, predictably, been pushed over the edge. His voice was a venomous roar. “Leo? The director’s kid? Fine! Just fine! He’ll be the first to go! A warning to the rest of you!” “Who’s Leo? Get your ass up here, now!” The bus erupted with the terrified screams of children. Small silhouettes scrambled away from the windows, huddling together in fear. My heart seized, along with those of every parent there. Several mothers looked like they were about to collapse. But Chloe, as if determined to prove herself, leaned into the microphone again, her voice a taunt. “You think you’re tough? Go on, try it! You’ll never get away with it! You’ll die, too! You’re nothing but a coward who preys on children!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I lunged towards her. “Chloe, you don’t care about anyone else, but what about your own child? Liam is on that bus, too!” A flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a cold sneer. “Audrey, what are you talking about? My son doesn’t even go to your preschool. He’s at his grandmother’s today. How could he possibly be on that bus?” She turned back to Mark, her voice dripping with manufactured sweetness. “Mark, see? She just has it out for me. She’s trying to throw me off my game…” Mark’s face was a thundercloud. He grabbed my arm and pulled me back roughly. “Audrey, I told you to back off, didn’t you hear me? You interfere with this investigation again, and I’ll have an officer remove you. Forcibly.” In the instant we were arguing, a corner of the bus curtain was ripped aside. The hijacker’s eyes locked onto a small figure huddled in a corner seat. On the back of the child’s backpack, a name was clearly embroidered. He snatched the child, dragging him to the window and screaming hysterically at the crowd outside. “I’ve got him! The director’s son, Leo! Now all of you back the hell off! You surround me, and I’ll kill him right now!” 2 The hijacker pressed the child’s back flat against the windowpane, the glint of a knife blade pressed against his small neck. “Back off! All of you, get back! Get me a car, or he dies right now!” Captain Miller, the on-site commander, his face ashen, spoke low into his radio. “All units, confirm sniper is in position. Wait for a clean shot. Negotiation team, try to de-escalate, buy us some time…” “No!” Mark’s voice cut through the tension. “Captain, give Chloe another chance. The subject is agitated, but Chloe is getting through to him. Changing negotiators or going tactical now will only provoke him. Chloe, quickly, talk to him. Stabilize the situation.” Chloe took a shaky breath and raised the bullhorn again, her voice now filled with a bizarre, self-righteous fury. “To the perpetrator inside! We will not surrender to evil!” “Your only way out is to release the hostages and drop your weapon now!” “Preying on the weak doesn’t make you strong! Go ahead and kill him, but know this: the full weight of the law will come down on you. You’ll get the death penalty!” The parents and I stared, dumbfounded. “What is she saying?” “Is she insane? She’s not even trying to save the child!” As expected, the hijacker was completely enraged. “Fine! Fine! You pushed me to this! You all did!” His broken, desperate roar echoed from inside the bus. Then, a sudden, horrifying spray of crimson splattered across the window. “Ah!” Chloe, standing closest, witnessed the gruesome act firsthand. She let out a piercing shriek and collapsed to the pavement with a thud, her cell phone shattering beside her. She just lay there, sobbing incoherently. The hijacker’s crazed voice started again. “You see that? Now if you don’t back…” CRACK. A single, clean gunshot echoed through the street. The hijacker’s voice stopped. He crumpled to the floor, a bullet hole in his forehead. The scene exploded into motion. Police officers swarmed the bus, carrying out crying children and handing them over to their weeping parents. I stood frozen, my eyes fixed on that blood-stained window, a glacial cold spreading through my body. Just then, Mark rushed past me, straight to the collapsed form of Chloe. He gathered her into his arms, holding her tight, one hand gently patting her back. “Chloe, it’s over, it’s okay…” “It wasn’t your fault. This is how it goes sometimes. No one can guarantee a hundred percent success rate. The guy was a monster. It wasn’t your fault.” Chloe, as if finding her anchor, buried her face in his chest, her sobs becoming more theatrical, more tragic. “Mark… it was… it was so scary…” After comforting her for a long moment, Mark helped her to her feet. Then he turned to me, standing there like a statue, and patted my shoulder. “Audrey, I know you’re in pain.” “Our son is gone. He was unlucky. But this has nothing to do with Chloe, so… don’t take it out on her.” He paused, lowering his voice, a clear warning in his tone. “The department is going to take statements, conduct interviews. When they ask, you know there are things you should say, and things you shouldn’t. Right?” “Chloe’s been through a severe psychological trauma. I need to get her to a counselor. The… arrangements for the child, I’ll have to trust you to handle that for now.” I snapped my head up, looking at him in utter disbelief. Our son? Unlucky? And then it hit me. From the very beginning, they both assumed—they were certain—that the child the hijacker killed, the one he mistook for “Leo,” was my son. 3 An absurd, soul-deep chill spread from my heart to my fingertips. A father, believing his son had just been brutally murdered, and his first instinct wasn’t to collapse in grief, not to see his child one last time, but to comfort another woman and coach me on what to say to the police? I took a deep breath, my voice dangerously level. “Mark, you’re mistaken. The boy who died… it wasn’t Leo.” I held his gaze. “It was Liam. The names are similar. The hijacker must have misheard.” The air crackled with a sudden, tense silence. Chloe stared for a second, then let out a scoffing laugh. “What are you even talking about? Audrey, just because your son is dead, you’re going to curse someone else’s child?” Her expression shifted to one of wounded innocence. “Are you doing this just to get back at me? Blaming me because the negotiation didn’t go perfectly?” Mark’s face darkened, his eyes filling with disappointment and accusation as he looked at me. “Audrey, all the other children were rescued. The only one missing from the roster is Leo. That’s a fact.” “Instead of cooperating with the police and making arrangements for Leo, you’re standing here saying these… these vicious things. What kind of mother are you?” Seeing his performance of righteous indignation, I almost wanted to laugh. “I’m not a good mother?” “And what about you, Mark? You thought Leo was dead. So why weren’t you sad? Why wasn’t there a single tear in your eye? Why aren’t your eyes even red?” My question stopped him cold. A flash of panic crossed his face before it was replaced by anger. “I was on the job! I have to maintain my professional composure! Unlike you. You’re the director of that preschool, and you couldn’t even protect your own students. You let a maniac get on that bus and cause this tragedy. After this, I doubt your preschool will even be allowed to stay open.” His words were cold, cruel. I looked at the face I once knew, now twisted into the mask of a stranger, and my heart sank to the bottom of a cold, dark well. Chloe, feigning distress, tugged on Mark’s sleeve, tears instantly appearing in her eyes. “Mark, honey, don’t fight because of me. It’s my fault. If I just had more field experience, maybe… maybe Leo would still be alive…” Mark pulled her into a protective embrace. “Chloe, don’t you dare blame yourself. It’s okay. Don’t cry.” He turned back to glare at me. “Audrey, that’s enough. Do you think losing a son gives you a free pass to bully people?” “I’m letting it go this time. You need to go home and think about what you’ve done.” Seeing that I was no longer speaking, Mark assumed he had silenced me. He didn’t give me another glance, turning all his tenderness to Chloe. “Chloe, don’t pay any attention to her. Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital to get checked out.” They turned and walked away, never once looking back at the blood-stained school bus. The police tried to contact Liam’s family several times, but Chloe’s phone went unanswered. Liam’s information wasn’t in my preschool’s official records, so as the director, I had no authority to sign off on any paperwork. During my official debriefing, I recounted the entire incident in meticulous detail, including every word of Chloe’s negotiation. 4 The moment I walked through the front door, Mark stormed towards me, his face radiating fury. He slammed a file folder down on the table in front of me. “Audrey, look at what you’ve done!” His face was contorted, his voice tight with rage. “What the hell did you say in your statement? Why did you have to emphasize that it was Chloe’s first negotiation? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve completely destroyed her career!” I slowly lifted my head. “I told the truth. You didn’t think she did anything wrong, did you? So how could the truth possibly destroy her?” “You…!” Mark’s finger trembled as he pointed at me. “What good does the truth do now? If Chloe has a child’s death on her record from her very first field case, her career is over before it even started! And I, as her supervising mentor, will face a severe reprimand! Don’t you understand that?” He took a deep breath, his tone shifting to one of command. “You are going back to the station right now, and you’re going to tell them you were in shock, that you misremembered. You’re going to say Chloe was brave and did everything she could to de-escalate.” “And furthermore, as Leo’s mother, you are going to issue a formal letter of understanding. You’ll also give her a public commendation, stating that you understand and appreciate her efforts… That’s the only way to make this go away.” I looked at him as if he were a complete stranger. To protect Chloe, he was asking me to lie, to rewrite reality. I slowly shook my head, my voice firm. “I can’t issue a letter of understanding. I don’t have the right.” “If you don’t have the right, who does?” Mark roared, his patience completely gone. “You won’t write it? Fine! I’ll write it! I’m still Leo’s legal father. I have that right!” I stared straight into his eyes, a chilling disbelief washing over me. “Mark, you would go this far for her? Don’t you realize you’d be falsifying a report? That’s illegal!” Mark let out a bitter laugh. “Do you know how hard Chloe has worked to change careers? She’s a single mother, busting her ass at the department, trying to get a foothold. So a small accident happens, and we should help her out. Why is your mind so twisted? Can’t you stand to see anyone else succeed?” Just then, his phone rang. Chloe’s hysterical sobs poured through the speaker. “Mark, I can’t do this anymore. Everyone at work is whispering, they’re saying I killed that child… I can’t stay here… I just… I can’t go on living…” Mark’s face instantly flooded with panic. He rushed to soothe her. “Chloe, calm down, don’t do anything stupid! I’m on my way! Just wait for me!” He hung up and shot me a venomous look. “Audrey, I’m telling you, if anything happens to Chloe today, I will never forgive you.” Looking at his cold, determined face, the last shred of affection I held for our marriage evaporated. “Mark, I want a divorce.” He stopped dead in his tracks, his body rigid. “Are you crazy? Our son just died. I’m grieving too. The killer has been shot, what more do you want? Is this really the time to be talking about a divorce?” His tone was dripping with annoyance, as if I were being completely irrational. “If you want a child that badly, once this all blows over, we can just… we can adopt Liam. He’s about the same age as Leo. Once you get to know him, you’ll grow to love him.” He didn’t wait for a response. He yanked open the door and was gone. I stood there, frozen. So that’s how he saw it. A son was just a piece that could be easily replaced. Fine. Just fine. In that case, I didn’t need to show him any mercy at all. I found myself almost looking forward to the moment he discovered the truth. 5 Facing intense public scrutiny, Mark quickly organized a press conference. “As a family member of the deceased,” he began, his voice heavy with performative grief, “I believe that Ms. Chloe Hayes acted with tremendous courage. The external criticism comes from those who do not understand the difficult nature of our work.” A murmur went through the crowd of reporters. If the family had forgiven her, what else was there to say? Chloe, seated beside him, dabbed at the corner of her eye, her shoulders trembling slightly, the picture of a fragile victim. A reporter raised her hand. “Mr. Reed, in your opinion, does the preschool—that is, your wife, Director Audrey Reed—bear any responsibility in this incident?” Mark let out a deep sigh, his face a mask of solemn, familial duty. “Although she is my wife, I cannot let personal feelings cloud my professional judgment. Objectively speaking, there were clear security lapses at the preschool that allowed the perpetrator to board the bus. That is an undeniable failure.” His words sent a shockwave through the room. Reporters scribbled furiously. The tide of public opinion turned on me in an instant. Online, headlines screaming “Director’s Negligence” and “Shut Down Bright Beginnings” began to spread like wildfire. It was then that I stood up from my seat in the back of the room. Mark and Chloe saw me, and the color drained from their faces. I took the microphone offered to me, my voice calm and clear. “Mr. Reed, Ms. Hayes, by your account, this incident resulted in only one casualty. Does that mean that in the eyes of professional negotiators, this can be defined as a ‘successful’ rescue operation?” The question was as sharp as a scalpel. Mark’s expression hardened, his brow furrowing. I turned my gaze to Chloe. “Ms. Hayes, a hypothetical question for you. If you had known that your son, Liam, was on that bus, would you have employed the same aggressive and provocative negotiation tactics?” A flash of panic lit Chloe’s eyes, but she quickly masked it with an air of righteous indignation. “Director Reed, I understand your grief, but please do not profane my professional ethics with such a question!” “It wouldn’t matter whose child was on that bus. I would always adhere to my principles! My conscience is clear!” A cold smile touched my lips. I held her gaze. “So even if it was your child who died, you believe there were no problems with how this case was handled?” Chloe bit her lip, her voice ringing with conviction. “If my child had died on that bus, I would only feel pride. He would have died for a worthy cause!” Mark frowned, cutting in. “Audrey, stop this. Go home.” “I know you’re scared of the online backlash, scared of being held accountable, and that’s why you’re making a scene. Don’t worry. I will face it with you.” He gave a slight nod to the security guards, signaling for them to escort me out. The room buzzed with chatter, the crowd’s eyes on me filled with contempt and anger. I pushed away the guard’s arm and began to clap slowly, a small, chilling smile on my face. “Excellent. Truly excellent. I hope you both remember what you said today. Because you can’t… ever… take it back.” My attitude seemed to infuriate Chloe. She lifted her chin, adopting a posture of untouchable integrity. “Of course I won’t take it back. I, Chloe Hayes, have always acted with a clear conscience!” At that exact moment, the main doors at the back of the conference hall swung open. An old woman walked in, holding the hand of a small boy.

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The afterglow lasted all of ten seconds. Asher rolled off me, sated, and the next sound I heard wasn’t a whispered endearment, but the shrill, digital scream of the System in my head. 【Host, Affection Level has dropped from 99% to 60%! He is clearly unsatisfied with your performance.】 A knot of anxiety tightened in my gut. I spent the next three days spiraling, obsessing, trying to figure out how to improve my technique. And then I heard him, bragging to his friends. “Leah has no idea I can control her progress meter. “It’s like training a dog. She’s good, I bump up the affection level as a reward. She messes up, I drop it to force a course correction. “The first time we slept together? I didn’t get off, so I tanked the score to sixty percent. “I guarantee you, right now, she’s at home researching how to serve me better next time.” 1 A wave of boorish laughter echoed from the private room. I stood frozen in the hallway, a chill seeping into my bones that had nothing to do with the club’s air conditioning. Just three days ago, I was living in a fantasy, convinced my mission was about to succeed. Asher’s affection for me had hit 99%. I was on the one-yard line, a single step away from victory. That night, Asher had held me close, his voice a low rumble. “Leah, I want you.” He’d said that a union of body and soul was the highest expression of love. I’d nodded, compliant, and let myself fall into the rhythm of his movements. It was painful, but I was happy. This new layer of intimacy, I thought, would be the final push I needed to complete the mission and go home. I never imagined it. The moment it was over, Asher’s Affection Level plummeted to 60%. Barely a passing grade. I was baffled, assuming my inexperience had disappointed him. But it was never about me. It was about his control. Inside the booth, the laughter continued. I could hear his friends jeering. “When it comes to training women, Ash is the master. With a cheat code like that, how could Leah not be wrapped around your finger?” “Naturally,” Asher said, his voice thick with arrogance. “These mission girls… they’ll do anything to get that score to one hundred percent. “Take the other night. All I did was frown at her plain white underwear and dial down the affection. Next time? Bet you anything she’ll be in black lace, desperate to please me.” “Damn, dude, that’s genius! You’re a fucking legend, Ash!” “Oh, it wasn’t his idea,” a feminine voice purred next to him. She giggled, a sweet, sharp sound. “I’m the one who told Asher that if you want total control over a woman, you have to crush her emotionally. Make her doubt herself. Then, right when she’s about to break, you give her a little taste of sweetness. She’ll be putty in your hands.” “You’re a clever one, aren’t you?” Asher’s voice was laced with a syrupy affection I’d never heard him use with me. He was talking to the girl on his lap. He’d mentioned her before. Tessa. Lithe body, sultry eyes. The club’s infamous, untouchable VIP hostess. The room erupted in catcalls. “Look at you, Ash, a girl on each arm. You’ve got it made.” “Leah? Don’t make me laugh. She’s a clumsy amateur.” He pulled Tessa closer, his fingers tracing patterns on her skin. “This… this is what it’s really about.” Tessa leaned into him, tapping his chest playfully. “Liar. Then why are you still with her? Am I not enough fun for you?” “I need a wife. A well-behaved pet,” he said, without a hint of shame. “Besides, she’s been trying to complete this mission for so long, I almost feel sorry for her.” He looked down at Tessa, his eyes dark with a raw hunger. “But when it comes to what I want? I’ll always choose a little devil like you.” The two of them tangled together, drawing more hoots from the peanut gallery. “Ash, you’re playing with fire. Aren’t you afraid Leah will just give up?” “Impossible,” Asher said, his confidence absolute. “Every time she gets close to quitting, I just crank the affection back up to ninety-nine percent. With just one point to go, how could she ever walk away? “I’ll keep her dangling like that forever. Always one step away. Always mine to command.” 2 A suffocating weight pressed down on my chest. Asher was right. To get the affection to 100%, I would have done anything. I was so desperate to go home. Three years ago, I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. The doctors gave me two months. Then, the System’s invitation appeared: complete a ‘mission’ in this alternate world, and I could return to my own, fully healed. I agreed without a second thought. I was a drowning woman, and this was my driftwood. I threw my entire being into the mission. Anything to raise Asher’s affection level. I swallowed my pride, sanded down my edges, and reshaped myself into the woman I thought he wanted. For three years, every time the score dropped, I would frantically replay every moment, searching for my mistake. I would correct, verify, and adjust. If the number ticked back up, I knew I’d done the right thing. That was how I became his perfect girlfriend. That was how I clawed my way to 99%. This time was no different. I thought if I just studied up, if I could just make him happy in bed, I could win back his affection. So I dedicated myself to it. I watched porn, read erotica, and even bought textbooks. The Joy of Sex, The Hite Report, Guide to Getting It On… I approached sex like a research project. But books weren’t enough. I came to the club tonight to observe, to learn how men and women flirted and connected in the wild. And then, walking past that private room, I heard everything. 3 I had come to the club to learn the art of seduction. Now, my intentions had changed. Wiping the tears from my face, I summoned the System for the first time in ages. “System, I want to go home. Help me forfeit the mission.” That single, overheard conversation had made one thing brutally clear: I would never, ever succeed with Asher. He was dangling a carrot in front of a donkey, and I was the donkey, mindlessly chasing it. Better to go back and spend my last two months with my parents than stay here and be his plaything. But my decision was met with a screech of digital protest. 【Forfeit? Are you insane?! You’re ranked number one out of this entire batch of Hosts!】 I was stunned. “Number one?” 【That’s right! I was counting on your success bonus to fund my retirement! If you quit now, what am I supposed to do?】 “Wait, I don’t understand.” I pulled up my mission panel, checking the numbers again. “Asher’s affection is at sixty percent. How can that possibly be number one?” The System scoffed. 【Who said the rankings are based on the final affection level? That’s an outdated, unscientific metric from the old systems.】 【Every mission has a different difficulty. Some targets start at ninety percent, others start in the negatives. Using a flat one-hundred percent as the goal for everyone is obviously unfair.】 【So, the new-generation Systems evolved. We now use affection volatility as the primary standard. The greater the fluctuation, the greater the emotional impact you’re having on the target.】 【And you, my dear Host, your affection level has been a rollercoaster. Constantly up and down. It proves that he is obsessed with you, fixated, unable to make up his mind.】 【That is true success!】 “…” It took me a moment to process the System’s corporate-speak. But I understood. It was precisely because Asher could manipulate my score at will that my data was so erratic. So volatile. He thought he was training a dog. But he had accidentally played right into the System’s new rules, rocketing me to the top of the leaderboard. A bitter, beautiful irony. A lifeline in the wreckage. Sensing my change of heart, the System pressed its advantage. 【Host, every one-percent change in affection, up or down, adds one point to your score. The rules state that two thousand points is a successful mission. Five thousand points gets you a ten-million-dollar cash bonus! We split it, fifty-fifty!】 【Right now, you’re only six hundred and sixty-six points away from that five thousand! Are you really going to throw away that kind of money?】 I asked carefully, “Are you saying I already succeeded? That I could have gone home, healthy, and you didn’t tell me?” The System had the decency to sound sheepish. 【Well, I wanted the bonus, too. And you’re so talented! You shot to the top of the charts in record time. Any system would be tempted!】 【I’m begging you, Host. Just a little more effort. Six hundred and sixty-six points is nothing for you!】 A fire ignited in my chest. Amid the surging emotions, I found a new, cold clarity. “Seventy-thirty. I get seven million, you get three. Agree, and I’ll keep going.” 【You… you…】 “Think carefully before you answer. If you hadn’t hidden the truth, I would have been home long ago. Why would I stay here and take another second of this abuse for your sake?” The System sputtered, stammered, and finally let out a long, theatrical wail. 【Fine! You drive a hard bargain! I’m being robbed blind by a ruthless capitalist!】

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The year I went blind, I was six. It was the same year I found Leo, half-frozen and left for dead in the snow. I begged my mother to save him, lying that I needed a companion, someone to be my eyes. Later, when we were alone, I whispered a promise in his ear. “I don’t want a guide dog. You just have to live. Go wherever you want to go.” But Leo stayed. After my mother remarried and left, he became the only thing I had. He watched over me as I grew up, my constant guide, my walking cane, my eyes. For my sake, he even abandoned his breathtaking talent for painting to study medicine, to become an ophthalmologist. But even after he became a brilliant eye surgeon, my world remained dark. Then came my 25th birthday. That was the day Sloane, a woman Leo once called his kindred spirit, won a major national art prize. He locked himself in his study. I could hear the rustle of paper, the sharp, angry sounds of tearing. “Just writing you a birthday card,” he said, his voice tight, strained with an emotion he was trying to hide. I smiled, wanting to go to him, to kiss the sadness away. But just as I took a step, a line of text scrolled across the darkness of my vision, stark and terrifying. “Don’t be a fool, little blind girl. He’s tearing up his paintings. On the back of every single one, he’s written ‘Audrey, go die.’” “Stop. Don’t take another step. There’s a frayed electrical cord on the floor in front of you. If you step on it, you’ll be electrocuted.” I froze, just for a second. Then I lifted my chin, forced a bright smile, and took a confident step forward. “Leo,” I called out cheerfully. “Whatever you wished for, I know it will come true.” 1 I walked carefully, deliberately, making sure I wouldn’t miss the frayed wire. Suddenly, Leo’s voice cut through the air. “Audrey!” It was a choked sound, thick with tears, but he didn’t say anything more. I pretended not to notice, my tone light and soothing. “Is your head hurting again? Come here, let me rub your temples.” The text in my mind flashed frantically. “Stop walking, you idiot! The wire is right at your feet!” Good. Right where I can’t miss it. But just as I was about to lower my foot, the doorbell rang, a shrill, piercing sound. It was followed by the violent scrape of a chair being shoved back. “Watch out!” A powerful force slammed into me, throwing me to the floor. My head cracked against the hardwood, my brain rattling inside my skull. The pain was a blinding white light in my endless darkness. Leo’s trembling hands helped me up. “Audrey… I’m so sorry… there was a live wire.” The text was a stream of curses. “What the hell is wrong with you, Leo?! You’re the one who wanted her dead, so why are you shaking now?” My own heart ached. You fool, I thought. Why did you have to go soft? I swallowed the pain and gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s my fault, I’m the one who can’t see. Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.” The text exploded. “Is she crazy? Apologizing after he tried to kill her?!” But I knew. I knew that right now, Leo was in more pain than I was. I could hear his ragged, broken sobs. He opened his mouth to say something else, but his phone buzzed. A woman’s voice, clear even through the phone. “I know you’re home, Leo. I’m not leaving until I see you.” A pause. “Please. Think of this… as the last time.” I recognized her voice from the TV interviews. Sloane. The brilliant painter. She and Leo had met years ago, volunteering at a community arts program. He told me he’d found a kindred spirit. Sloane once told me that Leo’s art had more soul than anything she’d ever seen. But now, she was a celebrated artist, and he was a doctor trapped with a blind girl. Leo hated being a doctor. After every long surgery, he’d be sick for hours. His hand tightened on mine, a desperate grip, then suddenly released. He stumbled toward the door. The force of him pulling away sent me staggering backward. Disoriented, the back of my head connected with the sharp corner of the dining table. A warm, sticky wetness began to seep through my hair. “Leo,” I whispered, my voice weak. “It hurts…” The front door slammed shut. My hearing has always been sharp, a small compensation for my lack of sight. Even with the door closed, I could hear their muffled, desperate voices from the hallway. Sloane was crying. “Her eyes are a lost cause, and you know it! You can’t fix them! Those hands of yours… they have more talent than mine ever will!” she pleaded. “Come with me. Meet my mentor. It’s not too late, Leo, as long as you just…” “Sloane,” Leo’s voice was shaking as he cut her off. “I owe her my life.” He took a ragged breath. “She’s blind. If I leave her here… where would I go?” Sloane’s voice was filled with sorrow. “What about your dream? What about… me?” A long, heavy silence passed before Leo answered, his voice raw. “No matter what happens… we’ll always be kindred spirits.” I heard her sob, then the sound of her running down the stairs. “I won’t come back again… If you change your mind, use this to find my mentor.” Lying there on the floor, dizzy from the blow to my head, my mind drifted back to when I was thirteen. Some kids from the blind school had cornered me, and I’d come home with bruises blooming on my skin. Leo had been so furious, he’d insisted on transferring to the school himself, just to protect me. He, a brilliant student, giving up a normal high school to spend his days in a place that taught Braille and cane navigation. He stayed up all night, every night, just to keep up with the advanced curriculum of his old school. Then, when I was fifteen, my mother came to say goodbye. She was getting married again. She clutched my hands, her own tears splashing onto my face. “Audrey, your new stepfather… he can’t help me raise a blind child. It’s been so hard, you have to understand, don’t you?” Her voice was a pathetic whine. “Besides, I found Leo for you. He should be the one to take care of you!” She left with her suitcase, leaving me the old house and Leo. He was only eighteen, taking care of a blind girl, and the stress wore him down until he was a bundle of nerves and exhaustion. I used to cry and beg him to leave, to save himself. But he would just smile and stroke my hair. “Little crybaby. Look at the swallows nesting under the eaves. They always come in pairs. One can’t make it without the other.” But now, the little swallow was tired. He deserved to fly away on his own. I was just a blind girl nobody wanted. If Leo hadn’t held my hand all these years, I would have died a long time ago. I just had to make sure I died somewhere he’d never find me. Otherwise, the guilt would crush him. 2 I pressed a hand to the back of my head, smearing the sticky blood, and managed to pull myself to my feet just as the door opened. “What happened to you?” Leo’s voice was hoarse. “Where did all this blood come from?” The text flashed in my vision. “Is he serious? He’s the one who knocked her over!” I tried to smile. “I’m sorry. I can’t see, I must have tripped over something.” The words were barely out of my mouth when a glass shattered at my feet. “Audrey! How many years have you lived in this house? You still don’t know your way around?” I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing. I clutched the hem of my sleeve, my heart sinking. “I’m sorry, Leo. I’m just useless.” He went to the hall closet and pulled out the white cane that had been gathering dust for years. He grabbed my arm and started dragging me out the door. I couldn’t keep up, stumbling, nearly falling down the porch steps several times, but he didn’t slow down. “Leo, where are we going?” I cried, pulling back in fear. He stopped so abruptly that I slammed my face into his back. I felt a warm trickle from my nose. As I fumbled to wipe away the blood, I heard his voice, frayed and broken. “Audrey! There are millions of blind people in the world! Why can they live normal lives with a cane, but you can’t?” His voice cracked. “I’m not your guide dog! I can’t be your dog forever!” A fist seemed to clench around my heart. He gave me a hard shove from behind, and his cold words drifted back on the wind. “If you don’t learn how to walk the sidewalk on your own tonight, don’t bother coming home.” Then he was gone. His scent, his presence, everything vanished. All I could hear was the wind, the rush of traffic, and the murmurs of passersby. “Is she blind? What’s she doing out here? Trying to get hit so she can sue someone?” Darkness and panic swallowed me whole. I clutched the cane, fighting the urge to scream, and whispered his name under my breath. “Leo, I’m so scared.” When I was little, right after I lost my sight, I could never get used to it. I’d wake up to a world of black and start crying hysterically. Leo would always be the first one in my room, his hand finding mine in the dark. “I’m here. Don’t be scared, I’m right here.” Now, only the wind answered. The text in my mind was a torrent of fury. “Unbelievable! He was the one who swore she’d never need a cane, that he’d be her eyes forever! That bastard!” I wiped away a tear. No, it’s not like that. I’d long forgotten how to use a cane, how to feel for the textured paving of the sidewalk. A blind girl like me… I must be such a burden to him. I walked blindly, tapping the ground, moving toward the loudest sound—the blare of car horns at a busy intersection. Maybe if a car hit me, Leo could finally be that free swallow. But the impact never came. Instead, strong arms yanked me back, pulling me into a fierce embrace. Leo’s body was trembling. His voice was laced with despair. “Audrey, you’re blind, not stupid! Why can’t you learn?” His voice broke. “Out of everyone in the world… why did a blind girl have to be the one who found me?” Why? You fool. Then why are you still holding on to me? I finally broke, the sobs tearing out of me. “You’re right, I’m not stupid! So just go! I don’t want you taking care of me anymore!” When I was five, my parents were getting divorced. They fought every day about who would be stuck with me. They were so busy fighting they didn’t even notice I had a fever high enough to burn away my sight. A child nobody wants can’t even keep her own eyes, I thought back then. That’s why, when I saw Leo abandoned in the snow, my heart broke for him. I didn’t want there to be one more unwanted child in the world who couldn’t even keep his eyes. Leo’s arms tightened around me, his grip weak. “Okay, I’m sorry. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “If I don’t take care of you, are you going to let a car kill you?” He led me home. He never mentioned the cane again. But I knew he spent more and more time staring silently at the canvases locked away in his study. The next day, I hid in my room and made a call. The person on the other end exploded as soon as she heard my voice. “Why are you bothering me? I have no legal obligation to you anymore!” I sniffled, my nose burning. “Mom… I don’t need you to take care of me. Could you just… pretend to take me in? Just for a little while?” After I swore up and down that I wouldn’t be a burden, she finally agreed, saying that for old times’ sake, she’d pick me up after my half-sister got back from summer camp. I hung up the phone and smiled. It was good. My mother had a new child to love. And Leo could finally get rid of me. 3 When I knocked on Leo’s study door, I heard him frantically putting something away. “What is it? Did you lose something again?” His voice was sharp with irritation. I swallowed hard, then forced a playful smile. “Leo, my mom called. She said she’s doing really well now and feels terrible about everything. She wants me to come live with her. I said yes.” Disbelief colored his tone. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” “I want to live with my mother,” I repeated, my voice steady. He exploded. “Audrey, have you forgotten what she did to you? Haven’t you had enough of her cruelty?” Of course I hadn’t forgotten. In the years after the court gave her custody, she was always out on dates. Sometimes she’d be gone for days, forgetting to even leave money for food. A young Leo would go out in the dead of winter to collect empty bottles, using the change to buy a piece of bread that he’d feed entirely to me. He was just a boy, his own stomach cramping with hunger, but he’d pat my back and lie through his teeth. “It’s okay. I just ate too much.” I found Leo because I wanted him to live. But chained to me, he hadn’t had a single good day. I stood my ground, and Leo’s anger boiled over, but he refused to give in. Sighing inwardly at his stubbornness, I called Sloane. “Please,” I begged her. “Try talking to him one more time.” The day Sloane called him, I had just returned from another fruitless eye exam. The doctor’s sigh was heavy with finality. “This eye condition… if even Dr. Evans can’t do anything, I’m afraid this is how it will be for the rest of her life.” Leo’s fists were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. “Audrey, why do you have to be so useless?” Guilt washed over me. All I could say was, “I’m sorry.” Later, I heard Sloane’s heavy voice on the phone with him. “Leo, I’m leaving with my mentor in a few days. Once I’m gone… there won’t be another chance.” A pause. “Is this really… how you want to live the rest of your life?” Leo stared at me, his gaze so intense it felt like he could see right through me. Suddenly, his control snapped. He stormed into his study, grabbed something, and ran out of the house. Listening to the door slam, I felt a strange sense of peace. A day passed, and Leo didn’t come back. Sloane sent me a voice message. “Thank you for letting him go. He’s a natural. My mentor is incredibly impressed.” I was so happy. But I hadn’t eaten anything all day, and the hunger was becoming unbearable. This time, when Leo left, he’d forgotten to leave snacks out where I could easily find them. I used my phone’s voice command to order takeout, but the front door was locked from the outside. Night fell, and Leo still wasn’t back. Acid churned in my stomach. I fumbled my way into the kitchen, trying to find something to eat. But this is how useless a blind person is. I don’t know what I knocked over, but the kitchen caught fire. I scrambled to put it out, but I couldn’t even aim the water in the right direction. The flames spread, and thick smoke filled my lungs. I collapsed, my skin growing numb to the searing heat. “You worthless thing, Audrey,” I sobbed, crawling desperately toward where I thought the door was. “Don’t you die in here!” If Leo came back to find my charred body, he would never, ever recover. The text in my mind screamed directions. “This way, blind girl! Crawl this way, to the left!” I scrambled in the direction it told me, but the smoke was too thick. My consciousness began to fade. When I woke up, I was in a hospital. Leo arrived soon after, with Sloane right behind him. “I was only gone for one day,” Leo murmured, his voice ragged with exhaustion. “Why do you always manage to do this to yourself?” My hands twisted in the starchy sheets. “I’m sorry…” A police officer stood by the bed, his voice stern as he addressed Leo. “How can you call yourself her guardian? How could you leave a blind person home alone?” He gestured at me. “Do you have any idea how close she came to burning to death?” I opened my mouth to defend him, but then I heard Leo’s hollow voice. “Is this it? Every time I try to take a step forward, you pull a stunt like this to remind me that I can never leave your side?” At that moment, Sloane shrieked. “Audrey!” Her voice was sharp with accusation. “You deliberately had me call him, and just when he was about to agree, you do this! You wanted him to feel guilty, to trap him here forever, didn’t you?” I couldn’t see the raw anguish in Leo’s eyes, but I could feel it. And suddenly, I started to laugh. “So what if I did? As long as my eyes are like this, he owes me. He has to be my dog for the rest of his life. Why else do you think I rescued him in the first place?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384977”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My problem is that I’m a people-pleaser. The kind who takes every word someone says as gospel. So when the girl they raised as their daughter, the one who wasn’t me, threw a tantrum and refused to eat, screaming that the food was “garbage,” I got down on my knees. I picked up the meal she’d thrown on the floor and began to eat it, piece by piece, as if it were a feast. Faced with the shocked expressions of my biological parents, I just gave a weak smile. “She said it was garbage. And that’s what I am. So it’s only right that I eat it.” My parents, their faces etched with pain, rushed to pull me up. But the other girl, Luna, looked like she was about to explode. She pivoted, ran to the open window, and shrieked that she was going to jump. “Your real daughter is back, so what do you need a fake one for? I might as well just die!” As she swung one leg over the sill, my reflexes kicked in. I lunged forward, grabbing her and pulling her back into the room. Then, I looked her in the eyes and spoke with utter sincerity. “Sister, if you want to die, I can help. But people who kill themselves are doomed to wander forever. Do you need me to find you a specialist? I know a team that guarantees a peaceful transition to the other side. Very professional.” That broke her. She scrambled away from me and threw herself into my mother’s arms. “Mom!” she wailed. “She’s trying to kill me!” 1 My mother, Katherine, wrapped her arms around Luna, patting her back and cooing. “Luna, sweetie, your sister didn’t mean it like that. She was trying to help. See? She saved you, she pulled you back from the window.” This only made Luna angrier. “So you’re choosing her over me, is that it?” she sobbed. “Fine! I’ll just go live with Maria. She doesn’t have any kids. I’ll be her daughter and take care of her when she’s old!” With that, she stormed out, leaving the three of us—the family I was supposed to belong to—standing in stunned silence. Katherine came over and gently patted the back of my hand. Her touch was hesitant. “Stella,” she said softly, “you didn’t grow up with us, and your… perspective is a little different. But you have to remember to be patient with your sister. Please, try to let her have her way. She may not be our blood, but we’ve raised her for eighteen years. There are feelings involved. You need to treat Luna like she’s your real sister.” I nodded seriously, etching my mother’s words onto my heart. So that night, when Luna went to go to sleep in her lavish, princess-themed bedroom, she found me already there, my few belongings unpacked. She screamed, a raw, furious sound, and lunged, dragging me off the bed and onto the floor. “Who told you you could sleep in my bed?” she spat, her face inches from mine. “You’re trash!” At that exact moment, my parents rushed in, drawn by the commotion. I looked from Luna’s furious face to my mother’s worried one, genuinely confused. “Mom,” I asked, my voice small. “Luna is my real sister. She said I’m trash. Should I listen to her?” I was stolen as a baby. The woman who bought me soon became pregnant with her own child and, disappointed I was a girl, abandoned me at a remote spiritual community—the Sanctuary. The Elders there raised me. From my first memories, they taught me one thing above all else: listen to others. Obey. If a visitor to the Sanctuary expressed a wish, we had to do everything in our power to fulfill it. And the Elders’ commands were absolute. So now, my sister was calling me trash. I was trying to figure out if this was a new command I was meant to obey. My mother’s face crumpled. She rushed forward and pulled me into a fierce hug. “No, honey, no. She’s just angry. Don’t listen to her.” A wave of relief washed over me. Thank God. I didn’t have to be trash. Katherine straightened up and turned to scold Luna, but Luna had already collapsed onto the floor, wailing. “She’s the one who started it! She took over my room! She’s trying to steal everything from me!” My father, Robert, looked at me, his expression grim. “What is going on here, Stella?” I blinked. “Didn’t my sister say she was going to be Maria’s daughter? I got the housekeeper’s room ready for her in the basement.” I gestured vaguely around the opulent bedroom. “All the other rooms in the house are taken. This one seemed to be empty, so I moved in.” Robert’s stern face flickered from anger to bewilderment. Katherine looked at me like her heart was breaking and melting all at once. She stroked my hair. “Oh, Stella. Honey, you misunderstood. She was just upset. She’s an Ashton. She isn’t really going to be the housekeeper’s daughter.” I scratched the back of my neck, feeling a blush of shame. “I misunderstood again. I’m sorry, sister. But Mom… the way people talk out here is so confusing.” Luna’s face was practically purple with rage. She shoved herself between me and my mother, pointing a finger in my face. “Stella, cut the crap! You know damn well what’s real and what’s not! Stop playing dumb!” I hesitated for a second before pulling a small notepad and pen from my pocket. “Words can be not-real?” I asked, genuinely curious. “The Elders at the Sanctuary always said that those who walk the Path do not speak falsehoods. I’ve never heard anyone say something they didn’t mean.” I looked at her, my pen poised. “Can you teach me how to tell the difference? I really want to learn.” 2 I was being completely serious. But Luna just slapped the notepad out of my hand and turned to our father. “Dad! Do you see this manipulative little witch? Look at her act!” My father wasn’t as soft as my mother. It was obvious he favored Luna. Faced with this chaotic scene, he spoke, his voice sharp. “If you want to know if she’s faking, there’s an easy way to find out. Let’s go see the room she supposedly prepared for you.” His eyes, narrowed and intense, were fixed on me. Luna’s face lit up. “Yes! Let’s go, right now. You can all see what Stella is really like!” I heard her and smiled, nodding eagerly. “Okay! I’d love for you to see the real me, too.” When the four of us arrived at the small, plain housekeeper’s room in the basement, Luna froze. Not only had I made up the simple cot with her expensive, four-hundred-thread-count sheet set, but I had also placed a photograph on the nightstand. It was a picture of her as a child, playing with our housekeeper, Maria. I explained earnestly, “Sister, you said you wanted to be Maria’s daughter, but she might not agree right away. I found this picture of you two and had it printed. I thought it might help your case.” Luna was speechless. My parents, after their initial shock, finally understood. Everything I had said, I had meant. Katherine pulled me into another hug, her voice thick with emotion. “My child… what on earth did they do to you?” I offered a small smile. “I saw it online. I think it’s called being a people-pleaser.” I always take what people say as the absolute truth. I try my best to please them, to do what they ask, even when they don’t actually mean it. I carry out their words to the letter. Katherine held me at arm’s length, her eyes boring into mine. “Stella, listen to me. You are an Ashton now. You don’t have to please anyone. Do you understand?” I nodded, but I didn’t really get it. If you don’t please people, how are you supposed to connect with them? 3 My parents planned a lavish party to formally introduce me to society. The night before the event, Luna approached me, her arm linked with a tall, devastatingly handsome man who radiated an air of cold arrogance. He stopped in front of me, looking down his nose as if I were something he’d scraped off his shoe. “So you’re Stella. I’ve heard all about the things you’ve been doing to Luna.” I smiled, a little embarrassed by the praise. “Oh, it was nothing, really. You don’t have to thank me.” Ever since I’d arrived, I’d been doing everything my sister said. I figured this man must be here to express his gratitude on her behalf. Aidan Pierce’s brow furrowed. His voice grew louder. “Let me make something clear. No matter what little games you play, I love Luna. I would never look at you twice.” I tilted my head, leaning first to my left, then to my right. Whichever way I moved, his eyes followed me. I sighed and told him with genuine regret, “Mr. Pierce, you’ve already broken your promise. You said you wouldn’t look at me twice, but you’ve already looked at me four or five times now.” The frown on Aidan’s face deepened until it could have crushed a walnut. Luna’s face flushed a blotchy red. “Stella, are you insane?!” she shrieked. I nodded sincerely. “Yes, I get terrible migraines. How did you know, sister? Do you have some kind of remedy for them?” Luna rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. I said, with genuine admiration, “Wow, sister. Your eyeball flexibility is incredible.” A core tenet of being a people-pleaser is to seize every opportunity to praise others. Luna, however, snapped her eyes back into place and tugged on Aidan’s arm. “Aidan, darling, you see what I have to deal with?” Aidan grabbed my wrist, his grip like steel. “Don’t play these hot-and-cold games with me. I’m not interested.” Before, I would have tried my hardest to win him over. After all, he was the fiancé my parents had arranged for me. I couldn’t let them down. But just yesterday, my mother had told me I didn’t have to please anyone anymore. So I pulled my arm from his grasp. “Mr. Pierce, I’m not interested in you, either.” I turned to leave, but he stepped in front of me again. “If you really don’t have feelings for me, then go tell your parents to call off the engagement. There has only ever been one Ashton daughter, and that’s Luna!” My old habits kicked in. I nodded. “Okay, Mr. Pierce. I’ll go talk to my parents right now.” Luna lifted her chin, preening like a triumphant peacock. “Oh, Aidan, you’re my hero!” I went and told my parents exactly what had happened. And the next day, at the party, Katherine made a shocking announcement. In front of all their guests, my usually gentle mother declared that the engagement between the Ashton and Pierce families was officially cancelled. Her voice was cold as ice. “We have two daughters. Anyone who does not recognize our biological daughter, Stella, is making an enemy of the Ashton family.” 4 The engagement was off. Luna and Aidan were finished. After several days of crying and throwing fits, Luna’s attitude did a complete 180. She not only apologized to me but also said she wanted us to be the best of sisters. My mother was deeply moved. Then, Luna said she wanted to take me shopping to bond, and asked for ten thousand dollars in spending money. The moment we got to the mall, she started ordering me around. One minute, she’d have me running to get her ice cream. The next, she’d demand I kneel down and tie her shoelaces. Then she would “accidentally” kick me in the face with her sharp-toed heel. And I obeyed every command, took every bit of abuse without complaint. Because she had told me that our parents would only be happy if we had a harmonious relationship. By the end of the day, I was loaded down with her purchases. Bags hung from every inch of my arms, and she had even started hanging smaller ones around my neck. A group of her friends gathered around, giggling. “Luna, where did you find this circus act? The bag handles are leaving bruises on her skin, and she’s too stupid to even put them down for a second.” Luna shrugged, not even bothering to look at me. “She’s the housekeeper’s daughter. Just some idiot who can’t think for herself.” I was confused again, so I had to ask. “Sister, is that a real statement or a not-real one? A few days ago, you were the one who wanted to be Maria’s daughter. How did it become me?” Before I could finish, Luna’s stiletto heel came down hard on the arch of my foot. I cried out in pain. She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “Say one more word. I dare you.” I carefully analyzed her statement. This one felt real. So, I followed her command and said one more word. “Sister, I’m the real Ashton daughter. I’m not the housekeeper’s daughter.” The color drained from Luna’s face. Her friends all had expressions of sudden realization. “Oh, so that’s the long-lost daughter everyone was talking about?” “No wonder Luna’s been treating her like this…” “I wonder what her parents would think if they saw their real daughter being treated like a pack mule?” Luna tried to stomp on my foot again, but this time I dodged. She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Go home! Get out of my sight and go back to the house right now!” For the first time since I’d arrived, I shook my head. “I can’t.” “You can’t?” I glanced at the credit card in Luna’s hand. “Mom and Dad gave me ten thousand dollars to buy things for myself. They said I’m not allowed to come home until it’s all spent.” Luna’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up. “That’s my money!” I blinked innocently. “But sister, didn’t you tell Mom you were taking me shopping to buy me clothes? Was that a not-real statement, too?” The group of wealthy girls around us burst into laughter. Luna, humiliated, threw down the bags she was holding and ran off. I looked down at the mountain of shopping bags at my feet and smiled. What a productive day. 5 After two days of silence, Luna came up with a new plan. She told my mother I was uneducated and needed to go to school. My parents agreed, telling me to be a good girl and listen to my sister at school. The moment we arrived, Luna gathered a crowd around me. “Stella,” she asked with a smirk, “what did you do before you came here?” I answered honestly. “I used to sweep the grounds at the Sanctuary.” I grew up there, isolated. I didn’t have many skills, so sweeping was my main job. But the circle of kids around me roared with laughter, their amusement quickly turning to disgust. “A janitor? How dare she come to our school?” “That’s so gross. I can’t believe I have to be in the same class as someone like that.” Listening to their hateful words, I blinked and asked, “So, none of you ever have to sweep?” Another wave of laughter. Luna, perched on a nearby desk, tapped my shoulder with the pointed toe of her designer heel. “Stella, stop being pathetic. You’re looking at the heirs to some of the biggest corporations in the country. Do you really think any of them have ever held a broom?” She glanced out the window. “Actually, the courtyard is looking a bit dirty. Why don’t you go sweep it?” Sweeping was something I was good at. I found a broom and went outside. I had barely started when Luna and her friends followed me out. “Is that how you used to sweep at the Sanctuary?” she asked. I nodded. She shook her head. “No, that’s not right. Back then, you were bald!” The moment she said it, they were on me. A group of them tackled me, pinning me to the ground. I felt the cold, sharp snip of scissors at my hair. A nightmare from my past slammed back into me. I started to fight, thrashing wildly. “No! Don’t touch my hair! Stop!” “Get off me! All of you, get off!” But Luna just shouted over my struggles, “Do it! Cut it all off! And when you’re done, use the clippers to shave it clean!” Hands held me down, pressing my face into the dirt. The sound of scissors snipping echoed in my ears, punctuated by their cruel laughter. I begged them to stop, but they wouldn’t. “Stella, you were basically a nun. Nuns don’t have hair!” “Yeah! We heard you were always bald. We’re just helping you get your memory back!” I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the so-called memories they were talking about. They were the deepest, most terrifying scars on my soul. When they finally let me up, I knelt on the ground, surrounded by clumps of my own hair. Tears streamed down my face, landing silently in the dust. Luna was cackling, holding up her phone and taking pictures of me from every angle. She shoved the screen in my face. “Look, sister. Do you like your new haircut?” The girl in the photo was a monster. They had given me a sick mockery of a hairstyle—one half of my head was shaved completely bald, the other half left with long, ragged strands. Luna tapped her phone screen. “A picture this good is a shame to keep to myself. I think I’ll just help you share it with the world.” After posting it across every social media platform she could think of, she grinned at me, her eyes glinting with malice. “Are you angry now, sister? I bet you are. But being angry is useless. Unless you have the guts to fight back!” The world clicked into place. I understood. This was a command. My sister wanted me to fight back. So I snatched the scissors from the hand of a girl standing nearby and lunged, plunging them toward Luna’s stomach.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384976”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The same day I won the Golden Muse, I was accused of sleeping with the heir to the Lockwood empire. My rival, a rising starlet named Scarlett Hayes, posted the question for the whole world to see: 【What exactly were you trying to do, sneaking into my boyfriend’s room in the middle of the night?】 【Some people just don’t know their place!】 Her followers descended on me like wolves. Endorsement deals vanished overnight. I was, in the blunt and brutal language of the internet, canceled. Later, Liam Lockwood—the so-called heir—would broadcast his engagement party to Scarlett, a lavish affair streamed live for millions. But the celebration couldn’t begin. It couldn’t start because the true power of the Lockwood family, and the woman he worshiped, had not yet arrived. 1 #AudreyThorne: Homewrecker?# #AudreyAndLiamLockwood# #CancelAudreyThorne# The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes were the trending topics, glowing like poison on my phone screen. The second was the non-stop flood of calls from my agent. My head was spinning. I had no idea what was happening. I clicked the top hashtag. Dozens of gossip sites were circulating the same grainy photograph: me, alone, slipping into Liam Lockwood’s hotel room late last night. The story was technically true, but stripped of all context. After my acceptance speech, the studio had called. Liam Lockwood, the family’s notorious playboy heir, wanted to discuss a collaboration. They gave me a room number. On any other night, with any other man, I would have refused. A midnight meeting? Please. But Liam was Arthur’s nephew. And Liam had a reputation for being erratic, for playing by his own rules. A spontaneous, late-night business discussion wasn’t entirely out of character for him. When I got there, he claimed it was a mistake, that he’d been expecting someone else. I was in and out of that room in less than thirty seconds, utterly confused. But according to the internet, I was a predator, sinking my claws into Scarlett Hayes’s man. The worst part? I hadn’t even gone alone. My agent, Dana, had been right beside me. They’d just cropped her out of the picture. I was about to type out a clarification when a new hashtag shot to number one. It was Scarlett. She’d posted a new statement, aimed directly at me. 【What exactly were you trying to do, sneaking into my boyfriend’s room in the middle of the night?】 【Liam and I are rock solid. Some people should learn their place.】 Liam himself replied in the comments. I’ll only ever love my baby girl. Sent her packing last night, btw. Tell me I’m a good boy If there had been any doubt before, the golden boy of New York high society had just confirmed the narrative. The internet exploded. 【WHOA. I never would have guessed Audrey Thorne was that kind of person.】 【Always knew there was something off about her. So desperate. I bet she slept her way to that award, too.】 【My girl Scarlett is the real deal, the heir’s actual girlfriend, and she never uses her connections to get ahead. She relies on talent. Audrey is just disgusting.】 I saw it clearly then. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding. This was a calculated hit, designed to use my new-found fame as a stepping stone for theirs. Dana’s call finally broke through. “Those little shits!” she screamed, her voice cracking with rage. “Scarlett Hayes doesn’t have the talent to win a goddamn raffle, so she pulls this? After you beat her for the Muse? This is capital-B Bullshit! Our people can’t even post a comment defending you. They’re being silenced, accounts suspended. The bots are working overtime. I’m going to kill someone!” I started to speak, but a strong hand wrapped around my waist and gave me a playful squeeze. “Don’t,” I mumbled. There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line, followed by an even louder roar. “Did you just tell me not to?! Audrey, have you SEEN what’s happening?!” “Sorry, Dana. Not you,” I sighed. I shot a glare at the man beside me, but he just nuzzled his face against my cheek, his morning stubble scratching gently. “Morning, my love…” His voice was a low, sleep-gravelly murmur, but it was close enough for the phone to pick it up. Before Dana could detonate, I ended the call. I turned to face Arthur, who just grinned and planted a soft kiss on my forehead. “Kisses, please…” “Kisses, my ass! Look at what your wonderful nephew has done!” I shoved my phone into his hands. Arthur took it, his smile fading as his eyes scanned the screen. The warmth in his expression vanished, replaced by a cold, quiet fury. His entire demeanor shifted. “I will make him kneel and apologize to you.” “Don’t.” I let out a short, sharp laugh and held up a hand to stop him. “I’ll handle this myself.” I looked at Arthur’s face, that handsome, infuriating face, and snapped a quick picture. Then I opened my social media. 【Not interested, already married, and way out of your league. My husband, for the record.】 2 Arthur Lockwood. The youngest son of the Lockwood patriarch, and the true, undisputed head of the family. His father had sent him abroad for his education, and even after returning to the States, he rarely set foot in the family’s ancestral Manhattan townhouse. The press knew the reclusive powerhouse was married, but no one knew what he or his wife looked like. Even within the Lockwood clan, only the old man himself knew the truth. The moment I posted that photo, the internet—and my agent—collectively lost their minds. Dana showed up at my front door an hour later, radiating pure fury. She stormed into the foyer, ready for war, and then froze solid when she saw Arthur standing in the living room. “Hello. I’m Arthur Lockwood,” he said, his voice calm and polite. Even though she’d just seen his picture, the man in person was another story entirely. Dana’s jaw went slack. “You… hi… hello,” she stammered, fumbling in her purse. “I’m, uh, Audrey’s agent. Dana. Here’s my card.” She practically threw it at him. Then, her professional instincts kicked in. “That face. You were born to be in front of a camera. Mr. Lockwood, have you ever considered acting? Give me a year—no, six months—and I’ll make you the biggest star on the planet.” Arthur offered a gracious, small smile. “Thank you, but no.” With that, he turned and headed for the kitchen. “My love, I’m making you breakfast.” Dana’s attention snapped back to me. “What is going on?! When did you get married? Why didn’t I know about this?!” “Well,” I said with a cough, “it’s been about three years.” “Three years?!” Her voice climbed an octave. “THREE YEARS?! You kept this from me for three years! Oh my god!” I tried to soothe her. “Look on the bright side. If you’d found out later, I would have kept it from you for even longer.” Dana slapped her thigh in frustration. I grabbed her arm, trying to calm her down. Once she’d caught her breath, she got back to business. “Do you have any idea how many sponsors have dropped you because of Liam’s little stunt? The studio wants to cut its losses. They’re planning to stick you and your… husband… on a reality show. One last paycheck before they terminate your contract.” “Absolutely not.” The refusal was automatic. I could go on a reality show. But putting Arthur in that kind of spotlight? Exposing him to that world? I’d have to be insane. “If you refuse, the studio will sue you for breach of contract. The penalty clause will wipe out everything you’ve earned for the last decade.” Dana looked at me, her expression a mix of pity and exasperation. I opened my mouth to argue, but Arthur re-emerged from the kitchen. “A reality show?” he said, a thoughtful look on his face. “Alright. It might be interesting to see what my wife’s work is actually like.” Hearing his consent, Dana’s face split into a wide grin. “It’s settled, then!” Before I could protest, she was already backing out the door. “No take-backs!” she yelled, then paused as if remembering something. “Oh, by the way. Scarlett Hayes and Liam Lockwood are going to be on it, too. Those two are snakes, and Liam has the family name behind him. You need to be careful, you hear me? Don’t pick a fight you can’t win.” And with that, she was gone. 3 The news that I would be appearing on a reality show with Scarlett and Liam—and my mystery husband—sent the gossip blogs into a frenzy. The comments were a special kind of brutal. 【Seriously? That train wreck is going on TV now? With her photoshopped husband? Does the network have zero consideration for its viewers?】 【That guy’s photo is so obviously filtered. And even if he does look like that, why would he be with her?】 【You can say what you want about Audrey’s character, but you can’t deny she’s beautiful…】 【Who cares if she’s beautiful? She’s a homewrecker! Besides, there’s never been a single rumor about her being married. She probably just hired some actor to clean up her image.】 【Audrey’s always been a serious actress, not an influencer. It’s not like she’s obligated to announce a marriage to the public.】 【She’s not obligated to tell us, but she shouldn’t lie! I don’t believe for a second that she’s married. A woman who chases after rich men like that would never tie herself down to just one.】 I still had a bad feeling about Arthur doing the show. It felt wrong. And seeing the vicious things people were writing about him online made my stomach turn. He, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered. He leaned over my shoulder, reading the comments on my phone. “What’s wrong?” he murmured, a teasing note in his voice. “Are you worried your husband won’t hold up in person?” I just rolled my eyes at him. 4 Filming began three days later. The second Arthur and I arrived on set, the director had a camera crew swarm us. The show was being live-streamed, with a massive screen nearby displaying the real-time comment feed for all the cast members to see. As the camera zoomed in for a close-up on Arthur, he gave it a cool, indifferent glance. Most of the audience had tuned in expecting a freak show, but the moment they saw Arthur’s face, the chat feed erupted. 【OMG OMG, he’s actually that hot?! It’s not a filter?! Where did Audrey find this guy? I want one!】 【Okay, he’s definitely hotter than Liam Lockwood…】 【Audrey, move. It’s my turn.】 【So what if he’s hot? Scarlett’s boyfriend is the heir to the Lockwood fortune! Does Audrey really think parading some hot guy around is going to make everyone forget what she did?】 【Pathetic. Just go away already!】 Arthur and I took our designated seats. Scarlett and Liam were already there. Liam was dressed head-to-toe in bespoke designer clothes, a watch worth more than my first apartment strapped to his wrist. He shot us a look of pure disdain, his face a mask of cold arrogance. He was trying to intimidate us. But whatever pressure he thought he was projecting, it dissolved the moment it met Arthur’s calm gaze. It was like watching a housecat try to stare down a panther. After a few seconds, Liam’s composure cracked. He broke eye contact, his expression souring. The tight line of his mouth was a clear sign that the great Lockwood heir was annoyed. Scarlett, nestled against his side, smiled sweetly. When she saw me, she stood up and waved. “Audrey! You made it! Come, sit.” The live-feed comments scrolled by. 【Scarlett is just so kind and classy. Even after everything Audrey did, she’s still so polite.】 【She’s just rising above it. She doesn’t want to sink to that trashy woman’s level.】 I ignored her. On camera, Scarlett didn’t let her smile falter. But as I sat down, she leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “I have to hand it to you, I underestimated your nerve. Finding some pretty boy to play your husband just to save your career.” She looked Arthur up and down. “Mm, he is handsome. But these days, looks aren’t enough. You need power, connections. I hope you two enjoy starving together.” She pulled back just as quickly, her public smile snapping back into place. “We’re so happy you could join us.” I opened my mouth to respond, but Arthur put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me closer. “Audrey, my love,” he said, his voice carrying just enough for the microphones to pick it up. “Do you hear a dog barking?” A smile touched my lips. “I do,” I replied. “A rabid one, it sounds like.” Scarlett’s face hardened. She clearly hadn’t expected us to be so openly dismissive. There were three couples on the show. Besides us and Scarlett and Liam, there was a popular starlet named Tinsley and a young actor from her studio, Jason. They weren’t a real couple, just a work pairing. Before Scarlett could retort, Tinsley jumped to her defense. “Audrey, that is so out of line! Scarlett is a respected artist! How dare you and your… kept man… insult her like that!” Scarlett’s eyes welled up with crocodile tears. She tugged on Tinsley’s sleeve. “It’s okay, Tins. Audrey’s always had a bit of a temper. We all know that behind the scenes. Liam and I don’t mind.” And there it was. Another label pinned on me: the angry, difficult diva. Tinsley shot me a dirty look and put a protective arm around Scarlett. “Well, you and Mr. Lockwood are generous for putting up with her.” Scarlett just smiled graciously. Seeing his opening, the director hurried over to prevent me from speaking. “Alright, everyone! Let’s get the show started!” 5 The show was being filmed in a small, rustic village upstate. The producers had originally booked a standard bus for transport, but with the arrival of Liam Lockwood, they’d upgraded to a fleet of luxury SUVs. As soon as we settled into the plush leather seats, Tinsley sighed dramatically. “Oh, this is so much better. I’m a regular on this show, and let me tell you, the bus they usually give us is a nightmare. We have Scarlett and the Prince of New York to thank for this upgrade!” She then shot a smug look at Arthur, who was sitting beside me. “I bet some people have never ridden in a car this nice in their entire lives.” I nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. We haven’t.” Not one this cheap, anyway. I turned to Arthur, my expression full of mock sympathy. “You must be suffering.” A slow smile spread across his face as he toyed with my fingers. “As long as I’m with my wife, I’m not suffering at all.” Seeing us laughing together seemed to infuriate Tinsley, who was left sputtering, unable to think of a comeback. Scarlett, meanwhile, rested her head on Liam’s shoulder. “Liam, honey. Audrey and her husband seem to get along so well.” A smirk played on Liam’s lips. “She didn’t seem so happily married the other night.” The comments on the live-feed went wild. 【LOL, Liam’s burns are legendary! How does that feel, Audrey?】 【I wonder how much Audrey is paying that guy per day to be so cooperative.】 【Can I get his number? I’d book him for a month.】 Scarlett and Tinsley giggled, delighted by Liam’s jab. Scarlett gave Tinsley a subtle nod. Tinsley, ever the loyal attack dog, turned her attention back to me. “Audrey, the internet is blowing up with people calling you a shameless homewrecker for what you did. What are your thoughts on that?” A cold smile touched my lips. “My thoughts? I think it’s fascinating to watch a pack of hyenas invent a narrative out of thin air. It’s like watching someone sprint to catch a turd someone else just dropped. You know why the delivery guy only ever brings you one package at a time?” Tinsley instinctively asked, “Why?” “Because you’re a single-use tool.” “You—!” It took her a second, but when it landed, she looked like she wanted to lunge at me. Scarlett quickly grabbed her arm. “Audrey, you should really try to be more humble. I can forgive how you treat me, but we’re on a show right now. We all have to get along. Bullying Tinsley like this is just too much.” Tinsley immediately started playing the victim, slumping against Scarlett with a pained expression. 【OMG, I am so mad right now I could literally slap that bitch through the screen!】 【My poor Tinsley was just telling the truth, and Audrey goes nuclear on her!】 I turned my gaze slowly to Scarlett. “You can forgive how I treat you? No matter what? Then kneel and kiss my feet. Let’s see how forgiving you are then.” The color drained from Scarlett’s face, leaving it a blotchy mess of white and red. Liam pulled her protectively into his arms, his eyes, dark and menacing, fixed on me. “Scarlett wanted to do this show, so I’m not going to shut it down. But once this is over, you will pay for every single word you’ve said today.” Arthur’s hand tightened around mine. He met Liam’s glare with a look of utter calm. “We’ll be waiting.” 【Liam is so protective! A true Prince Charming!】 【Only our Scarlett could inspire that kind of devotion. She’s beautiful, kind, and patient, and she never wanted to stoop to Audrey’s level. But that witch pushed her too far!】 【I bet we never see Audrey Thorne again after this show wraps.】 【Does anyone else feel like Audrey’s husband is a little too calm? If it were me, I’d be terrified hearing that from the Lockwood heir.】 【It’s called bluffing. A lot of guys do it. He’s acting tough, but I bet he’s pissing his pants right now.】 The director scurried over to me, his eyes wide with panic. He leaned in and hissed, “Audrey, you and your husband need to tone it down, right now! You can’t afford to offend Liam Lockwood and Scarlett Hayes. If you piss him off and he pulls out, ruining my show, I swear I will make your life a living hell.” After his threat, he turned back to Liam and Scarlett, his face plastered with a sycophantic smile. “Mr. Lockwood, Scarlett! Shall we begin our first game?” Liam just tilted his chin up, a gesture of royal assent. 6 The first game was “Truth or Dare” via a spinning wheel. If you couldn’t complete the task, you had to drink a glass of bitter melon juice. The spinner landed on Liam first. His lips curved into a smirk. “Truth.” “I’ll ask! I’ll ask!” Tinsley’s hand shot up. “Mr. Lockwood, when are you planning to make our beautiful Scarlett an honest woman?” Scarlett blushed on cue, the picture of shy delight. The question sent a ripple through the live-stream audience. Scarlett’s fans immediately started cheering for a wedding, but some viewers were skeptical. 【A family like the Lockwoods… would they really let him marry an actress? Dating is one thing, but marriage…】 【That’s true. I haven’t heard anything about Scarlett coming from a powerful family…】 【What are you talking about? My girl Scarlett is beautiful and kind, why wouldn’t he marry her?】 【She’s at the height of her career! She makes more money than all of you keyboard warriors combined! How dare you say she’s not worthy? Are you?】 【Get real… no matter how famous Scarlett is, she’s still an employee… Liam Lockwood is true capital. He’s part of an empire.】 The debate raged in the comments until Liam spoke. “Scarlett is not beneath me,” he said, his voice laced with indignation. “Our families are of equal standing.” His words silenced the chat for a beat, then caused a full-blown explosion. 【EQUAL STANDING?! OMG!】 【The only family on par with the Lockwoods right now is the Devonshire dynasty… Don’t tell me Scarlett is… a Devonshire?!】 【NO WAY! Our girl never said a word about her family! She built her entire career on her own. She’s a true inspiration!】 Tinsley had clearly put the pieces together. She gasped, looking at Scarlett with wide, envious eyes. “Scarlett, you’re the Devonshire heiress? Is Hayes your mother’s name?” Scarlett looked down, the very image of humble modesty. “Yes…” “I never would have guessed! You kept that hidden so well!” I was taking a sip of water and choked, sputtering. Arthur gently patted my back, handing me a napkin to wipe my chin. I shot him a look. Does my father have a secret daughter I don’t know about? Arthur gave a slight shake of his head, indicating he had no idea either. As if to prove her claim, Scarlett announced, “Let me give my little brother a quick video call, see what he’s up to.” She borrowed her phone from a producer and called a contact simply listed as ‘Leo.’ A few seconds later, Leo’s face appeared on the giant screen. 【OMG! That’s Leo Devonshire! The Devonshire heir!】 Leo was clearly on a yacht somewhere, sun-drenched and carefree. “Hey, Scar. What’s up?” he asked. Scarlett smiled warmly. “Nothing, just on set with Liam. Wanted to say hi and see what you were doing.” Liam leaned into the frame and waved. 【Everyone knows the Devonshire family has two children. The son, Leo, is a total playboy and always in the tabloids. But the daughter is notoriously private, there’s almost no information about her online. I can’t believe it’s been our Scarlett this whole time!】 【This is the best surprise ever for us Scarlett fans!】 It was a big surprise for me, too. So big my jaw nearly hit the floor. Did my dad really have a secret family? And my brother knew about it? My mind started racing, playing out a hundred different dramatic scenarios. My expression darkened. If my father had actually betrayed my mother… “Alright, Scar, I gotta go. Talk later,” Leo said. “Okay, Leo. Have fun!” Scarlett ended the call. Leo Devonshire’s appearance had completely convinced the crew, the director, and the entire online audience. The director, in particular, looked like he’d won the lottery. He thought he’d just landed the Lockwood heir, but now he had the mysterious Devonshire heiress, too. This was a ratings goldmine. He immediately had his team create a new trending topic. #DevonshireHeiressMakesHerDebut# The show’s popularity surged. But the real bombshell was yet to come. Liam cleared his throat, a smug look on his face. “This Sunday is our engagement party,” he announced. “I’m having the entire event live-streamed, and you’re all invited to watch. “Oh, and by the way,” he added casually, “my uncle will be there.” A collective gasp went through the crew. The live chat went into meltdown. 【His uncle? Does he mean THE Lockwood? The one who actually runs everything?!】 【Holy shit! That guy is the real deal. I heard that even though he’s the uncle, he’s only a couple of years older than Liam…】 【Two years older and he’s already in charge of that entire empire? That’s insane!】 Tinsley practically vibrated with excitement. “Scarlett, can I come, too?!” “Of course,” Scarlett said magnanimously. “YES!” Tinsley cheered. I frowned and whispered to Arthur, “Are you going to that?” He shook his head. “First I’m hearing of it.” I just stared at him. After the excitement died down, the game continued. The spinner landed on Jason, the quiet actor paired with Tinsley. Since Liam had picked truth, Jason had to take a dare: pinch his nose and spin in a circle ten times. He did it quickly. On the third spin, the pointer landed on me. I, too, had to choose truth. This time, Scarlett asked the question. “Audrey,” she said, her voice dripping with false sincerity. “Is the man sitting next to you really your husband?” I laughed. “How many times do I have to say it? Are you having trouble processing?” 【God, Audrey is so infuriating. It’s a game, and she’s still lying! What’s the point?】 【If you can’t play, don’t play. She picked truth and still tells a lie. Is it that hard to admit you hired an actor?】 The producers announced the fourth round, but Scarlett held up a hand. “This is boring. I’m done.” Tinsley quickly chimed in. “Me too. What’s the point of playing a game if someone’s just going to cheat?” The director shot me a death glare. Just then, we arrived at the village. He ordered everyone out of the cars. 7 Once we were in the village, the director announced the first task. We had to help the local farmers harvest corn. The team that harvested the most within the time limit would get first choice of the houses provided for our stay. There were three levels: excellent, good, and poor. The moment the timer started, Arthur and I got to work. He tried to tell me to rest while he handled it, but I shook my head. This was a two-person challenge; I wasn’t going to let him do it alone. 【LOL, Audrey looks like a natural doing farm work. You can tell she didn’t grow up with money.】 【Right? And she’s so damn competitive. It’s just a game. Why does she have to try so hard? She should be more relaxed like Scarlett and Liam.】 At that moment, Scarlett and Liam were lounging in patio chairs, sipping iced tea under the shade of a portable fan. 【Did Scarlett just give up on getting the good house?】 【They’re royalty. They’re obviously not going to do manual labor.】 【LOL, look at them just staring at the cornfield, they look so lost. It’s adorable!】 【They’re hilarious. Such a breath of fresh air.】 Time was up. Scarlett and Liam hadn’t picked a single ear of corn. Tinsley and Jason had been working, but Tinsley had put her harvest in a separate pile. Jason had filled two large sacks. Tinsley had only managed half a sack. Without even asking him, she dragged both of Jason’s sacks over and presented them to Scarlett and Liam. Jason’s face fell, but he glanced at Liam, then at Scarlett, and said nothing. Scarlett beamed. “Oh, Tinsley, thank you! How sweet of you.” Then, she turned to me. “Audrey,” she said pointedly. “What about yours…?” “Ours? We got first place.” I smiled. Arthur and I had each filled two sacks. Without another word, I walked over and claimed the key to the best house. Scarlett’s smile vanished. Liam stood up, his voice dripping with condescension. “Interesting. Some people really don’t know how to take a hint.” “You’re right,” I shot back without missing a beat. “Some people are interesting. Do absolutely nothing and then expect a handout from others? Who died and made you king?” The live chat froze, then exploded. 【WHAT DID SHE JUST SAY?! IS AUDREY INSANE?】 【Did she just insult Liam Lockwood? TO HIS FACE?!】 【Who does she think she is?! He could end her with a single phone call!】 【Is this her new strategy? Playing the ‘blunt’ and ‘outspoken’ character? Trying to get famous by tearing down Scarlett and Liam?】 My words hit their mark. Liam shot up from his chair. His face was thunderous, the air around him turning cold. “What did you just say to me?” Arthur moved smoothly, stepping behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. He gently pulled me behind him, shielding me. He was a full head taller than Liam, and as he looked down at his nephew, his face was calm, but his dark, deep-set eyes were anything but. His voice was quiet, yet it carried a chilling weight.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384975”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After I fell in love with the vampire Damien, I endured the agony of his turning me. It was because he said he couldn’t bear the thought of us being parted by my old age and death. Later, another woman would ask him, her face a mask of innocence as she lay in his arms, “Why won’t you turn me?” Damien, his voice thick with a pain I recognized, would kiss her cheek and say, “Because I could never stand to see you hurt.” So that was it. To truly love someone meant you couldn’t bear to cause them pain. My heart finally broke for good. I didn’t belong in this world anyway. It was time to go home. 1 When I got back to the old manor, I was clutching a bag of blood plasma. It was the last of the food I’d sourced for Damien. As a newly turned vampire, I still couldn’t control my cravings for human blood. My monthly supply runs were a grim exercise in back-alley deals and shadowed exchanges. This last bag had cost me a silver bullet from a hunter’s rifle, a wound I’d been lucky to escape from. I’d been gone a month, and Damien hadn’t contacted me once. A cold knot of fear tightened in my gut—what if something had happened to him? But as I stepped into the courtyard, the sweet, metallic scent of fresh human blood hit me, chasing my worries away with a fresh wave of dread. Familiar voices drifted from inside, growing clearer. A woman’s sugary laugh. “I want to be a vampire, too.” Damien’s low chuckle followed. “You’re perfect as you are. Why would you want this cursed existence?” The woman, nestled in his arms, asked with a guileless tilt of her head, “Is my blood really that sweet?” His reply was a portrait of tortured restraint, the voice of a man adoring something too fragile to touch. “Intoxicating.” The moment she turned her head, the cold in my chest froze solid. It was Lily. The girl I had come to call my sister. Seeing me, Lily sprang from Damien’s lap, grabbing my arm with a disarming warmth. The wound on her wrist, beaded with blood, was held out to me like a peace offering. “Sophie! You’re finally back!” The scent of her blood was overwhelming. I tried to pull away, to put some distance between us, but in a blur of motion, Damien had me pinned to the floor. His eyes were filled with a profound disappointment. “You’d even drink from your own sister? Have you lost your mind?” The pressure of his hold drove the silver bullet in my chest deeper, a searing path from muscle toward my vital organs. The pain stole my breath, but he mistook my silence for theatrics. “You’re a vampire,” he scoffed. “A little scratch like that is nothing.” Had he already forgotten? I used to be human, too. 2 The truth is, I’m not from this world at all. I was sent here by the Agency on a mission: to investigate the existence of vampires. Ten years ago, I met Damien—a vampire a thousand years old. Despite his terrifying nature, he had learned to control his thirst, subsisting on animal blood and living, for all intents and purposes, like a man. He gave me everything, showered me with affection, and told me I was the first person he had ever truly loved. And I fell in love with him. Our years together were bright and fleeting. Time left no mark on him, but it showed me no such mercy. One night, after too much wine, he pressed his lips to my neck and made me a promise. “Let me turn you. We can be together forever, Sophie. For eternity. What do you say?” Drowning in a sea of love, I abandoned my mission. I refused the Agency’s calls to return to my own time. All I wanted was to be with him, forever. But no one told me how much it would hurt. The constant ache of sunlight on my skin. The inability to taste food. The gnawing, primal addiction to blood that I had to fight every single second. In the beginning, Damien was patient. He stayed by my side, guiding me. “Easy, now,” he would soothe. “In time, you’ll get used to it.” But his patience wore thin. Soon, his words began to cut. “I got through it. Why is it so hard for you?” “You’re not human anymore. Stop being so dramatic.” Then, I found a girl on the street—a homeless, dying orphan. I took her in, saved her life, and brought her to live with us in the manor, calling her my sister. Lily. Her arrival was the fracture that broke everything. She fell in love with Damien. “Sophie,” she’d pleaded with me, tears in her eyes. “Being with Damien is the only thing that makes me want to live. You’re a vampire, you have forever. Just lend him to me for ten years. Only ten years, I promise.” The absurdity of it was laughable. But Damien agreed. “Ten years is a blink of an eye for someone with an eternity, Sophie. But for Lily, it could be the very thing that saves her life. You brought her here. She’s your responsibility.” The way he looked at her then, so protective and tender, was the same way he had looked at me a decade ago. 3 I couldn’t be bothered with either of them. I don’t know how many days I lay there after being shot, but I awoke to the searing pain of sunlight on my skin. The manor was empty, save for me. Sunlight poured through every window, bathing the rooms in a brilliant, merciless light. A house I once loved for its sun-drenched corners had become my personal hell. I couldn’t reach Damien. Left with no choice, I called Alex. I asked him to come help me get the bullet out. Alex was the first friend I made when I arrived in this world, a former colleague from the Institute where we researched paranormal phenomena. Ten minutes later, he was there, a first-aid kit in hand, dressed in a tactical jacket zipped all the way to his chin. Even he was wary of me now. “God, this is deep,” he murmured, examining the wound. “To get it out, I’ll have to cut away some of the surrounding tissue.” I stared at the ceiling, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. “Vampires are supposed to be fearless, but we’re terrified of a little piece of silver. Some immortality.” Alex glanced at me, his expression unreadable, and began sterilizing his instruments. I couldn’t go to a hospital anymore; he was my only option. “Brace yourself,” he said softly. “If the pain is too much… bite my arm.” He’d forgotten. I was a vampire. I could never bite a human. 4 “Damien…” I followed the sound of Lily’s voice and saw them leap through the open window. Damien was holding her. His face was a thundercloud. “You’re hurt, and instead of waiting for me, you call him?” Even as he accused me, his hand remained possessively on Lily’s waist. Alex didn’t flinch. “What’s more important, Damien? Your ego, or her life?” The two of them had met a few times, and each encounter ended in hostility. Damien was the ultimate research subject for Alex, an ancient, powerful creature he could never hope to capture. They were natural enemies. Though Alex and I were only ever friends, I had drastically reduced our contact for Damien’s sake. This was the first time I’d seen him since my transformation. I tried to explain. “Damien, you were both gone. I was shot. I had to call Alex for help. Please, just let him be.” Alex, his back to Damien, made a precise incision. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple. “Almost there.” “Almost where?” Damien sneered. “Almost in bed together? Is that it?” Without another word, he flung Alex against the wall. The sharp crack of bone was sickeningly loud. “No!” I screamed, but it was too late. Alex’s arm was broken. I scrambled off the bed to help him, the wound on my chest slowly knitting itself closed. Damien laughed, a cold, ugly sound. “If you’re going to cheat, at least come up with a better excuse. A few more minutes and that wound of yours will have healed completely.” As he spoke, the silver bullet, freed for a moment, sank back into my flesh. He was so close. I was so close to being saved. The desire to give up, an old feeling I’d suppressed countless times since becoming a vampire, surged back with the force of a tidal wave. Maybe this was fate. From behind Damien, Lily gave me a smug, unwavering smile. She wasn’t having a relapse. She wasn’t sick at all. Damien started to lead her away to get her “medicine,” but I called out to him. My voice was a raw whisper. “Please, fix Alex’s arm. He can’t lose the use of his hand.” He didn’t even turn around, leaving me with nothing but his cold, indifferent back. The grief was the final straw. All I felt was regret. “I’m not coming back,” I said, my voice gaining a sliver of strength. “We’re done.” He chose to ignore me. “You need to fix that temper of yours. I don’t want to spend the next thousand years coddling you.” Coddling? He didn’t deserve to even speak to me. Silently, in the ruins of my heart, I called out to the Agency’s system. For ten years, they had offered to bring me home, and for ten years, I had refused. It was clear now. I never should have fallen in love with a cold, lonely monster. I was wrong. I regret it. Take me home.

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The night the most popular girl in school stole my song to win the top prize, I exposed her in front of everyone. But my childhood best friend, the boy I loved, defended her. “You’re mute, Mia, you can’t sing it anyway. So what if you let Chloe have it? “Why be so stingy? Just write another one.” Later, I joined a senior from my program on a reality music show. Our on-the-spot composition and duet went viral. We were photographed checking into the same hotel. My ex-best friend showed up that night, pounding on my door. “I’m reporting you for taking advantage of a disabled person!” My new partner, his bathrobe hanging open, traced my lips with his thumb. “Darling, tonight, let’s just be deaf, okay? “That’s the deal. Just deaf. Not mute.” 1 “And the winner of the eighteenth annual Northwood Conservatory Prism Prize for composition is… Chloe Reed! Congratulations!” “Wow, the top prize. I wonder what the piece is like.” “We’re about to find out. I heard the judges’ panel wasn’t just faculty this year. Leo Maxwell, who just got back from his European tour, was the guest judge.” I heard my dorm-mates buzzing about Leo as I came out of the bathroom. I knew that name all too well. It was because of Leo Maxwell’s music that Ethan decided to apply to Northwood in the first place. And because I’d been his shadow, his best friend since we were kids, and in love with him for… well, for years, I came too. Just a few minutes ago, Ethan had texted me, ecstatic that he’d just met his idol. “No wonder this is such a big deal. They even have a TV crew here.” I dried my hands and squeezed in between my roommates to get a look at the live feed on a laptop. One of them, fluent in ASL, quickly signed the winner’s name to me. But before she could tell me the name of the song, a familiar melody drifted from the speakers and flooded my ears. The first few notes were all it took. Suddenly, three pairs of wide eyes were fixed on me. I didn’t even stop to change my shoes. I just ran. The next thing I knew, I was standing on the stage of the auditorium, the final notes of the piece fading into applause. I was panting, my chest heaving, and I opened my mouth. “Ah… ah… ah…” I’d forgotten. I’m a mute. On stage, Chloe Reed’s eyes widened in panic the second she saw me. But when all I could produce was that strangled, useless sound, a smug smile spread across her face. A professor finally reacted, rushing toward me. “Miss, we’re in the middle of an awards ceremony. Please, you need to leave the stage.” I pushed back against him, pointing at Chloe, then jabbing a finger at my own chest. My hands flew in a desperate flurry of signs. This song is mine. She stole my song! But he didn’t understand. Then, a voice cut through the confusion from the audience. “Mia! Get down here!” A flicker of hope. I waved frantically toward the sound. Ethan! Help me! I signed, my movements sharp with urgency. He strode toward the stage, his expression dark and thunderous. He didn’t stop until he was grabbing my arm, his grip rough as he hauled me down the steps. I tried to pull him back, tried to get back on stage, the pathetic “ah, ah, ah” sounds escaping my throat again. But he ignored me, dragging me into a shadowy corner and shoving me away. “Have you made enough of a scene?” he snarled. I stared at him, bewildered. I reached out, tugging on his sleeve. My eyes burned. My hands formed the words with a near-pleading slowness. Ethan, she stole my song. Please, help me. Just tell them for me, please? He slapped my hands down before I could even finish the last sign. “You’re a mute, you can’t sing it anyway. So what if you let Chloe have it? “Why be so stingy? Just write another one.” 2 It’s true, one song isn’t the end of the world for me. But it was my song. A song I wrote for him. I was going to play it for him next week when I finally told him how I felt. Because he’d said once, years ago, “If someone wrote a song just for me, I think that would be the most romantic thing in the world.” I held onto that for so long. Even though I have no natural talent for composition. Just like I don’t even really like music, but I came to a conservatory for him. Even though… I’m a mute. The tears that had been welling in my eyes finally spilled over, hot against the back of my hand. I flinched. I looked at him, my disbelief a hollow ache in my chest. You knew? “What if I did?” he said, his voice laced with impatience. “It’s just a song, Mia. Is it really worth all this? This competition means everything to her. It’s about a scholarship. Her life isn’t easy, and she works incredibly hard.” He took a step closer, his voice dropping into a scolding tone. “Did you have to humiliate her in front of everyone? Do you want her to be a pariah at this school for the rest of her life? Do you want her to carry the label of a thief forever?” I carefully tugged on his sleeve again. But it’s my song. It took me a month to write. You know that. I had the flu, my fever was 102, and I kept writing. It was for you. He showed no surprise, no recognition. Just a dismissive wave of his hand. “Fine, fine. I’ll have her apologize to you later, okay?” I don’t want an apology! I gestured wildly. I grabbed his hand and started pulling him back toward the stage. He tried to reason with me, and when that didn’t work, he yelled. “Mia, that’s enough! You know you’re a mute, right? Even if you did write it, who’s going to believe a mute could compose something like this anyway?” My hand dropped from his as if I’d been burned. When had Ethan become this person?

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I am the most useless child of the Hayes family. When my sister, Sloane, was closing a ten-billion-dollar semiconductor deal in Europe, I was in the glass conservatory on the top floor of our Connecticut estate, tending to my flowers and herbs that nobody cared about. At my father’s birthday gala, Sloane, as the heiress to the family empire, was on his arm, bathing in the adoration and envy of the entire room. Under the flashbulbs of the paparazzi, she was a diamond, born to dazzle. And I was the gravel in the shadows of the corner, a girl whose name the guests couldn’t be bothered to remember. Someone holding a champagne flute raised it to me, their face a polite mask of distant curiosity. “And this young lady is?” Before I could answer, a Mrs. Gable nearby stepped in with a knowing smile. “A distant relative of Mr. Hayes, I’d imagine. Probably her first time at a party like this.” Her voice was just loud enough for me to hear. For twenty years, I’ve been the punchline to the Hayes family joke. 1 My mother, once the undisputed queen of the Manhattan social scene, married my father, the corporate titan Warren Hayes. A merger of dynasties. They had my sister, Sloane. Sloane was the name my grandfather chose. It was sleek, sharp, and successful. A perfect overture. She never disappointed. At three, she could recite Shakespearean sonnets. At seven, she performed at Carnegie Hall. At fifteen, she was accepted into Wharton, and at twenty-two, she returned to the company and turned her first investment into a nine-figure profit. She was the perfect, flawless heiress. So, when my mother had me in an unplanned second pregnancy, everyone considered it a bonus. “With a daughter like Sloane, the next one is bound to be just as brilliant.” But I let them all down. I didn’t have my sister’s photographic memory or her ruthless business acumen. I was indifferent to numbers, allergic to cocktail parties, and I despised any social gathering that required a plastered-on smile. My name is Audrey. Sloane and Audrey. Even our names felt like a deliberate, cruel irony. One is a declaration of success, the other, a quiet afterthought. My parents are civilized people. They pride themselves on being progressive, and would never admit to playing favorites. But actions speak louder than words. On family outings, my father’s right hand was always reserved for my mother, his left always holding Sloane’s. I could only trail behind them, a forgotten accessory. Sloane’s twenty-fifth birthday party was also a celebration of her being officially named the sole heir to the Hayes Corporation. My father, drunk on champagne and pride, slung his arm around a business rival’s shoulder, pointing to the incandescent Sloane under the chandeliers. “That’s my daughter,” he slurred, his voice thick with emotion. “The greatest achievement of my life.” The man offered a polite congratulations. “You’re a lucky man, Warren. But don’t you have a younger daughter as well?” The smile on my father’s face faltered. He waved a dismissive hand, a flicker of old regret and fresh annoyance crossing his features. “Don’t even mention her,” he said. “Sometimes I wish we’d just stopped with Sloane.” “It’s a shame we had Audrey, too.” The entire ballroom seemed to fall silent for a moment. Standing in the crowd, I felt as if I’d been stripped naked and thrown into a snowbank. Later, my father must have sobered up and realized his mistake. He summoned me to his study, a rare occurrence. “Audrey, don’t take it to heart. Your father had too much to drink.” He handed me a black card with no spending limit. “What I meant was, Sloane can stand on her own two feet now, and I’m very proud.” “But you… you still need us to worry about you. The weight on my shoulders is still heavy.” You see, a rich man’s apology is just another form of charity. I lowered my eyes and took the cold, plastic card. “I know, Dad.” …He didn’t mean it, he’d just finally said what he’d been suppressing for twenty years. 2 The year I turned eighteen, Sloane brought her fiancé, Harrison Pierce, home. The Pierces were true East Coast blue bloods, and Harrison was the brightest star of his generation. His union with Sloane Hayes was billed as “the marriage of two empires.” That day, a severe pollen allergy had confined me to my room. I’d told the housekeeper I wouldn’t be down. So when Sloane led Harrison on a tour of the house and pushed open my bedroom door, everyone froze. Sloane frowned, her voice edged with impatience. “Audrey, what are you doing home?” Clearly, no one had told me we were having such an important guest. And no one had remembered that I, their other daughter, also lived in this house. Harrison stood in the doorway, his gaze traveling past my sister to land on me. He wore a perfectly tailored gray suit, his aura cool and aristocratic, but his eyes were kind. He didn’t show the slightest surprise, just offered a small nod. “Hello. I’m Harrison.” I scrambled to sit up in bed, mortified. I was wearing a pilled, old pajama set, my face blotchy and red from the allergy. And standing next to him was my sister, radiant in a Chanel couture suit, her makeup flawless. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. “She’s my sister, Audrey,” Sloane’s introduction was brief, almost reluctant, as if she were pointing out a piece of unfortunate furniture. “She’s not well, stays in her room all day. I didn’t want her to disturb you, so I didn’t have her come down.” My mother quickly smoothed things over with a laugh. “It must be fate for Audrey and Harrison to meet like this.” My excuse of “I’m not feeling well” died on my lips. I was forced to sit at the dinner table next to the elegant, impeccable Sloane, my swollen face a testament to my misery. I didn’t need a mirror to know how cruel the comparison was. While Harrison was on the phone, I whispered to my mother, “Mom, the allergy is getting worse. I’m having trouble breathing. Can we please call the doctor?” My mother shot me a glare, her voice a harsh whisper. “Don’t make a scene. This is Harrison’s first time here, it’s an important day! Can’t you be considerate for once?” I bit my lip. “Then can I at least go back to my room?” “You’ll sit here and behave. Do you want the Pierces to think the Hayes family has no manners?” I ate that meal feeling like I was being slowly suffocated. Harrison was a true gentleman, his good breeding ingrained in every gesture. Even though the conversation revolved around finance and acquisitions, he always managed to steer a sliver of attention my way. “Audrey’s room is very unique,” he said suddenly. “It has a very distinctive scent.” 3 The table went quiet. Sloane laughed, a dismissive, airy sound. “Audrey just likes to mess around with that useless stuff. All those little bottles and jars give me a headache just looking at them.” My father shook his head in agreement. “A young woman should learn something useful. Like finance, or management.” For the first time in my life, I defended myself in front of my family. “It’s not just a scent,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s a perfume I blended myself. The top note is galbanum, the heart is iris and lily of the valley, and the base is oakmoss. I call it ‘First Rain’.” A flicker of surprise, then genuine appreciation, crossed Harrison’s face. “‘First Rain.’ That’s a beautiful name. It’s cool and damp with green notes… it really does smell like a valley after a storm. You have a gift.” In twenty years, that was the first time anyone had ever validated my “useless” passion. My heart, in that moment, felt a small tremor, like a stone dropped into still water, sending out endless ripples. After dinner, as Harrison was leaving, Sloane went to get the car. He walked over to me and handed me a small, elegant gift box. “A little something for our first meeting.” Everyone else assumed it was some expensive piece of jewelry. Sloane glanced at the box, a smirk playing on her lips. I went back to my room and opened it. It wasn’t a luxury item. Inside was a complete, professional-grade perfumer’s organ, along with several vials of rare, raw essences. One of them was Rose de Mai from Grasse, an essence I had been searching for for months. There was also a card, handwritten by Harrison in strong, elegant script. “For the master perfumer of the future.” I clutched the card, my eyes suddenly burning. Sloane pushed the door open, her eyes landing on the kit. Her expression was a mixture of amusement and contempt. “Harrison certainly has a lot of time on his hands, buying you toys for your little games.” She picked up the vial of Rose de Mai, sniffed it, and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “I thought Harrison had better taste. Turns out he can be fooled by these cheap little tricks, too.” She tossed the bottle carelessly onto my vanity. “Audrey, you’d better learn your place. Don’t think a single compliment from Harrison Pierce means you’ve suddenly made it. In the Hayes family, in the Pierce family, in this entire world, your little hobby isn’t even worthy of being a joke.” I silently picked up the vial of precious essence and placed it carefully back in its box. A voice inside me whispered, At least he sees me more clearly than you, my own sister, ever have. 4 Harrison’s gift became the only light in my gray existence. I began to study perfumery systematically, spending all my days and nights in my glass conservatory. I created fragrances I named ‘Solstice,’ ‘First Frost,’ ‘Harvest Moon’… I named my creations after the quiet, turning moments of the seasons, my only way of fighting back against this cold, sterile mansion. My allergies gradually improved. I became a little brighter. I cut the heavy bangs I used to hide behind, revealing my forehead. My features were nothing compared to my sister’s stunning beauty, but at least now, I could smile at my reflection. My mother was a high priestess of fashion. Normally, if Sloane changed her lipstick shade from a Tom Ford to a Christian Louboutin, my mother could not only identify it but discuss the subtle shifts in power projected by different application techniques. My new haircut went entirely unnoticed for a full week. Still, I tried. At a family dinner, I finally spoke up. “Mom, do you notice anything… different about me today?” My mother’s gaze lifted from a financial journal, swept across my face, and then she waved her hand impatiently, as if shooing away a fly. “Sloane is having some trouble with the European project. I have a headache. Don’t bother me.” In that instant, any desire I had to share my life with them evaporated. From that day on, I don’t think I ever told them another thing about myself. Not even when I won the “Rising Star” award at an international perfumery competition. If they didn’t ask, I didn’t tell. Perhaps my newfound silence was a relief to them. On my twentieth birthday, my father gave me a large check and the deed to a villa with a garden on the outskirts of the city. He called it a “coming-of-age present.” In reality, I knew what it was. I was being gracefully, permanently, exiled. My mother’s talk was cushioned with concern. “Audrey, you’re a grown woman now. You need your own space. With all the business talk and people coming and going here, it must be disruptive for you. It will be quieter for you to move out.” “And your sister and Harrison will be getting engaged soon. We’re redecorating the whole house. It will be a mess, and we wouldn’t want your allergies to act up again.” Every word was for my own good. And every word was telling me that there was no longer a place for me in this house. After a long silence, I quietly accepted. Sloane was there the day I moved. Dressed in sharp riding gear, she had just come back from the stables, a riding crop still in her hand. She leaned against the doorframe, watching the movers carry out my boxes of vials and beakers, her eyes filled with scorn. “Good. You moving out will stop the house from smelling like a swamp.” She paused, tapping one of my boxes of raw materials with the tip of her crop. “Audrey, do you know the difference between you and me?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “What I create is value that can double the market cap of the Hayes Corporation. And what you create,” she let out a short, sharp laugh, “is a pile of worthless, fleeting smells.” “Try to be understanding of the family’s decision. We can’t afford to support a freeloader.” 5 I froze, my hands clenching into fists. I’m supposed to be understanding of the family. But who was ever going to be understanding of me? I didn’t voice the question. I knew no one in this house wanted to hear it, and no one would listen. The home I had lived in for twenty years had officially erased my name. I moved into the villa, surrounded by my plants and essences. I thought my life would finally be peaceful. Until the invitation to Sloane and Harrison’s engagement party arrived. It was exquisite, the names “Sloane Hayes & Harrison Pierce” embossed in gold. My name wasn’t on it. I was just a guest. My mother called to give me specific instructions. “Audrey, that day is your sister’s big day. Dress appropriately—not too flashy, but not cheap. Just sit there quietly and don’t embarrass your sister.” I understood what she meant. My very existence was an embarrassment. The engagement party was held at a seven-star hotel owned by the Hayes Corporation, taking over the entire rooftop garden. I didn’t own a suitable gown. Sloane had a walk-in closet full of them, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I used the prize money from my competition to buy a simple, long dress in a shade of lavender. When I arrived at the party and saw my sister, the familiar feeling of inadequacy washed over me. She was wearing a custom-made gown by a Lebanese designer, a ‘starlight’ dress covered in thousands of tiny diamonds that glittered under the lights like a captured galaxy. Her flawless figure was showcased to perfection, her smile radiating the confidence of a queen. Beside my sister’s brilliance, I had always been nothing more than dust. But tonight, the feeling of inferiority was so potent it threatened to swallow me whole. I clutched my small handbag as if it were the last remnant of my dignity. I found a corner to sit in, trying to make myself invisible. But Harrison found me anyway. He navigated the glittering, champagne-fueled crowd and stopped in front of me. “You look beautiful tonight,” he said, and it sounded sincere. “Thank you,” I managed a tight smile. “Congratulations to you and Sloane.” His eyes lingered on me for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but it ended with a soft sigh. The party reached its peak. My father and sister took the stage. “The proudest accomplishment of my life is having a daughter like Sloane! She is my only heir, and the only future leader of the Hayes Corporation!” The applause was thunderous. I watched my triumphant father and my radiant sister on the stage. There was no place for me beside them. There was no role for me in their blueprint for the future. I stood in front of the ladies’ room mirror, a hollow feeling in my chest, and thought, for a girl who is merely average, is having a sister who is extraordinary a blessing, or a curse? Then, a wild, electrifying thought sparked in my mind. If I’m always going to be stuck in the shadows, then I’ll make the shadows bloom with their own unforgettable color. If the only person they can see is my sister, then I’ll stand right next to her. In my own way. I took a deep breath and walked back out. 6 I returned to the main hall and walked directly toward the head table. All eyes were on the stage; no one noticed me. I reached Harrison’s seat, leaned down, and whispered in his ear. “Mr. Pierce, could I have a word? I’ve prepared an engagement gift that I’d like to give to you and Sloane privately.” Surprise flickered in his eyes, but he nodded politely and followed me to a secluded corner of the terrace. From my handbag, I took out a simple, small white porcelain bottle, completely unmarked. “This is the engagement gift I created for you.” I removed the stopper. A strange, indescribable fragrance bloomed in the cool night air. Harrison knew fragrance. He closed his eyes, concentrating. “There’s rose in here… but not a typical rose. And… tuberose and jasmine?” His brow furrowed slightly. “But their scent is being suppressed by something stronger, colder. What is it?” I looked at him and said, word by word: “Datura.” The color drained from Harrison’s face. I let out a soft laugh, a sound that carried twenty years of cold sorrow. “I call it ‘Accomplice’.” “The top notes are Rose de Mai from Grasse, Egyptian jasmine, and Indian tuberose—the three most exquisite, expensive, and beautiful floral scents in the world. They represent my sister, Sloane. She has everything. She is perfect.” “For the heart, I used a heavy dose of white musk and ambergris to create the warm, enveloping texture of skin, like an embrace. This symbolizes you, Mr. Pierce. Your arrival is the final, brilliant coronation of her perfect life.” Harrison’s gaze grew deeper. He listened silently, not interrupting. “But,” my voice turned cold, “can you smell it? Beneath all that extreme romance and beauty, there’s a hidden current. A cold, toxic scent. That is the base note—black datura.” “It represents everything that is covered up by perfection. All the things that can’t be brought into the light. For instance, a life that was never wanted, cries that were always ignored, an existence that was never allowed a name.” I met Harrison’s stunned gaze directly. “This perfume is for you both. When you are basking at the pinnacle of love and success, will you, perhaps, occasionally catch a whiff… of the resentful air from the shadows?” “Congratulations, Mr. Pierce. You are about to marry the light of the Hayes family. From now on, you will have to learn how to coexist with the shadow that this light casts.” I pressed the small porcelain bottle into his cold hand, turned, and walked toward the exit without a backward glance. I didn’t look at Harrison’s expression, nor did I look at my glamorous parents and sister on the stage. From this day forward, I was no longer the awkward footnote in their perfect family story. I am Audrey Hayes. I am the poison in the perfume called ‘Accomplice’. And I am the one and only protagonist of my own life. The moment I stepped out of the hotel, the night wind catching my hair, I felt a lightness I had never known. I took out my phone and dialed the number for the international perfumery competition. “Hello, I’m calling to accept your invitation. I would be honored to serve as a guest judge for the next competition.” Yes, the award notification I had hidden away, the passion they deemed worthless—that was about to become the sharpest weapon in my arsenal. The story of Audrey Hayes was only just beginning. 7 I blocked every number from my family. But I forgot to block my mother’s personal assistant. At three in the morning, the assistant’s call came like a death knell. I answered, and my mother’s voice, seething with a barely contained hysteria, shot through the phone. “Audrey! Have you lost your mind? Do you have any idea what you’ve done tonight?” I held the phone away from my ear, listening calmly to her shrill accusations. “Your sister’s engagement party! The Pierce family’s reputation! The Hayes family’s reputation! You’ve ruined it all!” “How could you… how dare you do something so classless? Giving them that… that unlucky thing, saying those passive-aggressive words! Do you think we’ve been too good to you? Have you forgotten who you are?” I said nothing. My silence seemed to enrage her further. “You get yourself back here right now! Apologize to the Pierces, and to your sister! Now! Immediately!” “I’m not coming back,” I said softly, my voice devoid of emotion. “What did you say?” She sounded as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “I said, I’m not coming back,” I repeated. “From the day I moved out, I never planned on returning. That house belongs to Sloane, not me.” The line went dead silent. After a long moment, my mother’s voice came back, exhausted and cold. “Audrey, you will regret this.” The call ended. Immediately, an unknown number rang. It was my father. His voice was much calmer than my mother’s, but it was a calm laced with ice, a pressure that felt like it could shatter the phone. “I’m giving you two choices.” “One, you delete all of your ridiculous social media accounts and go abroad for a few years. You are not to interfere in this family’s affairs again. When this blows over, I’ll arrange a marriage for you. I’ll guarantee you a comfortable life.” “Two,” he paused, his tone one of absolute authority, “I will take back the villa and the credit cards, and cut off all your financial support. The Hayes family will no longer have a daughter named Audrey. You can go out into the world and see how far your ‘hobbies’ get you. See if they can even buy you a meal.” It was the final ultimatum. And it was the same threat I had been hearing for twenty years. It used to make me tremble and obey. But this time, I smiled. “Dad,” I said, “the truth is, I’ve only ever had one choice.” “And that’s to become myself.” I hung up and turned off my phone. The world was finally quiet. I lay in bed, watching the inky black sky outside my window, my heart pounding in my chest. It was a chaotic mix of fear and the exhilarating thrill of a new beginning. As dawn approached, I turned my phone back on. A single text message had come through. It was from Harrison. “I received the perfume. But I don’t think ‘Accomplice’ is the right name.” I assumed he was calling on Sloane’s behalf to condemn me. My fingers hovered over the screen, unsure how to reply. A few seconds later, a second message arrived. “It belongs to you alone. It shouldn’t be tied to anyone else.” “It should be called ‘Monologue’.” My eyes burned. Monologue. Yes. That’s what it was. A grand, sorrowful, twenty-year-long monologue that no one had ever bothered to listen to. And Harrison was the first, and only, person to understand.

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I am the fiancée of Nick Howard, a name synonymous with the city’s glittering elite. His escapades were tabloid fodder, and the tell-tale marks of his affairs—bruises and bites from shameless lips—always found their way to the pale skin of his collarbone. I turned a blind eye. I dutifully washed the scent of other women from his shirts, folded his clothes with reverent silence, and never, ever asked a single question. He’d boast to his friends, a cruel smirk on his face, about his perfect, unobtrusive wife-to-be. But he never knew the truth. My heart had always belonged to his brother. 1 Nick stumbled home late, reeking of expensive whiskey and a perfume that wasn’t mine. I winced but moved to help him, guiding his heavy frame toward the sofa. He shoved my hands away with surprising force, his lips moving, mumbling the name of the woman he truly loved. “Evie… don’t leave me.” A familiar numbness washed over me. I knelt and obediently slipped the shoes from his feet, then went to the kitchen to prepare a remedy for his hangover. I was used to this. As his fiancée, I was a ghost in his life, a presence he rarely acknowledged. I brought back a bowl of warm water and a cloth to clean his face. As I wiped away the grime of the night, my eyes snagged on the mess of marks marring his collarbone. A chaotic constellation of lipstick smears and angry red love bites. They were a declaration of his infidelity, loud and obscene. The sight was a physical blow, a sharp, stabbing pain. My fingers clenched the hem of my dress, my knuckles white, the fabric digging into my skin until it hurt. I stood frozen, unable to tear my gaze away from the vulgar display. It was as if the marks were burning a hole right through me. Suddenly, Nick jolted awake, caught in a nightmare. “Evie, no!” he cried out, his voice thick with sleep and desperation. He shot upright on the sofa. His eyes landed on me, then followed my gaze to his collarbone. There was no flicker of guilt, no hint of an explanation in his expression. “Problem?” His voice was ice, his eyes narrowing as he glared at me. The word died in my throat. For a moment, I was speechless. But wasn’t it a wife’s right to care for her husband? I steadied myself. “No. I just saw you were drunk and wanted to clean you up.” Nick slowly, deliberately, fastened the top button of his shirt, hiding the evidence. His voice was smooth and unhurried. “That’s what my assistant, Ms. Davies, is for. You don’t need to concern yourself with these things.” He rose to his feet, towering over me. “And let’s not forget what this is—an arrangement. A merger. We don’t have a marriage certificate yet, which means you’re not my wife.” His words were like shards of ice piercing my heart. I understood the unspoken message: all my efforts, all the care I thought I was showing, were not just unappreciated—they were laughable. In his world, I was worthless. I stared at my pale, trembling fingers. “Fine,” I managed to whisper. “I understand.” He rubbed his temples, then paused as if remembering something. He glanced back at me. “And stop making that god-awful hangover cure. It’s disgusting.” Then he was gone, leaving me alone in the vast, silent living room. I looked down at the calluses on my hands, a bitter lump forming in my throat. I used to be a pampered daughter of privilege, my hands soft and unblemished. I had reshaped my entire life to please him, and this was the result. This broken, pathetic version of myself. I never asked him to be grateful. All I ever wanted was for him to truly see me. My phone buzzed violently on the counter. Nick’s name flashed on the screen. My heart leaped as I scrambled to answer it. “Hello?” The background was a cacophony of music and drunken shouts, but his voice cut through it all, as clear as the day I first met him, making my pulse race. Trying to sound calm, I asked, “What’s wrong?” Silence stretched on from his end. I was about to ask again when one of his friends, Jake, snatched the phone. His voice was rushed. “Aria? Nick’s smashed and he’s calling for you. Says he only wants you to come get him. Can you—” I froze. “Are you sure he asked for me? By name?” “Absolutely,” Jake said, his tone certain. “He’s shouting for his fiancée. That’s you, right?” A wildfire of joy erupted in my chest. I fought to keep my voice even. “Okay. Text me the address.” Maybe, I thought, this is it. The moment the glacier finally begins to thaw. The moment he starts to feel something for me. The bar was on the other side of the city. The night was bitterly cold, but I just threw on a thin coat and ran out. I didn’t waste a second changing into warmer clothes; I couldn’t bear the thought of making him wait. Down in the garage, I was met with the gleaming array of luxury cars—a silent testament to the Howard fortune. None of them were for me. I didn’t have the keys, the codes, the right of use. My life—my food, my clothes, my transportation—was all managed by Ms. Davies. Every small purchase required her approval. I was a marionette, drowning in the gilded darkness of this penthouse. His promises. When would he ever keep them? When would he ever come back and truly look at me? A bitter smile touched my lips. I walked out to the main road and hailed a cab. The city lights blurred past as I huddled in the back seat, the heater doing little to warm the chill in my bones. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Young lady, it’s late and freezing out. What’s the emergency?” I looked down at my hands. “I’m picking up my fiancé…” The word felt wrong, foreign. He wouldn’t like it. “A friend,” I corrected myself quickly. “He’s had too much to drink.” I saw the driver shake his head with a sigh. “Honey, if a man really loved you, would he be making you come out on a night like this to fetch him?” I ignored him, turning to stare out the window, my reflection a pale ghost against the dark glass. It wasn’t certain yet. Nothing was certain. Even if there was only a one percent chance, I had to believe. It was nearly two in the morning when I arrived at the hotel. I called Jake’s number, but it went straight to voicemail. As I walked down the plush corridor, I heard a man’s mocking laughter spill from a suite. “No way she actually came. Hahahahaha.” I recognized the voice. It was Jake. “God, she’s so pathetic, isn’t she?” another voice chimed in. “What do you think, Howard?” I stopped, pressing myself into the shadows of an alcove, my heart pounding against my ribs. Through the crack in the door, I saw him. Nick. He was lounging on a velvet couch, a cigarette dangling from his lips, perfectly composed in his tailored suit. He lifted his head, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his face. “She’s worthless.” My fists clenched, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. It was all a game. A sick, twisted performance, and I was the fool he was toying with. He had never cared. Not for a single moment. The fragile hope that had carried me all the way here shattered into a million pieces. I was the clown in his circus. I gritted my teeth and pushed the door open. Nick’s eyes widened in momentary surprise when he saw me, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by his usual mask of bored indifference. “Well, look at you,” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Such an obedient fiancée.” He was surrounded by a flock of beautiful women in slinky dresses, their eyes fixed on him with adoration. “Aren’t you going to explain?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “What’s to explain?” He exhaled a plume of smoke that made me cough. “Lost a game of truth or dare. Simple as that.” I had raced across the city in the freezing cold for this. For a joke. “Right,” I whispered, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. My heart, which had been flickering with hope, finally went out. And I knew, this time, it would never reignite. “Aria,” Nick said, stubbing out his cigarette and adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses. “Learn to stay out of things that don’t concern you.” I had already turned to leave, but his words stopped me. I looked back at him, a bright, brittle smile on my face. “Don’t worry, Nick. From now on, you’ll get exactly what you want.” My duty to him was over. The curtain had fallen. 2 Jake, a stunning brunette draped over his arm, sneered at me. “You really are cheap, Aria.” He pushed the woman away and arched a brow. “Since Nick clearly doesn’t appreciate you, why don’t you come home with me?” My gaze shifted to Nick. He did nothing. He just watched, a faint, amused smile playing on his lips, as if my humiliation was his evening’s entertainment. Of course. Why would he care? I was nothing more than dirt beneath his shoes. I could drop dead at his feet and he wouldn’t even flinch. A slow smile spread across my face, my eyes locking with Jake’s. “Alright,” I said, my voice sweet as poison. Nick’s face darkened instantly. He rose from the shadows, his expression unreadable but radiating a sudden, violent anger. He crossed the room in three long strides, his hand clamping around my throat. The pressure was immense. “Say that again,” he hissed, his eyes blazing. I found it all so hilarious. Tilting my head, I repeated the words with perfect clarity, “I said… alright.” The veins on his hand bulged as his grip tightened, a raw, hateful force meant to punish me. I didn’t understand. Why this rage? He was an enigma, a puzzle I had spent years trying to solve, only to fail at every turn. But his sudden change in behavior didn’t matter anymore. Nothing about him mattered. He used his free hand to grab my chin, forcing my head up, and then his mouth was on mine. His kiss was an invasion, a conquest, yet underneath the aggression was a ghost of tenderness that disarmed me. The bitter taste of smoke and whiskey filled my mouth, stinging my throat and bringing tears to my eyes. I don’t know when the desperate, bruising kiss ended. I don’t want to know. All I know is that for a fleeting, heart-stopping moment, as his lips moved against mine, he felt so much like Leo. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes. “Is it you?” I whispered against his mouth. “Are you back?” He chuckled, pulling back just enough to flick my forehead with his finger. “What are you dreaming about?” The past and present blurred into one. The ghost of the man I loved and the cold reality of the man in front of me became indistinguishable. With tears in my eyes, I reached up on my toes and gently ran my fingers through his hair. Just like old times. He was finally back. Nick watched me with a predatory curiosity, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. A dark, dangerous smile played on his face. “Like what you feel?” he murmured. He captured my hand, pulling me closer, intending to wrap me in his arms. I dug my nails into my own palm, fighting to stay grounded in reality. But— He was too much like Leo. The lines were blurring. The psychedelic lights of the bar danced across his face as he held my hand, that reckless, devil-may-care smile still fixed on his lips. I could hear the frantic, deafening beat of my own heart. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. “No,” I choked out. And then, a traitorous tear escaped, sliding down my cheek.

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I married a detective in a whirlwind romance, and now our marriage feels like a long-distance relationship with a stranger I met online. Our text exchanges are about as personal as a chatbot’s. [On a stakeout. Won’t be home. Lock the door.] [He got away. Still on it. Not coming home. Lock up.] [Stakeout. Door.] [K.] Finally, unable to bear the crushing loneliness any longer, I decided to go out with my best friend and find a little fun for myself. I texted him first, just to be safe. [Still chasing bad guys tonight?] Apex_Predator: [Yep.] Perfect, I thought. If he’s busy chasing criminals, he can’t be busy chasing a cheating wife. The next thing I knew, I was in a private club, happily watching a male model work a dance pole, when the door burst open. “Vice raid! Everybody down!” My world went black. Turns out, the person he was busting tonight… was me. 1 Day 32 of my new marriage. My best friend, Maya, had sent me ten straight thirst-trap videos. I stared at the parade of sculpted abs on my screen, swallowing hard. “So,” she texted, “how do they stack up against your Detective Cole?” I stared up at my blank ceiling. “I’ve… never actually seen him with his shirt off.” Her reply was a string of shocked emojis. “Are you serious? Ginnifer, if you don’t jump his bones soon, his gun is gonna get rusty.” Believe me, I wanted to. I was practically starving for a taste of him. I met Nate Cole on a blind date. The moment I saw him, I was a goner. He was walking testosterone—a police uniform stretched tight over broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and impossibly long legs, topped off with the kind of intense, chiseled face that screamed alpha. He was handsome, but with a wild, dangerous edge. “You don’t mind that a detective’s work schedule is crazy?” he’d asked. “Not at all!” I’d shaken my head, probably a little too enthusiastically, trying not to drool. So what if he was busy? I loved an ambitious man. I didn’t realize “busy” meant he’d be so absent I’d practically turn to stone waiting for him. On our wedding night, before our lips even had a chance to properly meet, his phone rang. He shot out of bed like he’d been ejected. “Emergency call. Got a lead.” I spent the night tossing and turning, waiting. The next morning, my period arrived before he did. Nate was always either chasing a suspect or on his way to chase one. Usually, I was asleep by the time he got home, and he was gone before I woke up. He knew I was a grump in the morning, so to avoid disturbing me, he’d just sleep in the guest room. A month into our marriage, and we were like strangers who’d matched on a dating app three states apart. His response time to texts was glacial, and the content was as robotic as it gets. (Monday) Barely_Breathing: [Coming home tonight?] Apex_Predator: [On a stakeout. Won’t be home. Lock the door.] Barely_Breathing: [Package at the front desk. Pickup code 5210.] Apex_Predator: [I’ll get it when I’m back.] (Tuesday) Barely_Breathing: [Did you get him?] Apex_Predator: [Ran. Still on it. Not coming home. Lock up.] Barely_Breathing: [Package pickup: 5456] Apex_Predator: [K.] (Wednesday) Barely_Breathing: [Home?] Apex_Predator: [Stakeout. Door.] Barely_Breathing: [Package pickup: 5678] Apex_Predator: [K.] Apex_Predator has sent you a transfer of $3000. Memo: Paycheck. (Thursday) Barely_Breathing: [?] Apex_Predator: [K.] Barely_Breathing: [Package pickup: 6785] Apex_Predator: [K.] I swear… I felt like I had married a ghost who moonlighted as an unfeeling delivery bot. 2 I poked at the two new stress pimples on my chin, a restless heat simmering under my skin. Maya forwarded me an article titled: The Dangers of a Sexless Marriage. Her text followed immediately after: [If you don’t get some action soon, you’re going to turn into a nun.] Attached was a video of a guy with washboard abs opening a beer bottle with his belt buckle. [I got a private room and invited all your favorite streamers.] [Get over here! My treat!] That was all it took. The words “my treat” obliterated what little marital fidelity I had left. “Screw it!” I ripped off my pajamas and threw them on the bed. Out came the short skirt and the spaghetti-strap top. “Tonight, Mama’s gonna be an outlaw!” Still, just in case, I sent Nate a quick text. [Still chasing bad guys tonight?] This time, he replied almost instantly. [Yep.] Perfect. A man busy chasing criminals had no time to chase a cheating wife. [Okay, have fun! I’m heading to bed then~] It was Maya’s birthday party. She was beautiful, well-connected, and wild. She’d assembled a small army of male models and influencers. The moment I walked into the private club room, I was surrounded by a sea of shirtless, sculpted young men. “Wow, you’re so beautiful.” “Do you have a boyfriend?” “Can I dance for you?” “You can touch my abs if you want.” By the time the tenth chiseled boy-toy leaned in and called me “ma’am,” I finally understood what it must have felt like to be a Roman empress. “Wanna feel?” a silver-haired kid with wolfish eyes asked, lifting the hem of his shirt. Eight perfect abdominal muscles glistened under the dim lights. “Just started working on my V-line…” I swallowed hard and tried to lean back, but my fingers had a mind of their own, inching forward. Damn it, a woman works hard. She deserves a night like this. The sight of his muscles, half-hidden beneath his shirt, made my head spin. “Ma’am? Are your hands shaking?” Of course they were shaking. At this very moment, my husband’s hands—the very hands that catch criminals—were probably wrapped around the grip of his service weapon. Meanwhile, my hands were about to grope another man’s waist. Just as the endless chorus of “ma’am” had me floating on cloud nine, the door to our private room was kicked open with a deafening crash. “Vice raid! Hands on your head, get down!” 3 That voice. It was so familiar it sent a jolt of ice through my veins. I looked up and there he was. Nate Cole, standing in the doorway, his uniform buttoned to the collar, a leather belt cinching his lean, powerful waist. His eyes swept over my tiny skirt and barely-there top, and I saw his Adam’s apple bob. Our gazes locked. My hand shot behind my back as if it had been burned. “Honey, I… I can explain…” I stammered. “They all ordered a guy, I didn’t… I didn’t even touch him, I swear! I didn’t even look!” A young officer next to him snorted, trying to stifle a laugh. “Detective Cole, here’s the surveillance footage…” He handed Nate a tablet. I watched in horror as the screen played back a crystal-clear video of me, drooling over a set of abs like an idiot. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. It got worse. Nate hit pause. Then he zoomed in, enlarging the image of my trembling fingers, hovering just inches from the model’s stomach. “Ginnifer.” He tapped the screen with a knuckle, his wedding ring making a sharp, metallic sound against the glass. “Care to explain this particular… gesture?” My knees went weak. I nearly collapsed right there on the floor. “Honey, listen to me! It was… art appreciation!” Nate gritted his teeth. “Take them away.” He strode past me, the long legs of his uniform trousers practically radiating fury. I suddenly remembered our first date, how I’d stared at his uniform and my mind had filled with filthy thoughts of handcuffs and forced proximity. Well, karma had come for me. He really was putting me in handcuffs. I had earned myself a shiny pair of silver bracelets. Sob. 4 In the interrogation room, Nate’s eyes were fixed on my spaghetti-strap top. His face was a thundercloud. He took off his uniform jacket and draped it over my shoulders. I huddled in the chair, doing my best impression of a scared little bird. “Name?” “Your wife…” His pen hit the tabletop with a sharp clack. He loosened his tie, his voice rising. “Be serious.” I stared at the way his throat moved when he swallowed. “Ginnifer,” I whispered. “Ginnifer Davis.” His face was grim. “Motive?” “Thirty-two days of solitary confinement.” I started counting on my fingers, my voice full of accusation. “Falling in love with a man who never comes home…” The officer taking notes in the corner let out a loud snort of laughter. Nate shot him a look that could kill. “Give me a detailed account. What exactly did you do in that room?” “Nothing! I just had a glass of juice…” He tapped the table again, his eyes narrowed. “Providing a false statement is a crime, you know.” “Fine! We danced a little…” “How did you dance? What happened?” “I might have… accidentally… touched his abs.” “How many times?” “What does that have to do with the case?” I shot back. His expression hardened. “Every detail needs to be accounted for.” I hung my head, my voice barely a whisper. “Two? Three times?” The color drained from Nate’s face. His voice dropped to a terrifyingly low growl. “How. Many. Times?” “I’m sorry, Nate… I was wrong…” A few detectives were peeking through the window in the door. One of them cleared his throat. “Uh, Cole? Regulations state you have to get specifics on the point of contact. Was it the upper, middle, or… lower abs?” Nate’s glare was venomous. “You guys have nothing better to do?” “Hey, you taught us this!” one of them yelled as they started to scatter. “Last week’s raid, you said evidence collection had to be precise…” “That was for soliciting prostitution!” Nate roared back. “But the Captain’s wife said she touched his V-line!” another one called out. The officer in the room was shaking with suppressed laughter. He pulled out his phone. “Detective, you should see the group chat. Everyone’s talking about how you broke the precinct’s response time record tonight. They’re asking if you sprinted here…” Nate grabbed the young officer by the collar and practically threw him out the door. The officer poked his head back in. “Hey, if the missus needs some ‘art appreciation’ of abs, our squad has plenty of…” “Do you want to go home tonight?” Nate snarled. The officer grinned sheepishly. “Yes, sir! You two continue the… uh… enforcement.” He paused. “Oh, and Detective? You’ll need to sign the family release form to take your wife home.” Nate signed the form with a grim expression, then reached over and pulled his jacket tighter around my shoulders. 5 The drive home was silent. He didn’t say a word. I sat there, small and scared. “Nate… are you mad?” His face was a stone mask. “No.” Liar. I snuck a peek at him. His jaw was clenched, his dark, intense eyes focused on the road, his lips pressed into a thin line. One hand gripped the steering wheel, the sleeve of his uniform shirt rolled up to his elbow, revealing a forearm corded with muscle and veins. Damn it. He was even hot when he was angry. I was trying to figure out how to apologize when my phone buzzed. It was Maya. Her voice exploded from the speaker. “Ginnifer! Your husband arrested all eight of the models I hired! You got your fun, but what about me? I’m still burning up over here!” she shrieked. “And let me tell you, his squad is full of long-legged gods in uniform. I bet Detective Cole’s waist works a hell of a lot better than any of those models!” What was she even saying… In my panic, I fumbled with the phone and accidentally hit the speaker button just as I was trying to hang up. “I heard he’s taking you home,” Maya’s voice boomed through the car. “Does that mean you’re finally going to go at it all night? After being starved for so long, your panties must be on fire, right?” Nate turned his head and looked at me, his expression unreadable. My hand trembled, and the phone slipped, falling to the floor beneath my seat. “You know,” Maya’s voice continued from the floor, “the fact that he never comes home… you think maybe he’s got nothing to show for it downstairs? I sent you a ‘Manly Man Performance Review’ checklist! You have to send me a full report… and I bought you some new victory lingerie. Make sure he cuffs you to the headboard…” Nate leaned over, picked up the phone, and spoke into it with calm, chilling clarity. “Ms. Evans, about that $20,000 VIP membership you have at the Starlight Lounge… would you like us to stop by and have a little chat about local ordinances?” A violent coughing fit erupted from the other end. “Oh, hey… Detective Cole! We were just… appreciating art…” He hung up. The car was plunged into a dead, heavy silence. He pulled over at a convenience store, his face still grim. He was gone for a minute, then came back. He was holding two small boxes. “What did you buy…?” I asked, curious. He didn’t answer. He just shoved them into my hands. I looked down. The box was printed with a bold 0.01. Oh. And they were XL.

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