Author: Momo Chan

Leo and I had been married for three years. To the outside world, we were the perfect couple, deeply in love. But only I knew the truth. He’d slept in the guest room for all one thousand and ninety-five nights of our marriage. He had never touched me. I placed the divorce papers on his desk, ready to set him free. But as I did, my eyes caught on the journal lying open. She left her things in the bathroom again after her shower. The scent of her still clinging to them. I held out for as long as I could. Then I took the lace thing. Hid it. God, I hope she doesn’t notice. I froze. All this time. All the lingerie I thought I’d lost. He took it. 1 A black and gold fountain pen, not the one I’d given him, lay across the middle of the open journal. But the lingerie he’d written about—that was the set I’d bought just last week. My mind raced, tumbling back through the last three years. The silk nightgowns, the lace bras… all told, it had to be more than twenty pieces. I’d always found a rational explanation. A strong gust of wind on the clothesline. Left behind in a hotel room during a trip. Never once did I suspect Leo. He was too reserved, too stoic for something like this. After we were married, we treated each other with the careful politeness of cordial strangers. When he spoke to me, his gaze was direct, never straying, never lingering. How could he be capable of something so… furtive? But just last night, Leo had said the faucet in the guest bathroom wasn’t producing hot water. He asked if he could use my shower. He was in and out in thirty minutes, a quiet “thank you” as he left. I hadn’t thought a thing of it. But now I knew. He had taken it then. My own husband. Stealing my underwear. He couldn’t wear it, so what on earth was he doing with it? An unsettling image flashed through my mind, and a hot blush crept up my neck. I couldn’t let myself think about it. A powerful urge washed over me—to flip back through the journal, to read everything. To storm into the guest room and tear through his closet. But that would be a violation. A betrayal of the very civility we’d built our marriage on. I took a deep breath, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. I would pretend I saw nothing. Turning, I quietly closed the study door behind me. And the divorce papers, the neatly folded end of my marriage, found a new home in the back of my dresser drawer. True or not, I was about to find out. 2 Leo came home early that evening. The living room was dark, and he called my name as he stepped inside. “Audrey.” I steeled myself and walked out of the bedroom. “You’re back. I, uh, I didn’t make dinner tonight.” He wore the same impassive expression as always. Calling my name, my full name, never a nickname, never a term of endearment. But I had read his journal. The thought of him, with that cool, detached face, secretly using my nightgowns to— I couldn’t meet his eyes. He, of course, noticed nothing. He held out a Tiffany blue gift bag. “That’s fine. We can go out. This is for you.” I reached for it, and the back of my hand brushed against his fingertips. I pulled back as if I’d been burned. Leo’s eyes darkened for a split second, then returned to their usual calm. Today was our third anniversary. My gift to him was supposed to be his freedom. His was a pearl necklace. I swallowed down the knot of complicated emotions in my throat. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I forgot to get you something.” He didn’t seem to mind. “It’s fine. I don’t need anything. This necklace looked like you, so I bought it.” “Thank you,” I whispered. “Of course,” he said, his tone even. “Get ready. I’ll book a reservation.” I chose a strapless velvet dress and a faux fur shawl, then clasped the pearl necklace he’d given me around my neck. The look wasn’t overly flashy, but it was elegant. When I opened the door, Leo looked up, and for a brief, startling moment, he just stared. Our eyes met, and my heart gave a sudden, hard thump against my ribs. Before I could speak, he had already looked away. “Let’s go.” I watched his cool, retreating back and thought to myself, Let’s see how long you can keep up this act. … The restaurant was warm, and I was about to slip the shawl from my shoulders when he looked up, his gaze sharp and intense. Leo’s features were naturally severe, his brow strong, his eyes deep-set. His glasses usually softened his intensity, giving him a more scholarly air. But right now, in the dim light of the restaurant, I saw something dangerous in his eyes. “Wh-what is it?” I stammered. “Nothing,” he said, pushing his chair back. “I’m going out for a cigarette.” The moment he left, the suffocating tension in the air eased. For a second there, I thought he was going to devour me whole. 3 Over dinner, Leo mentioned he was taking a few days off. He asked if I wanted to go visit my father. According to my original plan, I would have presented him with the divorce papers before going home. My dad hadn’t been well since his business went bankrupt. He’d moved back to our hometown, renting a small house where he spent his days gardening. It was his therapy. He was slowly getting better, but he was under the impression that Leo and I were happy. I hadn’t found the words to tell him the truth. If I went home with Leo, the divorce would have to wait. He was waiting for my answer. I forced a smile. “Sure. If you’re not too busy, that sounds nice.” As we were leaving the restaurant, Leo stopped at the door. I looked at him. “Did you forget something?” His gaze, dark and unreadable, fell to my shoulders. “Put your shawl on.” His tone was so sharp it was almost a command. Then, as if realizing how harsh he sounded, he softened his voice. “It’s cold outside.” “…” After my shower that night, I stared at the clothes in my laundry basket, thinking of my most recently vanished bra—a low-cut style, trimmed with white lace. I really loved that one. I wondered where Leo had hidden it. An idea formed. I deliberately left the nightgown I’d just taken off on the floor of the bathroom. Leo would be coming to use the shower again tonight. If the nightgown disappeared, I’d have my proof. Sure enough, a few minutes later, there was a knock on my door. It was Leo, his face as cool and unreadable as ever. “Sorry to bother you again tonight.” I smiled at him, a picture of generosity. “It’s no problem. Go right ahead.” Listening to the sound of the running water, I felt like every second was an hour. I stared at the same page of my book, not reading a single word. Finally, he emerged. He looked completely normal. “Sleep well, Audrey. Goodnight.” “You too. Goodnight.” The moment he was gone, I bolted into the bathroom. And there it was. Or, rather, there it wasn’t. My nightgown. Gone. I was a mess of humiliation and anger. I stormed to the guest room door, my hand raised to knock. But then I heard it—a low, muffled sound from within. A strained, guttural groan. Oh my God. He wouldn’t be… right now… would he? My face was burning. Terrified of what I might see, I spun around and fled back to my room.

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My father, in his infinite wisdom, decided I needed a lesson in “the real world.” That’s how I ended up working retail in one of our family’s own department stores. And, because the universe has a sick sense of humor, that’s also how I ran into my ex-boyfriend, Caleb, and the girl he’d seamlessly transitioned to after me. She wanted me to kneel to help her try on a shoe. Then she cooed for him to buy it for her. “The commission on this one sale is probably more than he spent on you in the entire last year, right?” she whispered, loud enough for me to hear. I smiled. A genuine, honest-to-God smile. “I don’t blame him,” I said, my voice light. “It’s my fault, really. I’m the one who set his salary.” 1 The reason Caleb and I broke up was simple: he thought I was poor. He said we were from different worlds, that our futures didn’t align. His family was comfortable, maybe upper-middle-class on a good day, but Caleb carried himself with the desperate swagger of a man trying to cosplay as a billionaire. He lived and breathed brand names, a walking billboard for new money. I was the opposite. My father is the kind of man you see profiled in Forbes or the Wall Street Journal. To give me a normal childhood, a “happy and simple” one as he put it, my family kept me out of the spotlight. His one constant lesson was to be discreet. My clothes, my shoes, everything was bespoke, custom-made by designers who valued craftsmanship over a gaudy logo. To Caleb, this just looked cheap. He thought my quiet luxury was embarrassing, that I wasn’t “presentable.” So, a year after we started dating, on the day of our college graduation, he ended it. “Sophie, you and I are on different tracks,” he’d said, his tone laced with a kind of pity that made my skin crawl. “I just got an offer from Prescott Holdings. I’m building a career here. You get that, right?” Oh, I got it. Prescott Holdings is my father’s company. Caleb was going to work for my dad, who would be signing his paychecks, while I was “demoted” to a sales floor associate, earning nothing but “experience.” But seeing his Instagram story later that day—a hard launch with his new girlfriend—I decided it wasn’t worth the explanation. The girl was a sophomore from his department, someone who was always “borrowing” his textbooks. I hadn’t realized their study sessions were quite so involved. And now, on what was supposed to be my last day behind the counter, they walked in. Caleb saw me first. Surprise flickered across his face, quickly replaced by a frown etched with disgust. “Sophie? What are you doing selling shoes? I know it’s tough finding a good job, but this is…” This is what? My family’s flagship store? How dare I work here? Before I could respond, Amber, his new girlfriend, spoke up. Her voice was pure saccharine, but her words were laced with acid. “Sophie, sweetie, could you help me try this pair on?” Helping a customer was part of the job. But with three other associates available, her singling me out was a clear power play. I knew exactly what she was doing. “This pair is four thousand dollars,” I said, my voice professionally flat. “Are you sure you want to try them on?” Amber turned to Caleb, her lower lip pushing out in a perfect pout. “Caleb…” He was always a sucker for an audience. And now, with his shiny new job, his pride was on the line. “If you like them, we’ll get them,” he declared, puffing out his chest. My colleague, Mia, who knew the whole sordid history, tried to intervene. “I can help with that,” she offered. But Amber’s eyes were locked on me, wide and deceptively innocent. “Oh, but I want to help Sophie out. This is for your commission, after all. The check from this one sale,” she leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, “it’s probably more than he spent on you in our entire last year, right?” She wasn’t wrong. Caleb and I had always split everything down the middle. Amber tossed her hair back, glancing at Caleb, who was now stepping outside to take a call. “When a man won’t spend money on you, it’s because deep down, that’s all he thinks you’re worth,” she mused. “Don’t feel bad, Sophie. It’s just how men are. They put their money where their heart is. You can’t force it.” I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Oh, no, it’s not like that at all.” It was just that when my father had asked me what Caleb’s starting salary should be, I’d quoted a number far too low. Low enough that buying his new girlfriend a single pair of shoes would mean he’d be eating ramen for the next three months. 2 Back when Caleb and I were still together, my dad had offered to give him a generous starting salary, as a favor to me. I’d shut it down immediately. It felt wrong. I told my dad to offer him the standard package, the same as any other new hire. He’d been so proud of me then, praising me for not being blinded by love. I was his only child, and while he spoiled me rotten, the one thing he couldn’t stand was the thought of me turning into a “love-struck fool.” The irony was, a few weeks later, I didn’t even have a relationship to be foolish in. Looking at him now, preening over a four-thousand-dollar purchase, I realized how right I’d been. “Are they a good fit?” Caleb asked, returning from his phone call. Amber’s confident smirk vanished, replaced by a soft, wounded expression. She bit her lip. “I don’t know yet. Sophie doesn’t seem very happy to help me… Maybe we should just forget it?” Ugh. The victim act was already getting old. Caleb’s gaze hardened as he looked at me. “Sophie, I know this isn’t a great job, but if you’re going to do it, you should at least be professional. Your family’s situation isn’t great, I get it, but—” I nearly rolled my eyes into the back of my head. “Mr. Adams,” I said, using his last name for the first time. “If I remember correctly, the shoes you had me ask my friend to buy for her last Valentine’s Day were a size seven. This pair is a six. I don’t think we even need to bother trying them on.” The color drained from both of their faces. Back then, Caleb and I were still together. He’d spun some story about how Amber knew I had a friend in Europe and desperately wanted her help sourcing a specific pair of shoes that were sold out everywhere. I thought I was just doing a favor for a friend of a friend. I had no idea I was helping my own boyfriend buy a gift for his mistress. Amber looked like she was about to cry, clutching Caleb’s arm in a damsel-in-distress pose. I pointed to a different pair on the display wall. “That model comes in her size, though. It’s only nine thousand. Would you like to try that one instead?” Caleb’s face darkened. That number was clearly beyond his budget. He wasn’t about to spend that kind of money on Amber. “Amber, honey, that style doesn’t really suit you,” he said, his voice strained. “Let’s look around somewhere else later, okay?” Doesn’t suit you, the universal code for too damn expensive. I smiled sweetly. “But Mr. Adams, your girlfriend was just saying how a man’s wallet follows his heart. It’s a beautiful gesture, spending a little money to see the woman you love smile.” Amber stubbornly refused to move, her lips pressed into a thin line. The implication was clear: she wasn’t even worth nine thousand dollars. She was cheap. Caleb’s face flushed with embarrassment. “That was Mr. Davies on the phone,” he stammered, grabbing for an excuse. “My manager. He needs me to come back to the office for an emergency meeting. Work comes first, you know. Be a good girl.” Seizing the lifeline, Amber’s mood shifted. She stomped her foot lightly. “Fine. And isn’t Mr. Davies the manager for this whole department store? You should mention the terrible service here. It could really use some improvement.” Caleb visibly relaxed, his sense of self-importance returning. “Good idea,” he said, puffing out his chest again. “I’ll make sure they retrain their staff.” He shot a pointed, triumphant look in my direction. Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Mark Davies. Miss Prescott, as today is your last day on the floor, I was wondering if you’d be willing to lead a meeting tomorrow to share your observations and provide some guidance for the staff? I typed back, an idea forming in my mind. That sounds perfect. Let’s schedule it for tomorrow at 3 PM. 3 Mark Davies was one of the few people who knew who I really was. He’d worked for my father for over a decade and was one of his most trusted executives. I’d always been fond of him, calling him “Uncle Mark” in private. After my shift, I went to grab my scooter from the employee parking garage, only to find a nail stuck deep in the rear tire. It was completely flat. I swore under my breath. My mother had this vintage-style Vespa custom-painted for me. It was my favorite thing, my little slice of freedom for getting to and from work. And now… A sharp honk made me look up. A brand-new Mercedes had pulled up beside me. Amber rolled down the window, her gaze flicking from me to my crippled scooter. Her expression was a perfect mask of pity. “Sophie? Is your scooter broken? Caleb could give you a ride.” The last thing I wanted was their charity. “No, thanks.” I pulled out my phone to call our family driver. My parents were staying at their estate in the Hudson Valley, a logistical nightmare to get to from the city. Caleb leaned over from the driver’s seat. The embarrassment from the store had evaporated, replaced by his usual smug confidence. “Sophie, you know how long the wait is for an Uber at this hour. I just got this car last week. It’s a much smoother ride than a cab. You won’t get carsick.” He knew my motion sickness was terrible, which was why I usually biked or used my scooter for short distances. Amber’s smile tightened at the corners, but she didn’t say anything. I was losing my patience. Did this man ever get tired of showing off? “Someone’s coming to pick me up. Don’t worry about it.” He seemed disappointed that I wasn’t more impressed. “But—” The car behind them laid on the horn. Amber placed a hand on his arm. “Caleb, if she has a ride, we should just go.” He put the car in drive and sped off. My driver texted back. Traffic was a nightmare; it would be at least forty-five minutes. I scanned the street for a Citi Bike, but of course, there wasn’t a single one in sight. Just as I was about to resign myself to the subway, another car pulled up. The window rolled down, and Mark Davies leaned out. “Sophie—” He caught himself, remembering we were near the store. “Need a lift? I can drop you home.” I hesitated for only a second before getting in. The thought of the subway during rush hour was enough to make my stomach turn. “Thanks, Uncle Mark.” I briefly explained what happened to my scooter. “I’ll have security pull the surveillance footage,” he said, his expression grim. Then his tone shifted. “By the way, I heard some… customers gave you a hard time today?” I was busy texting my driver new instructions to have the scooter towed to the repair shop. After I sent it, I turned my attention back to his question. The last thing I wanted was for this petty drama with Caleb and Amber to reach my father. “It was nothing. I can handle it. No need to bother Dad.” Just then, I caught a flash of light in the rearview mirror. A camera flash. 4 I narrowed my eyes. “Actually, Uncle Mark, I would appreciate it if you could get that footage. That scooter was a gift from my mother. I at least owe her an explanation for what happened.” He smiled warmly. “Of course, Sophie. Consider it done.” The next day, I went back to the store. I had to finalize my transfer paperwork and attend the three o’clock meeting. But as soon as I walked in, I noticed something was off. My coworkers were looking at me strangely, whispering. Even the staff from neighboring boutiques were pointing in my direction. At first, I thought I was imagining things. Then I went to the restroom and overheard two women talking in the stalls. “That was her, right? Sophie Prescott?” “Yeah, that’s her.” “I heard she was the top seller every month since she started. Our manager was about to promote her, but she quit. What a shame.” “A shame? Please. The girl’s got a sugar daddy footing the bills. Why would she care about a promotion?” “What? For real?” “Totally. Someone saw her getting into Mr. Davies’ car last night! I used to think she was actually good at her job, but I guess now we know how she really made all those sales—” I pushed open my stall door. The chatter stopped instantly. The silence was absolute. I offered them a tight, polite smile. “Sorry to interrupt. But for the record, there is nothing unprofessional going on between me and Mr. Davies. And just out of curiosity, where did you happen to hear this little rumor?” After a long, awkward pause, one of the women mumbled, “Someone filed a formal complaint against you. You didn’t know?” The meeting was on the 26th floor. As if my day wasn’t bad enough, Caleb was waiting for the same elevator. The doors closed, leaving just the two of us inside. I stared straight ahead, determined to ignore him, but I could feel his eyes on me. “Sophie,” he began, his brow furrowed in sanctimonious disapproval. “Even if you’re desperate for money, a person should have some integrity. Don’t you understand something that simple?” I shot him a sideways glance. So, he’d heard the rumor too. It had spread through every employee group chat in the building overnight. It would have been harder for him not to know. “You should really worry about your own integrity before you start lecturing others.” His face darkened, and he grabbed my wrist. “Why can’t you just accept help? If Amber hadn’t told me, I never would have known you’d stoop to something like this! We may have broken up, but we’re not enemies. If you needed money, you could have just asked me. Why would you—” He looked genuinely exasperated, as if he were the wronged party. I yanked my arm free. “You’re aware we broke up, right? What do you think your girlfriend would say if she heard you offering to lend me money?” “Amber’s not like you,” he scoffed. “She’s the one who suggested I offer. She saw you getting in that car and told me because she was worried about you. She’s a good person, Sophie. She didn’t want to see you go down the wrong path. Maybe you should stop assuming the worst of people for once.” Oh. “So I should thank her, then?” Thank her for getting “lost” in the rain on my birthday, forcing Caleb to abandon our dinner plans to go rescue her? Thank her for constantly reminding me that she was his girlfriend now? Thank her for making sure Caleb knew I’d been accused of sleeping my way to the top? “You—” Caleb took a deep breath, reining in his anger. “There are senior executives from corporate here today for a review. If they find out about this complaint, you’re finished. I’m just telling you for your own good. Watch your back.” I, the senior executive from corporate who was about to lead said review, just stared at him. “Right,” I said. “Thanks for the tip.” 5 I pressed the button for the 26th floor. Caleb frowned at me. “The 26th floor is all executive conference rooms. There’s a big corporate meeting in half an hour. No regular staff are allowed up there. What are you doing?” I gave him a strange look. “I’m going to the meeting, obviously.” If I didn’t show up, the meeting couldn’t start. A look of dawning comprehension crossed his face. “They summoned you, didn’t they?” I raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Davies is a top aide to the CEO, Mr. Prescott. I heard he’s about to be promoted to the corporate headquarters. A scandal like this right now would look terrible for him. Of course headquarters would want to investigate. It makes sense they’d call you in for questioning.” He looked incredibly pleased with himself, as if he’d solved a complex puzzle. I just stared at him. I never realized he had such a flair for fiction. “Are you going to the 26th floor too?” I asked. He straightened his tie, a smug look spreading across his face. “Of course. Not everyone was invited to this meeting. Out of all the recent hires, I was the only one selected to attend.” Ah. I’d told Mark to make sure representatives from every level were there, but I’d left the junior staff selection up to him. So he chose Caleb. Interesting. Ding. The elevator doors opened, and Caleb strode out, head held high. I was about to follow when my phone buzzed with a picture message from my mom. Since my scooter was being repaired, she’d already ordered me a new one. Honey, which of these colors do you like best? I picked a Klein blue, similar to my old one, and was texting her back as I walked toward the conference room. I was so engrossed in my phone that I almost missed the scene at the door. Caleb was being blocked by two administrative assistants. He looked utterly bewildered. “What do you mean, I can’t go in? You have to be mistaken. Mr. Davies personally invited me!” One of the assistants maintained a cool, professional distance. “I’m sorry, sir. Your name is not on the attendee list. We can’t let you in.” “That’s impossible! You’ve made a mistake!” he insisted, pulling out his phone. “Look! Here’s the email from Mr. Davies himself!” I walked up to the assistants. “Sophie Prescott,” I said. Their expressions shifted instantly. They bowed their heads respectfully. “Right this way, Miss Prescott.” Just then, Mark Davies emerged from the conference room, a wide smile on his face. “Sophie! You’re here.” Caleb saw him and his voice grew louder, more desperate. “Mr. Davies! There seems to be a mistake with the list. They won’t let me in. Could you—” Mark seemed to notice him for the first time, waving a dismissive hand. “Just wait out here. We’ll call you in when we need you.” Then he turned his warm smile back to me. “Everyone’s here. We were just waiting for you.” A stunned silence fell over the hallway. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Caleb’s face, a perfect picture of shock and confusion. I tipped my head toward him. “Let him come in.” Mark paused for a beat, then nodded immediately. “Yes, of course.” He turned to Caleb and barked, “Well? What are you waiting for? Get in here!”

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On our daughter’s fifth birthday, a photo appeared in Ava’s Instagram feed. An intimate shot, taken in bed. The caption read: Someone missed her daddy before bed, and this good man flew right home to her. <3 The man in the photo was my husband, Ethan. My phone was still warm from the text he’d sent me ten minutes earlier. Something came up at the office. Not making it home tonight. I calmly liked the photo. Then, I called my divorce lawyer. 1 Ethan came home around two in the morning. The sudden slash of light from the hallway cut through the darkness, and I instinctively shielded our daughter’s eyes. He leaned against the doorframe, his voice a low drawl. "Hey, I'm home. Get Lily up. I'll celebrate with her now." I used to be the one who cherished these rituals. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, even kindergarten parent-teacher nights—I’d beg Ethan to be there. I didn’t want Lily to grow up knowing her father primarily through the screen of a phone, the way I had. But now— I smoothed the duvet, my voice flat. "Don't bother." A flicker of impatience crossed Ethan's face. "Clara, I just went over there to put her son to sleep. That’s it. You don't have to read into everything." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "This is why I can't be honest with you. You're always so suspicious." I wasn't reading into anything. And I wouldn't be suspicious anymore. "If you're done, please go to your own room. Don't wake Lily. She has school in the morning." My answer was met with a cold laugh. "Fine. But don't come crying to me later, saying I'm an absent father." I turned away and switched off the bedside lamp, gently patting the back of my daughter, who had stirred at the sound of our voices. Absent? It didn't matter anymore. After all, Lily’s only birthday wish this year had been whispered to me as I tucked her in: "I don't want to see Daddy anymore." The next morning, Ethan finished his breakfast but didn't leave for work as usual. Instead, he sat at the table, watching the morning news on his tablet. Just as I was getting Lily’s coat on, he grabbed his keys and walked over, ruffling her hair. "Daddy's taking you to school today." The words were for Lily, but his eyes were locked on mine. Two years ago, when Lily first started preschool, Ethan had driven her every single day. But after Ava came into the picture, he started leaving earlier and earlier, claiming his morning meetings had been moved up. He just didn't have the time. I’d believed him. Until three months ago, when Lily switched schools. I was waiting at the gate and saw him. The man who was supposedly in a board meeting was leaning down, lifting a little boy from the backseat of his car. It turned out he had time to take a child to school. Just not his own. We had a terrible fight that night. The next day, Lily stopped asking for him to take her. Even though I’d already made my decision, he was still her father. I hesitated for a moment, then gave a slight nod. A corner of his mouth lifted in a small, triumphant smile as he bent down to scoop Lily into his arms. When he opened the car door, I froze. The back seat was a mess of someone else's life. A Spider-Man water bottle, a wooden toy bow and arrow set, a woman’s cashmere wrap thrown carelessly over the leather. Tucked into the seat-back pocket was a laminated, wallet-sized "family photo." Ethan followed my gaze, and his expression tightened. "Ava just stuck that there. Said it makes her son, Leo, happy to see it." He shot me a warning look. "Don't start, Clara. It's not a big deal." The old me would have snatched that picture and ripped it to shreds, would have screamed at him, demanding to know what Lily and I meant to him. But now, I just nodded. "It's a nice picture." He stared at me, a strange look in his eyes. "You're not angry?" Angry? Maybe I should have been. But all I felt was a profound emptiness, a void where the anger used to be. It was almost funny. How could a man as sharp and calculating as Ethan Cole fall for such a clumsy, transparent play? The answer was simple. He didn't fall for it. He just didn't care. "We should get going," I said, my voice even. "Lily's going to be late." His lips thinned into a hard line as he pulled open the driver's side door. Just as I was about to help Lily into her car seat, Ethan's phone rang. A cheerful, cartoonish jingle filled the quiet garage. From the other end of the line, a little boy's frantic sobs were perfectly clear. "Daddy! Daddy, where did you go? Are you leaving Mommy and me?" Ethan hung up. Without another glance at us, he slid into the driver's seat. "Leo's having a meltdown. I'll have the driver take you today." The black Mercedes sped out of the driveway, leaving us in a cloud of exhaust. I worried Lily would be upset, so I crouched down to her level. "Daddy has something important to do, sweetie. Next time he’s free, we’ll all go to school together, okay?" Lily looked up at me, her small face set with a maturity far beyond her five years. "Daddy's never going to be free," she said quietly. "All his time is for Leo and his mom." 2 That evening, Ethan called. "Clara, I'm going to be late tonight. Leo's running a fever…" "Okay." My quick agreement seemed to catch him off guard, his practiced explanation dying in his throat. He must have mistaken my calm for resentment, because his tone sharpened with annoyance. "Clara, don't be dramatic." He hung up before I could reply. Ten minutes later, a series of texts arrived. I'm so sorry, Clara. Leo has been so clingy with his dad lately. But honestly, Ethan shouldn't have just abandoned you and Lily the moment I called. That was wrong of him. I'll be sure to give him a talking-to. Don't you be upset, okay? The last message was punctuated by a cutesy, see-no-evil monkey emoji. It was Ava. The texts weren't an apology; they were a declaration of war. I had no interest in fighting her for a man I no longer wanted. I deleted the messages and blocked her number. A moment later, my phone rang again. It was Ethan. "Clara, what the hell is your problem? Ava reaches out to apologize, and you give her that kind of attitude?" I could faintly hear a woman and a child crying in the background. I said nothing. After a long, tense silence, his voice came back, low and steeped in disappointment. "How did you become this person, Clara?" he asked softly. "I'm so disappointed in you." It was always the same script. Ava would light the match, and the moment she started crying, Ethan would douse me in gasoline, making me out to be some kind of villain. When I got home, I started packing. While Ethan had been on the phone, I’d been on a call with my lawyer. The divorce would likely grant me at least 30% of the shares in Cole Industries. And in cases where both parents have similar financial means, custody of the child is typically awarded to the mother. My last hesitation vanished. Clothes, handbags, jewelry, Lily’s favorite stuffed animals—they all went into boxes. As I sealed the last one, my hands trembled for a moment. My eyes landed on a dusty, wax-sealed trunk in the back of the closet. It was full of letters—from the Ethan who was seventeen, all the way to twenty-two. I broke the seal and pulled out the one on top. It began: To the 27-year-old Clara, from the 17-year-old Ethan. This is the first love letter I've ever written you. As we promised, we'll open this together in ten years. I bet we're married by now. Maybe we even have a kid, a cute one. My phone buzzed. On the screen was the name of the 27-year-old Ethan. "Clara! Do you have any idea that Ava left with Leo? She took him and just left!" His voice was ragged with panic and fury. "If anything happens to them, I will never forgive you." My eyes fell to the bottom of the letter I was holding. Signed: The Ethan who will love Clara forever. A sharp, stabbing pain shot through my chest, as if something delicate and essential had just shattered. I ended the call and tossed the entire trunk into the fireplace. 3 Ethan didn't come home that night. I didn't frantically call his phone, sobbing and promising I would leave Ava alone, the way I would have before. Lily didn't ask about her father either. She just quietly retrieved a framed photo of herself with Ethan from her bookshelf and tucked it into her own small suitcase. A silent cold war settled between us. It lasted a week, until Lily's school needed a parent's consent form signed, a process that required facial recognition verification. I tried calling Ethan, only to discover he had blocked my number. Left with no choice, I drove to his office with the tablet. I hadn't been waiting long in the lobby when a familiar figure swept past the reception desk and straight into Ethan's office. The assistant, pouring me a glass of water, looked mortified. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Cole. Mr. Cole gave instructions that Ms. Vance can go into his office anytime." That particular privilege Ava enjoyed was, ironically, my fault. I used to bring Ethan lunch every day. We’d sit in his office and talk for an hour. One day, Ava showed up, claiming she had an urgent matter to discuss. The new assistant, following protocol, asked her to wait. By the time Ethan walked me out, Ava and her son Leo were standing in the hallway, their lips blue from the cold. That was the first time Ethan had ever truly lost his temper with me. He yelled, right there in the lobby, that my daily lunch deliveries were a waste of his valuable time. The assistant who had stopped Ava was fired on the spot. From that day on, everyone at Cole Industries knew who the important woman in Ethan Cole's life was. I never went back to his office again. Until today. I gave the nervous assistant a small, reassuring smile and walked toward the office. Ethan was in a meeting. He looked surprised to see me. "What are you doing here?" Ava was perched on the armrest of his leather chair, their bodies so close they were practically touching. He noticed where I was looking and cleared his throat. "Clara, don't get the wrong idea. Ava happens to know a few things about this project, so…" I just nodded, holding out the tablet. "Lily has a field trip. It needs parental consent." "You came all the way down here for that?" "What else would I be here for?" The atmosphere in the room grew heavy. I didn't know why, but I knew Ethan well enough to recognize that he was in a foul mood. Ava let out a little scoff. "What a complicated way to sign a form. Ethan, she just wants an excuse to make up with you. You've been staying at my place for days. It's probably time you went home to see Lily." Ethan’s tense shoulders relaxed slightly. He tossed the tablet onto the coffee table and gave me a smirk. "Clara, now you're using our daughter as an excuse to get my attention." He leaned back. "Apologize to Ava. Otherwise, I'm not signing it." Hearing those words used to send me into a spiral of rage. Rage that he cared so little for his own daughter, and even more rage that he would use her as a pawn for another woman. But now, I felt nothing. My only thought was that if he didn't sign, Lily would miss her field trip, and she would be heartbroken. I looked at Ethan, then at Ava, still sitting possessively on the arm of his chair. Without another word, I turned and walked out. I would just have to tell the school that Lily’s father wasn’t available. I’d only taken a few steps down the hall when a crisp, low voice called out. "Ms. Sinclair, if you don't mind, perhaps I could be of assistance." It was the other man from the meeting in Ethan's office. He offered a wry smile. "After all, I feel like I've been an audience to your family matters for long enough." I finally took a good look at him. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, exuding an air of quiet authority. His features were sharp, his eyes intelligent. He was clearly a man of significant means. I handed him the tablet without hesitation. The verification process was completed in seconds. On the screen, the signature was rendered in a bold, elegant script: Noah Prescott. 4 The divorce papers were drafted. I unilaterally ended our cold war with a text telling Ethan he needed to come home that night. When I went to pick Lily up from kindergarten, his black Mercedes was already parked by the curb. The window rolled down, revealing Ava in the passenger seat, a triumphant smile on her face. "Clara! Picking up your daughter?" she called out, her voice dripping with condescension. "This is a rather exclusive school, you know. Is that last season's coat you're wearing? You wouldn't want the other parents to talk." I ignored her, moving further down the sidewalk. Ava turned to the driver's seat, her expression shifting to one of wounded innocence. "Ethan, did I say something wrong? I think I made her angry." For once, Ethan didn't reply. His gaze was fixed on my admittedly thin coat, and his voice was stiff when he finally spoke. "Clara, it's cold out. Get in the car." I moved even farther away. I couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened, but we had become strangers. So much so that even a simple expression of concern sounded forced and hollow. As the classroom door opened, two children came tumbling out, tangled in a scuffle. My stomach dropped when I saw that one of them was Lily. I rushed over and pulled them apart, only then realizing the other child was Ava’s son, Leo. He froze when he saw me, then immediately sat down on the pavement and burst into theatrical sobs. "Waaah! That lady hit me! It hurts, it hurts so much!" Ethan and Ava hurried over. Ava swept her son into a hug, glaring at me. "Clara, I know you don't like me, but you can't take it out on a child. They were just roughhousing. There was no need to get violent." Ethan’s disappointed gaze fell on me, as if he’d completely forgotten that Lily was his daughter, too. The teacher looked pained. "Mrs. Cole, Ms. Vance… the children were arguing. They both saw Mr. Cole and started insisting that he was their father. It… escalated from there." It was dismissal time, and a crowd of parents had gathered. The murmurs started immediately. "Well, this is some drama. Fighting over a daddy? Is this the wife and the mistress?" "That guy definitely looks loaded. Maybe the little boy is just confused." "A kid that young being a gold digger? What are they teaching him at home?" Leo was still wailing, clinging to Ethan's neck and crying "Daddy, Daddy." But Lily… she just held my hand tightly, her eyes fixed on Ethan, not blinking. The other children, sensing the drama, chimed in. "Mister, who's your real kid? You have to tell us! The one who's wrong has to apologize!" Ethan opened his mouth. "I'm Lily's…" At that moment, Ava gave his sleeve a tiny, desperate tug. Her eyes were wide with a silent plea. I saw it happen in an instant. The flicker of hesitation in Ethan’s eyes, the slight shift in his posture. He was wavering. Just like the countless times before, one look from Ava was all it took for my daughter and me to become his second choice. My jaw tightened. "Ethan," I said, my voice dangerously low. "The answer you give right now will follow Lily for the rest of her life. Think very carefully before you speak." His body went rigid. His eyes were downcast, unreadable. Then, in a voice just loud enough for everyone to hear, he said, "I'm Leo's father." He looked at Lily, his expression cold. "I think you're mistaken, little girl." My heart seized, a brutal, crushing blow that almost brought tears to my eyes. This was our daughter. Our daughter. The circle of parents immediately turned on Lily. "Can you believe that? Lying about who her father is and then hitting his real son." "She hasn't even apologized. What a lack of manners." "She's just jealous. Probably wants a rich daddy." "Look at her mother. She doesn't exactly scream class. Probably put her up to it, hoping to snag a rich guy." "Ethan, you are not a man…" I started, but was cut off by a sharp pain in my palm. Lily was biting her lip, her grip on my hand astonishingly strong. Her eyes, which had been pleading moments before, were now dull and empty. "Mommy," she whispered. "Let's just go." Then, she turned to Ethan, her small body stiff, and gave him a formal bow. "I'm sorry, sir. I made a mistake." 5 In a quiet corner of a bakery, I held my daughter close. "Lily, he is your father. I don't expect you to love him, but I don't want you to grow up with so much hate in your heart." A small, toneless voice answered me. "I don't have a father, Mommy. You heard him. He's Leo's father." I felt the crisp edges of the divorce papers in my purse. I booked two one-way tickets to Boston for that night. My phone lit up with a text from Ethan, sent ten minutes earlier. Clara, I'm sorry. But Leo comes from a single-parent home. In that situation, I had to lie. I'll go to the school tomorrow and clear everything up with her teacher. I won't let our daughter be wronged. It was the first time he had ever apologized to me for something involving Ava. But it was too late. I didn't need his apology. And neither did Lily. One last trip back to the house to get our passports and a few essentials, and we would be free of this city for good. I expected the house to be empty. It wasn't. In fact, it was full of life. In the living room, Leo was sitting on Lily's little armchair, playing with her favorite dollhouse while watching cartoons. Ethan and Ava emerged from the kitchen carrying platters of food. They both froze when they saw us. I frowned. We weren't even divorced yet, and he’d already moved her in. "Ava felt she needed to apologize to you for what happened today," Ethan explained, his voice strained. "She was afraid you wouldn't think she was sincere, so she offered to cook dinner. These are all your favorite dishes." A cold laugh escaped my lips. "A meal cooked by the two of you? I think I'll pass." For once, Ethan didn't get angry. He knew he was in the wrong. He turned to the children. "Why don't you two go play in the bedroom for a while? Your mommy and I need to talk." As soon as the kids were gone, Ava stepped forward, positioning herself neatly beside Ethan, a united front. "Clara, I am so sorry about today. It's all my fault. I should have corrected Leo sooner, he just started to believe Ethan was his real father. If it bothers you this much, I'll take Leo and leave New York. We'll never bother you and Ethan again." As she spoke, her eyes welled up with tears. I looked at this woman, remembering the first time we met. Her husband, a childhood friend of Ethan's, had just died. She had knelt before us, a grieving widow with a young child, looking utterly helpless. Looking back now, I realized that must have been the moment Ethan's heart began to stray. What man could resist a beautiful, dark-haired woman kneeling at his feet, telling him he was her only hope for the future? I smiled, a thin, sharp smile, and pulled the divorce papers from my purse. "You don't have to leave. I will." I placed the papers on the table. "Ethan, let's get a divorce. Then you can be Ava's wonderful husband and Leo's wonderful father, openly and honestly." Ethan's face darkened, his eyes turning stormy. "Clara, are you threatening me?" I nodded slowly. "You could call it that." He let out a laugh that was pure fury. "Do you really think I'm afraid of you? How many times do I have to tell you? Her husband was my best friend. We made a promise that if anything happened to one of us, the other would take care of his family. Why do you have to be so petty and insecure?" My voice was calm, detached. "You're right. I am petty and insecure. You're a man of great integrity, Mr. Cole. Please don't lower yourself to my level. Just sign the papers." His face contorted with rage at my indifference. He snatched the agreement from the table, and without even reading it, scrawled his name across the signature line. He threw the papers at my feet. "There, I signed it. Now what, Clara? Do you have the guts to actually leave?" I bent down to pick up the documents. Before I could speak, Leo came running out of the bedroom, sobbing. "Waaah! Daddy, Lily hit me!" A long, bloody scratch ran down his cheek. Ethan's glare could have set me on fire. "Clara, look at the kind of daughter you've raised!" Lily appeared in the doorway behind him. "Mommy, I didn't touch him. He fell down by himself." "Lily Cole, you've learned to lie, too!" Ethan roared. "Apologize to Leo right now! Do you hear me?" Lily just stared at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. Seeing his chance, Leo cried even louder. "Waaah! Daddy, it hurts!" Ethan’s voice dropped to an icy chill. "Lily, I don't like children who lie. You've disappointed me." Lily opened her mouth to argue, but I stopped her. "Ethan, we have security cameras in this house. Why don't we just check the footage and see who's lying?" At the mention of cameras, Ava's eyes darted nervously. She quickly tried to smooth things over. "Oh, let's not. It's normal for kids to get into little fights. There's no need to make a big deal out of it. Leo's the older brother; it's okay if his little sister hits him once or twice." "It's not okay with me," I said, my voice hard. "My daughter will not be falsely accused. We are watching that footage." Seeing my resolve, Ethan stalked over to the security monitor and pulled up the recording. The footage was crystal clear. Leo had tripped and scratched his own face on the corner of a toy chest. Ava started stammering excuses. "Ethan, he's just a child. He was probably just scared, that's why he lied. Maybe Lily has bullied him before, and that's why he reacted that way." But Ethan wasn't listening. His eyes were glued to the top left corner of the screen, at a time-stamped recording from the night before. The footage showed me, standing in front of the fireplace, tossing a large trunk into the flames. My movements were swift, decisive, without a hint of hesitation.

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They say the granddaughter of the richest man in the city was switched at birth. And then I was picked up by a black town car and taken to his family’s estate. The butler told me I was the real heiress, the one who’d been lost for over twenty years. But my so-called parents didn’t seem very happy to see me. They called me trash, a hick from the sticks. The next time they were beating me for the sake of the fake heiress, my billionaire grandfather came home. When he saw the state I was in, he brought his cane down right on my father’s head. “You worthless bastard! I raised you all these years, and this is how you treat your own sister?” Then he pointed at me. “That’s my daughter! You dare touch her again!” My father froze, stunned. I was just as stunned. Hold on. Let’s just take a moment to straighten out this family tree. 1 Standing at the gates of the Cole family mansion in Greenwich, my stomach was a knot of anxiety. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic rabbit beating against a cage. I was excited to finally meet my birth parents, but terrified they wouldn’t like what they saw. Turns out, I didn’t need to worry about that. They made it perfectly clear. The heavy oak door swung open, revealing a woman dripping in diamonds and disdain. Catherine. My mother. Her eyes scanned me from my worn-out sneakers to my faded jeans, then back again. Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows drew together. “You’re Maya?” Her voice was as cold as the marble floor beneath my feet. “Even if things are rough out in the country, you could have at least worn something clean. Something presentable. Don’t track dirt on our floors.” A sharp sting pierced my chest. I opened my mouth to explain that these were my best clothes, but a girl my age peeked out from behind Catherine. She was dressed in a designer gown that looked like spun sugar, her eyes red as if she’d been crying. She gently tugged on Catherine’s sleeve. “Mom, don’t say that. Maya must have had it so hard. She’s probably never seen a place like this. It’s only natural she’d dress… simply.” Just then, a man strode over, wrapping a protective arm around the girl. Richard. My father. His voice was syrupy sweet when he spoke to her. “Brielle, you’re too kind, always thinking of others. Maya,” he said, turning his flat gaze on me, “I know you’re our biological daughter, but Brielle has been with us since the day she was born. We raised her. She’s everything to us.” So this was my welcome. Not a ‘hello,’ not a single question about the twenty years I’d lost. Just warnings. And I was supposed to learn their names from the way they spoke to each other? What was there to even worry about anymore? My throat tightened, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. “I never wanted to replace anyone. I just… I just wanted to see you. To know what my real parents looked like.” “See us?” Catherine scoffed, crossing her arms. “Well, you’ve seen us. Don’t get any ideas. The Cole family doesn’t need another daughter. We have Brielle. If you have any sense, you’ll understand where you belong.” Brielle looked up at Richard, her eyes glistening with manufactured tears. “Dad, Mom, please don’t be so harsh. She just got here, she must be so scared. It’s my fault. If it weren’t for me, she wouldn’t feel so unwelcome.” Richard stroked her hair, his face a mask of adoration. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. This has nothing to do with you. She just doesn’t know her place. Speaking of which, your eighteenth birthday is tomorrow. There’s a necklace at the Christie’s auction, ‘The Midnight Sun Diamond.’ Valued at fifty million. I’ll take you right now and we’ll get it for you. A perfect birthday present.” Brielle’s eyes lit up. She threw her arms around his neck. “Really, Daddy? I’ve read about that piece! You’re the best!” Catherine smiled, smoothing the skirt of Brielle’s dress. “We’ll go right now, before someone else snatches it up. For my Brielle, any price is worth it.” The three of them chattered away as they walked toward the garage, Richard calling back to the driver to get the heat just right so Brielle wouldn’t be cold. They never looked at me again. I stood alone in the grand entryway as a cold draft swept through, chilling my skin. Arthur, the family butler, approached with a glass of warm water, pressing it into my hands. “Miss, drink this. Warm yourself up. Mr. and Mrs. Cole… they’re just having a hard time adjusting. They’ve been with Miss Brielle for so many years. It’s a deep bond. Just wait until the master gets back from Europe. He’s a reasonable man. He’ll make things right for you.” I clutched the glass, the warmth of it failing to reach the ice forming in my heart. “Thank you, Arthur. But if my own parents treat me like this… why would a grandfather I’ve never met care about me at all?” The old butler sighed. “Don’t lose hope, Miss. The master nearly turned this state upside down looking for you all those years ago. He has never forgotten you. Just wait. When he returns, everything will be better.” I said nothing, just stared out the window in the direction their car had disappeared, my world a silent, frozen landscape. 2 That night, I lay in the guest room, lost in a bed that was too big and too soft. The unfamiliar luxury, the memory of Richard and Catherine’s cold eyes—it all made my skin crawl. Sleep was impossible. A soft knock echoed through the room. It was Brielle. She held a velvet jewelry box, a sweet smile on her face. “Maya, I saw this necklace at the auction today and thought it would look beautiful on you. I had Dad buy it for you. Please, open it. I hope you like it.” I was taken aback. After her performance this afternoon, this sudden kindness was jarring. But then a flicker of hope ignited. Maybe she was as kind as she pretended to be. Maybe I was just being paranoid. I took the box, my voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Brielle. You didn’t have to do that.” “We’re sisters now. Of course, I did.” She smiled and leaned closer. Just as my fingers touched the clasp, she snatched the box from my hands and hurled it to the floor. Pearls scattered across the polished hardwood like tiny, broken teeth. In the next instant, she crumpled to the ground, hands flying to her face as she let out a piercing shriek. “Maya, no! Please don’t hit me! How could you just smash the necklace? I know you don’t like me, but I was just trying to be nice!” Her wail was perfectly pitched to carry. Seconds later, the door flew open and Richard and Catherine stormed in. Richard’s eyes locked on Brielle sobbing on the floor, then to the scattered pearls at my feet. His face contorted with rage as he pointed a trembling finger at me. “Maya! You have no class, no upbringing! Brielle brings you a gift from the goodness of her heart, and you throw it in her face? Did they teach you nothing where you came from?” His accusations rang in my ears. “I didn’t throw it!” I protested, my voice cracking. “She snatched it and threw it herself! She’s acting!” “How dare you lie to our faces?” Catherine rushed forward. “We saw the broken necklace at your feet and Brielle on the floor crying. Who else could have done it? Do you think because you’re blood, you can just walk in here and torment her?” “I didn’t!” My own tears started to well up, hot and furious. “I grew up with nothing, it’s true. No one taught me how to be some perfect little heiress. But I wasn’t taught to be a bully, either! You barge in here, you don’t ask a single question, and you just sentence me? You call that a good upbringing? I’m the one who had my life stolen for twenty years, with no one to care for me. If I have no class, it’s because you weren’t there to teach me!” My words hit a nerve. Catherine’s face flushed a deep red. She raised her hand and slapped me, hard. The sound cracked through the silent room. “You ungrateful brat! We brought you into this house. We could have left you to rot on the street, and this is the thanks we get? You dare talk back to me?” The sting on my cheek was a burning fire. I clutched my face, staring at her with all the hatred I could muster. Richard, shaking with fury, bellowed toward the door. “Arthur! Get in here! Lock her in the old storage house out back. No food for three days. Let’s see if she learns some respect then!” Arthur hurried in, placing himself between me and them. “Sir, the storage house is dark and cold. The young miss just arrived, her health… please, reconsider.” “Reconsider?” Richard sneered at the old man, his voice laced with menace. “I think you’re getting senile, meddling in my affairs. You say another word for her, and you can pack your bags and get out. This family doesn’t support traitors.” Arthur’s face went pale. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Two security guards stepped forward, grabbing my arms. They dragged me out of the room, their grips like iron. As they pulled me through the living room, I saw Brielle nestled in Catherine’s embrace. She peeked over her mother’s shoulder and shot me a look, a tiny, triumphant smile playing on her lips. That smile was a needle to my heart, and the world went cold. 3 The storage house was pitch black, a sliver of weak light bleeding from under the door the only proof that a world existed outside. I lay on the cold concrete, my stomach twisting into painful knots. I hadn’t eaten since the night before. I pushed against the heavy door; it was locked tight. My calls for help were swallowed by the oppressive silence. I stumbled around the space, searching for any way out, but was met only by solid, windowless walls. Hours bled into one another. Hunger and cold became a constant, numbing ache. My body trembled, and black spots danced in my vision. My consciousness began to fray at the edges. Just as I felt myself slipping away, the door creaked open. Blinding light flooded the space. Brielle stood silhouetted in the doorway, arms crossed, the two guards behind her. She walked toward me, her heels clicking on the floor, and looked down at my crumpled form. The fragile, gentle girl was gone, replaced by someone cold and mocking. “Maya, I thought you were tougher than this. Look at you. A few words from me, and Mom and Dad have you locked in here, starving. You really are pathetic, aren’t you?” I used the wall to pull myself up. I was weak, but my eyes were steady. “What are you so proud of? You can only get what you want by lying and performing for them. If we were judged on our own merits, you’d be nothing.” “Merits?” She let out a sharp, ugly laugh and patted my cheek. “Why would I need to compete with you? I’ve been in this family for twenty years. They already see me as their real daughter. You’re just some stray they were forced to take in. They could never truly love you.” I slapped her hand away. “I’m not a stray. And you have no right to say that. If you had any real confidence, you wouldn’t need to frame me to get by.” Her face hardened, her voice turning venomous. “Don’t push your luck. I came here to give you an out. Write a statement saying you’re leaving the Cole family voluntarily and will never come back. Otherwise, I’ll let you stay in here until you starve to death.” “I’m not leaving,” I rasped, my jaw tight. “This is my home, too. Why should I be the one to go?” Seeing that I wouldn’t break, she lunged, her hand raised to strike me. In a last burst of adrenaline, I threw myself at her, clamping my teeth down on her ear. “Aaaah!!!” Her scream was shrill enough to shatter glass. I held on, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. I didn’t let go until I heard the heavy thud of footsteps approaching. Richard and Catherine burst in. They saw Brielle clutching her bleeding ear and me with blood smeared around my mouth. Richard roared, his face purple with rage. “Maya! You’re insane! You actually bit her!” Brielle stumbled into her father’s arms, sobbing. “Daddy, it hurts so much! She tried to kill me! She told me to leave the family, and when I refused, she attacked me!” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and smirked. “Before, when you accused me of hurting her, it was a lie. This is what it actually looks like. You love playing the victim, don’t you, Brielle? Well, this time I made sure you’d actually have a reason to cry.” Catherine stared at Brielle’s torn ear, her voice trembling with fury. “You’re an animal. Brielle has been nothing but kind to you, and you do this? I’m going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.” Richard yelled to the guards, “Tie her up! Hang her from the rafters in the living room. Let her think about what she’s done!” The guards rushed me, brandishing a thick rope. I fought back, kicking and thrashing, but my exhausted body was no match for them. They bound me tightly and dragged me out of the darkness. 4 I hung from a heavy wooden beam in the center of the living room, the ropes digging into my wrists. Blood flow was cut off; my hands were already numb. Having not eaten in days, my head lolled forward, consciousness flickering like a dying candle. A bucket of ice water shocked me back to awareness. The frigid shock made my teeth chatter violently. Richard stood before me, a riding crop in his hand, his eyes filled with disgust. “Today, you will learn what happens when you disrespect the rules of this house.” He swung the crop, and it struck my back with a sickening crack. A line of fire seared across my skin. I bit back a cry. “You think because you share our blood you can do whatever you want?” Another lash. “You grew up wild, with no one to teach you any manners. Today, I’ll take on the responsibility of a father and beat the filth out of you.” Each blow felt like it was tearing me apart. Tears streamed from my eyes, blurring my vision. Catherine sat on the sofa, cradling Brielle, dabbing at her ear while adding her own venom to the assault. “Maya, you are a true snake. We are the Coles, one of the wealthiest families in the country. Letting you in this door was a gift from God, and you repay us by hurting Brielle? Do you have a soul?” “She… deserved it…” I gasped, my voice barely a whisper. “She started it… You just refuse to see…” “Still talking back!” Richard rained blows down on me, again and again. The leather tore through my shirt, and I could feel warm blood trickling down my back. “I see you won’t be satisfied until you’re half-dead! I won’t stop until you admit you were wrong!” His strength was terrifying. Every strike felt like it was breaking my bones. I couldn’t hold on any longer. The world dissolved into blackness. “Throw more water on her!” Richard’s voice was a distant, demonic rumble. “Get the doctor to give her a vitamin shot. I don’t want her dying before I’m done teaching her a lesson! We stop when she begs for forgiveness!” Another splash of icy water jolted me awake. The pain was all-consuming, a blinding white light of agony. I looked at the twisted face of the man in front of me and couldn’t believe he was my father. I regretted it all. I truly regretted it. I should never have listened, never have hoped to find my birth parents, never have come to the Cole estate. All I wanted was to see their faces, to feel a connection I had dreamed of my entire life… But this wasn’t connection. This was torture. Just as I felt the last of my strength give way, the front door crashed open with a deafening bang. A vibrant old man with a thunderous expression, leaning on a heavy cane, stormed into the room. The moment he saw me, he let out a roar of fury and swung his cane with surprising force, cracking it against Richard’s skull. “You degenerate son! How dare you lay a hand on her!”

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It was the third time this month I’d covered cleaning duty for Claire, the girl both my childhood best friends were in love with. After the final bell, just as I was heading for the door, they cornered me, all easy smiles and familiar charm. “Hey, Lia,” Leo started, slinging his arm around my shoulders. “Could you do us a solid and cover for Claire in the chem lab today? We’re taking her out—kind of a date thing. You’re the best.” I looked up from under my bangs, my voice barely a whisper. “I can’t today. I… I have plans.” The warmth in Leo’s eyes vanished. A smirk, sharp and humorless, pulled at his lips. “If you don’t want to do it, just say so. Don’t make up lame excuses. Who would you even have plans with?” When I didn’t answer, the smile on Nathan’s face dissolved completely. He moved, quick and silent, and pressed me back against the cold cinderblock wall. His voice was low, intense. “You really have a date?” he demanded. “With who?” 1 The final bell had just shrieked through the halls, and I was pulling my umbrella from the side pocket of my backpack when Leo stopped me. “Hold up, Lia. Can you handle the lab cleanup?” I glanced back at the whiteboard. Under ‘Chem Lab Duty,’ Mr. Henderson had clearly written Claire Danes. “It’s not my day—” “Claire’s got cramps, she’s feeling awful,” Leo said, his smile effortless. He had these fox-like eyes that always seemed to be laughing at a private joke. He gave my shoulder a friendly, proprietary pat. “So, be a pal, yeah? I’m gonna give her a ride home.” As if on cue, he slung his backpack over one shoulder and crouched down in front of Claire’s desk. She swatted at him, a flicker of a smile playing on her lips. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal.” Leo looked up at her, his expression a perfect performance of concern. “Of course it’s a big deal. Girls need to rest when they’re on their period. Lia gets it. She’s a girl, too.” He turned his gaze on me. “Right, Lia?” I bit the inside of my lip. “…Okay, fine.” I’d just dropped my bag when a long, pale hand plucked the umbrella from its side pocket. Nathan was taking off his rimless glasses, frowning at Leo. “Are you planning on letting her walk home in this downpour? Getting chilled is the last thing she needs.” He shot a quick, dismissive glance at me. “I’m taking the umbrella. The rain will probably let up in a bit. You can just wait it out.” And just like that, the two of them were gone—Leo carrying Claire piggyback, and Nathan holding my umbrella over her head. Claire looked back over Leo’s shoulder, her perfect face a mask of polite apology. “Sorry about this, Lia! We’ll see you tomorrow!” Their figures blurred and then vanished into the gray sheet of rain. I turned away from the window and started cleaning. This was the third time this month. Claire was only scheduled for lab duty three times a month. The first time, she had a piano lesson she couldn’t miss. Before I could even respond to her asking, Leo had already volunteered me. “Your piano is more important, you’ve got your certification exam coming up. Lia doesn’t have anything better to do anyway.” The second time, a new movie she was dying to see had just come out. Both Leo and Nathan wanted to be the one to take her, so cleanup duty naturally fell to me. I swept the floors in silence, the rhythmic scrape of the broom the only sound. I mopped until the linoleum gleamed under the fluorescent lights, then moved to the whiteboard. It was massive, and I couldn’t reach the formulas scrawled across the very top. I jumped a few times, my fingers just brushing the slick surface. I was about to drag a stool over when a hand reached past me from behind. It was a beautiful hand, clean, with well-defined knuckles. It took the eraser from me and, in a few easy swipes, cleared the entire top of the board. I flinched, spinning around to find Noah Carter, our class valedictorian, standing right behind me. He was so close I could smell the clean, crisp scent of lemon and sea salt on his shirt, a startling pocket of dryness in the damp, rainy air. Before I could speak, he did. “This isn’t your day for cleanup, is it?” There was a long-running, pointless debate among the girls at our school over who was the ultimate heartthrob: Leo, Nathan, or Noah. Maybe because I was so used to Leo and Nathan, seeing Noah up close felt different, more impactful. His eyes were a clear, warm hazel, and his dark lashes were so long they looked like tiny, delicate wings. “Claire wasn’t feeling well,” I explained, my voice sounding thin. “I’m covering for her. What are you still doing here?” Noah’s expression didn’t change. He just took the eraser and methodically cleaned the rest of the board. “Had to drop off some papers in the faculty office. On my way back, I saw you…” He paused, and a small smile touched his lips. “Jumping.” Heat flooded my cheeks. “Oh. Uh, thanks.” “No problem.” He placed the eraser back on the ledge. “All done? Ready to go?” I shook my head. “You go ahead. I don’t have an umbrella. I’m just going to wait for the rain to stop.” He pulled a sleek black umbrella from his bag. “I have one,” he said simply. “Let’s go.” 2 As we walked, he broke the comfortable silence. “Do you cover for Claire a lot? I feel like I’ve seen you doing this before.” “Yeah. She’s… busy sometimes.” “She must be a very busy person,” he commented, tilting the umbrella so it shielded me more than him. “You seem pretty close with Nathan and Leo.” “We all are. Me, them, and Claire. We’re all friends.” “If you’re friends, how come you’re the only one doing all the work?” I didn’t have an answer for that. I just kicked at a small pebble on the sidewalk. “You’re busy too, right?” he continued. “I heard you have SAT prep classes at night. Why don’t you just say no?” I hesitated. “They wouldn’t like it. We’re all friends.” “And what would happen if they didn’t like it?” “We… wouldn’t be friends anymore?” The words came out like a question, an automatic fear. “They’re the only friends I have.” “Then let me be your friend.” We reached the entrance to my apartment building and stopped in unison. The rain had knocked the purple blossoms from the jacaranda trees, and the wind swirled the petals at our feet. Noah stood there, holding the black umbrella, and smiled at me. “So, are we friends now?” No one could say no to that face. I nodded. “Of course. And thank you, for walking me home.” “Is a ‘thank you’ all I get?” I blinked, looking up at him. I finally noticed that the right side of his school uniform was completely soaked, while I was almost perfectly dry. He didn’t seem to mind at all, the gentle smile never leaving his face. “Then… how about you let me treat you to the library on Saturday? You wouldn’t say no to a friend, would you?” 3 After my shower, I saw the group chat notification. Claire had tagged me. “Lia, you get home okay? So sorry to make you do that again today. It was all Leo and Nathan’s fault, they were being so overprotective. I told them I was fine, but they insisted.” I towel-dried my hair, typing back a simple, “I’m home.” Suddenly, a message from Leo popped up. “You didn’t have an umbrella. How’d you get back?” “Someone walked me.” “Ooooh, who?” Claire sent a voice memo, her tone teasing. “Is our little Lia finally dating someone?” Nathan rarely posted in the chat, usually only replying when Claire said something. “Not a chance. Who would ask Lia out?” Leo chimed in immediately. “Exactly. She’s a total bookworm. Who’d be into that?” Claire’s laughter echoed in another voice memo. “You guys are so mean! Lia is wonderful. She’s smart and pretty.” “Pretty?” Leo sent a scoffing emoji. “Compared to you? If she’s pretty, what does that make you, a goddess?” Nathan added: “Claire, you’re just too nice. If no one tells her the truth, she’ll get the wrong idea. What if some guy takes advantage of her?” The messages kept coming, one after another. The little bubble of warmth Noah had given me deflated, leaving a familiar coldness in its place. I put my phone down and stared at the ceiling. This wasn’t new. I knew, deep down, that in our little group, I was always on the lowest rung. And I understood why. Nathan, Leo, and Claire were the suns of our high school universe—effortlessly cool, from wealthy families, born to shine. I was just… me. The quiet, plain girl who orbited them. If we hadn’t grown up on the same street, our paths would never have crossed. Both guys were in love with Claire. When the four of us were together, I was just part of the background, a ghost at their table. It had been that way since we were kids. I was so used to it that saying no felt like speaking a foreign language. I rolled over, Noah’s parting words echoing in my head. “The way they treat you… are you sure they see you as a friend?” 4 On Claire’s next cleanup day, Leo predictably shoved a broom into my hands. “We’re taking Claire to the movies tonight. You’ve got this, right?” Nathan had already slung Claire’s backpack over his shoulder. She waved at me with a bright, unapologetic smile. “Thanks a bunch, Lia!” I paused, then pushed the broom back into Leo’s chest. “Sorry,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “I have plans today.” The smiles on all three of their faces froze. “Plans?” Claire’s voice was laced with a kind of magnanimous disbelief. “Haha, Lia, it’s okay if you don’t want to do it. I know I’ve asked you a lot this month.” Leo’s dark brows furrowed. “Plans? With who? C’mon, Lia, if you’re going to make an excuse, at least make it a good one. Who do you even know besides us?” Nathan’s eyes, cold and analytical behind his glasses, fixed on me. “Lia, don’t be dramatic. Claire really wants to see this movie. What’s the big deal with covering for her one more time? You’ve done it before.” “It’s true,” I said, looking down. “We made plans to go to the library. I’m not making it up.” Claire raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you just do the lab first? It won’t take that long.” “No.” I glanced at my watch. “I’m going to be late. I have to go.” The smile on Claire’s face faded. She gave Leo’s arm a slight tug. “Can you guys talk to her for me? Maybe she’s mad at me for asking so much. Or… are you dating someone now? Was it that guy who walked you home the other day?” In my peripheral vision, I saw the expressions on Leo and Nathan’s faces darken. Nathan blocked my path. “Who walked you home last time? Who are these plans with?” Before I could answer, Leo slammed his hand against the wall next to my head, trapping me. “In such a hurry to leave?” His voice was a low growl. “Lia, spell it out. Are you seeing someone?” His eyes were dark, intense. “Who is it?!” “Me.” Noah walked into the classroom, pulling me out from under Leo’s arm. He was just as tall as Leo, and he met his glare with a calm, even smile. “Lia has plans with me today.” He turned to me. “Ready to go?” He took my backpack, and as we walked out, his gaze swept over Nathan, as cool and undisturbed as a calm lake.

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I had a theory: Leo Maxwell, the unofficial king of Northwood Prep, was into me. He’d stood before me, clutching a pink envelope, his face flushed beet red. “I heard,” he’d stammered, “that you’re from a single-parent family. Me too.” “So… what would you think if my mom married your dad? Then I could be your brother.” Excuse me? I thought I was the one with the secret admirer. Turns out, it was my dad. And so, three years after my own mother walked out on us, my father and I married into a fortune. A year later, fraternal twins were born. And with that, my dad’s new role as the beloved patriarch of the Maxwell dynasty was set in stone. My brand-new, ridiculously wealthy stepbrother would cling to my dad, sobbing his eyes out. “I’m finally not just some kid without a dad anymore!” he’d wail. 1 I have a theory: Leo Maxwell, the unofficial king of Northwood Prep, is into me. And I have evidence. During gym class, his eyes are always finding their way to me. The second I look back, he snaps his head away, but the bright red tips of his ears give him away every time. It’s the kind of blush that screams I’ve been caught staring. He gets so flustered that once, he didn’t even react when a basketball came flying straight at his face. He ended up with a bloody nose and a ticket to the nurse’s office for the rest of the day. Then, during study hall, I turned to check the clock and caught him staring at the back of my head, a goofy, unfocused smile plastered on his face. Even my best friend, Chloe, who’s the undisputed gossip queen of our grade, leaned over to whisper, “Ava, word is Leo Maxwell has a crush on someone. He bought pink stationery. Like, he’s going to write an actual, physical letter.” My stomach dropped. Oh, God. He’s going to ask me out. I had the sudden, violent urge to start rolling on the floor and begging him not to. What if I say no? He’s a Maxwell. They practically own this town, and their name is on half the buildings at this school. He could probably get me expelled with a single phone call. I’m here on a full scholarship. That academic grant is the only thing patching the gaping hole in my family’s finances. The thought of my dad—my kind, handsome, perpetually worried dad—frowning over an expulsion letter and then sighing at our empty bank account… I just couldn’t. This is my fate, then. I have to say yes. I have to pretend to be Leo Maxwell’s girlfriend until graduation. To avoid becoming a high school dropout, and to prevent my dad from having to sell his soul to some lonely rich widow, I’ll do it. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. I can do this. I started mentally rehearsing my acceptance speech, even pulling out a notebook to script the lines. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the classroom, I packed my bag with excruciating slowness. One textbook. Pause. Another. Finally, it was just me and Leo left in the empty room. I heard his footsteps approaching, each one a drumbeat against my ribs. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. “Ava Collins.” Leo stood in front of my desk, his face flushed. The usual swagger and I-own-the-world arrogance were gone. In their place was the meekness of a lamb. He wouldn’t even meet my eyes. I took a silent, deep breath, running through the lines I’d spent all afternoon perfecting. He carefully pulled a pink envelope from behind his back. On the front was a hand-drawn picture of two stick figures holding hands. Next to them were two even smaller stick figures, a boy and a girl. I was floored. He’d already planned out our future family, right down to the gender of our kids. The depth of his affection was… terrifying. “Ava,” he began. “Present,” I yelped, a conditioned reflex from years of school. Damn you, Pavlov. He gave me a weird look before continuing. “Could you do me a favor and give this to Mr. Collins?” I blinked. “Huh?” What kind of move was this? A love letter that needed my dad’s approval first? “I heard you’re from a single-parent family,” he said, his voice softer. “Me too.” I nodded slowly. From that perspective, we were in the same boat. A little mutual support group, I could understand that. “So,” he said, his eyes finally lighting up, bright and hopeful like a golden retriever’s, “what do you think about me becoming your brother?” “…What?” What was happening? Wasn’t this a confession of love? Was this some kind of weird roleplay scenario? Start as brother and sister and then… evolve? I didn’t get it, but I respected the hustle. If that’s what he was into, I could grit my teeth and go along with it. Leo pressed his advantage, clearly mistaking my stunned silence for consideration. “It was love at first sight with Mr. Collins. I’ve always wanted a dad just like him.” My brain short-circuited. Before I could reboot, he snatched the envelope back, tore it open, and pulled out a single sheet of paper. It wasn’t a letter. It was a résumé. The photo was of a woman in a sharp, tailored blazer, her hair pulled back in an elegant twist. She looked poised, powerful, and intimidatingly beautiful. Leo held up the paper and launched into a full-blown presentation. “This is my mother, Isabelle Maxwell. 38 years old, CEO of Maxwell Corp, net worth in the nine figures. She’s beautiful, she’s rich, and she has only one son, yours truly. She’s the perfect match for our dad. I know she can be a little… intense, but our dad is so gentle. They’ll complement each other perfectly.” He was on a roll now, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve already got it all planned out. Today’s Friday. They can meet this weekend. If it goes well, they can be at the courthouse by Monday.” He spoke with such passionate conviction, you’d think he was already standing at the wedding, watching our parents walk down the aisle. I finally found my voice. “Whoa, hang on. What do you mean, our dad?” I asked, cutting through his fantasy. “Since when is my dad your dad? And marriage? Does your mother even know you’re setting her up on a blind date?” Leo paused, then gave a firm, resolute nod. “She knows. And she agreed.” 2 By the time I walked out of the school gates, clutching the repurposed love letter, the campus was nearly deserted. I couldn’t stop replaying Leo’s parting words, and the way he’d pitched his voice higher in a forced, syrupy tone. A shiver ran down my spine. “Ava, my dear sister, you have to give this to our dad, okay?” he’d chirped. “Don’t you worry, our mom will take amazing care of him. And I’ll be the best big brother ever. From now on, I’ve got your back at this school.” I managed a tight, pained smile that felt more like a grimace. Ethan Collins, my dear father, was already waiting by the school entrance. He was leaning against a lamppost in a simple button-down shirt, looking like a quiet poem amidst the afternoon chaos. People walking by couldn’t help but glance his way. He was pushing forty, but he still carried an air of tranquility that seemed to make time slow down around him. When he saw me, his face broke into a warm smile. He walked over, took my heavy backpack, and gently wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead. “Rough day?” he asked, his voice softer than a spring breeze. “I made that beef brisket you like. It’s waiting for us at home.” I knew my dad was charming. He’d been voted “Most Popular Professor” at his university multiple times. After he and my mom divorced, a string of wealthy women had practically thrown themselves at him. Some of his old admirers even offered to divorce their own husbands for a chance. One of his college students, a girl barely ten years older than me, once earnestly tried to convince him to let her be my new stepmom. But this? This was a whole new level. The CEO’s son, acting as a matchmaker. My dad’s looks were a legitimate public hazard. “Beauty is a curse,” I muttered to myself as I walked toward his beat-up bicycle. “A total curse.” He just ruffled my hair, a quiet laugh playing on his lips. That night, before bed, I remembered my mission. I formally presented the letter from the “filial son in desperate search of a father.” “This is from a kid in my class, Leo Maxwell,” I explained. “He wants you to marry his mom so he can be your son.” My dad took the envelope, a look of utter confusion on his face. As he read the contents, a disbelieving smile spread across his lips. “Oh, it’s him,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I’ve run into him a few times. He’s a very polite young man.” As for the weekend meeting Leo had proposed, neither of us took it seriously. Why would a high-powered CEO be interested in us? A moderately handsome university professor with a mountain of debt and a teenage daughter who came as part of the package deal. The next morning, I went with my dad to the farmer’s market to buy groceries. We were planning to make braised pork for lunch. He had a freelance translation project lined up for the afternoon, which probably meant another all-nighter for him. When my parents divorced, he’d walked away with almost nothing, except for me. He still had the mortgage to pay off on the house he gave my mom. He had to borrow from every friend and relative he knew just to pay it off early. The moment the papers were signed, my mom sold the house. With tears in her eyes, she said her goodbyes and left town. She said she couldn’t stand living a life where she could see the end from the beginning. She had to go find her own worth. So my dad and I moved into a tiny one-bedroom apartment. He started working harder than ever, taking on any side gig he could find. The pay was never great, and it drained him completely. Clients were always late with their payments. But with his debts and a money-guzzling daughter to feed, he had no choice but to keep grinding. The easy, breezy smile he used to have, the one that reminded me of a clear mountain spring, slowly became clouded with the grit of real-world exhaustion. That’s when the first rich divorcee showed up. She was a client a colleague had referred, and she loved his translation work. She loved him even more. She wanted to “get to know him better.” That ended quickly, and he lost the client. Thankfully, he eventually found a good agency that gave him steady work, and our lives slowly stabilized. We finally reached a point where we didn’t have to meticulously budget every time I needed a new pair of jeans. But for years, I had the same recurring nightmare: my dad would leave with one of those rich women, and she’d decide I was too much baggage and leave me behind. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, tiptoeing out of my bed and using my phone’s flashlight to make sure he was still there. He never made me feel like baggage, though. He always called me the beautiful product of their love. But what happens when one half of that love decides they don’t want the product anymore? How long can something like that stay whole? 3 I was still trying to process the whiplash. One minute, I was haggling over the price of pork belly at the market, and the next, I was sitting in a lavish, gold-leafed private dining room, watching Leo Maxwell obsequiously pour my dad a glass of water. He and two guys built like refrigerators had literally bundled us into a black SUV and brought us here. “Dad, have some water. Please, make yourself at home,” Leo chirped, his voice dripping with eagerness. “My mom got held up with something, but she’ll be here any minute.” He carefully took the bag with the pork belly from my dad’s hands and set it aside as if it were a sacred artifact. My dad accepted the water with a polite nod, taking a small sip. Leo, ever the thoughtful host, hadn’t forgotten about his new “little sister.” He grunted as he heaved a gigantic gift box onto the table in front of me. “Ava, my sister! The guy at the bookstore said this is the ultimate SAT prep package. I bought you the whole set. Hope you like it!” I stared at the box, which came up to my shins. “How long is this supposed to take me?” I whispered in horror. I could probably write until my hand fell off and still not finish it all. I think he bought out the entire test prep section. Leo grinned, flashing a set of pearly white teeth, and waved his hand dismissively. “Do what you can! If you don’t finish, who cares? We’re loaded. Money is the one thing we’re not short on. As long as our dad agrees to marry our mom, I guarantee you’ll be living the high life.” I shot a desperate, frantic look at my dad. He just offered a helpless smile. To him, this was all just a kid’s over-the-top game, probably born from a deep-seated wish for a father. Teenagers, after all, were known for their dramatic whims. He and Leo fell into an easy conversation. They talked about school, about mental health, about the time Leo wet the bed as a kid, and the time I got into a fistfight in elementary school. A nostalgic look crossed my dad’s face. “Ava used to be so tiny,” he said, holding his hand up to his waist. “Maybe up to here on you. Some kid called her chubby, so she marched right up and punched him. Then she told him he was only skinny because his parents were too cheap to feed him properly, and that he looked like a beanpole.” Spurred on by Leo’s rapt attention, my dad pulled out his phone and started showing him my baby pictures. Leo stared at the photo of a chubby little girl on the screen with pure adoration. “She’s so cute! How could anyone call her chubby? If I had a little sister like that, I’d protect her from everything. Dad, don’t you worry. From now on, I’ll look out for Ava at school. I won’t let anyone mess with her.” He puffed out his chest and slapped it for emphasis. My dad smiled. “Well, thank you, Leo. That’s very kind of you. If you have time next week, you should come over to our place. I can cook for you. My specialties are beef brisket and braised pork. What are your favorite foods? I’ll make them for you.” Leo transformed. This was the same guy who was notoriously picky at the school cafeteria, but now he was the model of compliance. “Dad, I’ll eat anything! I’m not picky at all. Whatever you make is fine.” His voice grew quiet, and he looked down, as if wiping something from his eye. “It’s been a long time since I had a home-cooked meal. I… I just want to know what that feels like again.” That did it. My dad’s heart melted on the spot. His own parental instincts went into overdrive. He completely overlooked the “dad” thing. “Leo,” he said, gently placing a hand on the boy’s head. “Anytime you want a home-cooked meal, you come to my house. I’ll cook for you.” Leo seized the opportunity, wrapping his arms around my dad’s waist and burying his head in his stomach. “So this is what it feels like to have a dad,” he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. My dad looked like he was about to cry, too. Ever since I was born, he’s had a massive soft spot for kids in need. He’s the guy who steps in when he sees another parent being too harsh, the one who brings homemade cookies to the neighbor’s kid. He’s the dream dad of every kid in our apartment building. I once heard a boy plotting with his mother: “Mom, you should divorce Dad. Mr. Collins is so much nicer. You could marry him, and he could be my new dad.” He earned a spanking for that, and his cries echoed through the entire building. Watching the two of them in this touching, bizarre tableau, I felt a wave of secondhand embarrassment so strong I wanted to crawl under the table. Just as I was seriously considering it, the door to the private room swung open. A woman with an aura of crisp, executive authority strode in. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. 4 She walked directly to my father and extended a hand. “Hello. I’m Isabelle Maxwell. I believe I’m your blind date for today.” Her voice was smooth and confident. “We’ve met before, briefly, so let’s skip the formalities.” My dad stared at her, completely stunned. It took him a few seconds to stand and shake her hand. “Hello,” he managed. He hesitated, then added, “Blind date? You mean…?” Isabelle smiled, pulling a sleek credit card from her purse and handing it to Leo. “Leo, darling, take your sister and do some shopping. Buy whatever you like.” She then turned her attention from my bewildered father to me. She knelt down, her sharp business demeanor softening as she gently smoothed my hair. “You must be Ava. It’s so lovely to finally meet you. I have a little welcome gift for you in the car; we can get it on your way out. Right now, I need to have a little chat with your father. Why don’t you go with your big brother Leo and have some fun? Don’t worry about saving my money.” And just like that, I was being half-dragged, half-escorted out of the room by Leo. “Don’t worry, sis,” he whispered conspiratorially. “We gotta give our parents some space to, you know, build a connection. Come on, let’s hit the mall! I’ll buy you designer bags, diamonds, whatever you want! We’ve got the cash!” The last thing I saw before the heavy door clicked shut was Isabelle Maxwell’s hand resting gently on my father’s. And he didn’t pull away. He didn’t pull away! I remember the second wealthy widow who tried her luck. She’d attempted a casual little hand-hold to “connect,” and my dad had recoiled like he’d been electrocuted, putting a solid six feet of distance between them. But now, with Isabelle, his hand was still in hers, and a faint blush was creeping up his neck. The only other person I’d ever seen him look at like that was my own mother. I think I’m actually getting a new mom. I wandered through the gleaming mall like a ghost, trailing behind a hyperactive Leo whose favorite new phrases were, “You like this, sis?” and “Silence means yes! Charge it!” I didn’t even have time to process the thought of my-dad-is-remarrying because I was too busy trying to fend off Leo’s relentless shopping spree. “No, no, that’s way too expensive!” “Please, stop, you’ve already bought too much.” He just waved his black card at the sales associate. “It’s not expensive if you don’t look at the price tag. Money is meant to be spent. The more you spend, the more motivated our mom will be to earn more.” The two bodyguards following us were quickly accumulating a mountain of shopping bags. I didn’t even want to count the number of zeroes on the price tag of the necklace he’d just bought. Leo was in a full-blown retail frenzy. Dear Dad, back in that private room, I thought desperately, for the love of God, just say yes to Ms. Maxwell. There’s no other way out of this. Selling us both into servitude wouldn’t even begin to cover this bill. 5 Things moved at lightning speed. Even though I’d braced myself, I was still caught off guard. To put it simply: an old flame, once rekindled, burns hotter than a wildfire. When middle-aged people fall in love, they don’t mess around. I watched my dad’s defenses crumble day by day. He was smiling more, a permanent, soft curve to his lips. There was a new light in his eyes, a springtime warmth that had been missing for years. And Isabelle looked at him with an undisguised, tender affection that melted her corporate armor. The air between them was so thick with chemistry it was practically visible. I had a feeling moving boxes were in our near future. Isabelle seemed ready to annex my father into her territory immediately. But they were both tactful enough to give Leo and me what they thought was an “adjustment period.” Leo, of course, needed no such thing. The moment it was semi-official, he broke down in a flood of tears, snot and all. “I’m finally going to have a dad,” he wailed. I passed him a tissue, feeling a profound sense of secondhand embarrassment. How did I ever mistake this guy for a school tyrant? He was just a big, overgrown kid with bleached hair and a leaky tear duct. Why did he want a father so badly? When my mom left, I was sad, but I was okay. If she and my dad had stayed together, they would have just grown to resent each other. They didn’t fall out of love; they just weren’t compatible anymore. Separating was the kindest thing they could do for each other. They were always honest with me about it, and I understood. Before I could even ask, Leo, red-eyed and looking a little pathetic, started explaining on his own. The usual happy-go-lucky mask he wore had slipped, revealing a rare glimpse of melancholy. “You probably think I’m being super dramatic, don’t you, Ava?” Everyone has their own way of dealing with things. I wasn’t going to judge. He looked at me earnestly. “Maybe it seems like I’m overreacting, but I really, really want your dad to be my dad. I’ve wanted a dad for a long, long time. And I want my mom to have someone who will truly be her partner for the rest of her life.” He wiped his eyes and gave a self-deprecating laugh. “You know, my parents were the ‘it’ couple of their social circle back in the day. You can still hear people talk about what a shame it was they divorced. But if it doesn’t fit, it doesn’t fit. When I was a kid, my dad used me as a weapon against her. He knew my nanny was awful to me, but he did nothing about it. He wanted to force my mom to quit her job and come home to take care of me herself. He’d coach me, tell me to cry and beg my mom to stop working so much and pay more attention to our family.” “For a while, I did resent her,” he admitted. “I thought it was all her fault, that if she wasn’t so obsessed with her career, I wouldn’t be the kid with a broken home. All I had was a cold, empty house full of stuff I didn’t want.” “But as I got older, I realized how lucky I was that she didn’t give up her career for me. That man, my biological father, had the exact same job as her, but he always acted like her work was less valuable. Like she was the one who was supposed to make all the sacrifices for the family, just because she was a woman. That’s not fair. Before they got married, he loved that she was brilliant and ambitious. After, he wanted to use me to chain her to the house. My mom is Isabelle Maxwell, the CEO of a major corporation! She’s supposed to be out there, shining.” “If he wanted a trophy wife, he shouldn’t have married a titan,” Leo said, his head held high with pride, like a peacock admiring its own feathers. I couldn’t help but be impressed. “You figured all that out? That’s really smart.” He tossed his blond hair. “Of course. I have to be smart if I’m going to be your brother. What really pissed me off was how he remarried and had new kids almost immediately after the divorce. Like, why does he get to have a happy, perfect family while my mom is supposed to be alone? It made it seem like she was the problem. I couldn’t choose my first dad, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get to choose my next one. And our dad is a million times better than that guy.” He was so fired up, so fiercely loyal. I gave him a genuine thumbs-up. A true filial son of the modern age. And he had good taste. My dad was a gem—a kind, gentle, honorable man. For that speech alone, I decided, I would accept him as my brother. Wholeheartedly. 6 So, here we are. My dad and Isabelle are head-over-heels, just one trip to the courthouse away from making it official. They’re adults; they know what they’re doing. At first, my dad was worried about me, wanting to have a “big talk” to make sure I was okay with everything. But he was talking to me. Ava Collins. An emotional capybara, steadfast and unbothered. A human water pig. When he and my mom got divorced, I didn’t cry or throw a tantrum. I just accepted it. You can’t hold onto sand, so you might as well let it go. If my parents couldn’t walk the same path anymore, it was better for them to part ways. Was I supposed to scream and kick and chain them together? I learned at age three that throwing a fit just gets your clothes dirty. It’s not my style. Even if I was sad, even if I was scared. And I knew this was inevitable now. I couldn’t selfishly keep my dad from finding love again. If Leo, with his failing math grades, could figure that out, then so could I. He was already calling my dad “Dad” with zero hesitation. The least I could do was not embarrass my own father. So, while Dad was away on a business trip this week, I accepted my future stepmom’s invitation to stay at her place. The official reason was to help tutor my future brother. Unofficially, it was a trial run. And frankly, his grades were so atrocious I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. I even suggested to Isabelle that we hire him a team of tutors. Summer break was coming up; it was time for academic boot camp. Leo, blissfully unaware of the rigorous educational future I was plotting for him, was all smiles as we walked out of school together. “Hey, sis! You wanna get that Thai food you liked last time? I promised our dad I’d fatten you up while he was gone.” I nodded. “Sure. But you have to finish your math homework tonight. You got a 30 on the last test. Out of 150. Leo, even a 60 would be an improvement.” The mere mention of his test scores made him deflate like a punctured balloon. I sighed. Before I could offer a word of encouragement, a voice I hadn’t heard in years sliced through the air, freezing me in place. “Ava.” It was cool and clear, yet laced with a soft, hopeful warmth. I turned toward the sound, my heart stuttering. The woman standing there was just as beautiful as I remembered, radiant and luminous, like a sliver of moonlight gracing the earth. Maybe even more beautiful than when she’d left. The two words I had locked away for three years tumbled out of my mouth in a daze. “Mom.”

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Ten years ago, a car crash stole my memory. I was a woman who swore she’d never marry. My parents saw their chance. They handed me over to the man they’d chosen, Ethan Thorne. But Ethan despised me. His heart belonged to someone else—the one that got away. Marrying me was just an obligation, a concession to his family’s pressure. I thought a child might bridge the chasm between us, but after our son was born, Ethan started bringing her home. And Aidan, my son, who used to cling to my leg, slowly turned against me. He learned that insulting me was the quickest way to win his father’s approval, and hers. They looked just like a family. A perfect, happy family of three. Then, over something trivial, Aidan shoved me down the stairs. I hit my head. And in the sterile quiet of a hospital room, I woke up. I remembered everything. 1 The flood of information was overwhelming, a decade of a life I didn’t choose crashing down on me all at once. My mother was sobbing beside the bed, a frantic, grating sound that made my head throb. A vein pulsed violently at my temple. “Stop crying.” Her tears choked off instantly. I frowned, the skin between my brows tight. “How is what you did any different from human trafficking?” “I’m sorry, Clara,” she whispered, her eyes red-rimmed and pleading. “Your father and I… we just wanted to see you settled. To have a family.” My gaze dropped to the burn on the back of my hand, the skin still puckered and angry. I’d gotten it a few days ago, making soup for my husband and son. Neither of them took a single bite. Aidan dumped the entire pot down the toilet, claiming the sight of it made him sick. Seeing my silence, my mother reached for my hand. “Clara, look, you have a child now. He’s a wonderful boy. Can’t you just… try to make a life with Ethan? For Aidan’s sake?” I pulled my hand from her grasp. “I’ll think about it.” My mind was a chaotic storm. I never wanted to get married. I certainly never felt equipped to raise a child. But the facts were unavoidable. The damage was done. It felt like I’d woken up from a long sleep to find my world had ended. Just then, the door swung open and Ethan walked in. His eyes flickered to the white gauze wrapped around my head before his face settled into its usual cold mask. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone flat. “I’m fine.” His voice deepened, already shifting into a defensive posture. “Aidan didn’t mean to push you,” he said. “You can’t put all the blame on him.” He turned toward the door. “Aidan. Come in here and apologize to your mother.” A bitter, ironic laugh caught in my throat. Aidan. For Ava. The son I had given birth to was just another piece of their twisted fantasy. Aidan shuffled in, his face set in a sullen pout. He stood by my bed, silent, refusing to speak. My mother gave him a gentle nudge. “Go on, sweetie. Apologize to Mommy.” He mumbled it, the words barely audible and dripping with resentment. “Sorry.” “Okay.” Aidan’s eyes widened in surprise. He was expecting the usual routine: me rushing to comfort him, absolving him of all blame, probably even apologizing for being in his way. My mother quickly stepped in to smooth things over. “Well, that’s that! All settled. We’ll just let bygones be bygones.” She smiled brightly. “I’ll drive you all home.” 2 Back in the house that had never felt like mine, Ethan grabbed his car keys from the hook by the door. “You should get started on dinner. Aidan hasn’t eaten yet.” “I’m heading back to the office,” he added, shrugging on his coat. “Don’t wait up.” He was out the door before I could respond. I stood in the kitchen, surrounded by gleaming appliances and expensive cookware, and felt a strange, detached sense of familiarity. The woman I was before the accident couldn’t cook to save her life. This woman, this ten-year stranger, could apparently prepare a gourmet meal. The hands that had once played piano and held a paintbrush were now covered in calluses, rough as sandpaper. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you cooking? I’m hungry.” Aidan stood behind me, his small face dark with impatience. I pressed my lips together and turned to the sink, my movements stiff as I started washing vegetables. He watched me for a moment longer, then, satisfied, left the kitchen. When the food was ready, I set the steaming plates on the dining room table. Aidan took one bite and slammed his fork down. “This is disgusting,” he spat. “Can’t you do anything right? You’ve been cooking for ten years and you’re still terrible at it.” I sat down and calmly tasted each dish. They weren’t terrible. In fact, they were good—as good as anything our family chef used to make. Aidan muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. “Useless. Can’t even cook.” He sighed dramatically. “Not like Aunt Ava. She can paint, and she knows how to race cars. She can do anything.” He looked me right in the eye. “I don’t know why Dad ever married you. You’re nothing compared to her.” His words, sharp and practiced, hung in the air. Expressionless, I reached over and took his plate away. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to eat it.” His jaw dropped, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Are you trying to starve me?” A muscle tightened in my cheek. “You’re the one who said it was disgusting.” “So make me something else!” he demanded, his face flushing with anger. “I’m not your maid.” I turned my attention back to my own plate and continued eating. With a furious scream, Aidan kicked the leg of the table, jumped down from his chair, and stormed off to his room. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. 3 “Why didn’t you feed our son?” Ethan was home, his face a thunderous mask as he confronted me in the living room. “Aidan didn’t mean to push you, Clara. Do you really need to be this petty with a seven-year-old?” I glanced past Ethan’s shoulder. Aidan’s bedroom door was cracked open, a sliver of light cutting through the darkness. I could feel him watching, listening. When my eyes met the crack, the door silently closed. “He said my cooking was disgusting,” I said, my voice even. I met Ethan’s gaze directly, without the fear and deference he was used to. He yanked at his tie, his voice rising. “So you make him something else! He’s a child, for God’s sake. You can’t just let him go hungry.” A softer figure appeared behind him. Ava. She slid her arm through Ethan’s, her touch instantly calming him. “Ethan, darling, don’t shout,” she murmured, her voice like honey. “You’ll frighten Clara.” She looked at me, a picture of gentle concern. “We can talk about this calmly.” Ethan’s posture relaxed. He took her hand, his expression softening. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just got worked up.” He looked at Ava, his eyes full of a tenderness I had never seen. “Did I scare you?” She shook her head, her smile serene. “Just don’t get so angry. It’s not good for you.” I was used to this. Used to Ava being a permanent fixture in our home. After Aidan was born, she was here constantly. She spent every Christmas with us. Every New Year’s Eve, the three of them would go outside to light fireworks, a perfect family portrait against the night sky, while I was inside, cleaning up the dinner party they’d left behind. I had swallowed my pride and endured this humiliation for a decade. And in that moment, something inside me finally snapped. I had lived ten years of this pathetic, suffocating lie, all because of a memory I’d lost. Now that it was back, why should I live this way for one more second? “I want a divorce.” “What did you say?” Ethan’s voice was sharp with disbelief. “A divorce.” He stared at me for a beat, then let out a short, incredulous laugh, as if I’d told the most absurd joke in the world. “Your family was the one who forced this marriage on me, and now you want a divorce?” “Clara, don’t be impulsive,” Ava said, her eyes welling with manufactured tears. She let go of Ethan’s arm and stepped toward me. “Is it because of me and Ethan? Did you misunderstand something?” She looked heartbroken. “I’ll keep my distance from now on, I promise. Please, don’t do this. Don’t let Aidan grow up without a mother.” The performance was so flawless it made my stomach turn. I had fallen for it before. The old, amnesiac Clara would have believed her, only for Ava to run to Ethan later, twisting my words and making me seem like the villain. It was a game they played, a game that had steadily poisoned my husband and son against me. “My lawyer will be in touch with you to discuss the details.” I didn’t waste another word. I walked past them and started packing a suitcase. “Stop playing these games, Clara,” Ethan snarled from behind me, his voice laced with contempt. “Your pathetic little schemes don’t work on me.” He stormed out. Ava shot me a triumphant, pitying look before hurrying after him. “Ethan!” 4 Aidan stood in my doorway, beaming. “Are you really leaving?” I didn’t answer him. He clapped his hands together, practically dancing with excitement. “Great! After you’re gone, Aunt Ava can be my new mom!” My hands paused for a fraction of a second over the suitcase before moving even faster. I had to get out of this house. The stupidity of the child, the insanity of the man—it was suffocating. Aidan kicked the side of my suitcase. “Hurry up. Pack your stuff and get out.” He narrowed his eyes, mimicking his father’s disdainful expression. “You’re dragging this out on purpose, aren’t you? Trying to think of some new trick.” He scoffed. “Dad was right. You’re a nasty woman, full of bad ideas.” A laugh escaped my lips, sharp and humorless. For years, I had treated this boy like he was the center of my universe. And now he was telling me to get out, calling me a nasty woman. You could raise a dog for seven years, and it would at least wag its tail when it saw you. I had raised a son for seven years, and he wanted someone else to be his mother. Ethan’s genes were truly something else. I zipped the suitcase shut and walked past him without a word. As I reached the front door, he called out, his voice giddy with victory. “Don’t bother coming back! Nobody wants you here. Aunt Ava is my real mom. She’s the lady of this house now.” 5 After leaving the Thorne residence, I went to my own villa—a place Ethan knew nothing about. A text from him came through: Where did you go? Without hesitating, I deleted and blocked his number, along with all his social media profiles. He didn’t know about the properties in my name; I wasn’t worried about him finding me. But you should never tempt fate. It has a way of slapping you in the face. The next day, Ethan was standing on my doorstep, his face dark as a storm cloud. Without a doubt, my parents had sold me out. Again. “What are you doing here?” I asked, holding the door open just a crack. He reached for my arm. “Come home.” I recoiled, pulling back before he could touch me. “I wasn’t joking about the divorce.” He frowned, his expression a mask of genuine confusion. “You want to end our marriage just because Aidan accidentally pushed you down the stairs? He apologized, Clara. What more do you want?” He sounded exasperated. “Is it really worth throwing everything away over one little incident?” I took a deep breath, forcing down the rage that threatened to boil over. “Mr. Thorne, a divorce is the best option for both of us. You’ll be free to pursue your great love and be with the person you actually want. And I can finally live the life I want.” He laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “The life you want? Isn’t that with me? A happy family of three? Isn’t that why your mother called me, pressuring me to come get you?” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low snarl. “Stop the act, Clara. I know your games.” I had told my mother last night I was leaving him. I should have known she wouldn’t listen. His anger washed over me, but I remained perfectly still, my face a blank canvas. “That was their dream, Ethan. Not mine.” My voice was calm, clear. “And I will make it clear to them that they are to stay out of our business from now on.” His brow furrowed, skepticism etched into every line on his face. “I never wanted to get married,” I explained. “My parents took advantage of my amnesia after the accident. They lied to me. Now, my memory is back. And I want my own life back.” I paused, looking him directly in the eye. “I am sorry that you were forced to marry me. I truly am. But for the last ten years… you owe me an apology, too.” Ethan froze. His pupils dilated, his face a kaleidoscope of shock and disbelief. “Pick a day,” I said, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Let’s go sign the papers.” 6 After Ethan left, I drove straight to my parents’ house to settle the score. I found them in the living room, sipping tea and watching television, looking startled by my sudden arrival. I dropped onto the sofa without a word. Mrs. Chen, our longtime housekeeper and a master at reading the room, immediately appeared with a glass of my favorite mango juice, a silent offering of peace. “Mrs. Chen, could you give us a minute? I need to speak with my parents alone.” She glanced nervously at the couple, who were practically begging her with their eyes to stay. Then she looked at my face, which was as black as thunder. She wisely chose to obey me, disappearing back into the kitchen. “Clara,” my father began, his voice trembling slightly. “What a nice surprise. What brings you home today?” “Have you decided to formally adopt Ethan as your son?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “Planning on handing the company over to him?” They both waved their hands frantically. “No, no, of course not!” my mother insisted. “We’ve doted on you since you were a little girl. Why would we ever do that?” My eyes narrowed. “Then why did you lie to me? Why did you make me marry him?” “We just wanted to see you settled,” my mother stammered. “Happy.” “Happy?” I repeated. “Do you have any idea what my life has been like for the past ten years?” She looked genuinely surprised. “But your mother-in-law always said you two were so happy together. And you seemed to like Ethan so much.” She wrung her hands. “He was always so good to you, so respectful to us. He did whatever I asked.” I held out my hand, showing them the angry red burn. “This is what your ‘good son-in-law’ looks like.” I lowered my hand. “A person with no memory who is forced into a marriage doesn’t fall in love. She becomes dependent on her husband because she has no one else. That isn’t love.” I stood up, my voice hard as steel. “Instead of trying to stop me from getting a divorce, why don’t you do some research into what he’s actually been doing for the last decade.” “I am divorcing him. And I don’t want the child.” My voice didn’t waver. “I will not raise a child who has already betrayed me.”

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The call came just as I was wiping down the marble countertop of the patisserie, the scent of sugar and browned butter clinging to the air. “Hello? Where are the fifty strawberry chiffon cakes I ordered?” The voice was sharp, laced with an impatience that set my teeth on edge. I frowned, my mind instantly scrolling through the day’s orders. A fifty-cake order? I’d remember that. It would have been half my day. After a quick double-check of our system, I confirmed my suspicion. Nothing. “Ma’am, I’m so sorry, but we don’t seem to have an order under that description. Is it possible you called a different bakery?” The line went silent for a beat, then a click. She’d hung up. I shrugged it off. A simple mistake. Ten minutes later, the same number flashed on the caller ID. “What is wrong with you people? I just called to chase my order. Are you stupid?” This time, before I could even form a response, she hung up again. The final call came just as I was about to lock up for the evening. “Are you trying to go out of business? You took my money. Where is my product?” I pressed my fingers to my temples, forcing down a wave of exhaustion and anger. I took a slow, calming breath. “Ma’am,” I said, my voice measured. “Could you please send me a screenshot of your order confirmation? I’d be happy to sort this out for you.” “What did you just say to me?” Her voice pitched into a shriek. “Are you calling me a liar?” Later that evening, an email landed in my inbox from the corporate head office. A formal complaint had been filed against me. The reason: Moral turpitude. Seducing a married man. 1 My head was spinning with rage. The call from my regional manager, a man whose voice dripped with condescending, father-knows-best bullshit, did nothing to help. “Clara, look, I’m not trying to tell you how to live your life,” he’d said, “but you’re a young woman. You need to focus on hard work, not take shortcuts.” “What are you talking about? Shortcuts?” “I’ve smoothed this over for now,” he continued, ignoring my question. “Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.” The moment I hung up, the bell on the shop door chimed violently as it was shoved open. A woman, impeccably dressed in a style that screamed ‘I have more money than taste,’ stormed in. She pointed a perfectly manicured finger directly at me. “It’s you, isn’t it?” she spat. “Store manager at your age. Who’d you have to sleep with to get this job?” Only a few customers were lingering, finishing their evening coffee. The air crackled with tension. I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my composure. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you have any proof for these accusations? Because without it, this is slander, and I am well within my rights to call the police.” She didn’t flinch. Instead, she threw her head back and laughed, a shrill, ugly sound. It was as if I’d told the funniest joke in the world. Her heels clicked menacingly on the tile floor as she advanced on me. With a single, fluid motion, she swept an entire tray of our signature macarons off the display counter. They scattered across the floor like shattered jewels. My youngest employee, a sweet girl fresh out of high school, gasped and covered her mouth with her hands. The woman was still yelling. “The police? Go on, call them! You think you have the right after the disgusting things you’ve done?” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss, loud enough for the whole shop to hear. “I get it. Girls like you, from nothing, you have to claw your way up. You see a rich man and you latch on.” Her eyes narrowed into slits. “But you don’t touch my man. He is not for trash like you to even look at.” Her voice, sharp and piercing, had drawn a small crowd of onlookers who were now peering in through the front window. I felt my cheeks burn. “Who is your man?” I asked, my voice tight. “And who the hell are you?” “Still playing dumb!” she shrieked, her face contorting with rage. She cast a proprietary, bitter glance around my beautiful shop—the shop I had poured my life into. “The man who owns this entire bakery franchise is my father. You’re asking me who I am?” She turned to her audience. “Everyone, come and see! This slut is trying to sleep her way to the top by seducing a married man, and now she has the nerve to give me attitude!” Her dad? A vein throbbed in my temple. This bakery, Sweet Blooms Patisserie, was a well-known national chain. I’d paid a two-million-dollar franchise fee, every cent from my own accounts, to open this location. And I knew the founder of the company personally. He didn’t have a daughter. The woman was relentless. “My husband came in the other day to buy me some macarons. He told me how you were batting your eyelashes at him, how you made sure to touch his hand when you gave him his change. You whore.” I stared at her like she was insane. Her long, glittering nails were inches from my face. And then, I laughed. A real, genuine laugh. The sound of it startled her into silence. Even the onlookers outside seemed to hold their breath. “I have no idea who your husband is,” I said, my voice steady now. “But by all means, have him come here. I’d love to have a chat with him, face to face.” “Have him come here?” She smirked, a triumphant, ‘I-knew-it’ expression spreading across her face. “So you can try to seduce him again, right in front of me? I’m not that stupid.” I was fighting a losing battle against the fury boiling inside me. “This shop is mine. I paid the two-million-dollar franchise fee in full. Even if you were the founder’s daughter, you have no right to come in here and spread these lies.” “Two million?” She made a sound of disgust. “Please.” She looked me up and down with utter contempt. “Where did a girl like you get two million dollars? On your knees?” A few snickers erupted from the crowd outside. My young employee, her face bright red, stepped forward. “That’s not true! Our manager isn’t like that at all, she…” The woman cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Oh, look, she’s brainwashed the little helper. Or is everyone who works in this store a cheap tramp?” That was it. My composure, stretched thin for so long, finally snapped. I slammed my palm down on the marble counter. “Shut your mouth.” 2 The sharp crack echoed through the shop, silencing everything. Even the faces peering through the window went still. I fixed my eyes on the woman. “You’d better have evidence for every single thing you just said,” I said, my voice low and cold. “Because when I call the police, and I will, you’re going to be in a lot of trouble.” I pulled out my phone and dialed the first two digits of 911, making sure she could see. Her eyes widened slightly. With a swift movement, she knocked the phone out of my hand. It clattered to the floor. She hadn’t expected me to actually do it. She grit her teeth, her carefully constructed outrage faltering. “This isn’t over,” she hissed, before turning on her heel and storming out of the shop. The drama, for now, was over. My employee rushed to my side. “Clara, are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I said, my heart still hammering against my ribs. I took a few deep breaths to steady myself. I thought that would be the end of it. But the next day, a man in a tailored suit walked into the shop. It was Ethan. A guy I knew from high school. He apologized profusely, his expression pained and helpless. It was only then that I understood. He was the husband. The one who’d supposedly bought macarons. Except, I hadn’t even been the one to serve him. Ethan’s apology was so sincere it was almost a plea. “Clara, please, can we just let this go? Mimi… she’s just been spoiled by her family her whole life. She doesn’t mean any harm.” He wrung his hands. “And besides, no real harm was done, right? You’re running a business. It’s always better to keep the peace.” His words sat badly in my stomach, a sour mix of condescension and cowardice. But I was tired of the drama. I just wanted it to be over. As he said, keep the peace. As long as this Mimi woman stayed away from me and my shop, I was willing to let it drop. Just when I thought it was settled, Ethan, who had already left, reappeared in the doorway. He looked deeply uncomfortable, his eyes refusing to meet mine. “Clara, can you just… can you just tell my wife that we barely know each other?” That’s when I noticed his phone was still active, propped up in his hand. A video call. I shot him an incredulous look before turning my attention to the phone. “That’s right,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t know him.” Ethan let out a visible sigh of relief. But his relief was short-lived. A shrill voice erupted from the phone’s speaker. It was her. Mimi. “Then why are you meeting with him? There’s no such thing as a ‘platonic friendship’ between a man and a woman!” Ethan sighed heavily, turning his back to me and lowering his voice. “Honey, I promise, there is nothing between us. In every way that matters—family, looks, status—she can’t hold a candle to you.” That was the compliment that finally seemed to soothe her. But his words were like acid in my ears. I looked at the smug, triumphant face of Mimi on the screen, then at the spineless man standing in front of me, debasing me to pacify his unhinged wife. Suddenly, all my attempts at taking the high road felt like a joke. “Ethan.” The smile was gone from my face. “Whatever is going on between you two is your business. But you don’t get to placate her by insulting me. It shows a stunning lack of class.” Ethan’s face turned a blotchy, furious red. His eyes were filled with resentment, but he didn’t say a word. Mimi, on the other hand, exploded. “You bitch! You’re flirting with him right in front of my face!” Her tirade then shifted to her husband. “And you, Ethan! Did I give you permission to see her? How dare you go behind my back!” Ethan was a man who cared deeply about appearances. I could see the profound humiliation washing over him. He looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Unable to stand up to Mimi, he redirected his anger at the only person he could: me. “Clara, my wife doesn’t like you,” he said, his voice stiff. “From now on, if we see each other, we’re strangers.” Hearing her husband defend her so staunchly, Mimi’s voice on the phone became sickeningly sweet with victory. She decided to push her advantage. “Clara, is it? I’m a kind person, really. I don’t want you to lose your job over this.” Her tone was pure condescension. “So here’s what’s going to happen. To put my mind at ease, you’re going to come to my house.” She paused for dramatic effect. “I’m going to personally install monitoring software on your phone. And you’re going to give me administrative access to the security cameras in your bakery.” 3 I thought I had misheard. Naturally, I refused. I was done with this conversation. I was done with them. I pointed a trembling finger at the door. “Get. Out.” Ethan’s face was a mask of fury. He shot me a hateful look, clutched his phone, and walked out. Even from outside, I could hear Mimi’s voice, relentless and shrill. “No, that’s not good enough! She didn’t agree! I need to be able to watch her!” “You need to order her to come to the house right now! I have to inspect her phone!” Ethan’s low, placating murmurs faded as they walked away. … I let out a long, shaky breath. My young employee came over, her eyes wide with worry. “Clara… they don’t seem like the type to give up.” “I know,” I said, my mind already racing. Sure enough, three days later, Mimi returned. She was clinging to Ethan’s arm, and behind them trailed a small group of men. I recognized one of them instantly: Mr. Davies, the regional manager from corporate. Davies, a portly man with a perpetually sweaty brow, didn’t waste any time. He pointed a fat finger at me and started shouting. “What is wrong with you? First, you’re taking money from customers and not providing the product, and now you’re seducing them? Clara, you’re destroying the reputation of our brand!” I didn’t argue. I calmly turned to my terminal, pulled up the transaction logs from the banking system for the entire week, and printed them out. “As you can see,” I said, sliding the paper across the counter, “the fifty-cake order Mrs. Pierce mentioned never existed. So there was no ‘taking money and not providing product.’ What I’m more concerned about is why corporate headquarters would convict one of its franchisees based on an unsubstantiated complaint. It makes me question your entire management protocol.” Mr. Davies didn’t even glance at the records. He slammed his hand on the counter. “Are you talking back to me? When I say you’re wrong, you’re wrong!” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial roar. “Do you have any idea who Mrs. Pierce is? She’s the daughter of the President of our parent company! You think you can afford to cross her?” He was practically spraying spittle in my face. Beside him, Mimi’s chin was so high in the air it was a wonder she didn’t lose her balance. Ethan stood slightly behind her, watching the scene unfold with a cold detachment. There was a flicker of pity in his eyes—the kind of pity reserved for the gods on Olympus looking down on the squabbles of mortals. I almost smiled. The President of the parent company had only one child—my childhood best friend. The entire reason I chose to franchise with this brand was because our families were so close. Could it be? Did Uncle David have a secret daughter I never knew about? Mimi let out a derisive snort, snapping me back to the present. She tapped my forehead with a long, sharp, bejeweled nail. “Did you hear that? My father owns the whole company. You’re just a cheap whore who sells her body for money. How dare you argue?” Ethan stepped forward then, his face a mask of patronizing concern. “Clara, I know you’ve worked hard to get where you are. Just apologize to Mimi. Beg for her forgiveness. It’s the easiest way.” I ignored him, my gaze fixed on Mimi. “You’re certain your father is the President of the parent company?” “What a stupid question. Of course I know who my own father is.” As if on cue, her phone rang. A man’s voice, deep and indulgent, boomed from the speaker. “My darling daughter, I heard someone was giving you trouble. Does Daddy need to step in?” Mimi shot me a triumphant glare. Before she could reply, Mr. Davies was already bowing and scraping to the phone. “Mr. Sterling, please don’t worry! I will make sure to give your daughter a satisfactory resolution.” My brow furrowed. That wasn’t Uncle David’s voice. A wave of relief washed over me. Thank God. Uncle David hadn’t made some terrible mistake. Leo would have been devastated. After the call ended, Mimi was practically glowing with smug satisfaction. She held out her hand as if bestowing a great honor. “Alright. Hand over your phone. I’m going to check it and install the monitoring software.” “You’re insane.” I didn’t give her my phone. Instead, I quickly typed out a text to Leo. [Hey, get over here. I think you have a new sister.] 4 Leo’s reply was instantaneous. A single, massive question mark. Mimi’s sharp eyes caught sight of my screen. “Oh? Already lining up your next sugar daddy?” “You should really try to clean up your vocabulary,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “When your own mind is filthy, you assume everyone else is, too.” My words had barely left my mouth when a hand cracked across my face. The slap was so hard my ears rang. Mimi stood over me, her teeth bared, her face a mask of fury. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you? A piece of trash like you has no right to be so arrogant.” She gestured to Mr. Davies. He moved immediately, locking the front door of the shop. The men she’d brought with her moved forward, forming a tight, intimidating circle around me. “Are you crazy?” I asked, backing away slowly. My assistant had called in sick today; I was completely alone. The odds were not in my favor. Mimi lifted her chin. “Go on,” she said to the men. “Strip her.” The men exchanged uneasy glances. Mr. Davies swallowed hard. For all his bluster, he was a corporate drone, not a gangster. He hesitated. “Miss… Miss Sterling… maybe this is going too far?” he stammered, shrinking back. Even Ethan looked alarmed. He leaned in and whispered to Mimi, “Mimi, let’s just teach her a lesson. We don’t need to take it this far.” “What are you afraid of?” she snapped, her eyes wild. “Anything that happens, I’ll take full responsibility.” She glared at the hesitant men, her rage growing with every second of their inaction. Finally, she lost her patience. She lunged at me herself, knocking my phone to the ground and clawing at my clothes. Luckily, I was wearing a simple tracksuit, and the fabric was durable. She tugged and pulled, but it held. I fought back, twisting away from her grasp. The next time she lunged, I sidestepped. Mimi, propelled by her own momentum, stumbled and fell hard. The room went silent. Everyone froze. Ethan rushed to her side, his face pale with panic. “Mimi, are you hurt?” He helped her to her feet, then turned to glower at me. “Clara, I thought you were smarter than this. How could you be so violent?” He cradled Mimi’s arm as if she were made of glass. “My wife is a delicate woman, raised in luxury. You couldn’t just let her be?” Mimi was a whirlwind of emotions—furious that Ethan hadn’t helped her sooner, but touched by his fierce defense of her now. Conflicted, she channeled her rage toward the easiest target: Mr. Davies. “You’re fired! Do you hear me? One word from me and you’ll be out on the street!” That threat was all it took. Mr. Davies’s face went white with fear. He shot a look at the other men, a silent, desperate command. This time, they didn’t hesitate. They grabbed me. Two of them pinned my arms behind my back, forcing me to the ground. I struggled, but it was useless. I was trapped, helpless. As Mimi raised her hand to slap me again, I gritted my teeth and shouted, “I’m the daughter of the CEO of the Rhodes Group! You touch me, and you’ll regret it.” For a brief second, everyone froze. Ethan frowned. “That’s impossible,” he said, his voice laced with doubt. “In high school, you were just a normal kid. There’s no way you’re the daughter of a billionaire.” My heart sank. My father had always insisted I maintain a low profile. To fit in at school, I’d deliberately downplayed my family’s wealth. Mimi burst out laughing. “Pathetic!” She lifted her foot and brought her sharp heel down hard on my head. A starburst of pain exploded behind my eyes. I felt a warm trickle of blood run down my temple, and the room began to swim. But Mimi wasn’t satisfied. “Hold her down!” she shrieked, pulling out her own phone and starting to record. “Get her clothes off. I want everyone to see this slut for who she really is.” The men looked torn. This was a crime. A serious one. But their fear of losing their jobs was greater than their fear of the law. They took a deep breath and reached for my jacket. Just as the fabric was about to tear, just as a wave of pure despair washed over me, the front door of the shop crashed open. Silhouetted against the bright afternoon light was a familiar, slightly stooped figure.

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To welcome my son’s girlfriend for her first visit, I’d orchestrated the evening with the precision of a state dinner. The warm, lively atmosphere at the dining table shattered the moment Leo said the word, “Mom.” His girlfriend’s eyes raked over me, sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel, her brow furrowed in a tight knot. She turned to my son, her voice laced with venom. “So this is the ‘sweet stepmom’ you told me about? The one you’re so close with?” She made a small, contemptuous sound. “A young widow and a boy turning into a man, all alone in a big house,” she continued, each word a deliberate sting. “It’s a tinderbox waiting for a match, isn’t it?” Leo and I froze, the words hanging in the air between us like poison. But then she just waved a dismissive hand, her face morphing into a mask of magnanimity. “Whatever. It’s not a big deal,” she announced. “I get it. This whole taboo stepmom thing is a popular fantasy, right? We’ll just… turn the page.” 1 Leo had told me he was bringing his girlfriend, Krystal, home to meet me. They’d been together for two years, and marriage was on the horizon. That day, I had the house staff polish every surface until it gleamed and arranged for a lavish dinner to be catered from a Michelin-starred restaurant. “We’re home!” I heard Leo’s cheerful voice from the second-floor landing. As I descended the staircase, I saw him sorting through a small mountain of luggage. Standing beside him, engrossed in her phone, was a petite, pretty girl. “This is my girlfriend, Krystal.” Krystal finally looked up from her screen, her gaze sweeping over me for a fraction of a second before being drawn to the soaring ceilings and expensive decor of the foyer. She said nothing. She was the woman Leo loved, and this was her first time in our home. I took a deep breath, forced a smile, and stepped forward to greet her. By lunch, I was trying to bridge the awkward silence. I used the serving utensils to place a delicate piece of Chilean Sea Bass on her plate. “This is the restaurant’s signature dish,” I said warmly. “It’s exquisite. Even their regulars have to order it weeks in advance. You have to try it.” Leo chimed in, oblivious. “Yeah! The sea bass is the best thing they make. It’s Mom’s favorite. You’ll love it!” The effect was instantaneous. Krystal, who had been smiling just a moment before, went rigid. Her face darkened, her knuckles white around her fork. “Leo, what did you just call her? She’s too young to be your mother.” Leo blinked. “Didn’t I tell you? My parents passed away when I was young. My stepmom, Ava, raised me. It’s always just been the two of us.” Krystal’s face was a storm cloud. Her eyes darted between me and Leo as if she were connecting invisible, sordid dots. Finally, while Leo and I were still trying to understand what was happening, she slammed her fork down on the table. “If I had known you had a ‘stepmom’ like this,” she spat, “why would I have even come here?!” Leo and I just stared at each other, speechless. She shoved her plate away. It didn’t break, but rice and fish flew across the table, splattering my face and my silk blouse. “The sea bass? What exactly were you trying to say with this dish, Ava?” she sneered. “A little reminder that even though Leo and I are in love, his taste is still your taste? That you’re the queen of this castle?” “You look like you’re in your thirties. How much older are you than him, really? A widow who never remarried, choosing instead to stay here and raise this handsome young man? Don’t insult my intelligence. I know exactly what kind of arrangement you two have.” What in God’s name was she talking about? Leo finally snapped out of his stupor. “Krystal, what is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind? Ava is my mother! Our relationship is completely platonic! I love her like my own mom!” he insisted. “And you know how I feel about you!” I sighed, about to murmur some platitude to smooth things over. But Krystal violently pushed Leo away. She glared at me, her eyes burning with a hatred so intense it was as if I’d stolen him from her right then and there. “Relax. Both of you,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m not an idiot. I’ll keep your dirty little secret.” Then her eyes welled up with crocodile tears. “Ava, you’re still a beautiful woman, and I know it hasn’t been easy raising Leo all these years.” “But you can’t use that as leverage to emotionally blackmail my boyfriend! I won’t allow it!” In all my years, I had never encountered a creature so thoroughly delusional. If this lunch continued, I was certain my composure would crack. It was better to let Leo handle it. Young couples fight; they would sort it out. “I’m full,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “You two eat. Your room is on the second floor. It’s been prepared.” I turned to leave. “Oh, finally found your sense of shame?” Krystal’s voice followed me, sharp and ugly. “What kind of ‘stepmom’ raises a boy in every sense of the word, huh?” “What are you even imagining? Nothing ever happened!” Leo’s voice rose, pulling her back into an argument that quickly escalated into a full-blown shouting match. I closed my bedroom door, and the world finally went quiet. I didn’t see either of them until dinner. When I came down to the dining room, the table was set, but Leo was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t answering my texts. I figured they’d gone out somewhere to cool off. But as I turned, a figure emerged from the shadows. Krystal was standing right behind me like a ghost. I gasped, stifling a scream. “Krystal? Are you eating alone? Where’s Leo?” A triumphant smirk played on her lips. She deliberately bumped my shoulder as she passed me and sank into a chair. “Seeing me here by myself must be breaking your heart, huh, Ava? So sad and angry?” My gaze drifted to the tureen of hot soup on the table. I felt a sudden, childish urge to see if dumping it over her head might shock her back to reality. She jutted her chin out, arrogant. “I knew you wouldn’t give up so easily after lunch. But I didn’t think you’d be so desperate you’d change your outfit just for dinner.” “Hoping to lure him into your room tonight? Dream on,” she hissed. “We were very… busy this afternoon. He’s exhausted. You probably won’t see him until tomorrow. So you changed for nothing, you old hag.” I was speechless. She had apparently forgotten that she was the one who had flung food all over me. And my current outfit—tailored trousers and a long-sleeved cashmere sweater—was modest enough for a trip to the grocery store. Seductive it was not. She, on the other hand, was poured into a spaghetti-strap top and shorts so small they were more of a suggestion. Her skin was a canvas of angry red marks. For a second, I thought she’d been beaten. I gathered my patience, what little of it remained, and issued a final warning. “Krystal, I don’t know what kind of twisted script you’re reading from, but Leo and I are mother and son. Period. If you continue to sling this filth, I don’t care if you become his wife—you will be out of this house.” I wasn’t joking. It was clear that being gracious with her was pointless; it only invited more aggression. My words seemed to puncture her bravado. “Who the hell are you to tell me to get out?” she shrieked. “This is my man’s house!” “You’re just a bitter old woman who’s losing her mind! Don’t think you can control Leo just because he has a soft spot for you. You’re the one who should get out!” she yelled. “You’re lucky you live here. Back where I’m from, they’d have dealt with a woman like you a long time ago!” I smiled at her, a slow, cold smile. “If there were even a hint of what you’re imagining between Leo and me,” I said softly, “do you really think there would have been any room for you?” With that, I calmly sat down and began to eat my dinner. Krystal stared at me, so enraged she was sputtering. “You’re not eating?” I asked casually. “Well, in that case, you’re free to go ask him right now. Ask him who should be the one to leave.” Her eyes practically bulged out of her head. Finally, she threw down her napkin in defeat. “You just wait! He’d have to be blind to choose you over me!” She stormed away, her retreat looking more like a panicked flight. I almost laughed out loud as I enjoyed the sumptuous dinner in blessed solitude. Less than an hour later, the sound of their fighting was loud enough to penetrate my bedroom walls. “Leo! Who do you really love? If you love me, you’ll kick your stepmom out!” “There is no way she and I can live under the same roof!” I found Leo in the grand foyer, rubbing his forehead in frustration, dark circles already forming under his eyes. Krystal was clinging to his arm, relentless. “Didn’t you tell me yourself that your dad was perfectly healthy before he married her? How did he just drop dead three years into the marriage? You two, all alone together? Ha! I think you were just lucky you survived this black widow!” “Are you going to kick her out, or do you want to end up like your dad?” Leo lowered his hand, his brow furrowed, his expression wavering. I descended the stairs. Our eyes met across the cavernous space. Neither of us spoke. Krystal’s face twisted with even more jealousy. “See! Look at the two of you! Don’t tell me you’re just mother and son!” “This afternoon, I asked you if I made you feel better than your stepmom does, and you said yes!” she screamed at him. “How would you know what’s ‘better’ if you’ve never been with her?” Leo’s jaw dropped. He stammered, “I—I didn’t even understand what you were asking! How could I possibly compare you two in that way? Krystal, don’t misunderstand!” He shot a panicked look at me. “Ava, you can’t misunderstand, either. I truly don’t have any other… feelings…” Before he could finish, Krystal let out a choked sob, smashed a porcelain vase on the hall table, and ran out into the night. “Krystal!” Leo looked from her to me and back again, swore under his breath, and chased after her. I lowered my gaze, the curtain falling on a ridiculous, exhausting drama. I had a company to run in the morning. I needed to sleep. But when I woke up the next morning, I found my house filled with a crowd of strangers. As soon as I appeared on the landing, a stout, round woman bustled forward and grabbed my arm to help me down the stairs. “So this must be Leo’s stepmom!” she gushed. “You’ve kept yourself so well! You look like you’re in your twenties, even prettier than our Krystal!” Given Krystal’s behavior yesterday, I expected her to erupt. Instead, she stood silently by the sofa, unnervingly quiet. I pulled my arm away and stood my ground on the stairs. “And you are?” “Oh, where are my manners! Honey, I’m Krystal’s mother. Name’s Brenda. You can just call me Brenda.” She beamed, trying to project an image of rustic warmth, but her eyes glittered with shrewd calculation. “Krystal told us she was coming home with her boyfriend to meet the family. This is a big deal! Of course we had to come along for the ride!” I rested my hand on the banister, looking down at this troupe, and waited for the next act to begin. It wasn’t long. A strange man detached himself from the group and sidled up to me, a leering grin on his face. I recoiled, but he stuck to me like glue, even reaching out as if to embrace me. “Sir, I suggest you step away from me,” I said, my voice ice. “Or I will call the police and report you for harassment.” He acted as if he hadn’t heard me, his hands still reaching. Just as I was about to kick him where it counted, Brenda scurried over and grabbed his arm. “Don’t you worry now, honey. This is my brother, Mitch. It seems he’s fallen for you at first sight!” The man, Mitch, muttered, “So pretty… why can’t I touch? When we’re married, I’ll touch all I want.” My face hardened. “Does your brother need to see a doctor?” Krystal suddenly found her voice. “Don’t you say that! My uncle is perfectly smart!” Mitch’s eyes roamed over my body, his face twitching. “You… you better listen,” he mumbled, his voice thick and garbled. “Or… husband’s gonna have to teach you a lesson…” “You’ve been a widow for years, haven’t you?” Krystal said, her chin high. “This is my uncle’s first marriage. You should be grateful!” “Once you’re family, I’ll forget all about your disgusting little affair with Leo. But if you don’t play along, I’ll post everything online and make you two a trending topic,” she threatened. “Leo will be a social pariah, and you can kiss your precious career goodbye.” Leo sat on the sofa through it all, his head bowed, saying nothing, as if he were a mere spectator at this circus. When he felt my eyes on him, he didn’t even flinch. It was clear he intended to sit back and watch this absurd shakedown play out. My disappointment in him was a physical blow. After his father died, I had poured everything into this boy. I treated him as my own flesh and blood, nurturing him, guiding him, giving him every advantage. Brenda smiled her folksy, menacing smile. “It’s how the world works, honey. A woman’s gotta get married! Besides,” she added with a wink, “a stepmom and her grown stepson living under the same roof… tsk, tsk. It doesn’t look good, does it?” Mitch continued to undress me with his eyes, a line of saliva glistening at the corner of his mouth. I looked down at their greedy, vicious faces, and a slow smile spread across my own. Brenda, in her mountain of garbage, had managed to say one true thing. I couldn’t live with Leo anymore. “You’re right,” I said. “It’s time for a change.” No one expected me to cave so easily. Krystal, who had a whole speech ready, was left speechless. Brenda was overjoyed. She slapped her thigh and shoved her brother toward me. “Mitch, you’ve got yourself a wife! Go on, give her a hug!” She was beaming. “Quick, quick, someone take a picture for social media! Our Mitch has a wife!” she crowed to the rest of her clan. Then she turned back to me. “See? It’s better this way. What kind of life is there for a widow? You need a man.” “And if it weren’t for Krystal, for making you family, we wouldn’t even consider a woman like you. Bad luck, you are, sending your first husband to an early grave.” “From now on, you serve my brother well. Give me three healthy nephews, and our family won’t treat you badly.” “First,” I said calmly, “there’s something I have to do.” Their expressions immediately soured, afraid I was about to back out. “I am still Leo’s stepmother, the lady of this house. To marry your brother just like this… it’s not right.” “First, I need to inform my late husband. And I need to formally sever my maternal ties with Leo. Only then can I move on with a clean slate. Don’t you agree?” Brenda stared at me, her eyes narrowed with suspicion, but she couldn’t find a flaw in my logic. She reluctantly nodded. Krystal looked satisfied. The venom was gone from her face as she ran over to loop her arm through Leo’s. What a perfect, loving little couple they made. I led the procession to the study on the ground floor, where a portrait of my late husband, Arthur, hung in a place of honor. His black-and-white image looked down on us all. Leo dutifully knelt. I lit a stick of incense. Through the fragrant smoke, I felt a sting in my eyes. “Arthur,” I said softly, “you see what’s happening in our home.” “It’s been so many years since you’ve been gone. I raised Leo, and now he’s a man, ready to start his own family.” “So today, in front of you, Leo and I are severing our ties. From this day forward, we are strangers.” Leo repeated the vow, his voice flat, and bowed his head to the floor three times. I took a deep, steadying breath, a profound sense of peace settling over me. Then I pointed to the front door. “There,” I announced. “You are all witnesses. Leo and I have no relationship.” “Now, all of you, please take your things and get out of my house.”

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His solution to her problem was to divorce me and marry her. I was used to my husband, Ethan, sacrificing me to repay his debts of gratitude. I had cried, I had screamed. I’d even taken a page from his mentor’s daughter’s book and tried to use a child to trap him. Nothing ever worked. Now, he’d added another property to the divorce agreement, tossing the papers at me with an impatient flick of his wrist. “Is that enough? Just sign it, Claire. Sadie’s pregnancy can’t wait.” I signed my name without a single tear, and only then did a satisfied smile finally spread across Ethan’s face. He took my hand, his voice dropping into that familiar, placating tone. “Honey, Professor Miller was like a father to me. I can’t let his daughter be shamed for getting pregnant out of wedlock. As soon as the baby is born and has my name, we’ll get remarried. I promise. I’ll only stay with Sadie from Monday to Friday. I’ll still come home to you on the weekends.” I collected my copy of the divorce certificate and quietly watched him pack a suitcase. He didn’t know I had an appointment scheduled to terminate my own pregnancy. He didn’t know I’d already bought a one-way ticket out of this city. This time, I wouldn’t be waiting for him to come back. 1 “Here are your certificates of divorce.” The moment the clerk handed us the documents, Ethan eagerly showed his to Sadie, who was waiting just a few feet away. Then, beaming, he hurried her over to the marriage license queue. The clerk watched his retreating back and let out a quiet “jerk” under her breath before shooting me a look of pity. I calmly tucked the certificate into my purse, opened a ride-share app on my phone, and went to wait by the curb. A few minutes later, a black SUV pulled up in front of me. The window rolled down to reveal Sadie’s face, smugness radiating from her like heat. Ethan walked over from the driver’s side, his brow furrowed with concern as he opened the rear passenger door. “Claire, I told you to wait for me by the entrance. It’s pouring out here, you don’t have an umbrella. You know you refuse to take medicine when you catch a cold. You’re so much trouble,” he chided, his words a familiar litany of care. “I’ll make you my ginger ale and Coke remedy when we get home. You have to drink it all before you go to sleep.” When I just stood there, unmoving, Ethan’s expression faltered. An awkward flush crept up his neck. “Sadie’s… her condition is delicate right now. She gets car sick in the back. You were her sister-in-law. Just let her have the front seat.” Sadie immediately hopped out of the car, her voice dripping with manufactured remorse. “I’m so sorry, Claire. Ethan’s just so used to taking care of me. Please don’t get the wrong idea. Ethan, honey, I can just be sick for a little while in the back, it’s fine. Don’t fight with Claire over this.” At that, Ethan shot me a warning look. “Claire, don’t make a scene,” he hissed. “Get in the car.” He started to physically push me toward the back seat, and I finally spoke, my voice devoid of emotion. “Ethan, did you get a new car?” He buckled my seatbelt for me, his answer casual. “Well, with Sadie being pregnant and all, I figured an SUV would be a smoother ride. If you don’t like it, we can buy something else after we get remarried.” I just hummed in response. Ethan had always loved his sports cars. When I was pregnant for the first time, I had asked him if we could switch to a sedan or an SUV, something safer. He refused, saying he wasn’t comfortable driving anything else. But for Sadie, he’d made the change without a second thought. A bitter, humorless smile touched my lips. We hadn’t been on the road for ten minutes before Sadie clutched her stomach, moaning that she felt sick. Ethan instantly tensed. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to me, his voice sharp with command. “Claire, just get a ride home from here. Sadie’s not feeling well. I’m taking her to the hospital.” And just like that, he left me stranded on the side of a busy road in the pouring rain, in a spot where it was nearly impossible to get a cab. As I watched his SUV disappear into the downpour, the only thing I felt was a profound, hollow calm. My phone buzzed. It was a text from the clinic, asking me to confirm my appointment for the procedure. 2 That evening, just as I’d placed the last of Ethan’s suitcases by the front door, a friend request popped up on my phone. It was Sadie. Her message was simple: she wanted me to move out of the house I shared with Ethan as soon as possible. She needed to start decorating the nursery. I responded by taking a photo of the asset division section of our divorce decree and sending it to her. My phone immediately lit up with an incoming call. I ignored it, and a sixty-second voice memo came through, then another, and another. “You bitch, Claire! Ethan earned all that money, why should you get any of it? How can you be so shameless? If you take all the cash, what am I supposed to live on? That’s my son’s money! You bitch! I’m telling you to get out now and give me back the money, or you’ll regret it!” I didn’t bother listening to the rest. I just blocked her number and deleted the chat. Later that night, I was ripped from a deep sleep by a hand yanking me up from the bed. A sharp sting exploded across my cheek. I blinked my eyes open to see Ethan’s face, dark and furious, looming over me. “Claire, you’ve gone too far!” he raged. “You knew she was pregnant, and you sent her the divorce papers just to upset her. How can you be so vicious? How many times do I have to tell you? Professor Miller saved my career. I only see Sadie as a little sister! Once her baby is born and has a legal name, we’re getting remarried. What is your problem? You were her sister-in-law, for God’s sake. Why can’t you just cut her some slack?” He must have seen the red handprint swelling on my cheek, the way I was staring at him with pure, undiluted hatred. A flicker of something—guilt, maybe—crossed his face. His voice softened as he reached for me. “Honey, we’ve been together for so many years. Don’t you trust me? I only love you,” he cooed, the words practiced and hollow. “I swear, this is the last time I’ll help Sadie. After we get remarried, we’ll go back to how things were. Okay?” I let him pull me into his arms, my body numb. I didn’t believe a single word. In college, Ethan had been willing to defy his wealthy family to be with me. He pursued me for four years, so relentlessly that even his mother eventually gave in and started helping him win me over. He told me it was love at first sight, that he would love me more than his own life. I believed him. I loved him without reservation, and in the end, it left me shattered. When did the disillusionment start? When did I start wanting to leave? Was it when Sadie posted intimate photos of them together online and was attacked by commenters, and he publicly defended her, claiming I was the one who had schemed my way into his life, leaving me to be torn apart by strangers online? Was it during my first pregnancy, just after I’d felt the baby move for the first time, when he dragged me from our home to the hospital to give blood for Sadie after a minor accident, causing me to miscarry? And when his mother demanded to know what happened, he blamed me to protect Sadie. Was it when, to fulfill Sadie’s birthday wish of seeing a private fireworks display, he had our entire gated community locked down, ignoring my frantic calls for help, preventing the ambulance from reaching my mother in time, stealing her last chance at life and leaving me with a wound that would never heal? If it hadn’t been for my mother’s last words, her dying wish for me to live on, I might have followed her into the darkness right then… My continued silence seemed to fray Ethan’s patience. He ran a hand through his hair and tossed a key onto the nightstand. “I have another house in the next neighborhood over. You can move there for now. Let Sadie have this one.” I picked up the key. “Okay,” I said, my voice placid. My compliance seemed to unnerve him. He gripped my hand tighter. “Claire, why are you… so agreeable? You’re not planning something, are you?” A small, cold smile touched my lips. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Ethan?” He pressed his lips into a thin line, a flicker of genuine unease in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something else, but his phone rang. Sadie. His brow furrowed in concern, but his voice, when he answered, was impossibly gentle. “Sadie, don’t be scared. I’m on my way back right now.” As I watched him hurry out the door, I opened an app on my phone and booked the earliest flight out of the city. 3 On the day of the procedure, the doctor looked at me, alone in the examination room, with surprise. “Mr. Hayes isn’t with you today?” “Ethan and I are divorced,” I said flatly. The doctor paused, a flicker of awkwardness in his eyes. He cleared his throat. “Mrs… Ms. Evans, you’ve wanted this child for so long. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to reconsider?” I shook my head, my decision firm. With a sigh, he wrote out the necessary forms and sent me to the billing department. As I stepped into the main lobby, I saw him. Ethan was standing with Sadie, one hand resting protectively on the small of her back, murmuring softly to her as she pouted about something. It wasn’t until she broke into a relieved smile that he turned to walk toward the payment counter. Sadie looked up then and saw me. A triumphant grin spread across her face as she walked purposefully toward me. I tried to turn away, but she grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. Her eyes fell to the paperwork in my hand. Her pupils contracted, her expression twisting into a mask of pure jealousy and hatred. “Don’t you think for a second that having Ethan’s baby will force him to remarry you, Claire. He’s divorced you. I’m his wife now! If you ever dare to show your face in front of him again, I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re nothing but a pathetic homewrecker!” A chill went through me. I wrenched my arm from her grasp. “You can have the garbage I threw away. It seems you have a taste for secondhand things.” Her face flushed with rage, but then her expression shifted in an instant. She stepped closer, her face a mask of pitiful sorrow, but her eyes held a bright, vicious malice. She leaned in, whispering in my ear. “Let me tell you the truth, Claire. This baby is Ethan’s. We’ve been together for a long, long time. He told me he stopped loving you ages ago. He said being with you makes him sick to his stomach.” Seeing Ethan getting closer, and seeing that her taunts weren’t getting a rise out of me, she grew desperate. She reached out to grab me again. Some instinct, honed by years of watching her manipulative games, made me take a sharp step back. A smirk of triumph flashed across Sadie’s face before she let her body go limp, collapsing dramatically to the floor. Before I could even process what had happened, I was shoved violently from behind. I stumbled, and a searing pain shot through my ankle as I crashed to the ground. Ethan was already crouched over Sadie, his hands fluttering over her as he scanned her for injuries. “Sadie, are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? Is your stomach cramping?” he asked, his voice trembling with panic. When Sadie just shook her head, tears streaming down her face, Ethan’s heart seemed to break for her. He whirled on me, his face contorted with rage. “Claire, what did you do to her? If anything happens to her or this baby, I swear I’ll make you pay a thousand times over.” 4 Ethan wanted to rush Sadie to be examined immediately, but she clung to his sleeve, her tears flowing like a river. “Ethan, she called me a homewrecker! She said my baby was a bastard! She put a curse on me and my child! I know she doesn’t like me, but the baby is innocent! How could she be so cruel to an unborn child?” At the word “bastard,” a flicker of guilt crossed Ethan’s face, so fast I almost missed it, but it was quickly swallowed by a wave of fury. He gently wiped the tears from Sadie’s cheeks, then turned to me, his voice lethally low. He ordered me to get on my knees and apologize to her. If I didn’t, he would have the hospital cut off the supply of the experimental medication for my mother. The mention of my mother was a knife to the heart. My eyes stung, and I bit down hard on my lip to suppress the wave of hatred that churned in my gut. Leaning on the wall for support, I forced myself to stand. I ignored them both, limping toward the exit one painful step at a time. Ethan’s eyes fell to my injured foot, his brow knitting in a flicker of concern. He started to reach for me, but was interrupted by a fresh sob from Sadie. She put on a show of being terrified, clutching her barely-there baby bump as if to shield it. “Claire, I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked Ethan to come with me to my appointment. But… but I’m already four months along. Please, I’m begging you, just let me have this baby.” With a final, heart-wrenching sob, she collapsed into Ethan’s arms, a performance of utter devastation that had its intended effect. He was consumed with pity and rage. He lunged at me, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me down, trying to make me kneel in front of Sadie. “Apologize to her, Claire! If she’s not satisfied, you’ll stay on your knees until she is.” I stared up at him in disbelief, struggling against his iron grip. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Fine. If you want to do this the hard way, don’t blame me for what comes next.” He gestured with his head, and two of his security guys, who were always hovering nearby, stepped forward to hold me down. One of them understood the unspoken command and grabbed the back of my head, forcing it down, again and again, making me kowtow to Sadie on the cold hospital floor. After a few forceful impacts, my forehead was raw and bleeding, my vision blurring at the edges. Ethan’s voice sounded distant, a hint of unease in it now. “Claire, have you learned your lesson? Just apologize to Sadie and promise you’ll leave her alone, and we can put this all behind us.” I lifted my head, meeting his gaze with pure disgust. “I. Did. Nothing. Wrong,” I said, each word a shard of glass. His chest heaved. “Fine! Fine! I’ve spoiled you rotten for too long, you’ve forgotten your place. Today, you’re going to learn some goddamn respect.” He barked at his men, “You two hold her here. She’ll kneel until she’s ready to admit she’s wrong.” Sadie made a weak, token protest. “Ethan, honey, it’s okay if I’m a little upset. Please don’t be angry with Claire because of me.” Ethan wrapped a protective arm around her, his face a mask of disappointment as he looked at me. “Claire, why can’t you be more understanding, like Sadie?” Sadie shot me a triumphant smirk over his shoulder. But as her gaze swept over me, her eyes locked onto the silver locket around my neck. Her expression changed. She lunged forward and ripped the locket from my neck. “What are you doing with this?” she spat, her hand closing around it in a fist.

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