Author: Momo Chan

The bride wanted me to make her look like Anne Hathaway. I tried to gently dissuade her. “Replicating a celebrity’s entire face for your wedding isn’t usually recommended.” She took it as a challenge. “I’m paying, so I get what I want. What, you can’t do it?” As the top SFX makeup artist in my field, of course I could do it. A tight, humorless smile stretched across my face. “Oh, I can do it. Let’s get started.” 1 I’m a makeup artist. I had just wrapped up a special effects project overseas, a grueling marathon of four consecutive all-nighters. The moment my plane touched down, a text from my colleague, Sarah, buzzed on my phone. She was practically crying through the screen, saying her kid had a fever and if she took another day off, she’d lose her entire performance bonus. She was begging me to cover her shift. I was reluctant. “Sarah, I do special effects. Bridal makeup isn’t really my thing.” She wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Yes, it is! You know how to do it. It’s that standard package we all learned when we first started at the studio.” Her texts became more frantic. “Just do the first look. My mother-in-law will be here soon, and then I can come in.” I sighed. Fine, I’d do her a favor. The moment I stepped into the makeup suite, one of the bridesmaids sidled up to me. “You know, our Chloe is a pretty big influencer,” she said, her voice conspiratorial. “Lots of followers. Do you think we could get this session for free, you know, for the exposure?” The bride, Chloe, tilted her chin up with a smug little smile. I shook my head instinctively. “I’m just the artist. I don’t handle the pricing.” Besides, they were already here for the pre-wedding photoshoot. Hadn’t they paid already? Chloe’s face fell instantly, her lips pressing into a thin, unhappy line. When I presented her with the portfolio of bridal looks, she shoved it aside. “I don’t need to choose. Make me look like this.” She held up her phone, displaying a photo of Anne Hathaway clutching a bouquet of flowers, her smile radiant and luminous. This was a problem. The woman in the mirror had sharp, demanding eyes and a condescending tone. Her skin was sallow, framed by massive dark circles under her eyes. But the biggest issue was her face shape—a soft square. For a face like hers, the key was to create dimension and contour, shifting the focus away from her strong jawline and up toward her eyes and brows. It was the best way to highlight her features and minimize the rest. “Ma’am,” I suggested gently, “your features would be stunning with a classic, sultry Hollywood look. A warm, earthy eyeshadow palette and some soft waves would really bring out your natural glamour.” She shot me a glare. “Are you making a crack about my teeth?” I froze. A dozen diplomatic responses flashed through my mind, but the furious clench of her brow told me none of them would work. I swallowed them back down. “Not at all, ma’am,” I said, my voice carefully neutral. “We’ll proceed with whatever you’d like.” She wasn’t satisfied. “What’s with the attitude? Are you trying to be sarcastic?” “No, ma’am.” She let out a sharp huff. “Cut the crap. I paid for a service, and I expect to get exactly what I want.” Then, she shifted gears. “I’m thirsty. I want… what’s it called? That fancy cloud water.” Her bridesmaid chimed in instantly, “Evian. It’s called Evian.” I pursed my lips. “We don’t have that in the studio, I’m afraid. Would Perrier be alright?” She waved a dismissive hand. “Another generic brand.” She glanced down at my chest, her nails—a tacky explosion of pink rhinestones—flicking my work ID. “Vivi, is it? I’m not a fan of your attitude. Are you trying to get a formal complaint filed against you?” This was Sarah’s client. Even though I was just covering, a complaint would still hit her record and dock her pay. That didn’t seem fair. But seven days of travel and no sleep had drained me of the energy required to even feel angry. I just wanted to get this done and go home to collapse. “One moment,” I told the bride. I turned and asked an assistant to run across the street and buy a bottle of Evian. 2 When the young assistant handed me the water, she leaned in and whispered, “Did she ask you for a discount the second you walked in?” I raised an eyebrow and nodded. Her expression was a perfect “I knew it.” She continued in a low voice, “Her future sister-in-law is the one paying for this whole photoshoot package. She’s trying to get it for free so she can pocket the refund herself.” “Honestly,” she sighed, “we never used to put up with clients like this. The new manager has no backbone at all. Sarah was so tired of dealing with her that she just didn’t want to come in today.” I shot her a questioning look. She immediately slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide with embarrassment. “Oops, never mind. Forget I said that. Her kid is definitely sick. She’s at the hospital.” And with that, she scurried away. I walked back into the suite, her words echoing in my mind. I placed the bottle of Evian on the vanity in front of Chloe. She took a sip before finally gracing me with her attention. “Alright. You can start now.” I let out a quiet breath of relief and began applying her foundation. Her skin was a challenge. It was fair but had a dull, yellowish undertone. Whatever products she’d been using had left her with enlarged pores, and just prepping her skin and minimizing them took the better part of half an hour. I had just finished setting her makeup when she let out a piercing shriek. The plastic water bottle flew from her hand and slammed into my shoulder. I stumbled back, stunned. “What… what’s wrong?” Her eyes were blazing. “Are you even a real makeup artist? You have no idea what you’re doing! Look at this! You’re just dumping white powder all over my face.” I clamped down on my patience. “Ma’am, this is a technique called ‘baking.’ It’s for long-wear makeup, especially for photoshoots. It ensures your makeup stays flawless for hours.” But a thought pricked at my mind. How could a supposed beauty influencer not know about baking? Her two bridesmaids seized the opportunity to jump in. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you questioning our sister’s expertise?” “Nobody sets makeup like that! It’s supposed to be a fine mist of setting spray, a delicate process. You just poured flour on her face!” I tried to explain, my frustration mounting, but one of them suddenly shoved a camera tripod toward me. Caught off guard, I staggered back, my forehead smacking against the cold metal. I cried out, more in shock than pain. The bridesmaid sneered. “What are you doing? Trying to fake an injury for a payout?” I was speechless, the injustice of it all catching in my throat. Another makeup artist saw the commotion and hurried over, trying to de-escalate the situation and explain the technique on my behalf. After a tense moment, Chloe finally seemed to relent, sinking back into her chair. “I’ll give you one last chance,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. 3 I was fuming. She knew she was in the wrong, yet somehow she twisted it into an act of her own generosity. I took a deep, shaky breath, fighting the overwhelming urge to snap. A colleague handed me some paper towels, and I numbly dabbed at the water soaking my shirt before picking up my brush and stepping forward again. When I was finally done, a wave of relief washed over me. “The makeup is complete. My colleague will guide you through the next steps of your photoshoot.” “Wait,” Chloe snapped. She pulled out her phone, placing the photo of Anne Hathaway right next to her face in the mirror. Then she grabbed my arm, shoving the phone so close to my face I could see the pixels. “Does this look anything like her?” she demanded, her voice rising with each word. “Did you get the features right? The nose? The mouth, the eyes, the brows? Are you blind?” My brow furrowed. The other clients in the studio were now whispering amongst themselves, their eyes darting our way. In the phone’s glow, the image of the real Anne Hathaway was all grace and serene beauty. And then there was the woman in the mirror. I kept my voice low and steady. “Ma’am… we agreed to replicate the makeup in the photo. It’s makeup imitation, not a full facial transformation.” My professional composure was shattering. When she showed me the picture and said, “Make me look like this,” who in their right mind would think she meant to literally become the celebrity? That wasn’t makeup; that was sculpting a new person from scratch. And besides, who wants to get married looking like someone else? She scoffed. “Don’t try to hide your incompetence behind a bunch of jargon. ‘Makeup imitation, not transformation’? I showed you the picture of Anne Hathaway from the start, didn’t I? I pointed right at her and told you to make me look like that!” As her voice reached a fever pitch, she lunged at me. I jumped back, but it was too late. Her hand swiped across my station, sending a container of loose powder crashing to the floor. The cloud of dust was followed by a sickening thud as my entire makeup case, which had been resting by the chair, was knocked over, its contents spilling across the tiled floor. My God. That was my personal kit. My expensive, carefully curated collection of cosmetics. Several of the brushes in there were custom-made by hand, tools I had waited 128 days for. It wasn’t just the money. A hot, uncontrollable rage surged up from the pit of my stomach. I stepped forward to salvage what I could, but she misinterpreted the movement. “What, you got a problem with me?” she shrieked, as if I were the one attacking her. Her two bridesmaids shoved me hard. I lost my balance and fell to the floor, instinctively curling up and covering my head with my hands as their accusations rained down on me. “Our Chloe told you what she wanted, and you said you could do it! Now you’re getting violent because you’re not good enough!” “Where’s your manager? Get your director out here! Is this how you treat your customers?” The studio manager came running over. He took one look at the scene—me on the floor, Chloe screaming—and his eyes narrowed, pinning me with the blame. “What is going on here?” He was new. I’d been away on a project when he was hired, and Sarah had already told me he wasn’t my biggest fan. He resented me for holding a senior position at the studio without contributing to the daily sales figures. So, his immediate assumption that I was the problem didn’t surprise me. But it still stung. Chloe launched into a tirade. “A refund! I want a full refund!” At the word “refund,” the manager’s head whipped around, his glare intensifying on me. “I specifically called you in to cover this shift because I knew the client wanted to look like Anne Hathaway.” My head snapped up. What? No one had mentioned a single word of that to me. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “Are you kidding me? When exactly did you tell me that? You’re just going to throw me under the bus without even asking what happened?” His face hardened. “How dare you speak to me like that? The customer is always right, and right now, the customer is unhappy. Get over here and apologize.” My hand tightened around the makeup brush still clutched in my fist, my knuckles white with rage. “Find someone else. I’m done.” I turned to leave. Let someone else deal with this circus. Seeing me walk away, Chloe seemed to sense her chance for a refund slipping away. Suddenly, she was insisting that only I could do her makeup. The manager, now desperate, pleaded with her. “Can we please have another artist help you? We can find someone else, just please, let’s not talk about refunds.” Chloe crossed her arms. “You’ve already switched artists on me once. Are you just going to keep cycling through people to run out the clock? At this point, I think a full refund is perfectly reasonable.” The manager fell silent. A full bridal package was expensive. If he comped the entire thing, who would absorb the cost of the makeup, the photography, the couture rentals, the products? “Fine,” Chloe declared. “Then she has to do it. And if it’s not perfect, it’s on you.” So, you want your money, and you want a freebie, and you’re both willing to sacrifice your artist to get what you want? I kept walking. This wasn’t my problem. “Sarah, you’re here!” the manager yelled at my back. “Tell us! Did you or did you not tell Vivi what the client wanted when you asked her to cover?” Sarah stepped out from the small crowd that had gathered. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. Her voice was quiet, but clear. “I told her.” I stopped dead in my tracks. A boundless, burning rage unlike anything I had ever felt consumed me. It was worse than the bride’s ridiculous demands, worse than the manager’s blatant lies. This was a betrayal. Sarah was the first person I’d met when I joined the studio. The owner and I had met at an international makeup competition. I needed a stable job with a 401k and health insurance to appease my mother, and she wanted to leverage my reputation in SFX to break into the overseas market. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement. Out of respect for our deal, I always pitched in when the studio needed help. I even took their basic bridal training courses, which is why Sarah knew I was capable of covering her shift. The manager’s voice was sharp with urgency. “If you can’t handle this, we’ll have to cancel the project, and you will be held fully responsible.” “Fully responsible” meant I would have to cover the client’s refund, plus all the studio’s losses for time and resources. I looked at Sarah. Her body was trembling, her head bowed in shame. I walked back toward her, stopping right beside her. I leaned in, my voice a low, chilling whisper in her ear. “You know I can do it.” “You wanted Anne Hathaway? Who ever said I couldn’t deliver?”

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The first time my fiancé’s adopted sister threw a tantrum over her separation anxiety and ruined our engagement party, I laid down the law. I told him if we weren’t married by my twenty-eighth birthday, he would have to choose between her and me. But he was so sure of himself. He knew my dying mother’s last wish was to see me happy, and he was convinced that meant marrying him, her long-time love. So, at our ninth attempt at an engagement party, just before my twenty-seventh birthday, when his sister locked me in a bathroom, put on the wedding dress my mother had made for me, and took my place at the altar, he told me to just endure it a little longer. I watched her in my dress, a placid smile on my face. “She looks quite pretty.” My fiancé, Evan, let out a sigh of relief and reached for my hand. “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t let her cause any more trouble next time. Just be patient.” I smoothly sidestepped his touch. “There won’t be a next time. What I mean is, you two make a perfect pair.” Sorry, but you’re not the only one who can make me happy. 1 Smack. A searing pain bloomed on my cheek. “What on earth are you saying?” Evan’s mother shrieked, her face contorted with rage. “Anyone would think we’re some kind of dysfunctional, incestuous family! Your sister is just having an anxiety attack! She needs her brother’s comfort. It’s just a dress. As her future sister-in-law, you should be more understanding, not spreading vicious rumors that will ruin her reputation!” She shot Evan a look of pure disappointment. “I told you she has no grace. Why would you marry a woman like this? She’ll bring nothing but misery to your sister and me!” Evan’s brow furrowed, his eyes filled with a familiar weariness as he looked at me. He sighed. “Chloe, I just praised you for being so understanding. Why can’t you just let it go?” he said, his voice laced with frustration. “It’s just a dress. She wore it. She walked out in it. So what? We’re the ones getting the marriage license. Does it really matter who stood up there for a silly engagement party? Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” He softened his tone. “Just apologize to my mom and Maya. I’ll be more careful next time.” I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth. I had heard this same speech nine times now. I was so, so tired. “No,” I said, my voice quiet but firm. “I already told you. This wedding is off.” The air grew heavy. All three of them stared at me, their faces grim. Evan looked at me as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Before he could speak, Maya clutched at the skirt of my dress, her voice trembling. “Brother, did I do something wrong? I was just scared… Scared that after you get married, you won’t be close to me anymore. I just wanted a memento. I didn’t mean to ruin your engagement.” I watched their performance, my face a mask of indifference. “You don’t need a memento. If you want him that badly, you can have him.” His mother lunged at me again, her hand raised, but I was ready this time. I stepped back, and her swing met empty air, sending her stumbling and clutching at her lower back. Her eyes burned with hatred. Evan’s face was a canvas of disappointment. “I’ve told you before, Maya developed this anxiety after she was trapped in an empty room trying to save me. She can’t be away from me. Why do you always have to be so difficult about it?” he said, his voice laced with accusation. “If you don’t want to get married, then we’ll wait. It’s not like I’m the one in a hurry.” His words hit me like a physical blow. I froze. He knew. He knew I was rushing to get married before my twenty-eighth birthday to fulfill my mother’s dying wish. And at some point, he had started using that knowledge as a weapon, a tool to force me into submission, to make me apologize, to make me yield. I took a deep breath, turned my back on them, and walked away without another word. At the hospital, I watched my mother through the glass panel of her room. She was so thin, a fragile skeleton of the woman she once was. A nurse was helping her walk, her movements slow and pained. “You’re putting yourself through so much, practicing walking like this,” the nurse said gently. “All so you can walk your daughter down the aisle. But it’s so hard on your body.” My mother smiled through the pain. “It’s not hard… I promised her father I would remember her happiest moment, so I could tell him all about it when I see him again. I’ve waited for this for so many years. What’s a little more pain?” I shrank into a corner of the hallway, tears streaming down my face, my body wracked with silent sobs. Years ago, when my parents were working abroad, they were caught in a mass shooting. They were both hit while shielding an important political figure. My father was killed instantly. My mother was hit with a shotgun blast. She survived, but of the six pellets lodged in her body, only four could be removed. The other two were in locations too dangerous to operate on. Removing them would be a death sentence. As the years passed, the pellets shifted, burrowing deeper, causing her unimaginable, constant pain. She had held on for me, for so long, and I couldn’t even give her this one thing, this one piece of peace. I was useless. I couldn’t even fulfill such a simple wish. I wiped my tears and put on a smile before entering her room. The nurse left us alone. My mother’s weary eyes lit up when she saw me. “How did it go today?” she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper. Looking into her hopeful eyes, I swallowed the lump in my throat. “It went perfectly. Everything’s on track. We should be married by next month.” She let out a breath she seemed to have been holding. But just as the tension left her body, two unwelcome voices echoed from the hallway. Maya stood in the doorway, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Auntie, I am so, so sorry. It was my fault. My anxiety flared up again, and that’s why Chloe and my brother’s engagement didn’t go smoothly.” Then her eyes met mine, and her tone shifted, becoming sickly sweet. “Sister, I know you don’t want to disappoint Auntie, but you can’t use her health to force my brother’s hand. Nothing’s been decided about the wedding yet. My mother is so upset with you she can’t even get out of bed.” She turned back to my mother, her expression a perfect picture of innocence. “But don’t you worry, Auntie. We’ll have it all sorted out before the end of the year. I’ll take my medication, and I promise I won’t cause any more trouble. Just be patient. You’ll see them get married soon.” Her words were sweet, but her expression was pure mockery. In an instant, the smile on my mother’s face froze. Her breathing became ragged and shallow. Her eyes, wide and red-rimmed, fixed on me. “Is it true?” she whispered. I glared at them, my voice shaking with fury. “Who let you in here? Didn’t you hear what I said? I am not marrying him! Are you incapable of understanding simple words?” My mother started to tremble, gasping for air. The monitor beside her bed blared to life, a symphony of alarms signaling her distress. I screamed for a doctor. As the medical team rushed in, my legs gave out from under me. I could only watch, helpless. Maya started to sob hysterically. “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I just wanted to explain, to tell you not to be so impulsive. It’s all my fault Auntie is like this.” I snapped. I slapped her hard across the face, my voice a low, vicious snarl. “My mother is not dead yet. If you want to cry over a grave, go home and do it.” They both stared at me, stunned. Evan’s brow furrowed in disapproval. “Chloe, that’s enough. She didn’t mean it, and she’s apologized. Why are you taking it out on her? Besides, your mother’s health has always been fragile. You can’t blame other people for that.” My eyes, burning with unshed tears, locked onto his. “Get out,” I hissed. “Both of you, get out!” Just then, a doctor rushed out of the room, his face grim. “It’s not looking good. You need to prepare yourselves. We’re taking her into surgery now.” Panic seized me, and I collapsed onto the floor. My gaze fell on the two people who had caused this, the two architects of my mother’s pain. Maya shrank back from my glare, clutching her chest and gasping for air as if she couldn’t breathe. Evan hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he scooped her into his arms and turned to leave. “There’s nothing I can do to help with the surgery,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “I’ll take her home and come back later.” I couldn’t believe he could say those words. But then again, in his eyes, my mother had long ceased to be a person. She was just a tool, a lever he could use to force me to bend to his family’s will. After an agonizing hour, my mother was out of surgery. She was stable. Looking at her tear-streaked face, I knew I couldn’t let her down again. I took a deep breath and dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “Is your offer still on the table?” “Of course. Anything you want.” I bit my lip. “Marry me. Three years, max. Then you’ll be free.” There was a long silence on the other end. “Done. When?” “Three days. My mother can’t wait any longer. I’ll meet you at the city hall.” With everything settled, I rushed home to pack. The most important thing was my mother’s wedding dress. I had to get it back, intact. I had promised her I would wear it on my wedding day. When I walked in, Evan was pressing an ice pack to the red mark on Maya’s cheek. My eyes immediately locked onto a box on the table. The box where I kept the dress. I breathed a sigh of relief. But when I opened it, the dress was in tatters, a shredded heap of silk and lace. My vision blurred with red. “What is this? Who did this?” Maya, her face still covered by the ice pack, sniffled. “I’m sorry, sister. I didn’t mean to ruin it.” Evan immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her from me. “Don’t scare her. It’s not your main wedding gown anyway. I’ll have a better one made for you. She just accidentally stepped on it when she was taking it off. We had no idea the quality was so poor.” Without a second thought, I slapped him. “You knew my mother poured her heart and soul into making this for me, and you just let her destroy it? Poor quality? I’ve worn it nine times without a single tear, and she rips it to shreds the one time she puts it on? Open your eyes! Those are clean cuts! She took a pair of scissors to it! And you’re still defending her!” A flash of annoyance crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with a weary sigh. “Maybe it was difficult for her to take off, so she had to cut it,” he said, his voice placating. “She’s still young, and she has her issues. Try to be more understanding. It’s just a dress. Let’s not ruin our relationship over it. We’re going to be family soon. How are we supposed to get along if you make a scene over every little thing?” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. I could taste blood in my mouth. “Who the hell wants to be family with you and your sick, twisted sister? Evan, the biggest regret of my life is ever loving you!” “It’s just a dress,” I spat, my voice dripping with contempt. “A dress in exchange for seeing you for who you really are? A bargain.” At my words, Maya, who had been trembling in the corner, suddenly dropped to her knees. She started hitting herself, her cries escalating. “It’s all my fault! Why did I have to have an attack then? Why do I always destroy things when I’m upset?” she wailed. “Sister, my brother loves you so much! Please don’t leave him! I’ll go! I’m not even a real part of this family anyway! I won’t let my problems ruin your love!” With that, she scrambled to her feet and ran to the open window, climbing onto the ledge. Evan was horrified. “What are you doing? Get down from there!” Maya looked back at him, her face a mask of despair. “As long as I’m alive, I can’t control my attacks! The only way to stop this is if I’m dead!” She was about to jump. Evan was frantic. “No, don’t! It’s not your fault! No one blames you! You’ll always be our family! Chloe doesn’t care about the dress!” He turned to me, his eyes wild with desperation. “Say something!” I just stared at them, my heart a block of ice. “That’s your family’s problem. It has nothing to do with me.” As I turned to leave, Evan’s hand shot out and slapped me across the face. “You are unbelievable!” he roared. “That is a human life! Over a stupid dress, are you serious?” He rushed to the window, not even glancing back at me. “Get down, Maya. I hit her for you. See? It’s okay. Please, get down. If it makes you happy, I won’t get married. We can wait until you’re feeling better, okay?” Maya climbed down, and as she fell into his arms, she shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice. Only then did Evan seem to remember I was there. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “It was an emergency. You have to understand. You were being so cold. Thank God nothing happened.” My teeth were clenched so tight my jaw ached. All I could see was my mother’s pale, bruised face. I slapped him back, hard. “You knew it was an emergency for her, but what about my mother? When she was having a medical emergency because of your sister, that wasn’t an emergency?” “The first time, she switched out the welcome signs. The second time, she drove her car into me. The third time, she dug up my father’s grave! Are you the only ones who are human? Are my mother and I not?” I was so furious I stormed out without even bothering to pack. He grabbed my arm, his face a mess of guilt, trying to explain. But Maya clung to his other arm, refusing to let him go. He gave me a helpless look and sighed. “She’s having an attack. She can’t be left alone. I’ll… I’ll visit your mother when I have time.” For the next two days, I didn’t leave my mother’s side. Evan never showed up. But my social media feed was flooded with pictures of Maya, smiling and happy, with Evan by her side. I had already given up on him. I blocked them all. On the morning of the third day, I finally got the text I was waiting for. From Liam. I helped my mother get dressed and ready to go out. She looked at me, confused. “Where are we going?” I smiled. “I’m taking you to meet someone. And to do something that will make you very happy.” We took a cab to the city hall. Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why are we here?” I pushed her wheelchair forward. “To get married, of course.” Her expression turned serious. “I want to see you get married, but you can’t just marry a random stranger!” I laughed. “He’s not a stranger. You’ll see in a minute—” I was cut off by Evan’s voice behind me. “I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he said, a smug smile on his face. “All that talk about not getting married was just you being dramatic. Now here you are at the city hall, trying to force my hand.” He took my hand, his grip firm. “Fine. We can get married. But no wedding, no reception. My sister can’t handle it, and it puts me in a difficult position.” As if on cue, Maya started to cry. “Brother, are you really going to abandon me? Sister doesn’t like me. She’ll make you stay away from me.” Evan sighed and patted her head. “You see? My sister is still very upset about what you did. So here’s the deal. You apologize to her, and you write a formal letter promising you will never bully her again.” Looking at his self-righteous expression, I snatched my hand away and walked toward the appointment check-in. “Did I say I was marrying you? Don’t be so delusional.” Evan froze for a second, then let out a cold laugh, blocking my path. “Don’t be stubborn. We’ve been together for years. Who else would you marry? Come on, stop making a scene. Apologize, and we can get the license right now.” I ignored him and asked a clerk to help me check in. Seeing me dismiss him so completely, his face darkened with anger. “I told you, if you don’t apologize, I am not marrying you. I will not allow you to bully my family! I am not going to enable your bad behavior!” he shouted, his voice drawing the attention of everyone around us. “All this time, you’ve been nothing but cruel to my family. What’s so hard about saying you’re sorry? You want to marry me, but you’re not willing to make any concessions. Is that how you think this works?” Maya started to sob dramatically. “Sister, I know you think I’m trying to steal your brother from you, and I don’t blame you for being mean to me. But my illness is real. I really can’t be without him,” she cried. “If you really can’t accept me, then I’ll just die. I would do anything for my brother’s happiness.” Suddenly, I was the villain. Murmurs of disapproval rippled through the crowd. I looked at the two of them, their performance perfectly synchronized, not a shred of guilt on their faces. I wasn’t going to waste my breath. I turned to wheel my mother away, but Evan grabbed my arm. “Where are you going? How long are you going to run from this? I’m telling you, this is your only chance. Apologize to my sister in front of everyone, and I will marry you right now,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “If you walk away, this engagement is over. And when your mother dies, don’t come crying to me for help. I won’t be there.” I trembled with rage. “How dare you say that about my mother? I’m telling you, your entire family will be dead and buried before my mother is! And you think I’d come to you for help? In your dreams!” Evan’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “You’ve really lost your mind! How dare you speak about my mother that way! I’m going to teach you a lesson!” He raised his hand to strike me. I braced myself, ready to call the police the second he touched me. But the blow never landed. I opened my eyes to see a strong, steady hand gripping Evan’s wrist. “My fiancée is not for you to discipline.”

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I was on the hunt for a stud for my best friend’s prized pedigree cat when I accidentally stumbled onto a male model’s profile. Me: [Hey, what are your rates?] Model: [Ten grand a session. Top-tier looks.] I gritted my teeth and agreed. Me: [Deal. Can I film the session?] Model: [You want to film it?] Well, yeah. What if it’s not a successful pairing? The next day, I showed up with my cat, ready for the appointment. The door opened to reveal a masked, doting pet dad who took my breath away. “Filming is fine,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “But I don’t show my face.” 1 My best friend, Zoe, had tasked me with finding a suitable mate for her precious firstborn. As the cat’s official godmother, I took the job very seriously. Zoe told me all the prep work—vaccinations and deworming—had to be done a month in advance. After a trip to the vet, I brought Poppy home and started my search for a handsome tomcat while we waited for her to go into heat. Late one night, drowsy and bleary-eyed, I accidentally clicked on someone’s profile. It was filled with pictures of cats. One, in particular, a long-haired Golden Shaded British Longhair, made my eyes pop wide open. Oh. My. God. Those looks were on a whole other level. Suddenly wide awake, I shot him a private message. [Hey, what are your rates?] He must have been a night owl too because the reply was almost instant. [10k.] I scratched my head, baffled. Stud fees were this expensive nowadays? He must have sensed my hesitation. A new message popped up: [He’s gorgeous.] I gently shook the sleeping Poppy awake and pointed to the picture on my phone. “What do you think of this one, P?” Poppy just blinked at me before plopping her fluffy butt directly onto my screen. Alright, then! My god-cat wholeheartedly approved of this handsome gentleman! I took a deep breath and typed back: [Deal. Can I film the session?] [You want to film it?] Duh. What if it didn’t take? Me: [It’s just for proof. To make sure everything goes smoothly for both parties.] The “user is typing…” indicator lingered on my screen for an eternity. I frowned. What was there to think about? It was a perfectly reasonable precaution for my pet’s safety. Was that so hard to understand? A few minutes later, a new message arrived: […Fine. But the client will need to sign a strict non-disclosure agreement. The footage cannot be shared.] I raised an eyebrow. The stud industry was this professional now? Me: [No problem! And… he’s healthy, right? Physically?] Model: [Five gym sessions a week, very low body fat, powerful core strength. Don’t worry.] What? He takes his cat to the gym? Was the pet world this competitive? Then again, cats and humans were both mammals. A strong core probably helped with… performance, right? The thought made a weird kind of sense, and I found myself even more impressed with this tomcat. Not only was he stunning, but he was in peak physical condition. I grinned and typed: [Oh, okay, that’s great. What about his… temperament? Is he aggressive?] Model: [Depends on the client. With the right one, he’s very gentle and attentive. Puts a premium on the experience.] Oh my god. This was the holy grail of stud cats. He even cared about the experience? Poppy was in for a treat! Me: [Can we schedule for 10 days from now?] [Why the wait?] The ideal time for mating is between the third and fifth day of a female cat’s heat cycle, and Poppy’s was still about a week away. Ten days was the soonest we could do. I figured he probably wasn’t familiar with the specifics of female cat biology. So I kindly explained: [We have to wait for her fertile window.] He went silent again. What was it now? Was he shy? After a long pause, he slowly typed: [I just looked it up. You mean her ovulation period, right?] Umm… I guess you could call it that. I didn’t argue. [Yeah, basically. It’s just the best time to… you know.] […Right. All of the client’s needs will be met.] 2 I exchanged contact info with the stud’s owner, who went by the username “XC,” and sent over a deposit. Then I sent the picture of the Golden Shaded dreamboat to Zoe. My best friend, currently honeymooning on the other side of the world, showered me with praise. “That’s my girl! You’re the best godmother ever!” Zoe suggested I check out the stud’s living conditions beforehand. It sounded like a smart idea, so I messaged XC. [Yoo-hoo? What’s the… venue… like?] XC: [? The venue…] Yeah, the venue. The female cat is supposed to be brought to the male’s territory. It increases the chance of success and reduces stress. The stud’s owner is responsible for providing a safe and secure environment, like a quiet room with properly screened windows. Unfazed, I pressed on: [Is the environment safe?] This time, the silence was even longer. Finally, a single sentence appeared: [Yeah. You won’t get caught.] Caught? Oh, he must mean his cat is gentle and won’t scratch. What a little gentleman. I chuckled to myself, remembering the most important question. I sent a winking emoji. [So, uh, what’s the… hardware like?] XC: [Excellent.] Oh? Excellent how? I needed details. But he clearly didn’t get the hint. I waited, but no pictures or further descriptions came through. I had to be more direct: [Can you be more specific? Maybe a… picture? I need to be sure my baby’s physical and mental well-being are taken care of!] What if this cat was all fluff and no stuff? I couldn’t let Poppy suffer for nothing. After another long pause, XC replied: [The dimensions are… impressive. Client feedback has always been… very positive about the experience.] My eyes nearly popped out of my head. Wow! He even had client testimonials! This was a whole new level of professional. I struggled to maintain my composure. [Oh? And… stamina?] XC: […I have a lot of confidence in that department. Clients always leave satisfied.] My heart was racing. Oh. My. God. He was the perfect specimen! Gorgeous, gentle, well-endowed, and he could go the distance! Poppy, your godmother has found you a supermodel! Me: [That’s fantastic! So… is there anything I need to do to… assist?] XC: [You can watch from the side. If you need some direction.] Direction? How was I supposed to direct a cat? But I definitely had to be there to supervise. What if the stud got too rough? I had to be there to protect Poppy. Me: [Okay, I’ll definitely be there! By the way, will one session be enough? What if it doesn’t take the first time?] XC: [One is usually enough. If the client requires multiple sessions… there’s an extra charge.] So confident. One and done, huh? I guess that was better for Poppy, less stressful. Me: [I get it! You get what you pay for! So, it’s just the one visit?] XC: [Yes. I’ll provide my services until you’re completely satisfied.] The customer service was impeccable! I clutched my phone, giddy with excitement. This was the best ten thousand dollars I’d ever spent! I sent one last confirmation: [It’s a date, then! Ten days from now, I’ll bring her over. The rest… is up to him!] XC: [Don’t worry. I won’t let you down.] 3 A few days later, I was standing outside a high-end apartment building with Poppy in her carrier. Whoa. Does cat breeding pay this well? This place was fancy. My heart pounded as I rang the doorbell. I was excited to finally meet the handsome Golden Shaded, but also a little nervous. Ten grand was a lot of money. This had better work. The door swung open, and I was face-to-face with a masked, doting pet dad who stole the air from my lungs. He was tall, with a lean, muscular frame outlined by a fitted black tank top. A black face mask covered the lower half of his face, leaving only a pair of deep, intense eyes that seemed to be… sizing me up. “You can film,” he said, his voice a low, magnetic rumble. “But I don’t show my face.” Whoa. That voice. I snapped out of my daze and nodded quickly. “Right, right. Privacy. I get it.” Is this guy an influencer or something? I wondered. He stepped aside to let me in, his gaze falling on the cat carrier in my arms. He frowned slightly. “Oh, Poppy’s a little shy,” I explained quickly. “And she gets carsick. She’ll be fine in a bit. Is… uh… is he ready?” I craned my neck, trying to spot the cat. The man paused, as if processing my words. “Come in. We need to… go over the details.” I carried the carrier into the living room. The apartment was stylish and minimalist, but I didn’t see any scratching posts, cat trees, or toys. Strange. How could a cat owner’s place be this spotless? I set the carrier on the sofa and opened the door. “Come on out, Poppy…” Poppy huddled in the back, eyeing the new surroundings warily. I felt a little embarrassed. I turned to explain, only to see the man reaching for the hem of his shirt and slowly, deliberately, starting to pull it off. “W-wait, wait, wait!!!” I shrieked, nearly dropping my phone. “What… what are you doing?!” His hands froze mid-air, his visible eyes wide with confusion. “…Isn’t this what you wanted? Ten grand a session.” A cold, dawning horror began to creep up my spine. “What did I want?! I wanted a stud for my cat! A stud! Can’t you see what’s in this carrier?!” I thrust the carrier toward him, practically shoving it in his face. The man looked at the fluffy, slightly terrified cat inside. Then he looked at my face, which was now burning with a mixture of shock and mortification. The confusion in his deep-set eyes slowly morphed into a tidal wave of gut-wrenching, soul-crushing embarrassment. “…A cat?” “What else would it be?!” “…” The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by Poppy’s innocent, questioning “meow.” 4 My brain short-circuited for three solid seconds. Then, all our bizarre conversations came flooding back, scrolling through my mind like a cursed news ticker. “He’s gorgeous.” “Five gym sessions a week, powerful core strength.” “Puts a premium on the experience.” “The dimensions are… impressive. Client feedback has always been very positive.” “One is usually enough.” WHOOSH. A fiery blush rocketed from my neck to the roots of my hair. I was so hot you could have fried an egg on my forehead. So this is what social death felt like. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me and my cat whole. The man across from me was clearly having his own meltdown. He yanked his tank top back down with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, leaving an afterimage in the air. His eyes, the only part of his face I could see, darted around the room, desperate for a place to land. Finally, he spun around, giving me his broad, rigid back. “Look…” he began, his voice raspy, “I’m sorry. I… I misunderstood.” What could I possibly say to that? No problem, it’s my fault for being an idiot who can’t read a profile properly? I clutched the cat carrier like it was a live grenade. “So…” I struggled to find the right words. “You’re… not a breeder?” His shoulders slumped. “No.” “And the cats on your profile…” “Are my pets.” “So the ten-grand-a-session thing was for…” “…” His silence was all the answer I needed. My entire worldview had just been shattered. I had spent ten days meticulously researching, filled with giddy anticipation, and had agreed to spend an obscene amount of money… to hire a male escort? For my cat? I looked down at the innocent Poppy, who was now calmly licking her paws. Sweetie, I am so sorry. Godmommy booked you the wrong species. “Well, I should probably get going,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stay here another second. I just wanted to teleport off the planet. I spun around, ready to make a break for the door. “Wait!” He turned back around and called out to me. I froze, not daring to look at him. Please, just let me go. You can keep the deposit. It’s the price I pay for being blind. “Are… are you looking for a long-haired Golden Shaded for stud?” he asked, his voice hesitant. I nodded stiffly. “My cat… he’s the one in the pictures.” My head snapped up. He was pointing toward the balcony. I followed his gesture. There, on the top perch of a cat tree in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, sat a magnificent, fluffy, golden creature, yawning lazily in the afternoon sun. The light caught its long fur, making it shimmer like spun gold. The handsome face, the emerald green eyes… it was him. My dream cat. Holy crap. He was real. And a hundred times more stunning in person. The awkwardness of the last five minutes evaporated. My eyes lit up, and I rushed toward the window. “Oh my god! It’s him! What’s his name?” The man seemed taken aback by my complete one-eighty but answered nonetheless. “…Ten Grand.” “What?” “His name is Ten Grand.” “…” Well. That was certainly on the nose. 5 I pressed my face against the glass, staring at Ten Grand like a complete stalker. He seemed to sense my gaze, turned his head, gave me a cool, dismissive glance, and went back to watching the world go by. Wow. That aloof attitude. He was just like his owner. I opened the carrier, and Poppy cautiously poked her head out. When she saw Ten Grand, a soft purr rumbled in her chest. She was definitely interested. A spark of hope ignited within me. I was already here, right? Might as well see this through. And honestly, this cat was the most beautiful Golden Shaded I had ever seen. I turned back to the masked man, who was now leaning against a wall, watching me with a complicated expression. I cleared my throat, deciding to just go for it. “So… uh… handsome.” His body tensed. “I admit,” I said, trying my best to look sincere, “this has been a massive, astronomical misunderstanding. But, look, I really am here to find a mate for my cat, and your cat, Ten Grand, really is ridiculously handsome…” I gestured from Poppy to Ten Grand. “And I think they have a connection! What do you say we just… roll with it?” The man was silent. His mask hid his expression, but I could see the emotions warring in his eyes: embarrassment, then disbelief, and finally… a flicker of amusement? “Let me get this straight,” he said slowly. “You want to pay me ten thousand dollars… for my cat to mate with your cat?” “Yes!” I nodded enthusiastically. “Money is no object!” (It was very much an object, but for Zoe’s firstborn, I would make the sacrifice.) My earnestness seemed to amuse him. A low chuckle rumbled from behind his mask. It was a nice sound. “Ten Grand… has never been studded before.” “That’s fine! First time is even better! Means he’s clean!” I blurted out. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Why does everything I say sound so weird today? The amusement in his eyes deepened. “And I never planned on using him as a stud,” he added. “Just once! Please, just this one time!” I clasped my hands together, shamelessly begging. “Please? Look how cute Poppy is! Their kittens would be absolutely gorgeous! I’ll give you one! No, two!” I scooped Poppy out of her carrier and held her up for him to see. Poppy, bless her heart, chose that moment to let out a soft, sweet “meow.” The man looked at the cat in my arms, then at Ten Grand on the balcony. He seemed to be seriously considering it. Maybe it was my desperate puppy-dog eyes, or maybe it was Poppy’s charm. After a few tense moments, he finally sighed. “…Okay.” Yes! I almost jumped for joy!

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1 In the final days of my life, I grew to despise my daughter. If not for her, I could have lived a life of wild freedom—I wouldn’t be dying young, worn out from exhaustion. So I began to torment her. I made her cook, clean, and serve me endlessly. I watched coldly as she cut her finger chopping vegetables, blood beading like a red jewel. I grabbed my cane and struck her hard across the back. “Are you really this useless?” I snarled. “Can’t you do anything right?” Finally, I called my ex-husband. “Come get your daughter. I can’t handle her anymore.” But Claire dropped to her knees, her voice trembling. “Mommy… are you sending me away?” I clenched my jaw and nodded. “Yes. I don’t want you anymore.” Heartbreak swept over her young face. She couldn’t understand—in the time I had left, I had something far more important to do. I was going to become Ethan Knight’s greatest regret. The one love he lost forever. When Ethan walked through the door, his eyes swept the room, a deep frown forming on his face. His gaze landed on me, cold as ice. “Is this what you call a ‘good environment’ for our daughter?” he demanded. “You let Claire live in a place like this?” I was lounging on the sofa, casually eating a slice of apple Claire had just handed me, the picture of lazy contentment. Ethan’s frown deepened. “My God, Elara, you have no shame! If you didn’t want to take care of her, why did you fight so hard for custody?” “To make your life hell, of course,” I said with a shrug. “You left me for Stella Locke without a second thought. Why should I let your daughter have a good life?” My careless words hit their mark. Ethan’s control snapped. He slammed his fist into the wall, his voice raw with anger. “I was right about you, Elara! You’re nothing but a lazy, self-indulgent parasite!” “That huge settlement I gave you when we divorced—I bet you didn’t spend a dime of it on Claire. You blew it all on yourself, didn’t you?” My breath hitched, and my fingers dug into the armrest of the sofa. Ethan’s voice pressed on. “And now that the money’s gone, you’re tired of playing mom? Or is this just another ploy to squeeze more cash out of me, using Claire as bait?” He looked down at our daughter, at her worn-out clothes, and his eyes blazed with fury. “You’re overthinking things,” I said, popping the last piece of apple into my mouth. “I’ve had Claire for three years, and frankly, I’m done.” “The kid’s got a difficult personality, no sense of gratitude. She’s always causing trouble for me at school.” “And she’s slow. A total nightmare to teach anything to. Her grades are a disaster.” “I’m not wasting any more of my life on her. You take her. You always adored her so much, didn’t you?” I added, a saccharine smile on my face. “Or are you afraid Stella won’t let you bring Claire home?” Ethan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Elara, you carried her for nine months. She’s your own flesh and blood. How can you say such horrible things about her?” I let out a small, bitter laugh inside. “I know it’s hard to accept, but it’s the truth. Claire is not an exceptional child. Maybe… my genes dragged her down. So I’m giving her back to you. Maybe you can do a better job.” Ethan’s chest heaved, his face flushed with rage. He turned and knelt, taking Claire’s hand. His voice was gentle, a stark contrast to the venom he’d directed at me. “Claire, sweetheart. Daddy’s taking you home.” Instinctively, Claire pulled her hand away and took two steps toward me. I held her gaze, my expression unyielding. For a heartbeat, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—a question, a plea. Then, she turned back, took Ethan’s hand, and looked up at him. “Daddy,” she said softly, “I’ll go with you. But… will you be good to me?” I saw Ethan’s eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nodded fiercely. His head snapped back toward me, his voice thick with hatred. “Elara, I want you to stay out of Claire’s life. You stay away from my daughter. A person like you doesn’t deserve to be a mother.” He pulled Claire with him, storming out and slamming the door so hard the floorboards rattled. The moment they were gone, my body gave out. I collapsed over the side of the sofa, vomiting up the apple and everything else in my stomach. After a long moment, I closed my eyes, breathing through the nausea, and dialed Ethan’s assistant. “Mr. Davis,” I said, my voice weak. “When Ethan and I divorced, how much was the settlement he arranged for me?” The man on the other end went silent. The pause stretched, heavy with guilt. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Ms. Croft… I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Mr. Knight gave you a million dollars in cash and a luxury condo. But… Ms. Locke intercepted it all.” “The Locke family is powerful. They threatened my job, my family… I’m just an employee, Ms. Croft. I’m truly, deeply sorry…” “I understand,” I said, my voice flat. “I don’t blame you.” “But I need you to tell Ethan the truth when the time is right. You owe that to me, and you owe it to Claire.” Another long silence. Then, a quiet, resigned, “Yes.” I hung up and let my body sink completely into the sofa cushions, my mind drifting. My story with Ethan was painfully simple. I loved him, and he loved someone else. I’d adored him from afar for three years, and when his perfect Stella Locke went abroad to study, I saw my chance and took it. We married, and soon we had our beautiful daughter. For a while, the way Ethan looked at me grew softer, warmer. Just when I thought we were building a real life, his perfect girl came back. What followed was the oldest story in the book. A forced divorce. But unlike in the novels, there was no grand, regretful gesture, no dramatic chase to win me back. The only surprise was that in the three years since we’d split, he and Stella had never married. I never doubted Ethan’s love for Claire, but his affections were fickle. With Stella constantly whispering in his ear, I couldn’t risk our daughter’s future on a gamble. And I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving the child I’d fought so hard to bring into this world all alone. So when we divorced, I fought for her. I had a job; I could support us. This apartment wasn’t the hovel Ethan made it out to be. It just wasn’t the Knight family mansion. My thoughts grew hazy, and I drifted off, only to be jolted awake by the shrill ring of my phone. Ethan’s voice was a low growl, laced with icy fury. “You’re a monster, Elara.” “You dared to abuse my daughter?” “She’s just a little girl! How could you hit her? The nanny saw the bruises on her back when she was giving her a bath. Even she was in tears.” “And you… you’re her mother. How could you be so cruel…?” His voice cracked on the last word, and for a second, I thought I heard a sob. Suppressing my surprise, I answered calmly, “I was just trying to teach her a lesson. She’s so clumsy, she never learns.” “Bullshit!” he roared. The vulgarity was so unlike the polished gentleman he always tried to be that a small, genuine laugh escaped my lips. “You think this is funny? I’m telling you, Elara, I won’t let you get away with this!” He hung up. I waited for his revenge. But three days passed, and all I got was a call from my boss telling me I was fired. I just smiled. It didn’t matter. What’s a job when you only have a few days left to live? Two weeks later, I came home from a hospital appointment to find Ethan waiting outside my door. This time, he wasn’t shouting. He just watched me, his expression searching, confused. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice hesitant. “Elara… do you even know our daughter?” “Claire is sweet, she’s obedient, and she’s been top of her class every single year. Why would you say she’s a terrible student?” “At first, I thought you just didn’t care enough to know. But I heard you never missed a parent-teacher conference. Her teacher said you were always asking about her progress.” “So, Elara,” he asked, his eyes locking onto mine, “why did you lie?” I lowered my gaze, my mind racing. Then, I looked up and gave him a mocking smile. “Does it matter what I say, Ethan? When have you ever believed a word that came out of my mouth?” He flinched, a flicker of memory crossing his face, and his expression soured. “Remember when Stella moved into our house right after she came back?” I pressed on. “She knew she was allergic to shellfish, but she told me she was craving seafood risotto and begged me to make it for her.” She had made a show of praising my cooking right in front of him, then collapsed, gasping for air. No matter how much I tried to explain, Ethan was convinced I’d done it on purpose. “You can’t stand to see her happy, can you, Elara? Do you have any idea how dangerous an allergy can be? Your jealousy has made you into a pathetic, irrational monster!” His harsh words used to feel like daggers. Now, I felt nothing. “Remember when she tore her gown for the gala and blamed me? I explained, the housekeeper even backed me up, but did you believe me?” The color drained from Ethan’s face. “The day you took her to that art exhibit overseas, she paid off one of the counselors at Claire’s summer camp to call me and say Claire had gotten lost on a hike in the mountains.” “I drove out there in the middle of the night. Someone ‘guided’ me deep into the woods until I was completely lost. I nearly died out there.” “And when I told you what happened, what did you say?” He had looked at me with a flash of surprise, then immediately dismissed it. “That’s impossible. I was with Stella the entire time. When would she have had the time to arrange all that?” His excuses were pathetic then, and they were pathetic now. But I knew that once Ethan Knight made up his mind, nothing could change it. Unless… “Some things, you have to find out for yourself. You’ll only believe it when you see the proof.” My voice was cold, detached. He stood there in a long, heavy silence as I unlocked my door and stepped inside. Just as I was about to close it, I heard him whisper, “I’m sorry.” “I didn’t know Stella kept the settlement money from you. I’ll make it right.” I offered a dismissive smile. Money was the last thing on my mind. But one thing was critically important. In the time I had left, I would become Ethan’s other great love. The one he could never have back. A ghost that would haunt him forever. If he wouldn’t mourn me out of love, I would force him to mourn me out of guilt. Every woman knows the devastating power of a love lost to death. Only then would he truly, endlessly love my daughter. Only then would he shut his heart to any other woman who tried to get close. I admit, my plan was selfish and cruel. But I had no regrets. Inside, I swallowed a handful of the new painkillers, forcing down the wave of nausea. Then I picked up a pen and wrote in my journal. A week later, a frantic pounding echoed through my apartment. I opened the door and was violently shoved inside before I could even see who it was. The door slammed shut behind them. Five or six people stood in my living room. Leading them was Stella Locke. Her expression was more arrogant than ever, but her eyes burned with a raw, hateful fire. “You’re clever, Elara, I’ll give you that. Actually convincing Ethan to look into what happened three years ago.” “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? We were about to get engaged!” She stepped forward and her hand flew, striking my face with a sharp crack. I could have dodged it, but I took the full force of the blow. A bright red handprint bloomed on my cheek. I lowered my head, feigning fear, but a secret smile touched my lips. The slap seemed to have calmed her slightly. “Don’t get too smug,” she said, her voice regaining its composure. “So what if Ethan knows the truth? All I have to do is sweet-talk him a little, and he’ll come running back to me.” “Just like before. He abandoned you for me once, he’ll do it again.” She leaned in close, her voice a venomous whisper. “And after I marry him, I’ll be sure to take very good care of your precious daughter.” My head snapped up. I shoved her with all my might, sending her stumbling back. Rage contorted her beautiful features. “Teach her a lesson!” she shrieked. Rough hands grabbed me, forcing me to the floor. They held metal rods, and they brought them down hard on my back. After just a few blows, Stella called them off. “I’m not going to give you a chance to play the victim for Ethan,” she purred, looking down at me. “It’s just a few hits. You can handle that, can’t you?” With that, she and her thugs swept out of my apartment. I lay on the floor, unable to move for a long time. But inside, my heart was pounding with a wild, triumphant excitement. I had been trying to figure out how to lure her here, and she had walked right into my trap, playing her part perfectly. I let out a raw, broken laugh. With trembling arms, I pulled myself up and wrote the final entry in my journal. Then, I emptied the entire bottle of sleeping pills into my hand and swallowed them all. Don’t blame me for this, Stella. I no longer cared about her and Ethan’s twisted love story. But if she hadn’t stolen the money Ethan meant for me, I wouldn’t have had to work three jobs just to give my daughter a decent life. I wouldn’t have destroyed my own body in the process. This was a debt she owed me. I was never a good person to begin with. A mother who would strike her own child is destined for hell. What’s one more sin on my soul? Claire, my darling, Mommy can’t watch you grow up, can’t see you blossom into a beautiful woman, can’t be there for the spectacular life you’re going to live. But with my own life, I will buy you a ticket to a better one. With that last thought, my world faded to black.

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Late one night, someone tagged me in the company’s after-hours group chat. “@LilyLin-Design, that Hermès bag of yours, is it the global limited edition?” “I have a major gala next weekend and I’m in desperate need of a bag. Yours is just sitting there anyway, so lend it to me. I need to make an impression.” The sender was Mandy Wang, the star saleswoman. She had a habit of talking to people like she owned them. I typed back a simple reply: “No.” A string of voice messages immediately followed, her tone sharp and acidic. “Aren’t you a petty little thing? We’re colleagues, what’s the big deal with helping me out? Don’t worry, I won’t use it for free. I’ll give you fifty bucks for a rental fee. That’s more than generous, isn’t it?” I had to laugh. Fifty dollars to rent a bag worth tens of thousands? 1 It was ten o’clock at night when “The Water Cooler,” our company’s unofficial group chat, lit up. A message tagged me directly. “@LilyLin-Design, that Hermès bag of yours, isn’t it a limited edition?” The sender’s profile picture was a polished corporate headshot, her name listed as “Mandy Wang – Sales.” She was the company’s ace, consistently ranking number one in performance. Her every word and action carried an air of absolute authority. The chat instantly buzzed to life. A girl from Admin posted a star-eyed emoji: “Wow, Mandy’s taste is always top-tier!” Another salesperson chimed in: “Any bag would look a level up on Mandy!” I stared at the screen and said nothing. Mandy, it seemed, had little patience. A second message followed on the heels of the first. “I have a major gala next weekend and I’m in desperate need of a bag. Yours is just sitting there anyway, so lend it to me. I need to make an impression.” Her tone wasn’t a request. It was a notification. As if lending her the bag was a privilege she was bestowing upon me. A few of her cronies in the chat started to hype her up. “Come on, Lily! Mandy herself is asking, you have to say yes!” “Yeah, the fact that Mandy even noticed your bag proves you have good taste.” I looked at the messages, my fingers tapping out two words before I hit send. “No.” The chat fell dead silent. The peanut gallery that had been so vocal moments before was suddenly mute. After a full thirty seconds, Mandy’s icon popped up again. This time, it was a thirty-second voice message. I pressed play, and her sharp, grating voice drilled into my ear. “Well, well, Lily, aren’t you a petty little thing? We work in the same company, we see each other every day. What’s the big deal with helping a colleague out?” “Do you have any idea who I am in this company? You’re new, you should have asked around. Me asking to borrow something from you is me giving you face.” The message cut off, and another one started. “Don’t worry, I won’t use it for free. I’ll give you fifty bucks for a rental fee. That’s more than generous, isn’t it? That’s enough to cover your take-out for a few days.” Fifty dollars. I was so taken aback by her sheer, unadulterated entitlement that I laughed out loud. A bag worth tens of thousands, and she thought she could brush me off with fifty bucks. I was about to type back, to inform her just how many zeros were in the bag’s price tag, when another message from her appeared. This one was text, dripping with menace. “Don’t be ungrateful. I’m giving you a chance here. You’re new. Getting on my good side will make your life a lot easier.” “Besides, that bag of yours is probably gathering dust. I’m doing you a favor by taking it out to see the world, and you even get a free meal out of it. What’s not to like?” “It’s just a bag. Why are you being so cheap? Think about the big picture.” I stared at my phone, my expression growing colder by the second. It wasn’t just a bag. It was the only thing my mother had left me. Just then, a few private messages came through. One was cautionary: “Lily, Mandy runs this place. You’re new, don’t cross her. Your life will be hell.” Another was supportive: “She’s insane. Fifty bucks to rent a Hermès? The audacity!” I ignored them all and replied directly to Mandy in the group chat. “First, my bag is not for loan, especially not to you.” “Second, my bag has probably seen more of the world than you have.” “Third, keep the fifty bucks. Buy yourself a clue.” After sending those three messages, I didn’t bother to look at the chat’s reaction. I knew I had just made a powerful enemy. Sure enough, less than a minute later, my private messages were bombarded by Mandy. All voice notes, each one seething with rage. “What the hell is that supposed to mean, Lily!” “How dare you talk to me like that in the group chat? Are you trying to get fired?!” “Fine. You’re good. Just you wait!” I blocked her. And the world went quiet. I thought that would be the end of it. But just before I went to sleep, Mandy tagged me one last time in The Water Cooler. Since I had blocked her DMs, she resorted to shouting in public. “Lily, be in my office tomorrow morning. We’ll have a chat, face to face.” “Don’t make me come down to the design department to ‘invite’ you myself.” 2 The next morning, I had barely clocked in when my department director called me into his office. Director Lee was a man in his forties, usually all smiles. Today, however, his expression was grim. “Lily, did you have some kind of conflict with Mandy Wang from sales?” I nodded. “She wanted to borrow my bag. I said no.” Director Lee sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Mandy is an incredible salesperson, but her personality is… a bit aggressive.” “She called me first thing this morning. Said you were a new hire with an attitude problem, that you don’t know how to respect your seniors.” I stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “Look, the client she’s meeting next week is critical to the entire company. She just wants to represent us well, make a good impression. That’s why she wanted the bag.” “So why don’t you just…” I cut him off. “Director Lee, that is my personal property. It has nothing to do with the company. And that bag has immense sentimental value. It cannot be lent out.” My polite but firm refusal clearly irritated him. His face soured. “Fine. Handle it yourself. Just don’t let a petty issue like this affect your work.” I walked out of the director’s office and headed straight for the sales department. Mandy’s office was at the end of the hall. It had a glass wall, and I could see her inside, leisurely painting her nails a shade of bright red. I knocked. She glanced up, looking at me as if granting an audience. “You’re here.” She blew on her freshly painted nails, not bothering to lift her head. “You wanted to see me, Mandy?” I asked, getting straight to the point. Mandy pulled a beautifully wrapped box from her drawer and pushed it across the desk toward me. “Here. For you.” I didn’t move. She finally deigned to look at me, a smirk playing on her lips. “Go on, open it. It’s the latest perfume. I had someone bring it back from Europe for me. You can’t even buy it here.” “You’re a young girl, don’t be so stingy. The way you spoke in the chat yesterday made things so awkward for everyone.” She glossed over the incident, as if she wasn’t the one who had been throwing a tantrum. I still didn’t move. I just watched her perform. Seeing my lack of response, her patience began to wear thin. She steered the conversation back on track. “Let’s talk business. The bag. Have you reconsidered?” “Let me be clear. The client I’m meeting is the founder of the L&M Group. If I land this account, the company’s revenue for the year is secured. This is huge for everyone here. As an employee, you should be willing to contribute to the collective good, right?” She was trying to wrap her selfish desires in the flag of corporate interest. I finally spoke, my voice cold. “It’s my personal property. It has nothing to do with the company.” Mandy’s face fell instantly, the facade of friendliness vanishing. She shoved the perfume bottle toward me again, her voice rising. “Lily, don’t push your luck! The profit I generate in a single month could buy ten of your stupid bags! Who the hell do you think you are?” “I’m telling you now, you’re lending me that bag. You don’t have a choice!” She stood up, looming over me, her voice laced with threat. “If I want to make someone’s life in the design department a living hell, believe me, I have my ways. You think a fresh-out-of-college brat like you can fight me?” I looked at her face, twisted with rage, and I suddenly smiled. I reached out and picked up the exquisitely packaged perfume. A triumphant grin spread across Mandy’s face. She thought I’d finally caved. “There, you see? If you’d just…” Before she could finish, I let my hand go slack. The bottle of cheap perfume she claimed was “impossible to find” arced through the air and landed with a distinct clink in the trash can beside her desk. The smile froze on Mandy’s face. I looked her dead in the eye and said, enunciating every word, “My things, even my trash, are not for you to touch.” Then I turned and walked out without a backward glance. Behind me, I heard her enraged shriek and the sound of things being violently swept off her desk. As I reached the door, I heard her snarling into her phone. “Hello, Director Lee? That new girl, Lily Lin, has a serious attitude problem! Yes, her! Zero respect for her seniors!” 3 Mandy didn’t confront me again in the following days, but my life at the company became significantly harder. The design project I was in charge of was for none other than Mandy’s “L&M Group.” It was a massive account, and nearly all the company’s resources were being directed toward it. But my work was being blocked at every turn. The data I needed from Admin was perpetually “in processing.” For three days straight. The samples I requested from Purchasing were suddenly “out of stock” from the supplier, with no new shipment until next month. Even the printer seemed to have a personal vendetta against me, jamming every single time I tried to use it. My colleagues in the design department saw it all, but no one dared to say a word. They just gave me sympathetic looks. Director Lee called me in once more, hinting that I should try to “make peace” with Mandy. My only response was, “It wasn’t my fault. I won’t apologize.” He gave up on me after that, adopting a hands-off approach. I ignored the petty sabotage and poured all my energy into the design proposal. I knew it was my only chance to prove myself. Friday was the final project review. I walked into the conference room, my arms full with a thick binder of schematics and a physical model. As head of sales, Mandy was, of course, present. When she saw me, a malicious smile curled her lips. Ten minutes before the meeting started, I went to the breakroom for a glass of water. On my way back, I ran into someone right at the conference room door. It was Mandy. She was holding a steaming cup of coffee. It tilted, and the entire scalding contents spilled directly onto the design proposal in my arms. The white paper instantly soaked up the dark brown liquid, wrinkling and warping. “Oh my god! Lily, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Mandy’s mouth said sorry, but her eyes showed no remorse. She even made a show of grabbing a napkin. “Here, let me help you clean it up…” Her hand smeared across the wet pages, transforming the soaked drawings into a blurry, indecipherable mess. The room was utterly silent. Everyone stared. Director Lee’s face was so dark it looked like it was about to storm. Everyone knew how important this project was. With the proposal destroyed, weeks of work had just gone down the drain. They all thought I was finished. Mandy’s eyes gleamed with triumph, waiting for my inevitable breakdown. But it never came. I just stared at her, my face a blank mask, as she finished her little performance. Then, I reached into my laptop bag and pulled out a USB flash drive. “It’s a good thing I have a backup,” I said, my calm voice echoing in the quiet room. The smile on Mandy’s face froze solid. I walked past her and whispered, so low that only she could hear, “By the way, Mandy, I think they just installed a new security camera in the breakroom. HD. With audio.” I saw the color drain from her face. For the first time, her eyes flickered with genuine panic. During that review, I delivered a flawless presentation using my digital backup. My design concept and proposal received unanimous approval from all the senior executives, including the Vice President who had flown in from headquarters specifically for the meeting. When it was over, Mandy was the first one out of the room, practically stumbling over her own feet. Back at my desk, my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unknown number. “I need that bag tonight.” “Or next time, it won’t be coffee I spill on you.”

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In my eighteenth year with the Hayes family, I brought their real daughter home. She stood nervously at the door in a washed-out white shirt and faded jeans, her face an exact replica of Mrs. Hayes in her youth. The sight of her alone was enough to stir a deep sense of pity in the Hayes family. But as they moved to embrace her, her eyes reddened, and she shrank back, hiding behind me with a look of unspoken fear. Just as everyone was feeling a sense of relief at how close she seemed to be with me, her thoughts suddenly echoed in my mind. 【Anna told me she only brought me here to make herself look better next to my shabby clothes. She said I can’t get close to the family, or she’ll throw me out.】 【If I told Mom and Dad that my foster mother used to abuse me, they probably wouldn’t believe me. They’ve known Anna for much longer.】 【I’m so jealous of Anna. She’s dressed like a princess, and I look like a servant…】 Chloe Summers bowed her head, her hands twisting the hem of her sleeves, a perfect picture of a frightened, bullied girl who couldn’t speak her truth. She thought the Hayes family would turn on me, that they would cast me out. What she didn’t realize was that the looks they were giving her now were filled with scrutiny and doubt. 1 It was Mr. Hayes who broke the silence. He avoided my gaze, cleared his throat, and spoke to the housekeeper standing nearby. “It’s getting late, Mrs. Gable. Please show her to her room.” Chloe looked up at him, her face a mask of disbelief. This was not the reaction she had anticipated. Could something be wrong with my mind-reading power? Before I could say anything, her thoughts flooded my mind again. 【The room I had at the Summers’ house was a storage closet. No windows, no sunlight. I hope my room here has a window.】 【But if I ask for a room with a window, will Mom and Dad think I’m being greedy?】 【Never mind. I’m just a rat from the gutter. What right do I have to ask for anything?】 Hearing her feigned misery, I had to suppress a cold laugh. In my past life, after I brought her home, I did everything I could to be good to her. I deferred to her in everything. But the Hayes family only grew to resent me more and more. Mrs. Hayes not only confiscated my allowance but also moved me into the basement. It was perpetually dark and damp, and they had left special ‘gifts’ for me down there. The moment I closed my eyes, I would hear the scuttling of rats and centipedes. From that day on, I never had a peaceful night’s sleep. I thought I had done something wrong, so I went to Mrs. Hayes to apologize, my heart heavy with guilt. But her eyes were filled with nothing but contempt, her voice laced with a hatred she couldn’t hide. “Chloe suffered for over a decade. You can’t even last a few days? Did you really start to think you were a princess?” It was only then that I understood. Everything she did to me was an attempt to make me suffer as Chloe had suffered, to assuage her own guilt. But she seemed to have forgotten one crucial fact: the Hayes family owed their entire fortune to me. The assets my biological parents left me were enough to last ten lifetimes. If the Hayes hadn’t used my adoption as a legal loophole to seize control of my family’s wealth, Mr. Hayes could have worked for a hundred years and never even touched the fringes of high society. And yet, they saw me as the usurper. The irony was laughable. Now, everyone’s eyes were on Chloe, their expressions unreadable. This time around, Chloe, you won’t be using your inner voice to destroy me. 2 Mrs. Hayes forced a smile and asked tentatively, “Chloe, dear, the Summers family wasn’t wealthy, but our investigation didn’t show any signs of deliberate abuse…” Chloe froze, her face turning deathly pale. She stammered, “The… the Summers family was very good to me. They treated me like their own daughter.” Just as Mrs. Hayes began to breathe a sigh of relief, Chloe’s inner voice piped up again. 【They were nice to me on the surface, but they abused me in secret.】 【But Mom must be saying that because she’s worried about upsetting Anna. I should probably keep the truth to myself.】 【It’s okay if I have to suffer a little.】 Listening to her internal monologue, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. I looked at her, my voice laced with meaning. “Chloe, I heard the Summers treated you even better than their own daughter. Is that true?” Chloe nodded, her voice as soft as a whisper, the very picture of obedience. “Yes, Anna. I had a good life with them.” In my past life, I only learned after I died that Chloe had a “mind-reading” system that allowed everyone but me to hear her thoughts. I had been confused and hurt by their sudden hostility, I’d questioned myself endlessly, but I never once imagined that Chloe was orchestrating it all with her fabricated thoughts. But this time, she had no idea that the moment I was reborn, I was bonded to a “life playback” system. The miserable past Chloe spoke of had already been laid bare for the Hayes family to see. Contrary to her inner thoughts, the Summers, while not wealthy aristocrats, were a comfortable middle-class family. And they had, in fact, treated her better than their own child. They’d spent a small fortune to send her to the city’s best private school and had given her the largest bedroom in the house. She had deliberately bought her current outfit from a thrift store to cultivate a pitiful image, one that would make the Hayes family pity her and despise me. But her little act had already been exposed. Even if they didn’t call her out on it now, the seeds of doubt had been planted. Chloe, this time, you will not be climbing over my back to get to the top. Seeing that none of us were speaking, she meekly followed Mrs. Gable out of the room. After she left, the living room was plunged into an even deeper silence. Mark Hayes, the eldest son, glanced at my calm expression, a flicker in his eyes. He casually draped his arm over my shoulder in a show of affection. “Hey, sis,” he said with a grin. “Chloe’s probably just a little overwhelmed. Don’t mind what she said.” I subtly shifted away from his arm, my eyes wide with feigned confusion. “What are you talking about, Mark? Chloe didn’t say anything bad.” He shot a quick, meaningful look at his parents, then let out an awkward laugh. “Oh, uh, I just didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. Even with Chloe back, you’ll always be a part of this family.” With that, the three of them disappeared upstairs into the study. I watched them go, a sneer forming on my lips. Mark had said the same thing in my past life. After Chloe returned, everyone turned against me, but he was the only one who defended me. I thought he genuinely saw me as his sister. I never imagined it was all an act for the trust fund I had left. Before I was even born, my parents had set up a trust fund for me to ensure my future. It was managed by a team of professional investors, and over the years, its value had multiplied many times over. There was only one condition for withdrawal: I had to claim it myself, in person, on my twenty-second birthday. In my previous life, the day I turned twenty-two, Mark came to me, his face etched with worry. He told me he’d made a terrible investment, that the company’s capital chain was broken, and they were on the verge of bankruptcy. I trusted him completely. Without a second thought, I withdrew the entire fund and gave it to him to save the company, desperate to be the good, understanding sister he wanted. The moment the money was in his hands, he changed. He hurled insults at me, threw me out of the house, and blacklisted me so I couldn’t find a job. To survive, I had to collect and sell trash. I lived on stale bread and cold water. When I got sick, I had to endure it, with no money for medicine. I died in that cold, damp basement. And him? He took my money and went on a lavish spending spree with Chloe—renting private resorts, buying yachts, emptying out designer stores. Now, my twenty-second birthday is just one month away. This time, I will not only protect my trust fund, but I will also take back everything that was stolen from me. 3 The next morning, as we were having breakfast, Chloe came downstairs wearing the same clothes from the day before. She looked anxious, her hands twisting the hem of her shirt. After a moment of hesitation, she approached me. “Anna,” she said timidly, “I have to register at my new school today, but I don’t have anything suitable to wear. Could I… could I borrow something of yours?” My eyes gleamed. I wondered what she was planning now. I grabbed her hand, my smile wide and welcoming. “Of course, you can! Come on, I’ll take you upstairs to pick something out.” Mr. and Mrs. Hayes said nothing, tacitly approving. I led Chloe to my walk-in closet. I pushed open the carved wooden doors, revealing a vast, pale pink space divided into sections by brand and style, with display cases for my most prized collector’s pieces. Even Chloe, who had so carefully hidden her malice, couldn’t stop a flash of raw jealousy from appearing in her eyes. I pretended not to notice and led her to the casual wear section. “Chloe, pick whatever you like,” I said, gesturing to rows of clothes, many with the tags still on. “If you find something you want, it’s yours.” Chloe remained silent, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. I knew what was coming, but I feigned confusion. “Chloe? Is there nothing here you like?” She shook her head, then pointed to a magnificent, diamond-encrusted white gown in the formal wear section. Her voice held a barely concealed tremor of excitement. “Anna… could I choose this one?” I feigned a moment of hesitation, but inside, I was ecstatic. That gown was a gift from Mr. Hayes for my eighteenth birthday. He had commissioned a master designer to create it, a year-long project, all to show the world that they had not mistreated me. Every single diamond was hand-selected and hand-sewn. Its value was astronomical. In my past life, Chloe had also chosen this dress. Seeing how much she loved it, I had given it to her without a second thought. I did, however, gently remind her that I had worn it once, so it would be best to wear it for a private occasion, not a major public event. There was an unspoken rule in high society: you never wear the same gown twice. But sure enough, at the school’s welcome gala the next day, she wore it. And I was the one who was publicly shamed. They called me malicious, saying I had deliberately set Chloe up to be humiliated by making her wear my cast-offs. No one listened to my explanations. I was forced to take the blame. After that, my reputation at school was ruined, and I was ostracized by my peers. Now, looking at Chloe’s expectant face, I smiled and handed her the gown. “This dress is priceless. If you love it, it’s yours.” Then, I grabbed several other new, tag-on outfits and pushed them into her arms. “Chloe, these more ordinary clothes will probably suit you better.” I emphasized the word “ordinary,” the mockery in my eyes unconcealed. Ignoring her sour expression, I turned and left the closet. Downstairs, I turned to Mrs. Hayes with a helpful suggestion. “Aunt Evelyn, the school is having a welcome gala tomorrow night. You should help Chloe pick out a suitable dress.” Since being adopted, I had always refused to change my last name, and I referred to them as Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Robert. Mrs. Hayes gave a noncommittal response, and I dropped the subject. Tomorrow, when Chloe wears a second-hand dress, no one can blame me. 4 Instead of going to school, I went to a café to meet with the manager of my trust fund. He was impeccably dressed in a bespoke suit, looking every bit the professional. But when his eyes landed on me, I saw a flicker of disdain. He nodded, a polite smile on his face. “Miss Preston. My name is Mr. Hughes. You can call me Ryan.” This was the first time I had ever contacted him, in either life. I didn’t beat around the bush. “Mr. Hughes, I want to see all the financial records for the fund since its inception.” He didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up his coffee and took a slow, deliberate sip, as if he were the client and I were the one seeking his approval. I let out a cold laugh. “Mr. Hughes, I pay you a seven-figure salary every year. Not so you can put on airs for me. This is our first meeting, and you’ve already made a terrible impression. If you don’t want this job, I assure you, there are plenty of others who do. Am I clear?” He seemed stunned by my directness. He immediately put down his coffee, the dismissive attitude gone. He then proceeded to give me a detailed overview of the fund’s investment projects over the past few years. “Miss Preston, I will send all the financial records to your phone shortly,” he said, his tone now respectful. “I apologize for my earlier behavior. Please, accept this as a token of my apology.” He pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket and offered it to me. I smiled and gently pushed it back. “Your professional attitude from this point on will be the only apology I require, Mr. Hughes.” From his report, I could tell that Ryan Hughes was a sharp man. The fund’s investments had rarely lost money. I have always had more patience for competent people. As long as he corrected his attitude, I was willing to give him another chance. Seeing that I had let the matter drop, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Of course, Miss Preston. I will dedicate myself to my work.” “By the way, Miss Preston, in one month, you will be eligible to withdraw the funds. Do you have any plans?” I raised an eyebrow and leaned back, my posture relaxed. “I plan to use it to acquire the Hayes Corporation. Are you confident you can handle that, Mr. Hughes?” He stared at me for a long moment, then nodded decisively. “I will begin gathering all the necessary information on the Hayes Corporation immediately. I’ll look into their upcoming investment projects.” That afternoon in class, Ryan sent over the financial reports. As a double major in finance and law, reading them was no trouble for me. But as soon as class ended, I noticed people were giving me strange looks. Just as I was about to ask what was going on, I heard Chloe’s inner voice. 【Anna told me to pretend I don’t know her at school. She said I can’t let anyone find out she’s the fake heiress.】 【I really want to make friends, but Anna said a country bumpkin like me doesn’t deserve any.】 【I hope Anna doesn’t lock me at home during the gala tomorrow night. I really want to go…】 She really couldn’t wait to start her smear campaign. A small smile played on my lips. Just as I was about to walk over to her, a boy blocked my path. It was Carter Vance, a guy who had been chasing me for ages, and whom I had rejected countless times. The malice in his eyes was palpable. He looked at me with a sneer. “So that’s why you always turned me down. You’re a fake.” My expression didn’t change. My voice was cool. “The reason I turned you down has nothing to do with that. It’s because you’re an idiot.” “You…” He was speechless, so he stormed over to Chloe instead. Chloe blushed, and her inner voice started up again. 【So Anna isn’t popular with her classmates. Does that mean I don’t have to be afraid of her threats anymore?】 【This guy is so handsome. But he likes Anna, so I can’t…】 Carter, the illegitimate son of the Vance family, was spoiled rotten by his grandfather and had a reputation for being an arrogant playboy. He and Chloe were a perfect match. Carter shot me a contemptuous glance, then turned to Chloe, his voice a low, charming murmur. “Chloe, would you do me the honor of being my date to the gala tomorrow night?” Chloe was about to nod when she seemed to remember something and glanced in my direction. She quickly lowered her head and whispered, “Tomorrow… I might not… be able to come.” Carter, assuming she was afraid of me, puffed out his chest. “You just come. If anyone gives you any trouble, I’ll make sure they regret it.” A faint blush spread across Chloe’s neck. She gave a small nod, but her voice was firm. “Okay. I’ll be your date.” 5 The gala was held in the school’s grand auditorium. I wore a vibrant red, custom-designed gown that I had prepared in advance. It accentuated my best features and made my skin seem to glow. I looked radiant and confident. The moment I entered, all eyes were on me. I ignored the stares and scanned the room until my eyes landed on a figure in the corner: Charlotte Vance. She was the legitimate heiress of the Vance family, but because she was a girl, her grandfather despised her. Despite her talent, he refused to let her have any role in the family business. I walked over to the elegant, melancholy girl and offered her a glass of wine. My voice was soft. “Miss Vance, I heard your new project was close to a breakthrough, but you suddenly lost funding?” She was already brooding over this. She took the glass from my hand and drained it in one gulp. Her voice was laced with self-deprecation. “What, are you here to mock me too?” Her grandfather had publicly declared that anyone who helped Charlotte was an enemy of the Vance family. Her only value in his eyes was as a marriage pawn. Her initial funding had come from her close friends, but their resources were limited. I watched her down another glass, then took it from her hand. “I can provide the funding you need,” I said calmly. “In return, I want a 30% stake in the company.” She looked at me, her expression wavering. “But you’re a Hayes…”

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1 Three years into my marriage with the woman I’d once moved heaven and earth for, a suffocating boredom had settled over my life. The thought of spending the rest of my days with just one person made my skin crawl. It was an itch I desperately needed to scratch. Just as I was plotting how to find a little excitement behind my wife’s back, my younger brother, Leo, appeared with a royal decree in his hands. “Brother,” he said, his voice low and conspiratorial, “His Majesty needs an envoy in the southern province of Veridia. The floods have caused chaos, and someone needs to restore order.” A spark ignited within me. This was my chance. But then, a familiar worry crept in. My wife, Eleanor, would never let me go alone. She’d insist on following, smothering me with her devotion. Leo, seeing the hesitation in my eyes, offered a reassuring, almost sycophantic, smile. “You go and make your mark, brother. I’ll stay behind and take care of everything… including Eleanor.” … The moment the words left his lips, we heard footsteps approaching the study. They were light, delicate, punctuated by the soft clinking of silver charms on a belt. I didn’t need to guess. It was my wife. As expected, she entered without knocking, clad in a sea-green gown and carrying a small bowl. It was her honey-lotus pudding. Her eyes met mine, and she graced me with that gentle, placid smile of hers. “You’ve been working so hard, my love,” she murmured. “I made this for you. Please, try it.” Then, as if just noticing my brother, she feigned a look of surprise. “Oh, Leo! I didn’t realize you were here. I only made one bowl. What a pity.” Every gesture, every word, was exactly as I’d predicted. There were no surprises with Eleanor anymore. No thrill. It was utterly, painfully dull. Looking at her, the last vestiges of guilt I felt for wanting to stray simply evaporated. This life was a cage, and surely, my loving wife wouldn’t want me to wither away in it, would she? “Your cooking is divine, Eleanor,” Leo sighed dramatically. “It’s a shame I’m not blessed enough to enjoy it.” His voice pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced at him, his eyes fixed on the pudding with an almost pathetic longing. I couldn’t fathom why he’d use a word like “blessed” for a simple dessert. Eleanor, despite being the daughter of a Marquis, had none of the ambition or grace of her station. She was content to potter around in our estate’s kitchens, experimenting with sweets. I’ll admit, they were delicious. If she’d only been willing to apply that talent to my businesses, she could have been of some real use. But she only wanted to create, never to profit, presenting me with her concoctions day after day, asking for my opinion until even the most exquisite flavors turned to ash in my mouth. With a heavy sigh, I pushed the bowl across the desk to Leo. “Here, you have it. Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like you’re cursed without it.” Leo’s eyes widened. “Brother, I couldn’t. This is from Eleanor… a token of her love for you.” God, I hated it when these military types tried to sound like poets. He was practically drooling, yet he still had to put on this noble act. Such a hypocrite. “I’ve had too many sweets today,” I waved a dismissive hand. “I don’t want it.” As I said it, I saw something flicker across Eleanor’s usually serene face: pure, unadulterated shock. It was as if I’d struck her. Her eyes, wide with disbelief, welled with tears. Without a single word, she turned on her heel and swept out of the room. Not a bow, not a curtsy. Not an ounce of decorum. I frowned, a sharp rebuke on the tip of my tongue. But with Leo still here, I held it back, rubbing my temples in frustration. My affection had spoiled her, it seemed. It had made her bold enough to show me such disrespect. My mind drifted back to the day I had knelt for hours outside her family’s manor, proclaiming my undying love in front of a crowd of nobles, swearing an oath of fidelity—one man, one woman, for all time. If I had known then how painfully predictable she would become, I would never have made such a foolish vow. Now, if I so much as exchanged a pleasant word with another woman, rumors would fly, and some court sycophant would be reporting my “infidelity” to the King. “Brother, is she angry?” Leo’s voice was laced with feigned concern. “Was it my fault? I shouldn’t have been so greedy.” His apology only fueled my irritation. It was just a damn bowl of pudding, and she was throwing a tantrum. How could a woman so petty ever be fit to be the Duchess of my estate? 2 That night, Leo devoured the honey-lotus pudding, practically licking the bowl clean. If I hadn’t stopped him, he probably would have taken the dish with him. I despised that about him. He was the only trueborn son of the Duke, yet he carried himself like a common street rogue with no ambition. Thankfully, the laws of succession in our kingdom were clear: the title passes to the firstborn, not the son of the primary wife. Otherwise, I couldn’t imagine how long our great House would last in his clumsy hands. I sighed, watching him leave before instructing my page to buy a box of cakes from the East Street bakery. Eleanor had a sweet tooth, both for making and eating desserts. Usually, whenever I upset her, a simple offering of pastries was enough to bring back her smile. Her temper was like a kitten’s scratch—sharp for a moment, then easily soothed. It was amusing at first, but now, it just felt tiresome. I’d rather have a courtesan from the pleasure district who could throw a playful insult while fanning herself with a silk handkerchief. Shaking my head, I took the box of cakes from the page and went to our chambers. Eleanor was there, just as I’d expected, sitting at her vanity and brushing her hair. She didn’t even look up when I entered. I slid up behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist in a gesture of reconciliation. “My dear, forgive my harsh words. I never meant to cause you pain.” Our eyes met in the polished bronze mirror. “Who ate the pudding?” she asked, her voice flat. I didn’t understand her obsession with this trivial matter. What did it matter if I ate it or Leo ate it? We were family. Frankly, it was her fault for only making one serving. My giving it away was a sign of brotherly generosity, and still, she chose to be difficult. I forced a smile. “I did, of course. How could I give away something made for me with such care?” A small, knowing smile touched her lips. “Good.” I placed the box of cakes in her lap and watched her expression closely. Seeing the familiar delight return to her eyes, I relaxed. “Eleanor, there’s something I need to discuss with you.” This time, however, she didn’t tear into the box with her usual excitement. She merely glanced at it before setting it aside on her vanity. I was surprised but didn’t dwell on it. People change. If I could predict her every move, I wouldn’t have fought so hard to marry her in the first place. A little change wasn’t a crisis; it was… intriguing. “His Majesty wants to send an envoy to Veridia to restore order after the floods. I want to volunteer.” She finally turned to look at me, her gaze steady. “Do you have to go?” I nodded, launching into the speech I had prepared. “Our House has lost favor at court. If I succeed in Veridia, I could earn great prestige for our family. It might be the key to securing my position as the official Heir to the Duchy.” It was true. While the law favored the firstborn, my father had broken his marriage pact with the Duke’s official wife by taking my mother, who was already pregnant with me, as a consort. The King, in his fury, had stripped our House of its guaranteed succession, leaving the title of Heir in limbo. For years, I had schemed and strived, but I could never reclaim the title outright. His Majesty forbade both me and Leo from earning glory on the battlefield, so this mission to Veridia was my only real chance. I laid all this out for Eleanor. She listened patiently, then offered a serene smile. “If this is about securing your legacy, then I would never stand in your way.” She paused, her eyes unreadable. “If your mind is made up, then you should go.” Her calm acceptance left me feeling strangely hollow. She didn’t even ask to come with me. How odd. 3 Still, her not asking saved me the trouble of inventing an excuse to leave her behind. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. As I was about to leave, I noticed a bowl sitting on the windowsill. It looked identical to the one that had held the honey-lotus pudding. But this one was pristine, as if it had never been used. It struck me as strange. Eleanor never bought things in pairs; she found it wasteful. Curious, I asked, “Why did you buy two identical bowls?” She paused for a moment, then gave me an enigmatic smile. “If you believe them to be the same, my love, then I suppose they are.” Her tone had a sharp, sarcastic edge to it, but it was just a bowl. It wasn’t worth arguing over. I swallowed my annoyance. “I’m going to the palace to see His Majesty,” I said. “I’ll need you to pack for me. The situation in Veridia is dire; I’ll probably need a good deal of coin.” Eleanor smiled and agreed. Reassured, I left the estate and made my way to the royal palace. The King wasn’t surprised to see me. He asked me only one question: “In your estimation, what is the true source of the turmoil in Veridia?” I bowed respectfully. “Corruption, Your Majesty. I suspect the relief funds and grain shipments never reached the people who needed them.” The King raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. He simply motioned for a eunuch to bring me the official decree and the robes of a Royal Emissary. On the day of my departure, Eleanor and Leo came to see me off at the city gates. I was dressed in the deep green of my station, while they both wore plain, unadorned white. Standing together, the contrast was jarring, almost offensive. “Eleanor,” I couldn’t help but say, “while I’m gone, perhaps you could wear some other colors. You look so drab in white all the time.” She didn’t answer, but Leo piped up with a grin. “Why pick on her, brother? I’m wearing white too. Besides, she’s been dressing this way for a while now. Why does it bother you today?” He was far more talkative than usual. “You’re noisy,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. Eleanor shot me a look. “You should get going. The roads are treacherous after dark.” I nodded, signaling the driver to move. As the carriage lurched forward, an odd impulse made me pull back the curtain for one last look. I saw Eleanor pinching Leo’s ear, a stern look on her face. He was saying something, and then he broke into a placating, boyish grin. It was strange, but I dismissed it. I knew how much Eleanor loved me. For her, Leo would always be just a brother-in-law. Nothing more. We traveled day and night, finally reaching the province of Veridia before the month was out. The moment I set foot in the capital, Port Seraphine, the sheer opulence of the place was staggering. Everywhere I looked, there were jewels and precious metals. Women were draped in gold and silver, and even the men wore heavy, expensive-looking signet rings and jade cufflinks. The common folk on the street were adorned with glittering baubles. This was the wealthiest region in the kingdom, no doubt about it. I didn’t start my investigation right away. After parting with my driver, I rented a small, private villa—costly, but Eleanor had packed plenty of silver. That evening, under the cloak of darkness, I changed into common clothes and made my way to the city’s most famous pleasure house, The Silken Siren. My timing was perfect. They were auctioning off a young dancer’s first night. I wasn’t interested. Inexperienced girls were often more trouble than they were worth—even more awkward than Eleanor. Sipping my wine, I scanned the room, my eyes drifting over the courtesans. And then I saw her. A vision in crimson silk, her every movement a symphony of seduction. My heart hammered against my ribs. 4 I summoned the house madam, my voice tight with anticipation. Pointing to the dancer, I said, “Her. I want her for the night.” Before the madam could even begin to haggle, I slapped a heavy gold sovereign down on the table. Her professional smile instantly became genuine. She led me to a private suite and had a bottle of the finest wine delivered. A short while later, the woman of my dreams arrived. She was dressed in veils of silk so thin they were almost transparent, her body a masterpiece of feminine allure. I was mesmerized. I reached out, my hand tracing the soft, supple curve of her waist. This, I thought with a deep, satisfying sigh, is what a woman should feel like. She was nothing like Eleanor, who would go rigid with shyness beneath me. Nothing like my wife, who seemed to view intimacy as a duty, a task to be completed with quiet resignation. As I held this dancer in my arms, ready to lose myself in her, my mind flashed back to my wedding night. Eleanor, beautiful and virginal in her crimson wedding gown, had looked exquisite. I had anticipated a night of passion. Instead, her shyness had been a wall between us. No matter what I did, she remained tense, unyielding. I told myself it was just first-night nerves, that she would soften with time. But she never did. She seemed to resist the very idea of physical pleasure. Worse, she had declared that she would not bear me a child until I had officially secured the title of Heir. Such a cold, calculating heart. Such a passionless existence. My thoughts returned to the present. The dancer from The Silken Siren was a true artist. One night with her was enough to make me feel reborn, to make me want to spend an eternity in her bed. But I hadn’t forgotten my mission entirely. After three nights of bliss, I finally roused myself and began my investigation. Yet no matter where I looked or who I spoke to, Port Seraphine remained a picture of perfect prosperity. The people were wealthy, happy, and spoke of the local authorities with nothing but praise. There wasn’t a hint of the turmoil the King had spoken of. I started to doubt His Majesty’s intelligence. But soon enough, my mind was elsewhere again. The dancer was intoxicating. I, who had never considered myself a man of great appetites, found myself wanting her at all hours, indulging in decadent, sun-drenched afternoons of lovemaking. Before I knew it, I had become her sole patron. Time slipped away. Nearly three months had passed since I’d left the capital. For the first month, I’d received letters from both Eleanor and Leo—mundane updates about the household, polite inquiries about my health. I sent back brief replies and a few local silks and spices. But then the dancer had consumed my thoughts, and I forgot all about writing home. It was only when I realized my funds were dwindling that I noticed it had been over a month since I’d received a letter from either of them. I was a little surprised. I considered writing to ask what was wrong, but then a better idea struck me. There was no unrest in Veridia, the new year was approaching, and my money was almost gone. It was the perfect time to return to the capital. The local officials, hearing of my departure, threw me a lavish farewell banquet, complete with a troupe of dancers. Another night of pleasure. Stroking the dancer’s soft skin, a pang of regret hit me. After I returned to the capital, when would I ever see her again? She was everything I wanted in a woman. A bold, reckless idea took root in my mind. Secretly, using the last of my silver, I bought the dancer’s freedom. I smuggled her into my carriage, hidden from view, and we set off for home. We had just passed through the city gates when my carriage came to an abrupt halt. I looked out to see Eleanor standing in the road, with Leo at her side, blocking our path. “Julian,” she called out, her voice dangerously calm. “You’ve returned to the capital, yet you aren’t heading home. Are you in a rush to get somewhere else?” A spike of fear and annoyance shot through me. If Eleanor discovered the dancer, there would be a terrible scene. The scandal would spread through the court, and the Royal Censors would have a field day. I sighed, ready to offer some flimsy excuse. Then Eleanor’s voice rang out, sharp as shattering glass. “Julian Vance, get out of that carriage now, or we are filing for a divorce!”

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At the freshman welcome mixer, a girl from the incoming class suddenly cornered my childhood best friend, David, who has autism. “Hey,” she said, her voice loud enough to turn heads. “Aren’t you going to explain why you were just touching my thigh?” Just then, the text appeared in my vision—the shimmering, translucent comments that only I could ever see. 【Yesss, here it comes. Our main character curing the broody autistic guy. Kelly’s a natural!】 【Look at him pretending to be annoyed. We all know he’s secretly thrilled. He’s totally falling for our girl.】 【Ugh, so annoying. The side character is about to ruin the vibe and interrupt their flirting.】 【Whatever. Even if the side character interferes, she’ll just make the male lead hate her more. She’s no match for our adorable new heroine.】 1 The air thickened. David looked utterly lost, stammering, “I-I didn’t.” His knuckles were white where he gripped his water bottle. The campus green was packed with students rehearsing for the Welcome Week talent show. The girl’s voice had carried, and now dozens of eyes were on us. Her own eyes were bright with mischief as she giggled. “David Hayes, I thought you were mute. Look at you, using your words!” Whispers rippled through the crowd. Under the weight of their stares and contempt, beads of sweat broke out on David’s forehead. His autism already made speaking difficult; being the center of attention like this was sending him into a full-blown panic. Seeing his silence, the girl’s smirk widened. I was only here to give a speech as a student representative. I never imagined it would lead to this kind of trouble for David. I switched on my phone’s camera and held it up. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice level. “Just to confirm, you’re accusing David Hayes of touching your thigh? Because if you are, I’m calling campus security and having them pull the surveillance footage right now.” The girl’s smile froze. A frown creased her forehead. David stared at me, his throat working silently. The comments began to scroll frantically across my vision. 【LOL, this side character doesn’t play by the rules. Does she think this will make the male lead fall for her?】 【Dumb bitch. They were just flirting. She’s about to trigger his protective-boyfriend mode and she doesn’t even know it.】 【She’s just jealous the main character can get a reaction out of him. What a petty little snake.】 The girl shot me a dirty look, her voice turning whiny. “It was just a joke. You’re being way too uptight, upperclassman.” But the triumphant glint in her eyes screamed that I was a busybody. I started dialing. “A joke?” I snapped. “Do you have any idea what slander is? It’s a crime.” To my shock, David finally spoke, his words slow and strained. “Don’t… Stay out of it.” He reached out and shoved my arm, knocking the phone from my hand. It went sailing in an arc through the air. More stares. More whispers. David was a man of few words, but never, in all the years I’d stood up for him, had he publicly humiliated me like this. I took a deep, shuddering breath to keep myself from slapping him. I bent down, picked up my phone, and turned to leave without another word. Fine. I was done. The comments were a chorus of smug satisfaction. 【LMAO, the side piece is gonna have an aneurysm. Serves her right for being extra.】 【The guy himself doesn’t even care. She’s like the gossip queen reincarnated.】 【She’s always hanging around him, but he’s never called her his girlfriend. She’s just delusional.】 A second later, David was jogging to catch up with me. He tugged gently on my sleeve, the same way he always did when he knew he’d messed up. I turned, and he looked at me with that wide-eyed, innocent expression that always worked on me. The comments exploded. 【WTF is the male lead doing? Why is he chasing after that psycho?】 【This side chick is such a drama queen. Playing hard to get? So gross.】 【David, get back to our girl Kelly! She’d go home with you tonight if you just asked. What’s so great about this little snake anyway?】 I looked down, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I knew David’s mind worked differently, but this still felt like a slap in the face. After my parents left, his mother, Mrs. Hayes, had been the one to look out for me. I couldn’t bring myself to yell at him, but I wasn’t going to swallow my pride either. I yanked my sleeve out of his grasp. “I’m tired from the event,” I said, my voice cold. “I’m going back to my dorm.” The comments flashed. 【What a bitch.】 David just blinked, saying what he always said when we parted. “Be safe.” 2 After the Welcome Week festivities, my senior year schedule became even more brutal. I’d already secured a spot in a top-tier graduate program, but I still had to connect with my new advisor and finish a major project for my undergrad mentor. I spent my days buried in the lab, trying not to think about how much David had hurt me. Occasionally, I’d overhear snippets of gossip about the ‘Freshman It Girl’ chasing the ‘Genius Upperclassman.’ Then, one evening, I got a frantic call from Mrs. Hayes. “Lara,” she said, her voice tight with panic, “David has been so… distant lately. He’s not home yet, and he forgot his medication.” Her voice cracked. “I’m so afraid he’s going to have an episode. Can you please, please take his pills to him?” I understood the gravity of the situation immediately. After reassuring her, I grabbed my bag and sprinted to the university’s art building. But when I got to the studio, David’s easel was empty. A student I knew glanced up from his work. “Well, if it isn’t David’s little girlfriend,” he teased. “Here to check up on your man? You’re in the wrong place. He barely comes here anymore.” A cold dread seeped into my bones. The submission deadline for the International Art Competition was just two weeks away. Why wouldn’t he be in the studio? After a quick text to his roommate, I finally found him at an off-campus bar. The moment I stepped inside, the blast of noise—clinking glasses, shouting, thumping music—gave me a headache. I couldn’t imagine David, who despised loud places, being here. The private room was dimly lit, the air thick with a cloying, intimate energy. Kelly was pressed right up against David, her face so close to his they were almost touching. I watched as her finger traced the bridge of his nose while she whispered something in his ear. David’s eyelashes fluttered. His ears flushed crimson, but he didn’t push her away like he did with everyone else who got too close. They were the center of attention, and the others in the room were hooting and laughing. The comment stream, which had been quiet, lit up. 【OMG, I’m dying! This is too sweet! He’s powerless against our seductive queen!】 【LMAO, Kelly knows how to flirt. She’s making me blush.】 【Taking notes! Next time I’m gonna ask my crush if what they say about guys with big noses is true.】 I knocked on the open door, just loud enough to be heard over the noise. When David’s eyes met mine, the red at the tips of his ears hadn’t faded. Kelly shot me a defiant smirk and nudged him. “Look, David, your babysitter’s here. She chased you all the way to a bar. Maybe you should be a good boy and go home with her?” “Hah! Don’t tell me you’re in your twenties and still have a chaperone!” someone else jeered. The room erupted in laughter. Someone whistled. “Wow, didn’t peg you as a mama’s boy, Hayes! Is that your mom calling you home?” David glared at me, his expression making it perfectly clear that I was not welcome. Kelly looked at me like a victorious general. “Sorry, Lara. I think David wants to stay here and play with me tonight.” The comments were merciless. 【Does this side chick really think she can show up and claim him? LMAO, what a clown.】 【It’s useless. All this drama is just gonna push the main characters closer together!】 I closed my eyes for a second, then chucked the bottle from my bag directly into David’s lap. Kelly snatched it from him, holding it up to the dim light. “Risperidone?” she read aloud. “What’s this for?” David froze, then scrambled to check the contents of my bag that I had thrown at him. When he looked back up at me, he couldn’t meet my gaze. Without a timely dose of Risperidone, he was prone to severe self-harm. I knew because it had happened once before. Mrs. Hayes had been called away for a family emergency. When I let myself into their house, I found David sitting on the bathroom floor, methodically slicing at his own body with a utility knife, his face completely blank. He seemed to feel no pain, just carving into his own flesh as if it belonged to someone else. His arms and legs were a bloody mess, the white tiles painted with crimson patterns. He was about to cut into a major artery when I dove forward and grabbed the blade with my bare hands. The scar on my palm never fully faded. It was a permanent reminder of that day. Ever since, I’ve carried a spare bottle of his medication in my bag at all times. And David knew it. 3 Kelly smirked. “David, this isn’t… that kind of pill, is it? Wow, Lara must really care about your… private life. You should thank her.” Her eyes darted suggestively toward his crotch. “I mean, you said you two were just friends. It’s so nice of her to be this thoughtful.” A stream of 【KELLY IS A QUEEN!!!】 filled my vision, followed by a dozen exclamation points, as if she’d just done something heroic. I frowned, not understanding what they were so excited about. My job was done. I needed to get back to the lab. As I turned to leave, David stood up. “Wait. I’ll walk you back.” Guilt, I assumed. An attempt to make amends. I saw Kelly’s smile tighten at the corners. The comments rolled. 【Ugh, I’m so jealous. This bitch literally just showed up to annoy our girl!】 【Can the side character just f*** off already? I can’t stand seeing her in another scene. She’s such a pick-me girl!】 【It’s fine, the key plot point is coming up. The male lead is gonna drop the international competition for the female lead and just stay here for grad school. Then the side chick will go to a different school, get bullied by her advisor, and commit suicide. After that, it’s happily ever after for our OTP!】 I froze, staring at the words floating in the air. Kelly stood up, blocking David’s path. “Hey, you promised me,” she purred. “You lost the bet, so you have to spend the night with me. You can’t go back on your word!” Her words were dripping with innuendo, sending another wave of hoots through the room. David stopped, his cheeks burning. He shot me a helpless, apologetic look. I sighed. “You don’t have to walk me back. I can go by myself.” Before I left, I looked him straight in the eye. “Is our plan to go to Stanton University for grad school still on?” I was already a lock for the program at SU. David just needed a win at the upcoming competition to secure his spot. With his talent, it should have been easy, but he’d missed the competition the last two years because his mother had been ill. I could have gone to SU for my undergrad, but I’d chosen our current university to stay with him. He knew that. He’d promised we would go to grad school there together. I couldn’t believe he would break that promise. I refused to believe my story would end like the comments predicted. David gave me a firm, serious nod. Relief washed over me. The comments were just nonsense. None of that would happen. In the days that followed, I focused on the lab, waiting for the official acceptance letters to be released. On the final day for the competition submissions, I texted David to make sure he’d sent in his portfolio. After a long pause, he replied with a simple “OK” emoji. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. But as I was reading a research paper, the comments flickered back to life. 【The male lead just got a distress call from the female lead! Look at the change in his expression! LMAO.】 【Our girl Kelly is so smart. Faking being harassed to test his feelings. Genius move.】 【Look how worried he is! Once they meet up, they’re definitely gonna confess their feelings for each other.】 My blood ran cold. I immediately tried calling David. It rang a few times, then went to voicemail. I tried again. Disconnected. Again and again, he rejected my calls. The comments mocked me. 【Is this desperate side chick seriously calling to nag him about his art submission right now?】 【LOL, she needs a reality check. She has no idea where she stands in his heart. She can’t do anything to stop them.】 【You really think you can compete with our main character? Just go to SU and save yourself the embarrassment, lmao.】 I stared at my computer screen, the words of the article blurring into an incomprehensible mess. Late that night, a text from David finally came through. 【I think staying here for my Master’s is a better fit for me.】 4 I glanced at the time. It was past midnight. The competition deadline had passed. Everything had happened exactly as the comments had foretold. The next morning, I was at the Hayes’s front door. I had worked my ass off for that grad school plan. Even a saint would have a breaking point, and I had reached mine. How dare he just back out? I didn’t expect to find Kelly sitting in their living room, greeting me like she lived there. “Lara! What are you doing here? Looking for David? I’ll go get him for you.” She started to get up, ready to shout toward his room. A comment popped up. 【Our genius girl is here to piss off the side character again! Hahahaha!】 I took a deep breath, walked past her to David’s room, knocked three times, and pushed the door open. David was shirtless, halfway through pulling on a t-shirt. He stared at me in shock. Kelly shrieked from behind me. “Lara, what are you doing? He has no privacy with you around!” More comments. 【What a bitch. Just trying to show off how much closer she is to him than the main character.】 The truth was, Mrs. Hayes had never put a lock on his door, terrified he might have an episode. I had been walking in like this for years to avoid disturbing him while he painted. I cut straight to the point. “David, we had a deal. We were going to Stanton together. What gives you the right to just back out?” He avoided my eyes, slowly pulling on his shirt without a word. But Kelly jumped in, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “Lara, don’t blame him. It was my fault. If I hadn’t gotten hassled by those creeps, he wouldn’t have missed the deadline.” “I wasn’t talking to you,” I said flatly. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Kelly’s eyes widened, stunned that I would be so blunt. David frowned, his voice sharp. “Lara, don’t be mean to her. This has nothing to do with her.” I almost laughed. “Fine,” I shot back, my voice rising. “Then you tell me. Why did you break your promise for no reason? Because she had a problem? A problem she couldn’t call the police about, so she had to call you instead?” He still wouldn’t look at me. He knew I was right. Mrs. Hayes came out of the kitchen. “Lara, what’s with all the shouting?” Before I could answer, Kelly interjected. “Lara, David has his own plans. You shouldn’t try to tie his future to yours!” The comments went wild. 【Wooooow, our girl is in protective mode!】 I fixed my gaze on David. “Am I tying you down? Did I force you to apply to Stanton?” He was silent for a long moment, then mumbled, “I want to stay here.” The air left my lungs. He hadn’t answered my question. He had stabbed me in the back. Again. Kelly’s smile was triumphant. “See, Lara? You can’t always expect him to accommodate you. You’ll ruin his future.” Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “He’s a genius. He knows what’s best for himself.” David said nothing, which was as good as an agreement. Mrs. Hayes’s expression hardened. “Lara, we’re happy for you that you got into Stanton. But if David wants to stay here, you should respect his decision.” She sighed. “He’s not a child anymore. He can’t always rely on you to take care of him. The two of you… should be more mindful of appearances.” My heart turned to ice. My own parents were always busy, never home. Growing up, it was Mrs. Hayes who had always called me over for dinner, giving me my only taste of a warm family life. I had poured all my affection, all my loyalty, into her and her son. I took on the burden of protecting David from the world as my way of repaying her kindness. I shielded him from bullies and cruel whispers for over a decade. My entire future was planned around his. And Mrs. Hayes knew it. She knew all about our plan to go to SU. Now, she was acting like I was a burden, her words dripping with resentment. The comments were ecstatic. 【LMAO, even his mom is on the main character’s side now! What a failure!】 【The mother-in-law probably realized Kelly is better for him. The side character is useless now! Look at our cute main girl!】 【Seeing the side chick’s face go pale is so satisfying! This is the kind of drama I’ve been waiting for!】 That’s when I noticed it. Ever since David had spoken up, Mrs. Hayes hadn’t taken her eyes off Kelly. Her expression was full of surprise and excitement. Even she could see how differently David treated this new girl. And because of that, she had chosen her son, and Kelly, without a moment’s hesitation. All the strength drained out of me. After all these years, I was still just a useful outsider. This wasn’t a family. And I didn’t want it anymore. “Fine,” I said, my voice hollow. “From now on, David is no longer my problem.” 5 Mrs. Hayes had tried to set me and David up before, and I hadn’t resisted. In my heart, the longing for a real family, a place to belong, had always been a desperate ache, even if I knew my feelings for David were more sisterly than romantic. But now, she had made it clear: David didn’t need my protection anymore. With that, my debt to her was paid. The Hayes family would never be my family. The hope I’d cherished for so long was just a childish fantasy. As I walked out their door, my resolve hardened. I pulled out my phone and sent a message to my academic advisor, officially withdrawing my application for the graduate program. Then, I texted a number I hadn’t contacted in years. 【Dad, I want to apply to grad school abroad. Can you help me, just this once?】

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Three years after I left Rick Hayes, I moved back into his house. He was still single. Shamelessly, I slept in his bed, used his credit card, and slept with him. It only took a month for everyone to assume we were getting back together. I even managed to drive out the secretary who had been by his side for a decade. The day she got married, a completely drunk Rick finally seemed to surrender. “Fine,” he slurred, a note of helpless resignation in his voice. “I’ll remarry you.” But the next morning, I wasn’t there. Waiting for him on the steps of City Hall was my three-year-old daughter. 1 When Rick and I divorced, it was ugly. I was convinced something was going on between him and his secretary. He insisted I was being irrational. “For God’s sake, Lara, can you just let it go? It was a cup of hot water. When are you going to drop it?” Rick, who hadn’t spoken to me in over a week, finally broke his silence, rubbing his exhausted temples. A cup of hot water. It was the incident that made me the laughingstock of our entire social circle. No one could understand why I’d thrown such a massive fit over Rick simply pouring his secretary a cup of hot water. I’ll admit, there were times I wondered if I had overreacted. But every time I replayed that moment in my mind, the same bitter sense of betrayal washed over me. We had both been caught in a downpour—me and Anna, the secretary who had been with him for years. The second we got into the car, before I had even closed my door, I saw Rick grab a thermos from the console and hand it to her. It was so natural, so effortless. She took it without a second thought, cradling it in her hands and taking a few careful sips. In that instant, my own hands were so cold they trembled. My heart felt like it had been encased in ice. This was the same man who wouldn’t even bother to pick up a knocked-over trash can at home, yet here he was, attending to another woman with such quiet, intimate care. I lost my temper immediately. Rick didn’t see the big deal. “Anna’s on her period today,” he said dismissively. “You’re not.” And with those words, I filed for divorce. The proceedings dragged on for nearly six months. We fought at home, we fought at his parents’ house, we fought at his office. It became a public spectacle, and eventually, the gossip started to tarnish his secretary’s reputation. Only then did Rick finally agree to sign the papers. The day it was finalized, we stood glaring at each other, clutching our divorce decrees, and swore we would stay out of each other’s lives forever. But three years later, I showed up on his doorstep with a suitcase in my hand. And he let me in. 2 Rick hadn’t changed much. He was just as handsome, but the look he gave me was colder than I remembered. The reunion wasn’t as awkward as I’d feared. He just stood there, silent, staring at me with that icy expression. I squeezed past him and strolled inside as if I owned the place. “I’m broke,” I announced, my voice full of unearned confidence. “I’ll be crashing here for a while.” I then asked the housekeeper to take my bags upstairs. Rick didn’t move from the doorway. “Get out.” I made myself comfortable on the sofa, poured a glass of water, and waved a dismissive hand at him. “Don’t be so stingy. It’s not like you’ve remarried. I won’t get in your way.” That was a lie. I was here specifically to get in his way. I didn’t know why he hadn’t married his secretary yet, but I was going to make sure he never did. Rick, for all his faults, was a gentleman. As long as I was shameless enough, he wouldn’t physically throw me out. And so, I successfully moved back in. He worked in his study late into the night. When he finally came to bed, freshly showered, his arm brushed against mine. He flinched as if he’d been burned. In less than a second, he had rolled over and pinned me to the mattress, his body a dead weight on top of mine. His eyes were narrowed to slits, the words ground out between his teeth. “Lara, you are playing with fire.” I let him hold my wrists, my body going limp against the soft mattress. “I’m used to this bed. I can’t sleep anywhere else.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped him. His handsome features twisted into a sneer as he leaned close to my ear. “So you haven’t slept in three years?” My, my. A few years apart, and even the emotionally stunted Rick Hayes had learned sarcasm. Must be the influence of his cheerful little secretary. Unsurprisingly, he grabbed me by the collar and tossed me out of the room. He even threw my slippers out after me. Such a temper. I sat on the floor for a moment, looking at the dark bruises already forming on my wrist. I zoned out for a second. He hadn’t actually used much force. It was just the medication—it made my body more fragile than a normal person’s. I stood up, dusting myself off, a pang of regret hitting me. Maybe I shouldn’t have pushed him so hard. I only had a month left. I hoped it would be enough time. 3 I was up before dawn the next morning, shooing the housekeeper out of the kitchen so I could make Rick breakfast myself. I’d never cooked for him once during our marriage, but here I was, three years divorced, slaving over a lavish spread of four dishes and a soup. Surely, he would be moved. Just as I set the food on the table, Rick came downstairs, impeccably dressed for work. He walked right past me as if I were invisible, heading straight for the door. I quickly blocked his path. “Rick, you are not leaving until you eat what I made.” He shot me a contemptuous look. “With your cooking skills? I’d rather not be poisoned.” That was the old me. I had a culinary certificate now. When he didn’t move, I grabbed the sleeve of his pristine shirt and tried to pull him toward the table. He stood rooted to the spot, immovable, but at least he wasn’t leaving. Taking that as a cue, I hurried to ladle out a bowl of chicken soup. I’d been simmering it since last night. It smelled divine. But before I could bring it to him, the front door opened. “Mr. Hayes, I brought you breakfast,” a cheerful voice called out. “It’s a bit cold, let me just heat it up for you.” Rick’s secretary, Anna, bustled in, not noticing me at first. She moved toward the kitchen with a practiced ease that told me she’d done this a hundred times before. “No need,” I said, my voice bright and sweet as I held up the bowl of soup. “I’ve already made breakfast for Rick. You can have yours, Miss Foster.” She froze, her eyes widening when she saw me. I could see the fear in them. She forced a smile. “Mrs. Hayes… you’re back?” Her voice trembled, and she’d forgotten to use my maiden name. Before she could correct herself, I shot a flirtatious glance at Rick and said, “It’s alright. Maybe in a few days, I’ll be Mrs. Hayes again.” Rick rolled his eyes, probably worried I was about to bully his precious secretary. “Anna, forget breakfast. Let’s go.” I blocked the doorway, holding the soup in one hand and raising the spoon to his tightly pressed lips with the other. I was prepared for a long standoff. But just then, a side effect of the medication kicked in. My hand started to shake uncontrollably. Hot soup sloshed over my knuckles, turning the skin an angry red. Terrified he would notice, I summoned the last of my strength to step aside and clear a path for them. But Rick, who had been so eager to leave, suddenly snatched the bowl from my hand and downed the entire thing in one go. 4 Anna didn’t come back to the house after that day. I casually asked the housekeeper about it. Apparently, aside from the occasional breakfast delivery, Anna had never spent the night. It didn’t seem like a typical boyfriend-girlfriend arrangement. But that was impossible. Anna had been with Rick since she graduated from college. Ten years, and not a single boyfriend. I didn’t believe for a second that she wasn’t in love with him. And Rick… he had been willing to divorce me to protect her reputation. He had to be crazy about her. Could it be that Anna refused to stay here because I had once lived in this house? Did they have another home together somewhere else? If so, my being here was completely pointless. I couldn’t break them up if they weren’t even around. No, I had to go to his office. Using the excuse of bringing him lunch, I had the housekeeper pack up a few dishes and headed to his company. The security guard at the front desk didn’t recognize me, so I had to call Rick. He sounded like he was in a meeting and hung up on me before I could finish my sentence. A few minutes later, Anna appeared, dressed in a sharp white power suit. On her home turf, she was a different person. “Miss Reed,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension, “Mr. Hayes is busy. If you have a message, you can give it to me.” Had he sent her down to get rid of me? She must have complained to him after seeing me at the house, and now he was letting her put me in my place. I smiled sweetly. “Miss Foster, if Rick was really in love with you, don’t you think he would have married you by now? He proposed to me a month after we started dating.” Yes, I was trying to stir up trouble. But she was good. Rick had trained her well. She didn’t even flinch. “Miss Reed, I don’t believe my relationship with Mr. Hayes is any of your business.” She had a point. I couldn’t argue with that. So, I resorted to brute force. When she wasn’t looking, I made a mad dash for the elevators. In the end, Rick himself had to come down to get me. Inside the elevator, he didn’t even spare me a glance. His attention was solely on his secretary. “Are you hurt?” he asked her, his voice soft with concern. She shook her head, looking at him with adoration, and then shot me a tiny, triumphant smile. She was taunting me again. Since no one was talking to me, I decided to start a conversation myself. “Rick, is this elevator for your personal use only?” I had seen the “CEO Only” plaque on the wall. But Anna had used it to come down. “I have a weak constitution,” Anna answered for him, her voice full of pride. “Mr. Hayes is considerate. He doesn’t want me to get jostled in the crowded staff elevators. So yes, only the two of us are allowed to use this one.” Rick remained silent, but I saw his brow furrow slightly. 5 Now that I was in his office, there was no way I was leaving easily. After about a dozen trips to the bathroom to stall for time, I used the excuse of being too sleepy to keep my eyes open and crashed on his sofa. The medication made me tire easily, so it wasn’t entirely a lie. I actually did drift off. In a daze, I thought I felt him drape a jacket over me. Anna came in and out several times, bringing him coffee, delivering files, her eyes constantly darting in my direction. I vaguely heard her say, “Mr. Hayes, if this is difficult for you, I can have security escort Miss Reed out. Having her here like this… it’s causing gossip among the staff.” The pen in Rick’s hand stopped moving. He looked up, his eyes cold. “What did you just call her?” Anna’s face went pale. She bit her lip, looking pitiful and fragile. Rick’s harsh demeanor softened. “You can go,” he said, his voice gentle. “You don’t need to stay and work overtime with me tonight.” But for once, the ever-obedient Anna stood her ground. “Mr. Hayes,” she said, her hands clenched at her sides, “when you were at your lowest, she humiliated you in front of your competitors and stole the project you’d worked on for a year. Why are you still letting her back into your life?” Rick’s face darkened. He looked at the tears welling in Anna’s eyes and, against his better judgment, offered an explanation. “What happened back then wasn’t her fault. I wasn’t clear with her. She misunderstood.” Anna’s tears finally spilled over. “You poured me a cup of hot water! How much clearer did you need to be? I explained it to her! I told her you always remembered my cycle because you would lighten my workload during that time. But she wouldn’t listen! She used your love for her to throw tantrums time and time again, and you were always the one to apologize first. You’re finally free of her. Why would you get tangled up with this mess again?” The next second, a stack of files went flying off his desk, hitting the floor with a loud thud that made Anna jump. Rick glanced over at me on the sofa. Then, his voice low and dangerous, he said to Anna, “Get. Out.” 6 I slept for a long time. When I woke up, it was dark outside. The office was pitch black, except for the single desk lamp illuminating Rick’s workspace. He was still there, working. He’d always been a workaholic. He’d forget to eat, to drink, to sleep. I used to invent all sorts of ridiculous errands for him—buy me bubble tea from the West End, pastries from that bakery on the East Side—just to get him to leave the office at a decent hour. The memories flickered before my eyes. If it weren’t for what happened, Rick would have been a good husband. He never once refused any of my requests. He saw that I was awake. He closed the file in front of him, came over, and took his suit jacket off of me, his back turned to me the whole time. “Let’s go. I’ll take you home.” Had he been waiting for me? He could have just woken me up. Anna was gone. Had she gone home for the night? But if she was his girlfriend, surely she wouldn’t be comfortable leaving him alone with me. I decided to ask. “You and Anna seem to have a pretty open relationship. She’s okay with you being alone in a room with your ex-wife?” Rick stopped walking and turned to me, a confused look on his face. “Why would I need her permission?” “Well, you two are together, aren’t you?” He took a step closer, his gaze intense as he stared into my eyes.

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The power struggle was already over by the time they brought me back. My brother, three years my senior, had inherited the family empire. The girl who had taken my place had married a man from an equally powerful family. And me? I was just an ordinary girl who’d dropped out after middle school, with a small-town view of the world and the simple speech to match. My parents, sighing with a kind of weary disappointment, settled me into the west wing annex of the grand estate. They promised to take care of me for the rest of my life, but never once shared a meal with me. After three months in this gilded cage, I decided it was time to leave. 1 “Oh, my sweet boy, look what Grandma brought for you!” “Mom, you spoil him rotten.” “He’s my perfect grandson. If I can’t spoil him, who can?” The lighthearted banter between mother and daughter filled the grand living room as they led a little boy of about three inside. It was a familiar scene, one that had played out countless times over the last three months, the warmth and laughter swelling to fill the cavernous space. But none of it had anything to do with me. I had returned to this family three months ago. My adoptive parents had just passed away when a man who shared a faint resemblance to me found me. He said he was my brother. He told me the family had been searching for me for years, that our parents were desperate to have me home. I’d always known I wasn’t my parents’ biological daughter, and a part of me was curious to see the faces of the people who gave me life. To understand how I’d been lost in the first place. Only after I arrived did I learn the truth. There was already a daughter in this house, a stand-in who had received all the love and affection meant for me: Rosalind Kenny. It was Rosalind’s biological mother who had stolen me from the hospital nursery and abandoned me. By some miracle, someone found me and took me in. Now, Rosalind was a graduate of a top university, serving as the Director of Public Relations for the Kenny Corporation. She was married to Declan Vance, the heir to a fortune that rivaled our own, and they had a son. And me? I was just a fisherman’s daughter with a middle school education. My biological parents met me once, then promptly tucked me away in the estate’s annex. The constant buzz of life in the main house was a world away, my only connection a bank account my brother had deposited two million dollars into—”pocket money,” he’d called it. I stood for a moment under the rose trellis, listening to my mother, Eleanor, ask when Mr. Vance would be arriving for dinner. Just then, the housekeeper assigned to me hurried over, grabbing my arm and pulling me back toward my solitary wing. “Honestly, Miss Stella, don’t you know your place?” she hissed, her voice a sharp whisper. “What are you doing in the main house? You can’t possibly keep up with the conversations Mrs. Kenny and Miss Rosalind are having. Why embarrass yourself?” She tightened her grip, her face contorting with scorn. “Don’t tell me you’re still dreaming of replacing Miss Rosalind, of marrying Mr. Vance yourself? You should take a good long look in the mirror. You’re not even in the same league.” The Kennys and the Vances had an arrangement, a betrothal made when their children were infants. If Rosalind’s mother hadn’t thrown me away, the one married to Declan Vance would have been me. In the three months I’d been here, I’d only seen Declan once. I was looking for a stray cat I’d been feeding, and I’d accidentally stepped into the path of his car. My so-called mother, Eleanor, had rushed out, yanking me aside with a look of pure alarm. “What are you doing out here? What kind of scene are you trying to make?” she’d demanded, her eyes filled with suspicion. “I told you, what happened was that woman’s fault. Rosalind was just a newborn, an innocent baby! You can’t blame her!” Her voice dropped to a fierce whisper. “Rosalind and Declan grew up together. They have years of history, a bond that someone like you—someone who didn’t even finish high school—could never break. Have some self-awareness! The Kenny family will provide for you, but that’s all.” Three months in, and Rosalind was still the one and only Miss Kenny. I was just the girl in the annex, who had to depend on the housekeeper’s mood for a meal because I didn’t know how to operate the high-tech stove. As I stared at the housekeeper’s twisted, sneering face in the fading light of dusk, a laugh escaped my lips. It started as a quiet chuckle and grew. She dragged me back to my rooms. “Wait right here!” she commanded before disappearing into the kitchen, but not before firing one last warning shot. “You’re not a kid anymore. You should learn to be smart. Kiss up to the young mistress and Mrs. Vance, and maybe they’ll find you a nice widower to marry. If you get thrown out of here, who’s going to listen to you cry then?” She sounded more entitled than the actual daughter of the house. I didn’t wait for her. I turned around and walked out of the annex. All I had wanted was to see what my biological parents looked like. And just now, I was only trying to find a quiet moment to say goodbye. Since that wasn’t possible, I decided this would have to do. 2 I left with only three things: my ID, my bank card, and my phone. I walked down the long, sweeping driveway until I was beyond the Kenny estate’s imposing gates. A taxi was already waiting, just as I’d arranged. I had arrived on the Kennys’ private jet, but for my departure, I chose the cheapest option: the slow, cross-country train. After buying a ticket for a sleeper car, I picked up some takeout—a warm pretzel, a slice of pepperoni pizza, and a couple of sticky cinnamon buns—and boarded the train. The locomotive chugged along at its own leisurely pace, and I ate and drank, watching the landscape blur past my window. A week later, I was back in the small coastal town where I grew up. I had shipped some things ahead, and I shared them with the neighbors before heading to the town’s docks to look at boats. The people here had been fishermen for generations. A few months ago, my parents had died at sea during a sudden squall while trying to rescue another boat. Our own vessel was badly damaged in the storm, no longer seaworthy. I never thought I’d own a boat of my own again, but life had a funny way of working out. I now had two million dollars. I spent eight hundred thousand on a boat that was bigger and better than anything I had ever dared to dream of, and I took her out on the water immediately. The salty air whipped my hair across my face, and the suffocating weight of that mansion finally lifted. The skills I had—piloting a boat, reading the wind, finding schools of fish—were all taught to me by my parents. I didn’t need modern equipment; I could find the fish using just the wind, the currents, and a deep, instinctual feeling in my gut. I felt the growing drag on the nets below, the heavy pull of a good catch, and a slow smile spread across my lips. This. This was my life. As for the future… I hauled in the nets, took my catch back to the docks to sell, and then returned to town to pay off the remaining balance on the boat. By the time I got home, the sky was dark. I lit three sticks of incense for my parents and cleaned the small house from top to bottom. Old Mrs. Gable from next door brought over a hot meal, her face etched with worry. My mom had told me that she was the one who found me by the shore all those years ago, nearly frozen to death, and brought me to my parents. “Were they unkind to you, dear?” she asked softly. “But… aren’t you their real daughter?” I just smiled and shook my head. “Turns out blood isn’t thicker than water. Besides, the other one… she really is exceptional.” A top-tier education, sharp as a tack. Mrs. Gable sighed. “But you’re just a girl, all alone out on this sea. How long can you keep fishing like this?” I walked her home and then went to see the town mayor. Most of the fishermen here sold their catch to a large processing plant, which then distributed it across the country. But the plant paid pennies on the dollar, and in recent years, more and more young people had left for the cities, leaving only the elderly and children to struggle on. I laid out a plan for the mayor. I was willing to invest a portion of the money I had left to buy equipment and set up our own direct-to-consumer online shop, complete with a live-stream to sell our catch. By cutting out the middleman, we could increase our profits by at least thirty percent. The mayor was overjoyed. He immediately gathered a group of the town’s most meticulous and hard-working women to set up a temporary processing station on the docks, where they would sort, ice, and pack orders as they came in. For our on-camera talent, we recruited some of the younger folks who had worked in the city and returned with clear, fast-talking sales pitches. I started my own channel too, but my content was different. I took my viewers out to sea with me, showing them how to find fish, identify different types of seafood, read the tides, and chase the wind. I also taught them critical survival skills, like what to do if you accidentally fall overboard. Life alone was a little lonely, but it was also freeing. I could go home when I wanted, or just drift on the waves if I didn’t. Being on my own meant I could venture into more remote waters, chasing after more valuable, exotic catches. 3 One day, I’d fallen asleep on the deck when my other phone—the one the Kennys knew about—suddenly rang. I woke up with a start. The moment I answered, my brother Julian’s voice, cold and tight with suppressed fury, shot through the receiver. “Stella, are you done with this childish tantrum?” “You’re not a teenager anymore. Do you think running away from home is some kind of statement? Does it make you feel special?” “Get back here. Now. Grandfather wants to see you.” It took me a groggy moment to remember that the Kennys had a patriarch, an old man who had been recovering from an illness abroad. So, he was back and wanted to meet me. That must have been when they finally noticed I was gone. “Give him my regards,” I said calmly. “I’m busy with work. I’m not coming back.” “Work?” His voice shot up, laced with disbelief. “What kind of work can someone with a middle school diploma get? Waiting tables? Working on an assembly line? Have you no shame?” He took a breath. “I’m giving you one day. Get back here, apologize to Mom and Dad, and stay put in the annex where you belong. We won’t let you starve. The least you can do is stop embarrassing us!” I lay back, feeling the sea breeze on my face. A subconscious calculation clicked in my mind, a shift in the wind, and I quietly gave my boat a new heading. Only then did I realize Julian had stopped his tirade. “Are you finished?” I asked. “You—” “I’m not asking for your opinion,” I cut him off. “I’m informing you of my decision. I am not coming back. And you don’t have to worry about me tarnishing your precious family name. After all, your name is Kenny. Mine is not.” I paused, then added, “Oh, and thank you for the two million dollars. And for your hospitality these past three months. But from now on, you don’t need to concern yourselves with my life.” 4 After splashing some water on my face, I realized my phone was still live-streaming. The chat had exploded. My viewer count had skyrocketed. Everyone was asking the same questions: Which Kenny family? What’s your relationship with them? The Kennys thought my lack of education was an embarrassment. Frankly, I wanted nothing more to do with them either. So, I ignored the questions. After securing my equipment in a waterproof case, I dove into the ocean, taking my audience on a tour of the world beneath the waves, a world more beautiful than any starry sky. But it wasn’t long before my stream was suddenly shut down due to a complaint. I started a new account. It was shut down too. I had no choice but to head back to town to get a new SIM card. As I approached the village, however, I sensed a strange tension in the air. A line of black luxury cars was parked at the docks. As soon as he saw me, Julian stepped out of one, his face a thundercloud. A moment later, the back door of another car opened, and my mother, Eleanor, emerged, her expression pinched with disgust. “Stella, how long are you going to keep this up?” she demanded, her voice dripping with undisguised disappointment. “Are you staying in this godforsaken backwater on purpose? Is your goal to make us the laughingstock of our entire circle?” Rosalind appeared behind her, helping her out of the car. Her face wore the same look of disdain as Eleanor’s, but her words were coated in a layer of pained sorrow. “Sister, I know my biological mother and I have wronged you, but what good does any of this do for you?” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Putting yourself on display like this… the sea is so dangerous, so grueling. You’re breaking Mom and Dad’s hearts.” She took a step forward. “I know you’re angry. But in my heart, they are my only parents. I… if you don’t like me, if you can’t stand the sight of me, I can stay away. I can meet Mom, Dad, and Julian somewhere else. Would that make you happy?” Just then, Toby, Mrs. Gable’s little grandson, ran up and hugged my leg, trying to pull me toward his house for dinner. I scooped him up and lifted him over my head, spinning him around until he giggled. “Stella!” Julian roared, his patience clearly gone. I sighed, then walked toward them, still holding Toby. “Julian,” I said, my voice even. “Do you remember what I told you before I agreed to go back with you?” He frowned, clearly having dismissed whatever I’d said as unimportant. “I said I would go and see,” I reminded him. “I’ve seen it. Now I’ve left. What’s the problem?” I looked from his face to Eleanor’s. “You don’t like me, and I don’t like you. Why are we forcing this?” “You—” “It’s about saving face, isn’t it?” I cut him off. “Well, your face is right where it’s always been—on your head.” As if on cue, Toby reached out and patted Julian’s cheek. “It’s right here,” he said in his tiny, piping voice. I turned my gaze to Eleanor. “‘We won’t let you starve,’ right? When have I ever needed a meal from you? If you truly missed me, if you truly felt guilty, if you truly loved me, wouldn’t you have thought of me constantly? I lived in your house for three months. Can you name a single moment when you thought of me as anything other than an embarrassment?” My voice grew harder. “It’s true, I don’t have a fancy education. I lack your polish. But when I was on the brink of death, the ones who gave me food, who taught me to read and to be a decent human being, were my adoptive parents! Don’t you dare think that just because you contributed some DNA, you have the right to dictate my life.” As for Rosalind, I glanced at her and let out a cold laugh. “You want to play the victim? Do you have any idea what it’s like for a newborn to be thrown into the ocean? Do you know what happens? Drowning is the easy way out. The cold water causes rapid hypothermia, cardiac arrest, organ failure. Or the shock triggers a laryngeal spasm, and you suffocate. Or you get swept away by the currents, torn apart, eaten by marine life.” “You, the one who benefited from all of it, are going to stand there and lecture me? Coming to me with your crocodile tears… Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

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