Author: Momo Chan

1 I was the real heiress, switched at birth. In my past life, I died in a staged car crash. Before losing consciousness, I saw Vivian Forte—the girl who stole my life—watching from a distance. Then I understood the terrible truth. I had endured every insult, believing my birth family would someday accept me. But it was all a one-sided delusion. Reborn, I faced my “parents” again, hearing the same hollow words: “Erica, we’ve come to take you home.” I smiled coldly and slid a ledger across the table. “First, let’s settle the bill: 18 years of expenses—$385,000 owed to my real parents. Cash or transfer?” … The air in our little diner froze. A collective gasp rippled through the neighbors and customers crowded around. My adoptive parents looked like they’d seen a ghost. Mom snatched the ledger from my hands, her own trembling as she waved them off. “No, no, Mr. and Mrs. Forte, please, she’s just a kid, talking nonsense! We never wanted any money, not a single penny!” My dad chimed in, forcing a nervous laugh. “That’s right, that’s our Erica. Always joking around.” As he spoke, he was jabbing me frantically in the ribs behind his back. I ignored him, my gaze fixed on the two people who were supposed to be my real family. William Forte’s face was as dark as thunder. This was clearly not the heartwarming reunion he’d envisioned. As for his wife, Victoria, the flicker of guilt in her eyes had vanished, replaced by a deep, undisguised contempt. “Erica, we know you’ve had a difficult life. We understand you’re resentful,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. She retrieved a platinum credit card from her Hermès bag and placed it on the table with a theatrical sigh. “There’s fifty thousand dollars on this. A little something to compensate you. The PIN is your birthday.” Her eyes narrowed. “Now, stop with these cheap theatrics. Come home with us, and don’t make things difficult for your adoptive parents.” Her words were a slap in the face, a charity handout meant to shut me up. As if my demand was just a pathetic ploy for attention from a girl who’d never seen real money. In my last life, this very card was all it took to buy their way out of eighteen years of gratitude. And I, like a fool, had accepted it with tears in my eyes. This time, I just laughed. I slid the card back across the table. “Mrs. Forte, you’ve misunderstood.” “First,” I began, my voice steady and clear, “my life hasn’t been difficult at all. My parents love me. We may not have much money, but we’re happy.” “Second, this isn’t compensation; it’s a transaction. You want your daughter back? You pay the price. There’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world.” “And third, if you think three hundred eighty-five thousand is too much, that’s fine.” I paused, letting my words hang in the air before delivering the final blow. “You don’t have to acknowledge me at all. I’ve managed for eighteen years without you. I think I’ll be just fine.” My words struck them like a physical blow. The Fortes, William and Victoria, stared at me in disbelief. They had probably never imagined that their immense wealth and status, the very things they used to control the world, would mean absolutely nothing to me. William’s lips trembled with rage. “You… You’re being utterly unreasonable!” Just as the standoff reached its peak, the door of their Bentley opened, and a girl in a white sundress emerged. Vivian. Her face was pale, her eyes red-rimmed as she drifted timidly to Victoria’s side. “Dad, Mom, please don’t pressure her,” she whispered, her voice a fragile, honeyed thing, brimming with manufactured kindness. “It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, my sister wouldn’t have suffered so much.” She turned to me, her expression a perfect mask of empathy. “We should be more understanding.” She approached my counter, her eyes wide and pleading. “Sister… my name is Vivian. I know you must hate me right now, but… I’m so, so happy you’re back.” “From now on, I’ll share Mom and Dad’s love with you. I’ll give you half of everything! No, I’ll give it all to you! I’ll treat you like my real sister. Can’t we please be a family?” It was a masterful performance. The onlookers were completely captivated, their expressions softening with sympathy and admiration. Look at her, their faces said. So kind, so generous. A true lady. And then there was me. The cold, calculating monster, shaking down my long-lost family for cash. In my last life, that innocent act had fooled me completely. I’d truly believed she was just a sweet, naive little sister. Now, it just made me sick. I slammed my metal spatula down on the hot griddle. CLANG! Hot oil spat, and Vivian flinched back with a tiny yelp. I met her gaze, my lips twisting into an ice-cold smile. “Let me guess,” I said, my voice low and sharp. “You’re terrified I’m going to come back and take everything from you, aren’t you? Your fiancé, your inheritance, this perfect little life you’ve built. So you came running over here to play the part of the loving sister, just to feel out how much of a threat I am.” The color drained from Vivian’s face. I slapped a menu down on the counter in front of her. “Stop the act. It’s exhausting to watch.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Order something, or get lost. You’re holding up my line.” 2 Tears welled in Vivian’s eyes, spilling over and tracing glittering paths down her cheeks like perfect, practiced pearls. She looked so utterly wounded, you’d think I was the one who had wronged her. “Sister, I… I didn’t…” she choked out, turning a desperate, pleading gaze to William and Victoria. Victoria immediately wrapped a protective arm around her. “Erica, that’s enough!” she snapped, her voice sharp with fury. “Vivian is trying to be kind to you! What is this attitude? Have you no manners at all?” I almost laughed out loud. Manners? In my last life, after they took me “home,” they forced me into etiquette classes I hated and dresses I couldn’t breathe in. They tried to sand down every rough edge, to erase every habit I’d ever learned. If I slipped up, even once, they’d say it: “See? You can take the girl out of the gutter, but you can’t take the gutter out of the girl.” Their idea of “manners” was just another word for a leash. “The only manners I know are the ones my parents taught me,” I shot back, my voice ringing with defiance. “You treat people with respect, and they’ll treat you with respect. You try to screw them over, you get what’s coming to you.” The great family reunion ended right there, with William Forte storming away in a cloud of impotent fury. They dragged the sobbing Vivian with them, leaving a wake of chaos. I thought that would be the end of it. But I had underestimated their need for control. The next day, my dad’s supervisor called him into the office. He was being “temporarily” laid off due to “restructuring.” Soon after, the supermarket where my mom worked let her go, citing “overstaffing.” Then, an anonymous complaint was filed against our diner. A sudden health code violation. We were forced to shut down pending an investigation. In the blink of an eye, every source of income we had was gone. My parents were beside themselves with worry, their faces etched with anxiety. That night, we sat in the suffocating silence of our living room. My dad finally let out a long, weary sigh and slid a credit card across the coffee table toward me. “Erica,” he said, his voice heavy. “This is… from your birth parents. They had someone drop it off. It’s the fifty thousand.” His eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions. “They said… as long as you agree to enroll at Northwood Preparatory Academy, our lives can go back to normal.” Northwood Prep. The most elite private high school in the state. The school where Vivian and her older brother, Ethan Forte, were students. I stared at the card, a bitter cold seeping into my bones. So, this was their game. They never cared about what I wanted. They only cared about forcing me into the life they’d chosen for me, all under the guise of “what’s best.” They thought that by cutting off our livelihood, they could starve me into submission. Force me back into their gilded cage, where I could finally play the part of their obedient, grateful long-lost daughter. In my last life, it worked. My parents, heartbroken but not wanting to hold me back, had tearfully put me in the Fortes’ car. This time, I wouldn’t let them win. I pushed the card back. “Dad, Mom, don’t worry about this,” I said. My heart ached seeing the despair on their faces, but my voice was unwavering. “We can find new jobs. We can move the diner. We can start over.” I looked from one to the other, my resolve hardening. “But if you lose your daughter, she’s gone for good.” “I don’t want to go to Northwood Prep. And I don’t want to go ‘home’ with them. The only place I want to be is right here, with you.” Tears streamed down my mother’s face as she pulled me into a fierce hug, sobbing too hard to speak. My dad’s eyes were red, and he slammed his fist on the table. “That’s right!” he declared, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re not going! To hell with them and their money! I’ll go work construction if I have to! I can still provide for my family!” A profound warmth spread through my chest. Having parents like them was the greatest treasure I could have asked for, in this life or the last. But I knew this wasn’t over. Hiding wouldn’t solve anything. I had to go on the offensive. The next day, I put on my faded public-school uniform, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and walked straight through the gilded gates of Northwood Preparatory Academy. 3 Northwood Prep lived up to its reputation. Even the front gates were gold-plated, gleaming ostentatiously in the morning sun. My worn, slightly-too-small blue and white uniform stood out like a sore thumb in a sea of custom-tailored blazers and luxury cars. Nearly every eye was on me, filled with a mixture of curiosity and undisguised disdain. The Fortes’ network was ruthlessly efficient. Before I’d even set foot on campus, the story of my “legendary” origins had already made the rounds. I was the long-lost heiress from the wrong side of the tracks, the charity case desperate to claw her way into a world she didn’t belong to. I ignored the whispers and stares, heading straight for the administration office. But I was intercepted before I could even round the first corner. A clique of girls blocked my path, with Vivian Forte, of course, at its center. When she saw me, her face lit up with a look of feigned, delighted surprise. “Sister! You really came! This is wonderful!” She rushed forward, reaching to link her arm with mine. I took a sharp step to the side. Her hand froze awkwardly in mid-air. The color drained from her face, and her eyes immediately welled with tears. “Sister… are you still angry with me?” One of her friends instantly stepped forward, jabbing a finger in my direction. “Hey! Who do you think you are? Vivian was just trying to be nice to you. What’s with the attitude?” Another girl chimed in. “Yeah, I heard you were Vivian’s long-lost… sister? She’s the sweetest person here. You better not be planning on bullying her.” Vivian quickly intervened, playing the part of the gracious peacemaker. “Don’t say that! It’s not her fault. My sister… the place where she grew up was… a lot simpler. She’s just not used to this environment. We should be patient with her.” With just a few carefully chosen words, she had painted me as the jealous, uncivilized rube from the sticks, while she remained the kind, benevolent princess, suffering my brutishness with a saintly grace. The crowd of onlookers grew, their whispers turning into a low hum of judgment. “So that’s the real heiress? She looks so… cheap.” “Right? Compared to Vivian, she’s like a different species.” “God, how embarrassing. If I were her, I’d just leave.” I stared at Vivian’s perfectly crafted mask of innocence, feeling nothing but a profound sense of boredom. In my last life, her little games had worked perfectly, isolating me until I became the paranoid, bitter person everyone already believed I was. This time, her high-school theatrics were just pathetic. Just then, the crowd parted, and a tall, handsome boy strode through. He wore the student council uniform, the president’s badge pinned neatly to his chest. His expression was one of innate, casual arrogance. It was her older brother, Ethan Forte. The moment he appeared, Vivian’s tears overflowed. “Ethan…” she whimpered, scurrying to hide behind him like a frightened kitten. Ethan didn’t even glance at me. He just frowned, patting Vivian’s shoulder with practiced concern. Then, his cold eyes finally found mine. “You. Come with me.” He led me to the deserted rooftop. The wind was strong, whipping at the hem of his perfectly pressed blazer. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing to get into Northwood, but you need to understand something,” he said, his voice low and menacing as he looked down at me. “Vivian is the most precious person in this family. She’s pure, kind, and incredibly sensitive. If you do anything to hurt her, I swear, I have a hundred ways to make your life a living hell here.” It was the exact same speech he’d given me in my past life. Word for word. Back then, his threat had terrified me. I’d stammered and tried to explain, but he hadn’t listened. But now… I lifted my chin, meeting his icy gaze without flinching. “Are you done?” I asked calmly. Ethan blinked, thrown off balance. This was clearly not the reaction he’d expected. I took a step closer, closing the distance between us. My voice was quiet, but every word was a shard of ice. “First, I’m not here for you, or for Vivian, or for the Forte family. So you can take your self-important warnings and shove them.” “Second, her being ‘pure and kind’?” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “That’s not kindness. That’s because you’re blind.” “And finally,” I said, watching his face slowly turn crimson with rage, “you need to control your little sister. Tell her to stay away from me.” “Because if she tries anything again, I can’t guarantee that precious, innocent little mask of hers will stay in one piece.” 4 Ethan’s face went from red to a deep, mottled purple. He’d probably never been spoken to like that in his entire privileged life, especially not by someone he considered to be nothing more than trailer trash. He lunged forward, radiating a palpable fury. “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?” “Who am I?” I met his rage with unnerving calm. “You’ve already had me thoroughly investigated, haven’t you? I’m Erica Harris. Eighteen years old. Your biological sister. And the single greatest threat to your precious Vivian’s fairy-tale life.” Without another word, I turned and walked away, leaving him seething on the rooftop. I could hear his enraged shout behind me, but I didn’t look back. There was no point in reasoning with people like this. They only understood one thing: power. The only way to make them feel anything was to systematically dismantle everything they held dear, piece by painful piece. In the days that followed, I became the laughingstock of Northwood Prep. Under Ethan’s direction, no one dared to speak to me. My desk was regularly filled with trash, and my homework would mysteriously disappear. Vivian, meanwhile, followed me around with her entourage, constantly putting on a show of sisterly affection that only made me look colder and more ungrateful. I ignored it all. I was just biding my time. Soon, it was time for the school’s annual Arts Festival. The grand finale, as always, was a piano solo by the one and only Vivian Forte. When I saw the program and the title of her piece—a composition she was claiming as her own, retitled “Awakening”—a sharp, familiar pain lanced through my heart. The song’s real name was “Echoes of Home.” My adoptive mother had once been the most promising student at her music conservatory, with dreams of becoming a composer. But she had given it all up. To adopt me, to pay for my childhood medical bills, to give me a chance at a good life, she and my dad had abandoned their stable careers to run a small diner, working themselves to the bone day and night. Her dreams were ground to dust by the harsh realities of life. She never touched a piano again. “Echoes of Home” was the only complete piece she ever wrote—the embodiment of her lost youth, her sacrificed dreams. She had only ever taught it to me, and the hand-written score was the most precious gift she had ever given me. This time, I had locked the score away in a hidden drawer. I never thought Vivian would find it. But she had. She hadn’t just stolen my mother’s dream; she was about to use it to build her own pedestal of fame and glory. I would not let that happen. The night of the festival, the auditorium was packed. William and Victoria Forte sat in the front row, center stage, their faces beaming with pride. Vivian, dressed in a flowing white gown, floated to the Steinway grand piano at the center of the stage. The spotlight followed her, making her look ethereal, almost angelic. She gave a graceful bow, her eyes flickering for a split second in my direction where I stood in the shadows. Then she sat, her slender fingers caressing the keys. The familiar, haunting melody filled the hall. When she finished, the auditorium erupted in thunderous applause. The host rushed onto the stage, breathless with excitement. “That was simply breathtaking! Vivian, I heard that you composed this piece, ‘Awakening,’ yourself. Can you tell us about your inspiration?” Vivian took the microphone, a perfect, practiced smile on her face. She was just about to speak when I emerged from the darkness and walked onto the stage. Every head in the auditorium turned. Every spotlight swung to find me. The smile on Vivian’s face froze. “Sister? What are you—?” I ignored her. I took the microphone from the stunned host’s hand and faced the audience. “A beautiful performance,” I said, my voice ringing out with perfect clarity. I paused, my gaze sweeping over the shifting, uneasy faces of the Fortes before landing squarely on Vivian’s ghostly pale one. “Too bad it’s not original.” “In fact,” I continued, my voice dropping into a deadly calm, “it was stolen. By a thief. From my home.” A shocked gasp swept through the crowd. Before anyone could react, I pulled a folded document from my pocket and held it up for the stage cameras to capture. “This song’s real name is ‘Echoes of Home.’ And its copyright,” I announced, letting the words sink in, “was officially registered three days ago. By me, Erica Harris.” I brandished the copyright certificate, my voice sharp and clear. “Vivian Forte, what you’ve just committed is not just plagiarism. It’s breaking and entering, theft, and copyright infringement.” My eyes locked onto hers. “So, what will it be? Shall we settle this privately… or should we see each other in court?”

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Isabelle, our class queen bee, kept a public ranking of her suitors on Instagram, updating it daily. People jokingly called it the “Simp List.” I privately complained to a friend, “What self-respecting guy would tolerate that?” When Isabelle heard, she sweetly agreed, “Scarlett’s right. A man needs dignity.” Days later, she flaunted a new relationship with the department’s richest guy. One of her top suitors snapped, blaming me. He kidnapped and locked me in a storage closet, hissing, “You ruined my chance with her. Now die.” I woke to find myself back in time, watching Isabelle announce to the class: “I’m starting a list—a fair ranking of all my suitors!” 1 The classroom erupted. Some guys looked excited, others scoffed, but most were just morbidly curious. Isabelle lifted her chin, basking in the attention. “I’m not some shallow girl who only cares about money,” she declared. “I value a genuine heart. I’ll post about everything you guys do for me on my socials, completely fair and square. Everyone can see it, rate it, call out the fakers!” That just whipped the room into a bigger frenzy. In my last life, I’d heard those words and sneered, “What a classic mean girl hiding behind a sweet-and-innocent act.” Later, when guys were tripping over themselves to get a higher spot on her list, I’d mocked them too. “Have some self-respect. Any guy who’d throw their dignity on the floor for a girl to stomp on isn’t exactly a catch.” What I didn’t know then was that the list was never about those guys. It was all a calculated performance to catch the eye of one person: Jason, the undisputed king of our department, heir to a tech fortune. Jason was constantly surrounded by beautiful women. Isabelle knew she needed a gimmick to stand out. So she turned the dating game into a public spectacle, a testament to her own irresistible charm. This time, I just lowered my gaze, shut my mouth, and pretended to read my textbook. But Isabelle’s voice cut through the noise. “Scarlett! How about you be on my judging panel?” Half the class turned to stare at me. I suppressed a surge of rage and calmly turned a page, ignoring her. “Come on,” Isabelle pressed, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “You’re the best judge of character I know. My future happiness depends on you!” The memory of the storage closet flashed in my mind. This time, I just wanted to stay as far away from her as possible. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Someone in the crowd jeered, “Don’t be so modest, Scarlett! The queen herself said you’re perfect for the job.” “Yeah, you’re roommates! You’d have the most objective opinion.” I finally closed my book, putting on a look of awkward embarrassment. “I really can’t.” “I’m… not a good judge of men.” I took a deep breath. “Because… I like women.” 2 Within a few hours, two pieces of gossip were tearing through campus. The first was Isabelle’s “Simp List,” which had just gone live on her Instagram. The second was my very public coming out. Of course, my news was just a minor ripple. The real tidal wave was the list. The students had officially christened it the first “Simp List” in school history. To my surprise, way more guys participated this time than in my last life. “I can’t believe how many friend requests I’m getting!” Isabelle shrieked from her bed in our dorm room. Our other roommate, Maya, watched her with a toxic mix of envy and admiration. I tried to focus on my homework, but I couldn’t help but feel a grim sense of foreboding. Isabelle was so wrapped up in her own drama that she was completely oblivious to the silent fury building among the other girls on campus—girls whose crushes were now publicly debasing themselves for a spot on her list. Isabelle lounged on her bed like a queen on her throne. The tablet in her hands, the plush rug by her bed, the expensive skincare products on her desk… all gifts from her new legion of admirers. “I thought you said you weren’t materialistic,” Maya muttered, her voice sour. Isabelle immediately tapped out a new post. [IsabelleSterling]: Apparently, accepting a few small gifts means I’m a gold digger now? lol. Am I just spoiled, or are some people just not used to being shown affection? The picture was a cartoon bear with a single tear rolling down its cheek. A moment later, Maya’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, and her face flushed. She snatched up her phone and hurried out of the room. She returned a few minutes later, her eyes red and puffy. “What’s wrong?” our fourth roommate, Zoe, asked. Maya just bit her lip, pulled her bed curtain shut, and a moment later, we could hear the sound of muffled sobs. Isabelle, meanwhile, was cooing into her phone. “Oh, I’m not mad at all! Is that your genuine heart you’re offering? Because I’ve got a lot of genuine hearts to choose from right now… Really? Yours is more sincere?…” My pen froze for a second, but I kept my head down. It wasn’t until later that evening that Isabelle addressed the room. “Hey, the guys are taking us out for karaoke tonight! Everyone should come!” “The guys,” of course, meant the simps. Maya didn’t answer. I wrinkled my nose. “I think I’ll pass. Too much testosterone in one room for me.” No matter how much she wheedled, I refused. Finally, she gave me a long, speculative look, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You know, Scarlett, I never would have guessed you were into girls. Are you sure you’re not just… jealous?” I looked up, genuinely confused. “Jealous of what?” Isabelle ticked the points off on her fingers. “One, that I have so many guys after me? Or two, maybe the guy you like is on my list, so you couldn’t handle it and just decided to swear off men altogether?” I gave her an epic eye-roll. “Please. I’m not into guys. And besides,” I added, my voice dripping with disdain, “I’m attracted to brains.” Isabelle’s face flushed, then paled. When she left for karaoke, she didn’t ask me or Maya again. 3 Later that night, Maya’s voice came from behind her curtain. “Scarlett, have you seen Isabelle’s latest post?” I shook my head and pulled out my phone. “What now?” Her new post was a candid shot of me, sitting at my desk, engrossed in a book. The caption read: [IsabelleSterling]: My super-smart roomie says she’s only attracted to guys with brains… Ugh, does that mean she thinks I’m shallow? The comment section was already flooded with her defenders. isnt she a lesbian? why is she suddenly interested in guys? if she was so smart she’d be at an ivy league school, not here lol Don’t listen to her Izzy, you’re perfect! I was shaking with rage. “You need to be more careful what you say around her,” Maya whispered from her bed. “She’s… not a good person.” It took several deep breaths to calm my racing heart. I was too agitated to study, so I just climbed into bed and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing. Why did you provoke her? Haven’t you learned your lesson? Just stay away! From that night on, I made a conscious effort to avoid Isabelle. I gave one-word answers to her questions. If I had to speak, I chose my words with surgical precision. I started a countdown in my journal. 47 days. 47 days until she and Jason made their relationship official. Then, I would finally be free. While I was walking on eggshells, Isabelle’s life was getting better every day. She was true to her word, publicly ranking the guys’ efforts. Every day, she’d post a nine-photo grid on her Instagram, showcasing the top contenders. Thanks to them, life in our dorm room got a major upgrade. Three gourmet breakfasts, three artisanal bubble teas, three fresh fruit platters, all delivered daily like clockwork. One of the guys even bought all three of us access to a hyped-up new video game after Isabelle casually mentioned wanting to play it. “You guys are lucky you’re my roommates,” she’d say with magnanimous flair. “I don’t mind sharing the perks.” I refused everything. I was either on my period, had a stomachache, or was suddenly allergic. As for the game, I was too busy studying to even think about it. The memories of my last life were burned into my soul. I wanted nothing to do with Isabelle Sterling ever again. 4 The countdown was at 33 days when it happened. Jason, the rich kid, was hanging out in the hallway with a few of his friends. I tried to walk past them without being noticed. One of the guys pointed at me. “Hey, aren’t you in the same class as that girl with the Simp List? What’s-her-name?” Jason glanced over, a bored expression on his face. “Tsk. That’s Scarlett. Top three in their class.” He raised his voice. “Scarlett.” I didn’t answer, just gave a curt nod and quickened my pace. I could feel their eyes on my back, could hear them whispering and laughing. I finally made it to the classroom and let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. But when I turned, I saw Isabelle staring at me from across the room, her eyes dark and unreadable. A cold knot formed in my stomach. I shot her a questioning look, but she just gave me a tight, humorless smile before turning away. For the next two nights, I barely slept, waking up from nightmares in a cold sweat. “You keep having nightmares,” Maya said, her face etched with concern. “You’re mumbling in your sleep, something about ‘it’s not my fault.’ Is everything okay?” I didn’t answer, just stared at a new water bottle on Isabelle’s desk. Maya followed my gaze and grimaced. “I don’t know what her deal is. Normally she only accepts designer brands, but today she came back with that cheap thing.” An icy dread washed over me. I knew who gave her that water bottle. 5 In my last life, the pool of guys competing for Isabelle’s attention wasn’t that big. It was mostly the same five or six guys. One of them, however, was in a league of his own. He claimed to be truly in love with her and showered her with attention every single day. He was also the one I despised the most. His name was Leo. He had the highest entrance exam score in our entire department. He was tall and handsome, but he came from a poor family. I’d heard his dad was disabled and his mom was chronically ill. They were barely scraping by. Yet he was utterly infatuated with Isabelle. To get a good ranking on her list, he worked himself to the bone at part-time jobs just to buy her gifts. In my last life, I had nothing but contempt for him. He was supposed to be his family’s only hope, and here he was, wasting his time and energy on a rich girl’s cruel game. “He’s pathetic,” I’d said dismissively when my classmates were gossiping about him. Later, after Isabelle and Jason got together, no one hated me more than Leo. He was the one who came up with the idea to kidnap me. He was convinced that my comments had turned Isabelle against him, that I was the reason she’d chosen Jason. That water bottle was the first gift Leo had ever given her. But this life was different. Leo’s name had never once appeared on Isabelle’s list. Why was she suddenly paying attention to him? I was still puzzling over it when Isabelle walked in, a bright, false smile on her face. “Scarlett, you have to come to the cafeteria with me today,” she said. “I have a surprise for you.” I was about to refuse, but then I saw the malicious glint in her eyes. Better to face the devil you know, I thought. It was just the cafeteria. What could she possibly be planning? Seeing that I’d agreed, she practically bounced with excitement, pulling out her phone and starting to record. “Just filming a little day-in-the-life vlog,” she explained as she led me to the second floor of the cafeteria. I immediately saw him. Sitting alone at a four-person table by the window. Isabelle dragged me over, her voice practically vibrating with suppressed glee. “Surprise! I searched the entire campus to find the perfect guy for you! Someone with a brain to match yours! Come on, Scarlett! How do you know you only like girls if you’ve never even tried being with a guy?”

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At the end of the year, while closing the books, I noticed something was wrong. After pulling several all-nighters to fix it, I found the company account was off by a single cent. I spent another three sleepless nights re-doing the books from scratch, only to discover that the new secretary had been depositing one cent into the company account every single day. When I confronted her, she tearfully explained, “I just saw you staying late every night, struggling with the numbers, and I wanted to help.” My boss chimed in, “Vivian was just trying to be nice, Chloe. You don’t have to be so aggressive.” Under a chorus of accusations, I was branded a workplace bully. I was fired. Then Vivian started a livestream to smear my name online. I was tormented until I fell into a deep depression and took my own life. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my desk, staring at the accounting error. 1 Seeing that single, extra cent on the balance sheet again, my mouse met the desk with a sharp crack. I spun around in my chair, my voice echoing across the open-plan office. “Who the hell is depositing one cent into the company account every day?” I yelled. “Do you have any idea how expensive things are? Save that penny! Put it towards your own damn coffin!” Jaws dropped. My colleagues stared at me, frozen. It was the kind of collective shock that only happens when the quietest person in the room finally explodes. After a moment of stunned silence, Leo, a colleague, burst out laughing. “Chloe, who lit a fire under you? Struck out on another date? Don’t take it out on us!” Leo, with his three years at the company, fancied himself the office comedian. My failed attempts at dating were his favorite punchline. My face was a stone mask. “Was it you, Leo?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. “It might only be a cent, but it throws off the entire financial statement. If the audit comes back messy because of this, none of us are getting a quiet holiday season. Do you understand?” I was exaggerating, I’ll admit. But the mere mention of accountability wiped the smirk right off his face. “Hey, not me, Chloe. Nothing to do with me.” I ignored him, my gaze sweeping across the room, meeting each person’s eyes. “Whoever did this knows exactly who they are. Don’t make me go through the transaction logs. I’ll give you three seconds to come forward and admit it. Otherwise, when this blows up, you’ll be the one who screwed over the entire company.” I had barely started my countdown when Vivian, the new secretary, burst through the door, flustered. “Chloe, I-I’m so sorry! It was me. I deposited the money.” As she apologized, she was already handing out coffees she’d brought with her. “I figured everyone was sick of the free stuff in the breakroom. My treat, don’t be shy!” It’s hard to stay mad at someone offering you a latte. As my colleagues took the cups, their expressions softened into smiles. “How much was it? I’ll Venmo you.” “You’re too much, Viv! You’re always bringing us coffee, I almost feel bad taking it.” “Vivian, you must be loaded. There’s no way your intern salary covers all this!” Vivian just waved her hand with a sweet smile. “It’s no fun drinking alone! It’s better when we all enjoy it together. And don’t worry about my wallet, it can handle it.” In less than a month, Vivian had won over the entire office with these small acts of generosity. She navigated the social currents like a fish in water. Leo took a sip of his coffee and shot a look in my direction. “You know, Vivian, if only everyone was as easygoing as you. Some people have been here five years and still haven’t managed to fit in.” Vivian blinked her wide, innocent eyes. “Who? Is it someone I know?” she asked, a masterclass in feigned ignorance. A few people nearby stifled their laughter. It was a scene that had played out a thousand times in my previous life. 2 On Vivian’s first day, Leo was assigned to show her the ropes. The two of them hit it off immediately, bonding over their shared hobby: making my life difficult. In my past life, when I discovered the accounting error, I worked myself into the ground for three days straight, nearly tearing my hair out trying to find the source. It was only then that I found Vivian’s daily one-cent deposits. When I confronted her, she broke down. “I just saw you staying up all night, struggling with the numbers,” she sobbed. “I wanted to help.” My colleagues all rushed to her defense. “She’s new, she’s still learning. Vivian is trying her best.” Even my boss, Mr. Harrison, stepped in. “Vivian was just trying to be nice, Chloe. You don’t have to be so aggressive.” And just like that, I became the villain, the office bully. The company used it as the perfect excuse to kick me to the curb. No severance package, and they even withheld my last month’s salary. Then came the online smear campaign. Vivian started a livestream, and my boss and former colleagues appeared as “witnesses,” confirming her stories. The “workplace bully” label stuck. At that exact moment, my mother, back in my hometown, fell gravely ill. She needed a huge sum of money for treatment, fast. But I had been doxxed. I sent out hundreds of resumes, and every single one vanished into a black hole. Without enough money, my mom missed the best window for treatment. She passed away. My father, lost without her, followed not long after. I was tormented into a deep depression, and I took my own life. When I opened my eyes again, I was staring at that long string of numbers on the screen, with that one extra cent at the end. And this time, I snapped. You either explode, or you die in silence. This life, I was choosing to explode. And I was taking Vivian, Leo, and the rest of those venomous people down with me. 3 After handing out the coffees, Vivian realized she was one short. She clasped her hands together and came over to my desk. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Here, you can have mine.” I took her by the arm and gently pushed her down into my chair. “Here you go,” I said with a thin smile. “Whoever made the mess can clean it up. It’s time for you to learn about accountability.” Vivian stared blankly at the complex accounting software on my screen, her eyes welling up with tears. “Chloe, I’m an admin major… I don’t know how to do any of this…” “That’s okay,” I interrupted smoothly. “You can learn. Since you were so interested in our finances that you made daily deposits, I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time.” I stretched, cracking my back, and began clearing my personal items off the desk. Leo frowned. “Chloe, this is just bullying a new employee. You can’t just hand off important work like this. What if she messes something up?” He sounded so righteous. But I knew him for what he was: a professional pot-stirrer. And the best way to deal with someone like him is to drag them into the mud with you. I slid his chair over next to Vivian’s. “Leo, aren’t you Vivian’s mentor? This is a perfect opportunity for you to teach her. You two can figure out the problem together.” Vivian’s eyes reddened. “Chloe, I know you don’t like me,” she said, her voice trembling with manufactured strength. “I’m new, I haven’t even finished my probation, so I know I can’t fight back when you bully me. But Leo is a senior employee! He has his own work to do! How can you just dump your responsibilities on him? I can work overtime every day, but Leo has a child at home! He needs to be with his wife and kid. Can’t you just leave the people around me out of this? If you have a problem, take it out on me!” Her brave facade immediately earned her the sympathy of the room—and drew their ire towards me. “Chloe, you can’t just throw your weight around because you’ve been here longer. This is unfair to Leo and Vivian!” “Yeah, I can’t stand it! She just sits in the corner with that sour look on her face all day. You’d think the company owes her a million bucks. Such a killjoy.” “Everyone’s busy. Even the new girl has a ton on her plate. Now someone’s using that as an excuse to palm off her own work. What a slick move.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a faint smirk touch Vivian’s lips. In my previous life, I never would have irresponsibly handed my work to someone else. But I would never forget the ugly look on my boss’s face when he fired me for “bullying,” all to avoid paying me a proper severance. A company like that didn’t deserve another ounce of my energy. “Fine,” I said, my voice ringing with challenge. “Since you’re all so eager to defend them, you can do the work. I’ve worked nineteen straight days of overtime on these books. I nearly died from exhaustion. And it was all because she thought it would be ‘helpful’ to deposit a single cent every day, throwing everything off. I’m not a saint. I can’t just forgive someone for a stupid act that almost put me in an early grave. Don’t stand there talking. If you support them so much, come on over and help re-check the accounts!” I rolled up my sleeves, ready for a fight. “What is all this noise? Don’t you people have work to do?” Mr. Harrison, the boss, appeared, his face a thundercloud. Vivian’s eyes filled with tears. “Mr. Harrison, it’s all my fault. Chloe assigned her work to me as a sign of her trust in my abilities. I shouldn’t have refused.” The others immediately chimed in, painting a perfect picture of me as the villain who bullied the new girl. I waited patiently for them to finish. “You all mention me giving her my work, but why does no one mention the fact that she deliberately sabotaged my work by making daily deposits? This is a workplace, not her mommy’s house. When you make a mistake, you take responsibility and you fix it. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?” After getting the gist of the situation, Mr. Harrison reverted to his usual role of conflict-smoother. “Alright, alright, that’s enough. Chloe, I know you’ve been working hard. I’ll give you a half-day off sometime.” Three consecutive weekends of unpaid overtime, and this cheapskate offers me half a day. Before I could even react, Vivian jumped in. “Mr. Harrison, Chloe has worked so hard. Please give her more time off! I’ll cover her work while she’s gone!” The boss beamed, praising her as the most dedicated employee he’d ever seen. He didn’t miss the chance to throw some shade at certain “senior employees” with poor work ethics. Vivian smiled and turned to the others. “None of you need to come in this Saturday. It’s just sending out some materials to clients. I can handle it all.” The others made a show of refusing, but she persisted. “I’ve been interning for a month now! Think of it as a test. I want to prove myself. Please, just give me this chance!” Mr. Harrison waved his hand magnanimously. “Approved.” After he left, my colleagues swarmed Vivian, showering her with praise. Leo declared she was a literal angel. Vivian took out a small notebook and dutifully jotted down everything they needed her to do. She then circled back to my desk. “Chloe, do you still need my help checking the accounts?” she asked. Leo scoffed. “Help her? Be careful. If anything goes wrong, she’ll pin it all on you.” I looked at him calmly. “So, you won’t blame her?” Leo looked at me as if I were an idiot. “Of course not. She’s offering to help out of the goodness of her heart. Regardless of the outcome, you have to appreciate the gesture.” Mark, one of Leo’s buddies, chimed in. “Exactly. Not like some people who won’t even grab a package for you when they’re heading out.” Vivian looked so moved she could have cried. She swore to them all that she would do her absolute best. I had to suppress a laugh. A weirdo who had enough free time to deposit a cent into the company account every single day? I wasn’t holding my breath. Now, it was time for them to experience the full extent of Vivian’s “kindness.”

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1 On my wedding eve, scandal broke. My fiancé Ross Vance had gotten his mistress Stella Reed pregnant—five months along. He called, cold and dismissive. “It was an accident. Just ensure the engagement party goes smoothly. Canceling would humiliate both families, and your grandfather’s health is fragile.” After hanging up, his social media updated: a photo of him listening to Stella’s belly, captioned, “Awaiting our little one.” That night, he skipped our party. On our video call, he was reading a fairy tale to Stella’s stomach. “She needs prenatal bonding. You handle things. The Vance heir is precious—we’ll send the child abroad after birth; you can play mother on holidays. The title of Mrs. Vance is still yours.” I noticed the diamond ring on his finger and laughed coldly. “Ross, we’re done.” “Don’t be childish,” he warned. I hung up and dialed Conrad Vance instead. “Mr. Vance, I heard you’re seeking a new wife. Consider me—the Sterling women are known for fertility. I can give you all the sons you want. One heir is so lonely; let’s give him brothers.” … On the other end of the line, Conrad Vance’s voice was hoarse with shock. “Seraphina? What nonsense are you talking about?” “Nonsense?” I chuckled, the sound laced with mockery. “You’ve seen the news about your precious son and his five-months-pregnant canary, haven’t you? I find him… utterly filthy. I’m serious, Mr. Vance. I’m trading up.” A few seconds of silence, then his voice, trembling slightly, “We can’t discuss this over the phone. I’m coming over now.” “Wonderful,” I purred, my eyes glinting like shards of glass. “I’ll be waiting.” Conrad Vance was barely thirty-five, in the prime of his life. But a cruel twist of genetics had made it impossible for him to have children of his own. After years of failed IVF treatments, he had adopted Ross from a distant branch of the family. The Sterling family’s alliance with the Vances was built on one thing: the legendary fertility of its women—a trait passed down through generations. We were a dynasty’s guarantee. No matter my grandfather’s health, this marriage was a necessity both families understood. But I never imagined Ross, the man I had loved for three years, would knock up his mistress right before our wedding and expect me to swallow my pride and play stepmother. I, Seraphina Sterling, do not suffer in silence. Conrad arrived faster than I expected. He stood in the doorway, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his expression a storm of conflicting emotions. “Seraphina, you…” I didn’t let him finish. I reached out, grabbed his tie, and yanked him into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Rising onto my toes, I silenced his questions and doubts with a kiss that left no room for argument. My fingers deftly undid the first button of his shirt, my touch slipping beneath the fabric with an undeniable authority. My actions were my declaration. There was no shyness, no hesitation, only the raw, unyielding finality of someone burning all their bridges. I could feel his body tense, a war raging within him. But in the end, the dam of his reason shattered against the flood of raw, primal need. After the storm passed, Conrad held me close, his voice a gravelly whisper. “I have urgent business overseas. I have to leave tomorrow, and I might be gone for a while. Wait for me.” “And… the wedding?” I asked, looking up at him. 2 He met my gaze, his eyes dark and intense. His tone was absolute. “It will proceed as planned. I’ll be back in time. You are the only daughter of the Sterling family, and you are the matriarch the Vance family needs.” He rose and dressed, leaving me with that promise before departing as quickly as he had come. The moment he was gone, my phone began to vibrate violently on the nightstand. It was Ross, his voice laced with its usual entitlement and a new thread of impatience. “Seraphina, get over here. Stella’s morning sickness is bad; she has no energy. Come keep her company. It’ll be good practice for you on how to care for a pregnant woman. I’m taking her to an art exhibit to lift her spirits.” He wanted me to babysit Stella? To learn how to care for a pregnant woman? The absurdity was so profound it was almost funny. “Ross, I am not your nanny. You have the wrong number,” I said, my voice like ice. He sighed, as if I were being difficult. “Stella is carrying a Vance heir. It’s hard work! As the future matriarch, it’s your duty to learn these things.” The twisted logic of it all drew a sharp, cold laugh from my throat. “Ross, your heartfelt speech is truly touching. We’re done. Who you have children with, and who you hire to wait on them, has nothing to do with me. Stop harassing me.” I hung up. Lying back on the bed, I couldn’t shake the knot of rage in my chest. I picked up my phone, hoping for a distraction, only to have a news alert pierce my eyes like a poisoned needle: VANCE HEIR DOTES ON MYSTERY WOMAN AT ART GALA, BABY BUMP THE MAIN ATTRACTION! I clicked the link. The high-resolution photo was a slap in the face. Ross was carefully guiding a visibly pregnant Stella, his head bent to look at her belly with a look of tender adoration I had never once received in our three years together. My heart seized, a pain so sharp it stole my breath. Three years. My birthday gifts were always last-minute luxury items picked out by his assistant. When had he ever shown me an ounce of this kind of thoughtfulness? Love follows the heart, and his heart had never been with me. I had to get out. I needed a change of scenery. I decided to go for my final fitting for the custom wedding gown that held all my shattered dreams. But when I pushed open the doors to the bridal salon, the sight before me made my blood run cold. There, in front of the gleaming floor-to-ceiling mirror, was Stella Reed, her five-month baby bump straining against the seams of my priceless, hand-embroidered wedding dress—the one that had taken six months of painstaking work to create. The waistline of the gown had been crudely pinned, making it look tight and misshapen. A look of dissatisfaction was on her face as she pointed to her stomach and complained to the shop assistant, “This is too tight! You need to let out the waist entirely, at least three inches! And the bust… it’s a bit constricting here, too. Loosen it up.” That dress represented every beautiful fantasy I ever had about my marriage. Fury erupted, white-hot, in my mind. I took a deep breath, trying to contain the rage that threatened to tear me apart. I strode forward, my voice as cold as a glacier. “Take it off. That is my wedding dress.” Stella flinched, clutching her belly as if I had struck her. She scurried behind Ross, who had turned at the sound of my voice, her eyes welling with tears. “Seraphina!” Ross’s brow furrowed, his tone a mixture of sharp reprimand and anxiety. “Could you keep your voice down? You’re scaring Stella and the baby!” I almost laughed. “Ross! That is my custom-made gown! Six months of work, every single stitch! What right does she have to wear it? To have it butchered like this?” Ross’s eyes flickered, but then his expression hardened. “Of course she has the right. She is the bride. This dress is for her. And what’s wrong with altering the waistline? Her situation is… unique.” I froze. “What?” “You and I will get the marriage license. The alliance between our families remains,” he said, his gaze softening as he looked at Stella. “But Stella is carrying my child. She’s been through so much. I can’t let her be sidelined. So, the wedding ceremony… Stella will be the one at the altar. It’s the least I can do to give her the recognition she deserves.” “What… did you just say?” A tremor ran through my entire body. If this happened, my family and I would become the laughingstock of the entire city. But he thought his plan was perfect. His voice was firm. “Seraphina, I know it’s not fair to you. But Stella has had a difficult time. For the sake of the Vance heir she’s carrying, please, just try to be understanding…” 3 “Understanding?” My voice rose, drawing stares from others in the salon. “Ross! You want me to play a part in this circus? I’m the one you marry legally, but she’s the one who gets to stand on the altar with her baby bump, basking in everyone’s blessings? Is she the one who gets the wedding night, too? And then you expect me, your legal wife, to raise your bastard child? What do you take me for, Ross? Some beggar on the street you can mold and discard as you please?” Right on cue, Stella began to sob softly, her hand stroking her belly. “Miss Sterling, please don’t be angry… I know my status is low… I just wanted to wear a wedding dress once… I know I don’t deserve it… but the baby is innocent…” Ross’s eyes turned to ice, a clear warning in them. “This is how it’s going to be. If it weren’t for my father, do you honestly think I would marry you at all?” I stared at him, the last flicker of affection in my heart dying, replaced by a cold, sharp hatred. It seemed Conrad hadn’t told him about the change of grooms yet. “Fine,” I said, looking him straight in the eye, my voice devoid of all emotion. We’ll see who’s being replaced on the wedding day. Ross’s frown deepened. He clearly hadn’t expected me to agree so easily. A flicker of surprise crossed his face. Behind him, Stella subtly lifted her head, her hand tightening on her pregnant stomach, a triumphant glint in her eyes. Over the next few days, photos of Ross and Stella’s “maternity-style” wedding shoot dominated the headlines. The media, playing along with the “Vance-Sterling merger” narrative, presented the pregnant woman in the photos as the true Sterling heiress. Worried calls from my closest friends poured in. The whispers and rumors in our social circle were like poisoned needles, mocking me as a pathetic doormat who’d “lost everything,” who’d even “let a pregnant mistress take her place.” I ignored it all, focusing my energy on the hospital. Grandfather’s heart condition had suddenly worsened. The doctors had issued a critical notice; he needed 24/7 monitoring. I stayed by his bedside, day and night, carefully shielding him from any news about that despicable pair, terrified that any hint of the scandal would be the final blow to his fragile health. But some things, you can’t guard against. Stella, arm in arm with Ross, brazenly walked into my grandfather’s private ICU room. I was just outside the door, carrying a thermos, when I heard her sickly sweet, theatrical voice. “Grandpa Sterling,” she cooed. She was holding a copy of a high-fashion magazine, pointing to a full-page spread of her and Ross’s maternity wedding photos, deliberately angling her swollen belly towards the bed. “Look at our wedding pictures! Don’t Ross and I look wonderful? You have to be at the head table on the big day to see your great-grandchild!” My grandfather’s face turned a deathly shade of purple. His chest heaved violently, his hands clawing at the sheets, his lips trembling as a guttural sound escaped his throat. The heart monitor began to shriek. “Grandfather!” I screamed, the thermos crashing to the floor. I lunged into the room, slamming the emergency call button. “Miss Sterling, don’t be upset…” Stella began, her voice dripping with fake concern. I shoved her aside. “Get out! Get out with your bastard!” A doctor yelled, “Prep for resuscitation!” A nurse forcibly pulled me away as I watched, helpless, while they wheeled my grandfather into the emergency room. Ross tried to steady me, but I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me! You animal! You knew about his condition, and you still came here to torment him!” Stella hid behind him. “We just wanted to invite him to the wedding…” “Seraphina! Calm down! If you hurt Stella or the baby, can you take responsibility for that?” he roared, grabbing my wrist. “Calm down? You’re killing my grandfather!” I struggled against his grip. “It was an accident!” he snapped, shielding Stella. “The world thinks Stella is the Sterling heiress. If no one from your family is at the wedding, her cover will be blown, and the Vance family will lose face! Having your grandfather there makes everyone happy!” A smile, more painful than tears, twisted my lips. “Ross, are you blind or just heartless? You know exactly what Stella is. Since when is she a Sterling? She’s nothing but a parasite who slept her way to the top, a shameless homewrecker flaunting a bastard child!” 4 CRACK! Ross’s face darkened like a thundercloud. He swung his hand, slapping me hard across the face. The force of the blow sent black spots dancing in front of my eyes. A ringing filled my ears, and my cheek went numb with a searing, hot pain. “Even if you’re the one I’m legally marrying,” he snarled, taking a step closer, his eyes like poisoned daggers, each word a blow to my heart, “the only woman I, Ross Vance, will ever recognize as my wife is Stella! And the baby in her belly is my rightful heir! So, you will show her some damn respect!” His words were a blunt knife, twisting in my chest, and the hatred inside me boiled over. Three years… a full three years. And this is what I was worth to him. Nothing. “You don’t need to come to the wedding,” he said, his voice flat and laced with a final warning. “Stay here with your grandfather.” He gestured down the hallway, and several bodyguards surrounded me. “Watch her. Don’t let her leave this floor,” he commanded, before guiding Stella away. My eyes burned holes into their retreating backs. I could taste blood in my mouth. Ross, you think you can lock me in here and have your picture-perfect wedding with Stella? Dream on. I stroked my still-flat stomach, feeling the quiet strength of the new life secretly growing within me. Under the watchful eyes of the guards, I slowly pulled out my phone and dialed a number… On the day of the wedding, Stella sat before a lavish vanity, her fingers tracing the diamond-studded fabric of the gown that had been altered to accommodate her pregnant belly. She gazed at her reflection, a triumphant, almost twisted smile on her lips. So what if Seraphina was the great Sterling heiress? The darling of high society? Today, she, Stella Reed, was the one wearing her dress, using her name, and carrying the “golden heir” of the Vance family. She was the one about to become the envied Mrs. Vance. As for Seraphina? She was just a pathetic creature trapped in a hospital, watching over a dying old man. Everything that was once hers would now belong to Stella. Meanwhile, in the banquet hall downstairs, Ross was greeting guests, but a knot of anxiety was tightening in his stomach. He had sent out hundreds of invitations. Given the Vance family’s standing, the hall should have been overflowing. But as the ceremony time approached, the vast room was still sparsely populated, so empty you could hear the echo of your own footsteps. The grand scene of glittering high society he had envisioned was nowhere to be found. Beneath the elaborate floral arch, only a handful of reporters from minor outlets were fiddling with their cameras, their flashes seeming weak and unenthusiastic. “Ross…” Stella waddled over, one hand on her belly, her eyes wide with worry. “Why are there so few people here?” The anxiety in Ross’s gut grew into a monster. He summoned a senior staff member. “Get our head butler, Mr. Gable, and the event coordinators here now!” The staffer returned quickly, but he was followed only by a young, unfamiliar man in a standard-issue uniform. Ross’s anger flared. “Where is Mr. Gable? Why isn’t he here?” he demanded. The young servant flinched. “S-sir… Mr. Gable… he’s busy, sir… with the Master’s wedding… He said he couldn’t get away… He said if you needed anything… to… to ask me…” “My father’s wedding?” Ross’s voice was sharp, his face draining of all color. “With who? What are you talking about?” The servant was even more terrified now. “W-with… with the Sterling heiress… Miss Seraphina Sterling…” Ross’s mind went blank, as if struck by a sledgehammer. He grabbed the servant’s arm, his voice a ragged, broken whisper. “Say that again.” The servant winced in pain, but stammered, “J-just now… on the top floor… in the Crystal Ballroom… The Master is marrying Miss Seraphina Sterling… The ceremony… it should be starting any moment…” 5 In that instant, Ross’s world collapsed. He staggered backward, his face ashen, his lips trembling as he muttered, “Impossible… impossible…” Stella rushed to his side, clutching her belly, her voice choked with tears. “Ross, what’s going on? How could Seraphina be with your father? Is she doing this to get back at us?” Ross didn’t answer. His mind was consumed by a single thought: Seraphina and Conrad were getting married. He shoved the servant aside and stumbled towards the elevator. “Ross! Wait for me!” Stella cried, struggling to keep up with her large belly. The elevator doors closed mercilessly in her face. Outside the top-floor Crystal Ballroom, Ross peered through a crack in the partially open doors and saw a sight that shattered his soul. The hall was bathed in brilliant light, filled to the brim with guests. The very same business tycoons and socialites who were absent from his own wedding downstairs were now mingling, champagne flutes in hand, smiling and laughing. Beneath a massive crystal chandelier, Conrad Vance, dressed in a sharp white tuxedo, was leading me—draped in a breathtaking white gown—down the aisle. It wasn’t the dress Stella had defiled. This one was even more magnificent, a flawless haute couture creation that clung to my body perfectly, its train glittering under the lights like fallen starlight. The way Conrad looked at me… it was with a tenderness that could melt glaciers. “And now, will the groom please place the ring on the bride’s finger,” the officiant’s voice echoed clearly. Conrad gently took my hand, sliding a dazzling diamond ring onto my finger. BOOM! Ross slammed the doors open. The loud crash silenced the entire hall. Every head turned towards the entrance, and a wave of whispers rippled through the crowd. “Ross Vance? What’s he doing here?” “Isn’t he the one getting married downstairs?” “I heard that pregnant woman is his mistress…” Ross staggered towards the altar, his eyes wild, his voice hoarse. “Dad! What are you doing?!” Conrad’s expression was calm, almost amused. “I’m getting married. Seraphina is the wife I have chosen.” “But she was my fiancée!” Ross cried, his voice breaking. “This is… this is incest!” I let out a small, cold laugh. “Ross, our engagement became void the moment I learned Stella was carrying your child. Have you forgotten?” I paused, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Besides, aren’t you having your own wedding downstairs? What happened, did you call it off?” Ross’s face was a deathly white. He swayed on his feet. “Seraphina… you can’t do this… you can’t marry my father…” “And why not?” I asked coolly. “You, Ross Vance, were free to betray our love, to get your mistress pregnant, and to demand that I raise your bastard child. Why can’t I choose a better man?” Conrad stepped forward, wrapping an arm around my waist in a clear display of ownership. “Ross, Seraphina is my wife now. You will respect her.” “No!” Ross roared. “You can’t be together! If you get married, my reputation…” “Oh, so now you care about your reputation?” I cut him off with a sneer. “When you had Stella wear my dress and steal my name for your sham wedding, did you ever stop to think that this day would come?” The murmuring from the guests grew louder. Some were already pulling out their phones to record the drama. 6 Ross’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. He opened his mouth to argue but found he had no words. Just then, Stella finally arrived. She was clutching her large belly with one hand and her chest with the other, panting for breath in the doorway. “Ross—” she called out weakly, then her eyes took in the scene and her face went chalk-white. The gazes of every guest in the room fell upon her. “Is that the pregnant mistress?” “Wow, she actually showed up…” “Wearing a wedding dress with a baby bump like that… does she have no shame?” Stella felt the weight of their scorn and curiosity. She began to tremble. She had never imagined that the perfect wedding she had orchestrated would devolve into this public humiliation. “Stella!” Ross rushed to her side. “Why did you come up here? You need to rest!” Tears welled in her eyes. “I was worried about you… Ross, what is happening? Why is Seraphina with your father…” She didn’t finish, but everyone understood. Conrad’s expression hardened. His voice boomed with an authority that could not be questioned. “Enough! This is my wedding, not a stage for your melodrama!” He looked at the officiant and nodded for him to continue. The officiant cleared his throat. “And now, will the bride please place the ring on the groom’s finger.” I took the custom platinum band from its box and, under the watchful eyes of everyone in the room, slowly slid it onto Conrad’s finger. “NO!” Ross screamed, lunging forward, only to be blocked by several security guards. He struggled against them, his eyes red with fury. “Seraphina! You can’t do this!” I turned to look at him, a smirk playing on my lips. “Didn’t you say I wasn’t good enough for you? Well, I suppose your father will have to do.” A wave of stifled laughter and shocked whispers went through the crowd. Ross’s face contorted with rage and shame. Stella, fighting through her discomfort, stumbled forward. “Miss Sterling, how can you do this? What about your grandfather? He’s still in the hospital…” “That’s enough!” My voice was suddenly sharp as a razor’s edge. “Stella, you have the audacity to mention my grandfather? If it weren’t for you two animals deliberately provoking him, would he be on his deathbed?” I advanced on her, each step heavy with purpose. “You thought putting on my dress would make you a Sterling? What are you? A shameless, pathetic mistress who dares to play the victim in front of me?” Stella’s face was ashen. She backed away, shielding her stomach. “I… I didn’t…” “No?” I sneered. “Then where did that bastard in your belly come from? An immaculate conception?” “Seraphina!” Ross roared. “Watch your mouth! That’s my child!” I turned my gaze back to him, my eyes full of contempt. “Ross, you’re the one who needs to watch his mouth. From this day forward, I am the matriarch of the Vance family. You will address me with respect.” His face turned an even darker shade of purple. At that moment, Conrad stepped forward, his presence commanding the room. “Today is the wedding of myself, Conrad Vance, and Miss Seraphina Sterling. Thank you all for coming to witness our joy. I hope you all have a wonderful time. Let the celebration begin!”

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Three months pregnant, and Will sent me to prison himself. Before I signed the confession, I asked him one last time if there was any other way. “You’re pregnant,” he said, his voice calm, rational. “You can apply for probation, serve your sentence outside. It won’t be so bad. But Quinn… she’s not like you. She’s fragile. Prison would kill her.” He leaned in, his words a soft poison. “Think of it as an act of grace, for our child. I promise you, Sage, the moment you get out, we’ll get married.” I looked him in the eye. “You once said I owed her a life. After this, are we even?” Will nodded, swearing he would be grateful to me forever. I signed the confession. Before I went to prison, I terminated the pregnancy. Later, Will went insane, screaming at me, demanding to know how I could have gotten rid of his child. “I will not let my child have a mother in prison and a father who’s a monster. The past, right or wrong… I was just a fool. From this moment on, Will, we’re even.” 1 No one came to pick me up on the day of my release. The prison guard walked me to the gate. She glanced at the empty street beyond and asked how I was getting home. I didn’t have a cent to my name. The bag in my hand held the only clothes I owned, and it felt as light as a feather. Just like my life. Weightless. I squinted against the bright sunlight and managed a smile. “I’ll find a way. I may not have money, but I have feet.” The guard hesitated, her hand moving toward her wallet. “No, thank you. My place isn’t far. It’s a quick walk,” I said, refusing her kindness as I stepped onto the road home. I’d known no one would come, so before I was incarcerated, I had studied a map. From the prison to my apartment was a two-hour, seventeen-minute walk. Not too far, really. The city hadn’t changed much in a year and a half. The stadium that was under construction when I went in was still only half-finished. While waiting at a crosswalk, my eyes drifted to a baby stroller next to me. The mother noticed my gaze and offered a warm, friendly smile. I smiled back. “How old is your little one?” “One year.” “So cute,” I said, bending down to make a silly face at the baby. The infant gurgled, waving tiny fists in the air. The light turned green. I straightened up and disappeared into the surging crowd. I finally reached my apartment just as night began to fall. The old security door was coated in a thick layer of dust. I found the spare key in the mailbox and let myself in. On the shoe cabinet sat a framed photograph. I picked it up, used my sleeve to wipe away the grime, and allowed a faint smile to touch my lips. “Mom,” I whispered. “I’m home.” 2 It took me some time to reintegrate. With a criminal record, finding a job was a nightmare. To make ends meet, I took a position sorting packages at a delivery warehouse. A week later, I collapsed on the warehouse floor and was rushed to the hospital by my coworkers. The abortion, followed by the harsh realities of prison life, had taken a toll. I hadn’t been able to recover properly, and my body was wrecked. The days of pushing myself to the limit were over. I had to quit. I registered as a food delivery driver, planning to save up for a couple of years and maybe start a small business. A college degree isn’t worth much these days. A college degree with a prison record is worth even less. The delivery job was grueling, but it was better than the warehouse. The freedom of being on the road suited me. I’d had a good day, and just before signing off, a big order came through with a high delivery fee. It was far, and I glanced nervously at my e-bike’s battery indicator. But I couldn’t bring myself to pass up the money. I accepted the job. The address was an exclusive, notoriously expensive private club. I called the client upon arrival, and he told me to bring it directly to his private room. The delivery box was huge. I struggled with it down the hallway, found the room, and knocked. “Hello, your delivery. Please sign here.” “Just leave it there.” The voice was familiar. My eyelashes trembled. I silently did as I was told, placing the box in a corner. The room was alive with the boisterous energy of a dozen men and women. The corner was piled high with shopping bags from luxury brands. In the center of the room, a magnificent three-tiered cake sat on a table. I was about to leave when a voice stopped me. “Hey, delivery girl, wait a second.” I froze. “It’s my birthday today,” the woman said, smiling. “Please, have a slice of cake. Thanks for bringing this all the way out here so late.” I looked up. My face was mostly hidden by my helmet, so no one recognized me. The woman standing before me had a delicate, captivating face. She held out a slice of cake. Her name was Quinn. She had once been my friend. A sharp pain, hot and piercing, shot through me, so intense it almost stole my voice. I took the cake, my voice raspy. “Thank you.” As I turned to leave, I didn’t see the figure that had appeared behind me. It was too late to dodge. I could only watch as the slice of cake splattered across his chest, smearing cream all over his pristine white shirt. Will looked down at the mess, then up at me. He didn’t say a word. The room had fallen silent. Someone snickered. “Well, that shirt’s a goner. It’s a ten-thousand-dollar shirt. Think you can afford to replace it?” “It’s okay, don’t be scared,” Quinn said, rushing over. She soothed me with a gentle voice while grabbing napkins to wipe Will’s shirt. “It was an accident. We won’t make you pay. You can go.” Will didn’t move. His eyes were locked on me. Then, he reached out and yanked the helmet from my head. 3 No one looks good after wearing a helmet for hours. The room was now utterly silent. Even the music had stopped. I tried to smooth down my messy hair, then held out my hand to Will. “Are you done staring? Can I have my helmet back?” “Sage? Is that you? You’re out of prison? So soon? I thought you were sentenced to three years.” Someone in the room finally broke the silence. I ignored them, my eyes fixed on Will. “Sage,” Quinn said, grabbing my wrist. “Why didn’t you call me when you got out? There’s so much I want to tell you.” I pulled my arm free, my only goal to retrieve my helmet. But Will wouldn’t let go. After a brief struggle, I finally wrenched it from his grasp. “If you don’t mind, a five-star review would be appreciated,” I said, forcing a smile. I put my helmet back on and walked out. “Sage,” Will’s voice stopped me at the door. “Don’t you have anything to say?” I turned, my gaze falling on Quinn. My voice was flat. “Happy birthday, Quinn.” On the way home, just as I’d feared, my e-bike died. I got off and started the long, slow push home. In the dead of night, luxury cars sped past me, but I kept my eyes on the road, carefully navigating around potholes, focused only on the task at hand. It was past midnight when I finally got back. I cooked myself a bowl of plain noodles and sat by the window, eating in the dim glow of the streetlights outside. When I was done, I wasn’t sleepy. I took out my mother’s photograph and began to talk to her. “Mom, are you doing okay over there? Did you get the money I sent you? “Have you met my baby? Is he cute? “Please, help him find a perfect mother next time. Don’t let him be so unlucky as to end up with me again. “Mom… I miss you.” 4 That night, for the first time in a long time, I dreamed of the past. The year and a half in prison had smoothed away the last of my sharp edges. I rarely thought about my life before. Prison was a routine: wake up, work, eat, sleep. The beginning was hell. I would sit on my cot, eyes wide open in the dark, counting the seconds until dawn. But eventually, I adapted. And then, I stopped thinking at all. It’s too painful to live with such clarity. It’s better to be numb. If you can’t feel happiness, at least you don’t feel too much pain. But the girl in my dream was so vibrant, her smile so full of life. When I woke up, a wave of sadness washed over me. How had I become this person? The woman in the mirror had empty, lifeless eyes. I tried to force a cheerful smile, but it felt alien on my face. A knock at the door startled me. I was still wearing that strange, practiced smile when I opened it. It was Will. The smile froze on my face. He broke the silence. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?” “I’d rather not,” I said, my hand tight on the doorknob. “What do you want?” He held out a business card. “Call this number. He’ll arrange a job for you.” “Thank you, but I don’t need your help.” He let out a short, condescending laugh. “Sage, don’t push your luck.” I just stared at him, saying nothing. He looked away. “I know you got rid of the baby without talking to me, but what I said back then still stands.” It took me a moment to remember the promise he’d made before I went to prison. The moment you get out, we’ll get married. A real smile finally touched my lips. Will visibly relaxed. “Stop being angry. Quinn said she’s grateful to you, too. We should all get together sometime…” “Will, that was a one-sided promise. It doesn’t count,” I interrupted, watching the relief drain from his face. My voice was soft. “I’m not so pathetic that I would marry a man who doesn’t love me, a man who has never once respected me. “All I ever wanted was for us to be even. “Even if it meant sacrificing my future.” 5 Will left. His parting words were, “Sage, don’t regret this.” I soon understood what he meant. During the dinner rush, I came out from a delivery to find my e-bike gone. Along with it, a dozen orders I hadn’t yet delivered. I stood on the sidewalk, clutching my phone, staring blankly at the street. People rushed past, their faces intent on their own lives. I had to call each customer, one by one, to apologize and refund their money. Then I filed a police report. The officer told me the security camera on that block was broken. They would try to find my bike, but they couldn’t make any promises. I walked out of the station and looked at the string of one-star reviews and complaints on my delivery app. I took a deep, shaky breath and forced a weak smile. I had enough money left to buy a new bike. But what if that one was stolen, too? I crouched on the sidewalk for a long time, lost in a daze, until a little girl with a backpack gently tapped my shoulder. “Miss, are you okay?” I smiled at her. “I’m just a little tired, so I’m taking a rest.” She thought for a moment, then pulled a piece of candy from her pocket and offered it to me. “Here, this will help.” “Thank you.” Fueled by that small act of kindness, I found the strength to go home and start working on my resume. No reputable company would hire me, but there were always smaller businesses with lower standards. But my criminal record was a constant barrier. In every interview, the question was inevitable. “You’ve been to prison?” I would nod. “Yes.” “For a hit-and-run?” “Yes.” “But… you don’t have a driver’s license?” “That’s correct.” Then, the polite dismissal. The HR manager would hand back my resume and say they would “consider” my application. I remembered Will telling me that Quinn was too weak for prison. He never considered that without a license, the charge of driving without a license would be added to my sentence, making it even longer. But that was to be expected. You can’t ask someone who never cared about you to see things from your perspective. Every application I submitted vanished into a black hole. To stop myself from burning through my savings, I started applying for waitress jobs. I never imagined that even those doors would be closed to me. As I left the last restaurant, a heavy rain began to fall. I stood under the awning for a moment, then walked out into the downpour. It wasn’t hard enough to blur the world around me, but my vision clouded over anyway. It was the kind of pain that comes when you’re drowning in misery, but there’s no one in the world you can tell. 6 Will was waiting for me under my apartment building, holding an umbrella. I saw him from a distance and stopped, unwilling to get any closer. He spotted me and started walking in my direction, stopping a few feet away. “Have you accepted reality yet?” he asked. I looked at him, my voice steady. “Will, you said you’d be grateful to me for the rest of your life.” “And?” “This isn’t gratitude,” I said. “You can’t do this to me.” The rain must have soaked my brain. My words were so weak, so powerless. Of course he could do this to me. I had nothing. No powerful family, no wealth, not even friends or relatives to support me. He could humiliate me, slander me, pin any crime he wanted on me. I just never realized he hated me this much. That he wouldn’t even let me live. He closed the distance between us. The umbrella blocked the pouring rain. It also blocked out all the light. In the sudden darkness, he reached out and touched my cheek. This, he told me, was the price I had to pay for wanting us to be even. “So what do you want from me?” I whispered. “You don’t want my love, and you won’t let us be even. So… the only choice I have left is to die, isn’t it?”

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I used to think love was Drew’s week-long silent treatments and my constant apologies whenever he walked away. It wasn’t until he left me for someone else and returned expecting forgiveness that a quiet boy stepped in. “She said let go. Didn’t you hear?” A punch landed. Watching Drew on the ground felt like waking from a nightmare. I finally saw: while I was stuck in that toxic cycle, he’d been there all along—defending me at contests, waiting quietly at my work, taking me home safely when I was drunk. I thought he was out of reach. I never knew that on a feverish night after his accident, he’d murmur in his sleep: “Emily… could you not hate me so much?” That’s when I understood: real love isn’t a cage of rules. It’s someone stepping in front of you, shielding you from the world’s cruelty. 1 I was just drifting off to sleep when my phone buzzed. It was a message from an unknown number. I opened it. There was only a single photo. A picture of two hands, tightly intertwined. I recognized one of them instantly as Drew’s. The other, clearly, belonged to Mia. Their fingers were laced together like vines that had grown into one another. It was the exact same way they held hands in their childhood photos. The message read: “Hey, do you really think a newcomer stands a chance against a childhood sweetheart?” I stared at the screen, my face blank, for a few seconds. I didn’t reply. I just saved a screenshot, then blocked the number permanently. Later that night, his best friend sent me another screenshot. It was a new post from Drew’s social media. “The little girl next door is all grown up.” The caption came with two pictures, spanning nearly two decades. One was an old photo of him and Mia as children, holding hands, their smiles innocent and bright. The other was a recent shot of them together. They weren’t holding hands, but the way they looked at each other was filled with the same warm affection. Mia had left a playful comment: “Am I cuter now than I was back then? ;)” Drew had replied: “Still a little piglet who loves to eat. You haven’t changed a bit.” His friend added a message of his own: “See? I told you, he really just sees her as a little sister.” “He only posted this to clear the air, so people wouldn’t get the wrong idea.” I didn’t write back. I just let out a bitter, self-mocking laugh. Drew wasn’t explaining anything to me. He was just doing damage control for Mia, proving to the world that she wasn’t a homewrecker. After I washed up and dried my hair, my eyes fell on the box of photos I kept with Drew. I pulled the album from the back of my drawer and gathered them all together. I decided I would find a place tomorrow and destroy every last one of them. 2 It all started on a sweltering summer day, but Drew’s expression was as cold as ice. His handsome face was a frozen mask of impatience, his eyes filled with weariness. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Mia is just a friend I grew up with.” “In my eyes, she’s just a little sister. I’m just used to looking out for her.” “Can you, for once, not be so dramatic and jealous? It’s exhausting.” I didn’t argue. I didn’t burst into tears like I used to, the drops falling like broken pearls. And I certainly didn’t rush to explain or defend myself. I just felt a profound sense of futility, as if this argument was a wheel we were doomed to spin on forever. Seeing me silent, my head bowed, Drew’s tone suddenly softened. “Alright, alright.” “I know you get jealous easily. I’ll try to contact her less from now on, okay?” The bitterness in my heart overflowed like a breached dam. I couldn’t hide it anymore. My eyes reddened. Maybe he was right. Maybe their bond was purely platonic. Just like he’d insisted, time and time again. If he was really interested in Mia, why would he have pursued me in the first place? But then, Drew’s tone shifted again. “But you have to promise me something, too.” “Because of your jealousy, people were calling Mia a homewrecker to her face.” “You understand how damaging that is to an innocent girl, right?” The buzzing of the cicadas outside seemed to amplify a thousand times. My heart plummeted. I looked at the face before me, so familiar yet so strange, and felt like I didn’t know him at all. “What do you want from me?” “You should find a chance to publicly clear up the misunderstanding for her.” “She was crying her eyes out over it just yesterday…” “No,” I cut him off, my voice sharp. Drew froze, then anger flared in his eyes. “What did you just say?” “I said, no. That’s impossible.” My nails dug into my palms, but my voice held steady. “Fine,” Drew said, a cold smile touching his lips. He pulled out his phone and, with a few swift taps, deleted and blocked my number. “Emily,” he said, his gaze locking onto mine. It was the peak of summer, but his eyes were chilling. “Don’t you come begging me to take you back.” 3 The next morning, I went straight to the local incinerator. I fed every photo, every letter, and every gift Drew had ever given me to the flames. As I watched our past turn to ash, I went to the school administration office and officially changed my university preference. Only when everything was settled did I open my social media again. My best friend had sent me the location for that night’s party. After graduation, the parties had been non-stop, a frantic celebration of freedom. The venues were always the same old places. I had barely stepped through the door when I ran into Drew’s crew. The moment they saw me, their faces lit up with mischief. “Emily! You’re here for Drew, right?” “Perfect timing, he just got here. He’s waiting for you inside.” “I told you! That seven-day rule is a joke. You couldn’t even last one day.” “Drew’s the man. One word from him and he’s got you completely wrapped around his finger.” “I’m not here to see him.” I frowned, a wave of disgust washing over me. I was so tired of hearing things like this. But this time, it felt unbearable. “Oh, come on, Emily, don’t play coy. We all know…” I couldn’t be bothered to argue. I turned to leave. Their taunts stopped, replaced by confusion. “Are you really leaving?” “She’s just trying to act tough. Ten bucks says she’ll be back tomorrow, begging him to take her back.” I let out a cold laugh and glanced back at them. “Don’t hold your breath.” 4 Drew watched his friends walk in, his eyes instinctively scanning the space behind them. His expression darkened. He had distinctly heard someone mention Emily’s name, but she was nowhere in sight. A strange irritation began to bubble up inside him. He thought Emily had been completely unreasonable lately. Starting fight after fight, and all because of Mia. Couldn’t she understand? He and Mia had known each other since they were toddlers. If he’d ever had feelings for Mia, would Emily have even had a chance? As he stewed, his phone vibrated. Drew snatched it up and swiped the screen open. A new message. A small smile played on his lips. It had to be a friend request from Emily. But the name on the screen was Mia. “Drew, can you come pick me up?” A flash of annoyance crossed his face. “It’s not that far, why do you need a ride?” “I hurt my leg.” Mia immediately sent a picture. Blood was trickling down her shin. The cut looked deep. But what caught Drew’s eye was a sliver of a blue skirt in the corner of the photo. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was Emily’s skirt. He recognized it. Almost by reflex, he shot to his feet and strode toward the exit. 5 “Drew, it hurts so much…” The moment Mia saw Drew rushing toward her, her face crumpled and she started to sob. “What happened?” Drew knelt to examine the wound on her leg. “It looks like it’s just a surface wound. You won’t need stitches.” He let out a breath of relief and comforted her for a few moments. Only when her sobs had subsided into sniffles did he turn his cold gaze on me. “You did this to her, didn’t you?” “I don’t know how many times I have to say it.” “Mia is just my sister.” “You can’t even tolerate this?” “Drew…” Mia gently tugged on his sleeve. “You’ve misunderstood. I… I just tripped. It had nothing to do with Emily…” She said it in a tiny, careful voice, her eyes filled with tears, her whole body shrinking as if in fear. Anyone watching would have thought she was lying to protect herself from further harm. And I, Emily, was the villain who had hurt her in secret. “What are you afraid of her for?” Drew helped Mia to her feet. She winced, sucking in a sharp breath as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. Drew instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist. “Lean on me. I’ll take you to the hospital.” “But what about Emily?” Drew’s eyes, cold as ice, landed on me. “Emily, apologize to Mia, and we’ll call it even.” I was so furious I had to laugh. “Why don’t we call the police? Let them check the security cameras and find out what really happened.” “That’s not necessary.” “I’ve known Mia for years. She never lies.” His gaze was like frost on my skin. “But you’re different, Emily. You have a history of hiding things. You lie.” 6 Drew was referring to our third silent treatment. After that argument, he had deleted and blocked me before storming off. We were out of town for a Math Olympiad, in a city I didn’t know. After he abandoned me, I had to find a taxi back to the hotel by myself. But I was quickly surrounded by a group of sketchy-looking drivers from an unlicensed cab service. Just as panic set in, a boy from the same competition stepped in and got me out of the situation. He personally walked me all the way back to the hotel to make sure I was safe. Drew had always been intensely possessive about my interactions with other guys. He’d get moody if I even exchanged a few pleasantries with someone. So, I didn’t tell him about the incident. But at the award ceremony, the boy, whose name was Julian, came over to congratulate me on winning. The color drained from Drew’s face. I had no choice but to explain what had happened. On the surface, he seemed to accept it, acting as if it were no big deal. But ever since, he’d brought it up in every single fight. He’d call me a liar, someone who couldn’t be trusted. I used to be devastated by it, desperately trying to explain, begging for his forgiveness. Now, hearing him bring it up again, it was just… pathetic. Was it that he truly didn’t trust me, or was it that, deep down, he always favored Mia? But I no longer had the energy to defend myself. “Think whatever you want.” I turned and walked away. But Drew called out again. “Emily…” I didn’t look back. From behind me, I heard Mia’s whimper. “Drew, it’s bleeding again. It really hurts…” “I’m taking you to the hospital.” “Okay. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.” “Can you walk?” “I… I don’t think so.” “Then I’ll carry you.” “Won’t that be… awkward?” “It’s an emergency. Stop talking nonsense.” “Drew, you’re so good to me.” “I remember you used to carry me on your back like this when we were little.” “I feel like I owe you so much.” Their voices faded into the distance, swallowed by the buzz of the cicadas and the thick summer heat. I slowly came to a stop. It felt like a jagged hole had been torn open in my chest, a slow bleed soaking my entire heart. First love always burns the brightest. You can’t just extinguish it in an instant. But at least now, I knew I would never shed another tear for Drew. My phone vibrated again. Another message from a new unknown number. “The childhood sweetheart always wins. You’ve already lost.” 7 From that day on, Drew and Mia were inseparable. Mia’s social media became a constant stream of their time together, a public performance of their budding romance. My best friend even found her secret blog, filled with gushing posts about her crush. It was surprisingly popular, with thousands of comments encouraging her to confess her feelings. Mia had pinned a post to the top of the page: “I’m going to tell him how I feel in three days. Wish me luck!” Three days from then was the end of the seven-day deadline Drew had set for me. He had made it clear, countless times, that seven days of silence was an automatic breakup. For the past year, that threat had hung over my head like the sword of Damocles. I’ve always been a one-track-mind kind of girl. When I love someone, I love them completely. Drew was my first love. He was the one who helped me through the fallout of my parents’ divorce. He was the one who pulled me through the stress of our final year of high school. I cherished what we had, and so I was always the one to bow my head, to compromise, to beg for reconciliation. But I had forgotten a simple truth: When you place yourself in a position of weakness, they will inevitably start to see you as less. I left every group chat I shared with Drew. I deleted all of his friends from my contacts. I made a point to avoid any place he might be. No one, except the school counselor and my best friend, knew that I had changed my university choice. The seven-day deadline was fast approaching. The night my friend and I went to a karaoke bar, I deliberately chose one in the most remote part of the city. But somehow, we still ran into Drew’s entire crew. It was as if they had been waiting for me. The moment they saw me, they swarmed. “Emily.” They surrounded me, blocking my path. I had no choice but to stop. 8 “Drew’s not mad anymore, you know.” “You know how he is. He acts all tough, but he’s a total softie.” “He’s been waiting for you to come and apologize.” “If you keep being so stubborn, he’s really going to break up with you, and then you’ll be sorry.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Then let him. That would be great.” “Emily?” “Why are you still pretending? Don’t you see how serious this is?” “I heard Mia is planning on confessing her feelings to him.” “You’re going to get your man stolen right out from under you, and you’ll have nowhere to cry.” “So you all knew she was after my boyfriend.” I looked at them, a cold, mocking smile on my face. They exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, one of them spoke up. “Emily… Drew really does only love you.” “Just go see him. He’s at that place you two always go to. He really misses you.” “It’s just his pride. He’s too stubborn to admit he was wrong.” “He’s still hung up on that thing with the guy, Julian. He gets really jealous…” I stood there in silence, feeling the absurdity of it all. It was so tragic I couldn’t even laugh. If this twisted game was what he called “love,” this constant need to humiliate me, to force me to my knees… Then I didn’t want it. He could hold a grudge for months over a simple “congratulations” from a boy I barely knew, and I was expected to be understanding. But when he was the one flirting with Mia, playing the doting big brother, was he ever concerned about my feelings? Did he even know what jealousy felt like? But this was just the beginning. Let’s see what happens next. 9 It was almost eleven o’clock. The day was nearly over. Drew chugged his beer, but a restless energy coiled in his gut. He kept glancing at the door to the private room. Every time it opened, his heart would skip a beat. But as the final minutes ticked away, the door remained shut. His phone was just as silent. He’d never felt this way before. For the past two days, every notification had sent a jolt through him. He’d snatch up his phone, his heart pounding, only to feel a crushing wave of disappointment when it wasn’t a friend request from Emily. He had gotten used to her. He was spoiled by her affection. He couldn’t handle this sudden void. Drew unlocked his phone again. His lock screen was a photo of them together. He was stealing a kiss on her cheek, her expression a perfect mix of surprise and delight. A smile touched his lips without him realizing it. A wave of tenderness washed over him. Fine. For the past year, she had always been the one to make the first move. This time, what was so wrong with him being the one to apologize? He opened his social media app and sent her a friend request. “Emily. The old spot. Before midnight.” After sending the message, Drew let out a long breath. He felt a strange sense of relief, a lightness he hadn’t felt in days. Emily loved him so much. She was so good to him. She would accept his request instantly and rush over. After all, she was terrified of losing him. Their silent treatments had never lasted more than three days before she’d show up, her eyes red and swollen from crying, timidly asking if they could get back together. She cared so much. She adored him. A pang of guilt hit him. He knew he’d gone too far, deliberately using Mia to provoke her. The truth was, there was nothing between him and Mia. They hadn’t seen each other in years. After they reconnected, he had just been enjoying the novelty of it, basking in her open admiration. Boys his age were all a little arrogant, a little vain. Having two pretty girls fighting over him had been a massive ego boost. But these past few days, with Emily completely silent, Drew finally realized who he truly wanted. A friend clinked his bottle against Drew’s. He took a distracted sip, his eyes glued to his phone. But after he sent the request, his phone remained stubbornly silent. A knot of unease began to form in his stomach. He sent another request. “Emily, the seven-day deadline is almost up.” Still nothing. Drew’s brow furrowed. He stared at the blank screen, motionless, like a statue. The noisy room had somehow quieted down around him. The air grew thick, and even breathing seemed to require effort. Suddenly, the door to the room swung open. The abrupt noise made everyone look up. A classmate rushed in, breathless and excited. “She’s here, she’s here! Drew, she’s downstairs!” “She looks amazing tonight, you should go see!” The tension in Drew’s face immediately melted away. He leaned back in his chair, a lazy, confident smile spreading across his face as he looked at his friend. “Go tell Emily,” he said. “It’s after midnight. It’s too late. I’m pissed.” “If she wants to make up, she’s going to have to try harder than that.” 10 The classmate stared at Drew, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about?” “What Emily? What making up?” “This has nothing to do with her.” “It’s Mia!” “Mia came all this way just to see you!” The classmate shot Drew a knowing wink. “I won’t spoil it for you, but you need to get down there. I promise, it’s a huge surprise!” The room erupted in cheers and whistles. Fresh out of their final exams, everyone was eager for a bit of romantic drama. But Drew didn’t move. The smile on his face vanished like a ripple on still water. At his age, he couldn’t hide his emotions. They were written all over his face. Anyone could see that he was far from happy. In fact, he looked absolutely miserable. The boisterous crowd gradually fell silent. Only the classmate at the door was still confused. “Drew, aren’t you going down?” Drew let out a sudden, cold laugh. “Why would I?” “Mia is downstairs waiting for you.” “And?” “But… she likes you, and you like her. Everyone knows that, right?” “When did I ever say I liked her?” “Unless I’m mistaken, I’ve only ever said she was like a sister to me. Isn’t that right?” “But… you two have been so close these past few days…” Drew didn’t answer. He just unlocked his phone again. The friend request was still pending. And the time was now well past midnight. He exited the app and dialed Emily’s number. A mechanical voice answered. Emily had blocked him. Drew’s expression grew darker. He turned to a female classmate, borrowed her phone, and dialed again. It rang a few times, and then someone picked up. “Hello? Sarah? What’s up?” Emily’s voice. It was the same familiar sound. Soft and warm. Drew’s chest tightened. He really did miss her. “Hello? Are you there?” “It’s me, Emily. It’s Drew.” The moment the words left his mouth, the line went dead silent. A moment later, the dial tone buzzed in his ear. He tried calling back, but she didn’t answer. Drew handed the phone back to the girl. He sat in silence, his face an unreadable mask. He cracked open another beer and downed it in one go. Then he looked at the classmate still standing at the door and said calmly, “Weren’t we going downstairs? Let’s go.” “Drew?” A smile played on Drew’s lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t let a girl embarrass herself.” “She went to all this trouble. It would be rude not to show up.”

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On graduation day, Liam Archer strode up to me, his expression arrogant. “You’ve done well these past few years. You’ve earned the right to join the Archer Corporation.” “But you’ll have to go through the standard hiring process. I’m not pulling any strings for you.” I was stunned. “Who said I wanted to work for Archer Corp?” With that, I pulled out my acceptance letter from a prestigious international university. The smug look on Liam’s face shattered. “You’re leaving the country? How are you supposed to chase after me from that far away?” Wait, who said I was chasing him? 1 Liam Archer was convinced that I had an ulterior motive for getting close to his sister. He believed my real target was him. As God is my witness, when I first helped Lily Archer, I had no idea who she was. That day, she was wearing a simple tracksuit and a backpack, with no jewelry in sight. She looked like any other college girl. If there was anything that set her apart, it was how incredibly cute she was. She had fair skin and big, round eyes, like an adorable, well-behaved kitten. It was a Friday afternoon, and I was rushing out of the school gates right after my last class. An hour earlier, during a lecture, I’d received a text from the mother of the student I was tutoring. She informed me that I was fired and that I didn’t need to come back. I didn’t understand why. I had been tutoring her son for two months, and on his recent monthly exam, his math score had improved by over thirty points. I could tell he was finally starting to get it. His mom had been thrilled, even promising me a big bonus. Why the sudden dismissal? After class, I tried calling her, but she didn’t pick up. I decided to go to their house and ask her in person. As I was running, someone grabbed my arm. I nearly stumbled, and I spun around, annoyed, only to be met with a pitiful-looking face. The girl blinked her watery eyes, a look of guilt on her face. A face like that, a look like that… it was enough to make all my anger evaporate. Her voice was timid. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you, but I’m really in a bind…” Before I could even respond, tears started rolling down her cheeks like pearls. “I lost my phone, and I can’t get in touch with our driver, and I can’t find my brother. I’ve been waiting here for so long.” “But everyone else looks so intimidating, I was too scared to talk to them. You’re the only one who looks kind.” “And you’re so pretty, you probably wouldn’t yell at me, right?” Well, thank you for the glowing review of my appearance and temperament. But she really did have an innocent look in her eyes. She seemed like the shy, introverted type who barely spoke to anyone. I softened my voice, afraid of scaring her. “Do you need to use my phone?” She nodded. “Yes!” I unlocked my phone and handed it to her. She pulled up the dial pad, then froze. “Um, I don’t remember my brother’s number,” she said, on the verge of tears again. “Why don’t you go back to your dorm? I have something urgent I need to do.” If she didn’t know the number, there was nothing I could do. As I turned to leave, she tugged on the corner of my shirt. “I don’t live in the dorms, I go home every night. Could you… could you please take me home?” Her voice got quieter and quieter, and she wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’ll pay you! I’ll give you triple the cab fare! No, five times!” Five times the fare? I stopped in my tracks. 2 I could go to my student’s house tomorrow. Or I could call his mom again later tonight. But five times the cab fare? That was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. “Where do you live?” I asked. “Lotus Gardens.” My head snapped up. Lotus Gardens? The most exclusive, well-known gated community in the city? As far as I knew, that was a long way from our campus. I pulled up the map on my phone. The cab fare would be over eighty dollars. Five times that would be over four hundred. I could take the subway back and clear more than three hundred. Deal. Once we were in the cab, the girl shyly thanked me. “Thank you so much.” “No problem. Just make sure you keep your promise,” I reminded her. But someone who lived in Lotus Gardens was bound to be rich. They wouldn’t stiff me. The car fell silent. “By the way, what’s your name?” I asked. “Lily Archer.” “I’m Chloe Reed.” She really was a quiet girl. She only answered when I asked a question. I decided to try and liven up the atmosphere. With a little more probing, we learned about each other’s majors and years. She was a freshman, a year below me, studying literature. I was in journalism. Just as I was trying to think of another topic, I heard a strange noise. I turned and saw that her face was bright red. I stifled a laugh, trying to keep my voice gentle. “Are you hungry?” “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Hold on.” I dug into my bag and pulled out a small, sealed package. “This is a chestnut pastry, a specialty from my hometown. I made them myself. Want to try one?” She took it, opened the package, and took a bite. Her eyes lit up. “It’s delicious!” She ate with such delicacy. Even though she was clearly starving, her movements were slow and graceful. You could tell she had been raised well. After she finished, I asked, “Want another one?” She nodded. I handed her another. I was about to enjoy watching her elegant eating again when my phone rang. It was my student’s mother. “Chloe Reed, I’m warning you, stay away from my son!” Her tone was harsh. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “And you have the nerve to ask me? I hired you to teach my son, not to seduce him! He’s only seventeen! Have you no shame?” The baseless accusation made my blood boil. I argued with her, defending myself. It turned out she had read her son’s diary and discovered he had a crush on me. In her eyes, her son was just a minor; he couldn’t possibly have any bad intentions. It had to be me, the adult, who was the predator. At this point, it was clear I wasn’t getting that job back. Thankfully, I had already been paid for the hours I’d worked. Since there was no point in arguing, I just hung up. When I looked up, Lily was staring at me curiously. I coughed awkwardly and gave her a brief rundown of what had happened. She was surprisingly empathetic. She looked even angrier than I was, her fists clenched. “How could she say that about you? You’re such a nice person! It’s her son who’s the problem!” “Instead of talking to her own son, she blames you!” My anger dissipated. I teased her, “So you can say that many words at once.” She blushed again. The car finally reached our destination. I gaped at the mansion in front of us. The Archer family wasn’t just rich; they were loaded. 3 I had intended to just drop her off at the gate and leave. But Lily insisted I come in for a cup of tea. What can I say? I’m a sucker for her. When she held my arm and pleaded in that soft, sweet way, I just couldn’t say no. Lily was a gracious host, having the housekeeper bring out a table full of pastries for me. She handed me five hundred dollars, as promised. I happily accepted it. When I was leaving, she insisted that her driver take me back. At the door, she held my hand, reluctant to let me go. I laughed and gently pinched her nose. “It’s not like we’ll never see each other again. Come find me at school tomorrow.” “Okay!” she beamed. “Bye, Chloe!” As I waved and stepped back, I bumped into something and stumbled. I turned around to see a young, handsome man with a commanding presence standing behind me. “Liam, you’re home!” Lily exclaimed, rushing over to link her arm with his. On the way here, Lily had mentioned she had a brother who was six years older. She spoke of him with immense pride, saying he was brilliant and had started taking over the family business while he was still in college. Now, their parents lived abroad most of the time, and it was her brother who looked after her, acting as her guardian. I stared at him, momentarily lost in thought. Until his sharp gaze met mine. I snapped back to reality, offered a polite greeting, and quickly scurried away. What an intense aura! That’s what years of navigating the cutthroat business world does to you. Sitting in the car, my heart was still pounding from that one look. We hadn’t even left the neighborhood when the driver received a call and immediately turned the car around. “Hey, where are you going?” I asked nervously. “Mr. Archer wants to see you.” Mr. Archer? Lily’s brother? Why would he want to see me? The driver pulled back up to the mansion and said curtly, “Follow me.” I trailed behind him through several corridors until we entered a spacious living room. In the lavishly decorated room, a set of sofas faced a massive floor-to-ceiling window. In the center of the sofa sat a man. He was dressed in a suit, a lit cigarette held between his fingers. His face was calm, partially obscured by a cloud of smoke. I waited, but he didn’t speak. My patience was wearing thin. I cautiously broke the silence. “Mr. Archer, you wanted to see me?” He lifted his eyelids and glanced at me. “Tell me, how long have you been planning this?” His voice was deep and magnetic, but I had no idea what he was talking about. “What do you mean?” I asked, confused. “Getting close to Lily, to get close to me.” 4 I was floored. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you’re saying.” He let out a soft, dismissive snort. “You’re smarter than you look. You actually managed to get into Lotus Gardens.” What on earth was he talking about? My head was spinning. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.” “You think I have some ulterior motive for being with Lily? Let me explain. We met by chance today, and she was the one who asked for my help—” “No need to explain,” he cut me off. “I called you back for one reason: to warn you to stay away from Lily.” “She’s naive and kind. But I’m not so easy to fool.” You really give me too much credit. I wouldn’t dare try to fool a man like you, even if you gave me a hundred chances. Do I look like I have a death wish? Okay, I get it. This is a world I don’t belong in. I stopped trying to explain and simply nodded. “Okay, I understand.” I made a mental note to stay as far away from this family as possible. Not worth the trouble. He gestured, and the driver reappeared. “Take her back to her school. On the way, tell her what happens to people who get too clever for their own good.” On the ride back, the driver stated, in a flat, emotionless tone, “Many women have tried to get close to Mr. Archer. None of them are in this city anymore.” I thought for a moment, then asked, “Have people tried to use Lily to get to him before?” “Mr. Archer despises that tactic more than anything. Those who use his sister suffer the most severe consequences.” Perhaps under specific instructions from Mr. Archer to intimidate me, the driver became quite talkative. It turned out that Lily, despite being a wealthy heiress, hadn’t had the fairytale life I’d imagined. She had a congenital heart condition and had been in and out of hospitals since she was a child. Her family, terrified of something happening to her at school, had homeschooled her since elementary school. Having never attended school or made friends, she yearned for a normal social life. In middle school, after much crying and pleading, her family finally relented and let her attend a regular school. Having had little contact with the outside world, Lily was soft-hearted and desperate for friendship. She would do almost anything anyone asked of her. Her classmates quickly figured this out and, discovering her family’s wealth, began to take advantage of her financially. It wasn’t until Liam received a notification for a twenty-thousand-dollar transaction that he realized something was wrong. He hadn’t paid much attention to the smaller, few-thousand-dollar debits. But recently, they had become more frequent and the amounts larger. An investigation revealed that his sister had transferred over two hundred thousand dollars to her “friends” in a single semester. And none of it was a loan; it was all given away freely. One of her desk mates had managed to scam over eighty thousand dollars from her. Liam realized that his sheltered sister was a little too naive. But he couldn’t bring himself to scold her. It was those other kids who were greedy and cruel. What angered him most wasn’t the money, but the way they had deceived and mocked his sister. He secretly sent people to collect the money. Those who couldn’t pay it back were forced to sell their houses or borrow from relatives. After that, those students never spoke to Lily again. In fact, they would tremble in fear whenever they saw her. But Lily never knew why. 5 When Lily started high school, Liam attended a parent-teacher conference for her. From that day on, she was constantly surrounded by women. Not just girls from her school, but their older cousins, friends, and even adult women from outside the school. All of them beautiful. They all tried to get close to Lily, to be her friend. But their real target was always her brother, Liam. One girl convinced Lily to help her get Liam’s number, then proceeded to harass him with nude photos. Another used Lily’s phone to call him, pretending Lily was in trouble. When Liam rushed over, he was met by a woman posing seductively. Others coaxed information about his whereabouts from Lily and then “accidentally” ran into him. For Lily’s birthday, one girl persuaded her to throw a party at their mansion. A crowd of scheming women filled the house. When Liam opened his bedroom door, he found a woman lying in his bed. He dealt with all of them harshly. Lily knew none of this. Liam didn’t want to tarnish his sister’s world with such ugliness. He figured she was just naive, and he could teach her better over time. When Lily started university, he gave her strict instructions not to reveal anything about their family. He didn’t let her live in the dorms, afraid of opportunistic people getting close to her. He had a driver pick her up from school every evening. To avoid drawing attention, he even bought a modest Volkswagen specifically for this purpose. Lily was already introverted and had some social anxiety. Not living on campus and not joining any clubs meant she had almost no interaction with her classmates. And so, she had no friends. But on the bright side, no one with ulterior motives had tried to get close to her either. Well, except for me. But that was just Liam’s baseless accusation. As if I didn’t know my own intentions. Before that day, I had never even heard of Lily Archer. If I had known about her prominent family, I, being someone who hates trouble, would have steered clear. I figured that with Liam’s cautious nature, I would never see Lily again. And sure enough, the next day, Lily didn’t come to find me. Good. That was exactly what I wanted. Although, why did her face keep popping into my head? Was it just because she was my type? I thought about her during class, and again at lunch. Ugh, this was annoying. After my last class, I was scrolling through part-time job listings as I walked out. Suddenly, an arm shot out, blocking my path. “Ms. Reed, Mr. Archer would like to see you.” I jumped, startled. “Who’s Mr. Archer?” “Mr. Liam Archer, CEO of the Archer Corporation,” the bodyguard-like man explained. “Why does he want to see me?” “You’ll find out when you get there. Don’t worry, it’s on campus. You won’t be in any danger.” I followed him around a corner to a sleek, understated luxury car parked by the curb. The back door was open, and there sat Mr. Liam Archer, dressed in a suit. When he saw me, he looked up, a cold smirk on his lips. “Chloe Reed, I really underestimated you.” 6 “Mr. Archer, what is the meaning of this?” I disliked his tone and the way he was looking at me. “I will do as you asked yesterday. You don’t have to worry, I won’t go near your sister.” “Hah.” He stared straight ahead, not even bothering to glance at me. “No wonder you agreed so readily. You knew she wouldn’t give up, didn’t you?” “Give up?” I mulled over his words. “I don’t understand.” “Stop pretending. This was all part of your plan, wasn’t it?” My own temper flared. “Can you just say what you mean? Do all you powerful people have to talk in riddles?” He finally shot me a look. It was a fleeting glance, but I could sense a storm brewing in his eyes. He was angry. The bodyguard, who was always by his side, was much more attuned to his boss’s moods. He was clearly skilled at reading people, and seeing Liam’s anger, he quickly stepped in to explain. “Ms. Reed, our young miss didn’t go to school today. She’s been crying at home all day and has refused to eat anything. She said that if Mr. Archer forbids her from seeing you, she’ll go on a hunger strike and starve herself to death.” “Mr. Archer told her she’s too naive and can’t just make friends with anyone, that she’ll get tricked.” “So, she declared that she doesn’t need friends. She needs a calculus tutor, and since you’re good at math, you can tutor her.” I was flabbergasted. We had only met once. How could she have developed such a deep attachment to me? Was it really worth all this drama? “Quite the actress,” Liam sneered. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” This was so unfair! Do these powerful people, who live in a world of constant scheming, think that all of us regular folks are the same? We’re actually quite simple. We might be a little greedy for small gains, but we’re also cowards. If I found a hundred-dollar bill on the street, I’d be thrilled. But if I found a million, I’d be terrified. I’d probably think I was being targeted by human traffickers. How could I possibly dare to plot against someone like Liam Archer? But clearly, we thought on different wavelengths. He believed that people would do anything for money. And in his eyes, there were also the hopelessly naive, the ones who were too stupid to know their place and dared to provoke him. To be fair, I couldn’t entirely blame him for being suspicious. Countless people had tried all sorts of schemes to get close to him. In his eyes, I was just one of them. Because he asked, “Lily has never revealed her identity at school. How did you find out?” “I didn’t find out—” “Was it because of how she was dressed?” he interrupted, not waiting for my answer. “None of her clothes are from high-end brands, but they are all custom-made. Are you an expert in that area?” “I don’t know anything about luxury brands, let alone custom-made clothes,” I said honestly. “It doesn’t matter if you admit it or not,” he said. “Since you’ve succeeded, you can keep up the act.” “Huh?” I was completely lost. “Act like what?” “Lily has never had a real friend in her life. She’s desperate for one. Since she’s convinced you’re a good person, then you will play that part until the very end.” “From now on, you are her best friend.” This is insane. Is this how all rich people think? You can just hire a friend? I rolled my eyes and turned to walk away. “Fifty thousand a month,” his voice came from behind me. “To stay by her side.” My feet were glued to the ground.

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For the woman he called his one true love—the one that got away—my father was willing to burn his entire life to the ground. He was even willing to leave my mother with nothing but the clothes on his back. My mother agreed to his terms. And I couldn’t wait to see if his high school sweetheart would still want him when he had absolutely nothing left to give. 1 The air in our house was thick and strange the moment I walked in. My father, Robert, a man who usually lived at the office, was home before me for the first time in years. My mother, Catherine, whose laughter was the constant soundtrack of our home, sat on the sofa, her face a mask of stone. “Chloe,” my mother said, her voice flat. “Your father and I are getting a divorce.” The words hit me like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of me. As she laid out the story, the strange atmosphere sharpened into a sick, ugly clarity. Dad had a sweetheart back in high school, Diane. The one he never got over. She’d moved away, he’d lost his chance, and that was supposed to be that. Then my mother, Catherine Sterling, had fallen for him—young, brilliant, and dirt-poor. She’d pursued him relentlessly. Eventually, he’d married her. Now, Diane was back in town. A chance encounter had convinced my father it was destiny. He was ready to throw away twenty-five years of marriage for a ghost. “Let’s forget for a second that you haven’t seen this woman in almost thirty years,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Back then, you were a kid with empty pockets and she wasn’t interested. Now you’re the CEO of a publicly-traded company, and suddenly she is. Does she want you, Dad, or does she want the Sterling name?” “You will not disrespect Diane!” he snapped, his face flushing a deep red, as if I’d just desecrated a holy relic. He had never, not once in my entire life, spoken to me with that kind of fury. I was his pride and joy. I glanced at my mother, and in her eyes, I saw the same profound disappointment that was churning in my own gut. “Well,” I sighed, forcing a detached tone. “If you’ve both made your decision, it’s not my place to interfere. You’ll always be my parents, no matter what.” Relief washed over my father’s face. “Chloe, I knew you’d understand. You’ve always been such a good kid.” “But I should remind you,” I continued, my voice hardening slightly, “when you walk away from this marriage, you walk away with nothing. You’ve poured your heart and soul into Sterling Corp. Are you really willing to give all of that up?” My dad married into my mother’s family. He was a brilliant nobody when my mom, head-over-heels in love, insisted she had to marry him. My grandfather, a man who never did anything without a contract, had agreed on one condition: my father had to sign a rock-solid prenuptial agreement. If the marriage ever ended, for any reason, he would leave with nothing. My mother was a socialite, brilliant at hosting parties but clueless about business. The company had always been my father’s domain to run. But the shares, the actual ownership, had always been in my mother’s name and mine. He didn’t own a single one. A divorce meant he was out. Completely. On the big things, my mother had always been surprisingly clear-eyed. “Diane and I have true love,” he declared, his chest puffed out with a self-righteousness that made me want to scream. “True love isn’t measured in dollars and cents. I won’t take a dime of the Sterling money. I’ll build a new life for her with my own two hands!” It was a noble speech. But if he couldn’t build a life for himself when he was young, hungry, and brilliant, what made him think he could do it now, in middle age? Years at the helm of Sterling Corp had given him more than a platform; it had given him an ego. He truly believed he was Robert Quinn, the titan of industry, not Robert Quinn, the man who ran his wife’s company. “I respect your choice, Dad,” I said smoothly. “In that case, we should probably schedule a board meeting for next week. I’ll need to be appointed as the new CEO.” He stared at me, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? The board appointed me CEO. Since when is that your decision to make?” I let out a small, pitying laugh. “Dad, you seem to be confused. The board chose you because Mom and I, as the majority shareholders, voted for you. Now that you’re divorcing her, do you honestly believe we’ll continue to support you? A CEO with no shares doesn’t even have a right to a seat on the board, does he?” He was speechless, the wind knocked out of his sails. He turned to my mother, grasping for a lifeline. “Catherine, is this what you want, too?” My mother’s voice was more venomous than mine. “What part of ‘leaving with nothing’ are you struggling with? Once this divorce is final, you are no longer part of this family. Why on earth would we let you run our family’s company and draw a salary from our family’s profits? The audacity!” His face was beet red. “I am still Chloe’s father!” “Yes, you are,” I said, nodding brightly. “And don’t you worry. When you hit retirement age, I’ll make sure your support checks are mailed on time. I’ll take very good care of your twilight years, Dad. You won’t be left all alone.” My father was a man ruled by pride. That was the last straw. “I don’t need it!” he roared. “The Sterling money has nothing to do with me. I’ll build my own empire, and you’ll see! You’ll all see!” He stormed out. The moment the door slammed shut, my mother and I burst into laughter. When we finally caught our breath, I looked at her, genuinely curious. “Mom, you were so crazy about him back then. You went on a hunger strike against Grandpa to marry him. Why is it so easy to let him go now?” She shrugged, a wry smile playing on her lips. “Honey, I was blinded by a pretty face. Now, that potbelly of his is bigger than his head. The magic died a long time ago. I was staying out of a sense of duty. He’s the one who asked for the divorce. Why wouldn’t I celebrate?” Turns out the best cure for being blinded by love is watching the object of your affection lose his looks. 2 Mom and Dad signed the papers and filed them at the courthouse. All that was left was the mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period. In the meantime, Dad started moving his things out, preparing to build his new life with his old flame. While he was technically leaving with nothing, he’d made a good salary over the years and had his own personal savings. My mother, in a gesture of goodwill, didn’t touch his personal accounts. He wasn’t walking away literally penniless. But the houses, the stocks, the investments tied to the Sterling name—those were all hers. After buying a new house for himself and Diane, most of his savings were already gone. With the personal assets settled, it was time to deal with the company. The board meeting was set for the following week, and our PR team was already drafting strategies to manage the fallout from a CEO change at a publicly-traded company. I thought things were moving along smoothly. Then I walked into the office on Monday and stepped directly into a crisis. “Ms. Sterling,” my assistant, David, said, his face pale. “We have a problem. Horizon pulled out of the contract renewal.” “Horizon? They’ve been with us for twenty years. The renewal was a sure thing. What happened?” David looked down at his shoes, shuffling his feet. My voice dropped. “Tell me. Now.” “It was the new manager, Ms. Bishop. Mr. Quinn put her on the account. She… she told Horizon that the discount we offer them was too generous. She said Sterling is the only company that can meet their supply needs, so she was raising the price. Horizon refused to sign.” “Why wasn’t I told about something this important? And who the hell is Ms. Bishop? Why would HR hire such a monumental idiot?” “Mr. Quinn said she was to have full authority and report only to him,” David mumbled. “And… HR didn’t hire her. Mr. Quinn brought her in himself.” My father was a sharp businessman. He never made careless mistakes with major accounts. For him to bring in this “Ms. Bishop” and give her this much power meant something was very wrong. “Get me Mr. Davis from Horizon on the phone. I’ll handle this personally. And tell Ms. Bishop I want to see her in my office. Immediately.” While David was gone, I pulled up the new manager’s file. Brianna Bishop. A degree from some obscure overseas university that sounded more like a diploma mill than a real school. Zero prior work experience. And she’d been hired directly as a manager in the sales department. When had the standards at Sterling Corp. dropped so low? Then I saw it on her resume, listed under emergency contacts. Her mother: Diane Bishop. My father’s “one that got away.” Of course. 3 When my assistant showed Brianna Bishop into my office, she carried an air of undisguised contempt. She didn’t greet me, just dropped into the chair opposite my desk. “You wanted to see me, Ms. Sterling?” “You’re fired.” I had planned to question her, to understand her reasoning. Seeing her entitled smirk, I realized it was pointless. “On what grounds?” she demanded, her voice sharp with indignation. “Mr. Quinn hired me personally!” “On the grounds that you just lost us the Horizon account,” I said without looking up from the file in front of me. “Horizon has been a loyal partner for two decades. In one meeting, you managed to destroy that relationship. That’s a catastrophic failure. I’d fire you twice if I could.” “Sterling is a huge company. We have other clients,” she scoffed, as if she were explaining basic economics to a child. “And that discount we were giving Horizon was costing us a fortune. I was saving the company money!” Her complete and utter cluelessness was so staggering I almost laughed. Arguing with her would be like wrestling with a pig in mud. “David,” I said to my assistant, “please escort her to HR to process her termination.” Brianna refused to move. “You can’t fire me! Do you think Uncle Robert knows you’re doing this? He brought me in himself!” She shot David a dirty look as he approached. “Don’t touch me!” Then she pulled the ultimate card. “You’re only doing this because your parents are getting divorced, and you blame my mom! Well, guess what? My mom and Uncle Robert are getting married. I’m going to be his daughter soon, and this company is his! That means it will be half mine one day!” I pressed my fingers to my temples, feeling a headache bloom. If the daughter was this stupid, the mother couldn’t be a genius. What on earth did my father see in her? “David, what are you standing there for? Call security.” He fumbled for his phone, his face a mixture of shock and embarrassment at witnessing this family drama. Brianna saw him make the call and escalated, whipping out her own phone. “Uncle Robert, you have to come quick! They’re trying to throw me out!” My father, it turned out, was faster than building security. He burst into my office, his face etched with worry. The second he appeared, Brianna’s entire demeanor shifted. Her face crumpled, her voice became a fragile, wounded thing. “Uncle Robert,” she whimpered, “I don’t know what I did to make Chloe so angry. She just came in and said she was firing me.” “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll handle this,” he soothed, looking at her with heartbreaking tenderness before turning to me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Chloe, this is about us, the adults. You will not drag Brianna into it. She’s an innocent party here.” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Innocent? She used her connection to you to get a job she’s completely unqualified for, and her first act was to lose us one of our biggest clients. And you’re telling me she’s innocent?” My father clearly hadn’t heard about the Horizon deal. He glanced at Brianna, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. She immediately launched into her defense, her voice thick with fake tears. “Uncle Robert, I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to do what was best for you. Giving Horizon such a huge discount… it was your money I was trying to save.” I snorted. She wasn’t trying to save his money. She was trying to save what she thought would one day be her money.

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My father was the king of Sterling City, the man they called Mr. Cain, whose name was whispered in alleys and boardrooms with the same mixture of fear and reverence. But he was my mother’s creature. He had only one good leg. The other, a state-of-the-art prosthetic, was a testament to his devotion—a piece of himself he’d sacrificed to a rival to save her life. The night I was born, fireworks exploded over the city until dawn. It was a welcome, they said, for the city’s new princess. Then, when I was five, a woman who looked like a faded photograph of my mother returned from overseas and moved into the old Cain family estate. She pinched my cheek, her smile a cruel slash of red lipstick. “Little thing,” she purred, her voice dripping with a saccharine poison. “Your mother is just my shadow. Your father only noticed her because she copied the way I dressed.” “Now that I’m back,” she said, her eyes glittering, “the little mutt and her counterfeit mother can get the hell out.” I ran upstairs, tears blurring the world into a watercolor painting of pain. I found my mother in her bathroom, calmly using a straight razor to slice away the tattoo on her shoulder that matched my father’s. Blood patterned the marble floor like spilled wine, but my mother was smiling. That night, the woman’s screams echoed from the old estate for hours. My mother held me close, her hand a warm, steady presence on my back. “Cora, darling,” she whispered against my hair. “Doesn’t the moon look fuller tonight?” 1 The crunch of tires on the gravel driveway sent me scrambling to the window. “Mom, look! Dad’s home! He brought me Marielle!” Marielle was the doll I wanted more than anything, with eyes the color of sapphires, just like the pendant my mother always wore. But in the next second, Marielle was tossed to the ground. My father, his limp more pronounced than usual, rushed into the grand house. Moments later, he emerged carrying an woman in his arms—the woman from the old estate. I called out to him, my voice small against the vastness of the lawn, but he didn’t even look my way. Instead, his foot came down on Marielle’s porcelain head, crushing it into a dozen pieces. He returned just before dawn, his eyes as red as the blood I’d seen on my mother’s arm. A tremor of fear went through me, but I held my arms out, expecting him to lift me up the way he always did. “Daddy…” He raised his prosthetic leg, the hard composite material catching the dim light, and kicked me in the stomach. My head hit the sharp corner of the coffee table. I reached up and my fingers came away sticky and dark with blood. It hurt. So much. But I didn’t dare cry out. Because my father had just slapped my mother across the face. “What the hell do you want, Rosalind? Do you have any idea that Eva almost died?” “She’s just a girl. Can’t you leave her be?” My mother’s gaze was unnervingly calm. “Leo, have you forgotten who gave you this life? Who gave you the throne to this city?” She tilted her head. “And now you have the nerve to question me?” The color drained from my father’s face. “I earned this throne with my own blood! And Eva… Eva is carrying my son! She can’t be harmed!” A slow, dangerous smile spread across my mother’s lips. “And you were stupid enough to bring your precious little incubator here? Have you forgotten what I told you?” Her voice dropped to a whisper, cold and sharp as ice. “Anyone so much as lays a finger on my daughter, and I salt the earth where their family stood.” She rose from her chair and walked toward him, a predator closing in. “Leo Cain, I’ll ask you one last time.” “That woman called my daughter a mutt. Do you think she deserves to live?” My father froze. It was only a second’s hesitation, but it was enough. The last warmth in my mother’s eyes vanished, leaving behind a frozen wasteland. She picked up a letter opener from the desk, its silver blade gleaming, and held it out to him. “Either you stick this in my heart right now, and you can live happily ever after with the one that got away… or…” Her voice was silk and steel. “You get on your knees and tell me you will be Rosalind Darrow’s dog for the rest of your life.” I could feel the rage radiating from my father. He snatched the letter opener and, in one swift motion, plunged it into my mother’s chest. “Goddammit, Rosalind, when does it end!” he roared. “This isn’t the old days! I am Leo Cain, the king of this city! You will always be Mrs. Cain. No one can take that from you!” “Eva is different. She’s… simple. She doesn’t want to compete with you for anything!” My mother actually laughed. She pulled the blade out of her own flesh and pressed the bloody tip against his throat. “Leo, I let you wear the crown. I let you play king. But I never intended for you to forget who you belong to.” “Your last name might be Cain,” she whispered, “but this city… this city belongs to the Darrows.” The red in his eyes deepened to a furious crimson. He shoved her back, wrenching the blade from her grasp and holding it up to her face. My mother had always said her face was her greatest asset. I threw myself in front of her, my small arms spread wide. “You’re a bad man! You broke my Marielle! You hit me! You hit Mommy!” With a frustrated roar, my father slammed his fist into the mahogany cabinet beside him. “Rosalind, all I want is for Eva’s son to be born safely! I abandoned her ten years ago. I owe her this.” He stormed towards the door. “Take a good look at yourself. And stop this goddamn drama.” The door slammed shut behind him. A crimson flower was blooming on the front of my mother’s dress. I was afraid to touch it. “Mommy, does it hurt?” She didn’t answer me, just stared at me for a long, silent moment. “Cora,” she finally said, her voice soft. “Your father has changed.” “He no longer deserves to be your father.” That night, I had a nightmare. In my dream, my father was holding that woman, Eva, and they were laughing. A little boy stood beside them. My father pointed at me. “That’s your sister,” he said to the boy. “From now on, she’s your personal punching bag. Hit her whenever you want.” I woke up screaming and ran downstairs to find my mother. But I saw him first. My father was moving Eva into our home. “Ugh, what is that smell? It’s awful!” Eva whined, wrinkling her nose. “Leo, darling, all this… clutter… it’s not good for our son. I want to redecorate. Make it my own.” My father immediately called his men in, and they started hauling my mother’s belongings out of the living room, piece by piece. I rushed forward, trying to save my mother’s antique jewelry box. But Eva’s stiletto heel pinned my hand to the floor. She leaned down, poking my forehead with a perfectly manicured finger. “Listen here, you little mutt. I’m in charge now.” “As soon as I give birth to my son, you and your lunatic mother are going to be sleeping with the fishes.” She pulled a handful of candies from her purse, waving them in front of my face before dropping them one by one onto the floor, grinding them into dust with her heel. “Want one? Get on your knees and bark like a dog. Maybe I’ll toss you a piece.” My father stood nearby, a frown creasing his brow, but all he said was, “Cora, Eva is just joking with you. Say hello to her.” When I remained silent, Eva’s smirk widened. “What, the cat got your tongue? I guess your mother never taught you any manners.” My father said nothing, his silence a tacit agreement. But then I saw her. My mother was descending the grand staircase. She moved slowly, gracefully, holding a platter of sliced fruit. A small, sharp fruit knife was stuck into a piece of melon. “Eva, dear, you’ve just arrived. Don’t trouble yourself with a child.” She offered the platter. Eva, assuming my mother was surrendering, beamed with triumph. “Well, it’s about time you learned your place.” She reached for a piece of fruit. In a flash, my mother grabbed her, forcing her mouth open and shoving the fruit knife inside. She gave it a vicious twist. Eva’s tongue fell onto the pristine white rug. My mother used a silk scarf to slowly, meticulously wipe the blood from her fingers, then patted Eva’s pale cheek. “What sort of creature are you to lecture my daughter on manners?” “You like barking so much? Is that a little mongrel you’re carrying in your belly?” “Perhaps we should cut it out and see?” The knife in my mother’s hand moved towards Eva’s swollen stomach. My father finally snapped. He lunged, shoving my mother away with a wild roar. “Rosalind, you crazy bitch! You dare!” His eyes were bloodshot. He snatched a heavy crystal vase and smashed it over my mother’s head. “Rosalind, if you harm Eva, I will destroy you today!” Shards of crystal and streams of blood ran down my mother’s face. But he wasn’t finished. He grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the wall. Once. Twice. A crimson stain appeared on the wallpaper. His face was a twisted, unrecognizable mask of fury that terrified me. But my mother didn’t scream. She didn’t even flinch. After another sickening thud, just as she began to slide down the wall, she kicked out, her heel connecting squarely with my father’s prosthetic leg. She smiled, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “Leo Cain, I gave you a chance.” “But a dog… is always a dog.” His prosthetic flew off. He clung to a cabinet for support, glaring at her with pure hatred. Then his expression changed. His hand went to his belt, to the gun he always carried. I tried to stop him, but he threw me aside. “Go to your room!” I landed hard, scraping my elbow raw on the floor. But I didn’t care about the pain. Because I saw a group of my father’s men surround my mother. The same men who always bowed their heads and called me “Little Miss.” Now, at my father’s command, they seized her arms. My mother’s eyes were filled with a sadness I couldn’t comprehend. “Leo, think very carefully about what you’re doing.” “You’re really going to do this? For some woman off the street and a bastard of unknown origin?” His chest heaved. “You forced my hand, Rosalind! Eva can’t take any more stress! The doctor said she’s at risk of miscarrying!” “You will stay in the chapel until you’re ready to come out and apologize to her!” I watched them start to drag my mother away. I scrambled forward, sank my teeth into my father’s good leg, and bit down as hard as I could. I am my mother’s daughter. I would not let them hurt her. One of the men started to pull me off. My mother’s voice cut through the air, cold as a tombstone. “Touch Cora, and I guarantee you won’t see the sunrise.” My father’s face was a thundercloud of rage. Just then, Eva, still gurgling on the floor, pointed a trembling finger at her own mouth. Something in my father’s eyes snapped. He grabbed me by the throat, his hand tightening. I couldn’t breathe. My face was turning purple. “You little monster! You can rot in the chapel with your mother!” My mother held me as the men led us away. I wasn’t scared. Because I heard her whisper. “Don’t be scared, Cora. The sun will be up soon.” 2 We were locked in the family chapel for three days and three nights with no food or water. I was so weak with hunger I could barely move, limp in my mother’s arms. Through a haze of exhaustion, I saw her fingering the sapphire pendant around her neck. “Soon,” she murmured. “Very soon.” I could hear celebrations outside, the murmur of the guards at the door. They were saying that my father had put the word out: anyone who touched Eva again would have their entire family wiped out. They were saying that all of Sterling City knew Mr. Cain was finally turning on his wife for the one that got away. On the morning of the fourth day, my father’s men dragged us out. He was standing in the great hall, comforting the now-tongueless Eva. His prosthetic had been replaced with a newer, more advanced model. He walked with an almost undetectable limp. He looked more like the true Mr. Cain than ever before. He threw a stack of papers at my mother’s feet. They slid across the polished floor. “Sign them, Rosalind. I’ll give you half the company shares.” “I have only one condition. I’m going to marry Eva. I’m going to give her, and our son, a proper name.” Eva cradled her belly, looking at my mother with smug triumph. Her mouth was bandaged, but her eyes screamed victory. My mother didn’t even glance at the divorce papers. “Leo, do you really think you’ve finally grown wings?” My father let out a cold laugh. “I gave you time to reflect, Rosalind. It seems you still don’t get it.” “Stop living in the past. Your era is over. This is my world now.” He clapped his hands. A dozen men armed with assault rifles stepped forward, aiming their weapons at my mother. “Today, in the Cain family home, in front of everyone, Eva will drink the tea of the new bride.” He looked at Eva, his expression softening. “From now on, you are the lady of this house.” Eva’s eyes curved into crescents as she smiled, leaning against my father and pushing her stomach out proudly. She looked at my mother and mouthed the words silently: Bitch. You and the little mutt are finished. But the triumphant look on her face hadn’t even faded when a hole erupted in the center of her pregnant belly. Blood gushed out, dark and thick. My mother casually inspected the small pistol in her hand. “Leo, I seem to recall we made a promise to each other. The first one to ask for a divorce pays with their life.”

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My life was a good one, until my younger son was born. At five years old, he was diagnosed with a severe congenital intellectual disability. My husband, David, worked himself to the bone to pay the bills. My older son, Michael, grew up overnight. I quit my job and spent our days shuttling between therapy and rehabilitation centers with my little Leo. Leo’s mind never developed past that of a three-year-old. The clearest sentence he could ever manage was, “I love Mommy.” I thought, despite it all, that things were slowly getting better. Then my husband died. And Leo developed a more severe cerebral atrophy. He would spend the rest of his life confined to a bed. The weight of our world fell onto Michael’s shoulders. He became a brother and a father in one. By forty-five, his hair was already shot through with gray. From the time he was ten years old, Michael never asked me for a single thing. Until the day he fell to his knees, wrapped his arms around my legs, and pleaded with me. “Mom,” he cried, his voice breaking. “I’m his brother. I don’t mind sacrificing for him. I never have. But my son… Ethan doesn’t owe his uncle his future.” “He has the grades, Mom. He got into City Central High. He can’t lose that chance because we don’t have the money.” I owed my oldest son so much. He’d gotten into college himself, all those years ago. He tore up his acceptance letter to start working sooner, to earn money for his brother. I ran my trembling fingers through his graying hair, stroking it just like I did when he was a little boy. “Don’t cry,” I whispered, my own voice thick with unshed tears. “Mom will figure something out.” 1 I had just finished feeding my younger son, Leo, his nutrient paste, carefully wiping the residue from the corners of his mouth, when my older son, Michael, arrived. He didn’t sit down. He just stood there in the middle of the living room, a stiff, awkward statue of exhaustion. When he finally spoke, his voice was raspy. “Mom. Ethan’s acceptance letter came. He got into City Central.” A jolt of pure joy went through me. “Really? Oh, that’s wonderful!” City Central High. It was the best school in the state, a feeder for the Ivy Leagues. But my elation was short-lived. Michael’s next words erased my smile. “But the tuition, the boarding fees, the cost of the advanced placement track they require… all together, it’s going to be…” He held up five fingers, and my heart froze. Fifty thousand dollars. “Mom,” Michael took a step forward, his voice dropping to a desperate plea. “I know how hard things are. But Ethan… he’s earned this. We can’t throw it away.” “You’ve still got a little saved, right? Just to get us started. I swear, I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my end-of-year bonus from the plant.” “Mikey…” I couldn’t meet his eyes. I stared at the worn floorboards, a hot flush of shame creeping up my neck. “That money… it’s for Leo’s nutritional supplements and his medication for the next quarter. If he misses it, he won’t…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “What if… what if Ethan goes to Northwood instead?” I offered weakly. “It’s a good school, too, and the tuition is a fraction of the cost. He can still get into a good college from there…” A loud bang shattered the quiet. Michael had kicked the small ottoman across the room. “It’s always Leo! It’s always about him!” he roared, his eyes instantly turning red. “From the day he was born, everything in this house has been for him!” “The better food, the new clothes, every last scrap of your attention! It was always his!” “I was so scared of being a burden I didn’t even dare to cough too loudly when I was sick!” “I’m five years older than him, Mom, not a whole damn generation!” I flinched, my whole body trembling. “Mikey,” I stammered, “Leo is sick…” “But it’s not my fault he was born that way!” Michael screamed. I froze. He was right. It wasn’t his fault. It was mine. I was the one who brought him into this world. 2 It was as if a dam had finally broken inside him, releasing forty years of dammed-up resentment in a torrential flood. “When Dad was alive, I was the responsible one. The good older brother. Never fighting, never asking for anything, just taking care of myself and helping you with Leo.” “His disability was hard enough, but then the atrophy started.” “After Dad died, I became a brother and a father. I paid the bills, I put in the hours, I put off my own wedding for years!” “I missed my own son’s birth, Mom! Do you know that? I wasn’t there when Jess was in labor because Leo was having a seizure and I was here, holding him down!” “Do you have any idea how many years she held that against me?” “I’m a foreman at the plant now. Guys I supervise, guys younger than me, they own houses, they drive new cars. We’re still renting a tiny apartment!” “All our money… it’s been poured into this house, into him!” “I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I stretch every single dollar until it screams. What more do you want from me?” He scrubbed a hand over his face, his voice cracking into a sob. “He’s my brother. My own flesh and blood. And taking care of him… that’s my duty. I accept that!” “But my son… Ethan… he doesn’t owe him anything!” “He shouldn’t have to sacrifice the best future he can get for his uncle!” Every word was a dull blade, carving into my heart. I looked at my son’s gray hair, the deep lines etched around his eyes, and the guilt was a physical thing, a tide rising up to drown me. “Mikey, I’m sorry…” It was all I could say. There were no excuses. “It’s my fault. I’m so sorry…” With a choked sob, Michael fell to his knees in front of me, wrapping his arms around my legs. “Mom, please. Ethan has to go to Central. Kids from Central go to Harvard, to Stanford. I can’t let him lose that. Please, Mom!” I closed my eyes, a tear tracing a path to the corner of my mouth. It tasted bitter. I remembered when Leo was born. He was such a quiet baby, he rarely cried. My husband David and I were overjoyed. We held him up for a five-year-old Michael to see. “Look, Mikey,” we’d said. “Your little brother is a gift. He’s such a good boy.” We were so happy then. A loving couple with two beautiful, well-behaved sons. Our neighbors all said how lucky we were. Even when Leo was slow to talk, when his walk was clumsy and uncertain, David and I would reassure each other. “It’s fine,” we’d say. “Late bloomers are often the most brilliant. Our Leo is destined for great things.” Until, at age five, he was diagnosed with a severe congenital intellectual disability. And our world fell apart. 3 David began working himself into an early grave, chasing every hour of overtime just to make a little more. I quit my job to take Leo to his endless appointments and therapy sessions. And Michael… Michael grew up overnight. He stopped asking for my affection, stopped wanting candy or toys. He managed himself perfectly. I never had to worry about his homework. He even learned how to cook. He was only ten, but he was already carrying the burdens of a grown man. And for a while, our collective effort seemed to be working. Slowly, Leo learned to signal when he was cold, to express when he was hungry. He reached the intellectual capacity of a three-year-old. The first time he looked at me and mumbled, “I love… Mommy,” I wept with a joy so fierce it felt like pain. I thought things would keep getting better. But fate had one more cruel twist in store. Ten years ago, my David died from a heart attack, brought on by years of relentless overwork. Michael was forced to become the man of the house. I knew how much he’d sacrificed for his own small family. I looked down at my weeping son, my hand shaking as I stroked his gray hair. “Don’t cry,” I whispered. “Mom will figure something out. We’ll get the money. Go home. I’ll call you tonight.” Michael looked like he wanted to say more, but he just nodded, rising to his feet with the weariness of an old man, and left. I started searching through the house. This little house we’d lived in for decades, so full of memories, so cluttered with the debris of a life. I found some old newspapers and cardboard boxes, tied them into a bundle. It wouldn’t be much, but every dollar counted. I’d heard people bought old furniture. Some of our pieces might be worth something. And the house itself… it was old and small, but the neighborhood had improved over the years. The location was good. It would sell for a decent price. If I sold the house, it would be more than enough for Ethan’s tuition. There might even be some left over. I could take Leo and rent a small, cheap apartment somewhere. We could manage. The thought sent a sharp pain through my chest. This was the home David and I had built, piece by piece. It was filled with the echoes of Michael’s childhood laughter, of Leo’s happy babbling before the diagnosis. But there was no time for sentiment. I walked over to the old dresser and pulled out the bottom drawer. Tucked away in the back, I found a small cloth pouch. Inside was the wedding ring David had given me. A simple, plain gold band. I rubbed the smooth metal, David’s warm, sheepish smile flashing in my memory. “I’m sorry, my love,” I whispered. For my grandson, even this had to go. 4 As I was taking stock of everything I could sell, a violent coughing fit seized me. At first, I thought it was just the dust I’d kicked up. When I finally caught my breath, I looked down at my hand. There was blood on my palm. My mind went completely blank. Fear, cold and sharp, washed over me, leaving me shivering. I can’t be sick. If I get sick, what will happen to Leo? After a long moment, I picked up the phone and dialed Michael’s number. “Mikey, could you possibly come over tomorrow? Just to watch your brother for the day? I have… an errand I need to run.” Before he could answer, I heard my daughter-in-law, Jessica, in the background. “Mom! It’s not that we don’t want to help! But Michael has done everything, everything for his brother!” Her voice was high and strained. “We’ve been pinching pennies for years to help you out! Years!” “My own health isn’t great, I’m on medication constantly, have I ever complained?” “As his brother and sister-in-law, we have a clear conscience!” “But Ethan’s education is non-negotiable!” “He’s the only child we have, and he’s so bright. We can’t let his future get ruined over money!” “Mom, we’ll borrow the money! We’ll sign a contract! We’ll pay you back with interest! We won’t let you lose a dime, I swear it! Is that good enough?” Her rapid-fire words felt like lashes from a whip. I knew it was true. Michael’s family was at their absolute limit. He’d earned a scholarship to a state university, but because of the black hole of Leo’s medical bills, he’d ripped up the acceptance letter and gone to work at the factory. Now his son, Ethan, had the same gift for learning. If he too had to settle for second best because of Leo, I would never be able to rest in peace. I spoke softly, trying to soothe her. “Don’t worry. Just give me a few more days. I promise, I’ll get the money together for Ethan’s school.” 5 Michael’s voice came on the line. “Mom, don’t listen to her. Whatever you need. I’ll be there tomorrow. Don’t worry about a thing.” He came early the next morning. He didn’t ask about the money again, just silently began massaging Leo’s stiff limbs. “I might not be back for lunch,” I told him. “There’s leftover stew in the pot. You can heat it up.” With that, I left and took the bus to the hospital alone. The waiting room was filled with anxious faces, the air thick with unspoken fear. While waiting for my test results, I went to the restroom. My eyes scanned the dozens of small, scribbled ads on the back of the stall door. “Quick Cash Loans.” “Discreet Buyer.” “Surrogacy.” My gaze landed on one: “Generous Compensation.” My heart began to pound. I remembered hearing that you only need one kidney to live. Making sure no one was around, I shakily dialed the number. When a man answered, I lowered my voice. “I… I’d like to sell a kidney. How… how much would that be?” He asked my age. When I told him I was seventy, he scoffed. “Lady, a twenty-year-old’s kidney goes for a hundred grand. For a seventy-year-old? Eight thousand, tops.” I tried to bargain. “Could you do a little more? Could we make it ten?” “At your age, the risk is high,” the man said impatiently. “That’s the price. Take it or leave it.” My hand gripping the phone was slick with sweat. An image of Ethan’s hopeful face flashed in my mind, followed by Michael’s stooped shoulders, and Leo’s helpless form in his bed. I gritted my teeth and forced out two words. “I’ll take it.” After hanging up, I felt completely drained. I had to lean against the wall for a long time before I could walk out. Just then, a nurse called my name. The doctor pointed to a shadow on the CT scan, his expression grave. “Mrs. Miller, the results are back. It’s lung cancer. I’m afraid it’s already in the advanced stages. I strongly recommend you admit yourself to the hospital immediately…”

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