Author: Momo Chan

During a life-or-death resuscitation, I used trauma shears to cut open a male patient’s underwear. My fiancé then posted a video of me treating the patient’s wound online with the caption: “I know you’re saving a life, but doesn’t the patient’s privacy matter?” “And the way your hands were all over him down there… it just makes me, your fiancé, really uncomfortable.” The story blew up online. To quell the public outrage, the hospital chose to make an example of me. I was demoted, my entire annual bonus was revoked, and I was given a severe disciplinary warning. After seeing my dedication to saving lives rewarded with the reputation of a predator, I decided to just give up. I wasn’t going to save anyone anymore. And that’s when the entire hospital started to panic. *** 1 “Stella, let this be a lesson to you. We’re about to get married. Even if you’re a doctor, you need to act with a certain decorum!” I stared at him, at the man I was supposed to marry. “Are you done?” Mark froze. “What… what kind of attitude is that?” “You still don’t think you’re wrong?” “Whatever,” I said. With those three words, I felt something inside me shatter completely. Mark’s face flushed a deep red, as if I had just deeply insulted him. “Fine! ‘Whatever’! Stella, we’re through!” “The wedding is off!” he yelled, grabbing his phone from the table and storming out. Dr. Evans, the department head, frowned and tapped her pen on the desk. “Look what you’ve done! Look how upset you’ve made Mark!” “To mitigate the damage, you will write a formal, detailed apology. You will read it aloud at next week’s all-staff meeting and admit to your inappropriate conduct.” I looked at her, saying nothing. Her eyes flickered away for a second before regaining their authoritative glare. “That’s an order. And it’s the only chance you’re getting.” The next day, a formal disciplinary notice was posted on the hospital’s internal network and on the main bulletin board. The wording was harsh: “Improper medical procedure,” “lack of sufficient humanistic care for the patient,” “Dr. Stella Reed is hereby demoted and will forfeit her entire annual performance bonus, as a warning to others.” Every word felt like a public execution. An intern, Chloe, secretly texted me: *Stella, we all believe you. We know you were just trying to save him. But… you should probably just lay low for a while. Dr. Evans is furious.* I turned off my phone. I could have guessed. Dr. Evans’s niece, a recent Ivy League grad named Lauren, had just started last week. Dr. Evans had been looking for a way to promote her, to give her my attending physician position. Mark’s little stunt had given her the perfect excuse. I went back to my desk and silently opened my computer. I organized, printed, and filed all the medical records, surgical notes, and post-op follow-up plans for every critical patient under my care. Then, I formatted the personal drive on my work computer, erasing all of my research data and draft papers. A week later, at the all-staff meeting, Dr. Evans stood at the podium, her voice booming. “…In light of Dr. Stella Reed’s improper conduct, the hospital has decided to revoke her attending physician status.” The room was silent. “And now, please join me in giving a warm welcome to the newest addition to our cardiothoracic surgery department, a Master’s graduate from Johns Hopkins, Dr. Lauren Hayes!” A young woman in a crisp new white coat, her hair perfectly styled, stood up and gave a prim nod to the audience. Dr. Evans looked at her with satisfaction. “Starting today, Dr. Hayes will officially be taking over Dr. Reed’s duties.” I sat in the corner, my face a blank mask. 2 Lauren walked up to my desk and tapped her manicured nails on the surface. “Hey. You can move your stuff now.” Her chin was tilted up, her expression one of undisguised contempt. “Your new desk is over in that corner, where the residents belong. And you’ll need to leave your work computer. I need to check it to make sure you haven’t taken any confidential department files.” I looked up at her, said nothing, and started packing my few personal belongings. Apparently, that wasn’t enough for her. “Oh, and by the way,” she added, “from now on, let’s try to maintain a certain level of professionalism in the department. Try not to act like some back-alley paramedic.” I stopped what I was doing and looked at her. “In that case, could you please enlighten me on the diagnostic criteria and key differential points for Takotsubo cardiomyopathy?” Lauren’s expression froze. She stammered, “Well, of course… that depends on the specific findings of the EKG and echocardiogram… it’s a type of…” I ignored her and went back to my packing. Realizing she was making a fool of herself, she huffed and walked away. I thought back to three years ago, when the hospital’s former president had personally come to the ICU at the state’s top medical center to recruit me. She had held my hand and said, “Stella, come work for us. I’ll give you the most autonomy possible. Your advanced CPR techniques can save so many more lives here.” Thinking about it now, it was a joke. As a resident, my workload was significantly lighter. I was no longer involved in any emergency resuscitations. I followed the resident’s protocol to the letter: rounds, charting, writing orders, signing out on time, and leaving at the end of my shift. Yesterday, a critical patient came in from a car accident. A nurse, out of habit, called for me. I took one look and calmly told her, “Go find Dr. Hayes. She’s the attending.” “But Dr. Hayes is in her office!” the nurse said, panicked. “She said she’s working on an important academic paper!” I didn’t say another word and walked out of the room. After my shift, for the first time in years, I didn’t go to the hospital library to read journals. I went to a fencing club. I put on the heavy protective gear, the helmet, and gripped the cold hilt of the foil, channeling all my anger and frustration into the bout. The next day, Lauren posted a file in the department’s group chat. The file was titled, “A Trial Implementation for Optimizing Departmental Charting Standards and Aligning with International Best Practices for Medical Documentation.” It was a ten-page PDF filled with complex charts and definitions, outlining a brand-new charting template. It required all medical terminology to be written out in its full, official name as designated by the American Medical Association, prohibiting the use of any common abbreviations. It also added numerous sections for data analysis and literature citations. The group chat went dead silent. A few seconds later, my phone started blowing up with private messages from my colleagues: *Stella, what is this woman doing? Writing a patient chart like it’s a PhD dissertation?* *Is she insane? We’re here to treat patients, not create fancy paperwork.* *During rounds today, she insisted a nurse say ‘cardiac pulsation frequency’ instead of ‘heart rate.’ It’s ridiculous!* *This isn’t ‘aligning with international standards,’ it’s just creating unnecessary work for us! By the time we finish one of her charts for an ER patient, the patient will be dead!* *She’s a total PowerPoint doctor. All theory, no practice.* I looked at Lauren’s condescending announcement in the group chat and said nothing. An older colleague messaged me privately, asking what some of the “standardized terms” in the document meant. I quietly explained them to him and then turned off my phone. My complete “slacking off” and Lauren’s clueless micromanagement created a stark contrast in the department. I used to be the backbone of the team. No matter how complex the emergency, everyone felt at ease when I was there. Now, whenever a critical case came in, the department descended into chaos. Lauren would just stand on the sidelines, barking orders using the “standard terminology” from her new guidelines, but never lifting a finger herself. The resentment among my colleagues grew. People started reminiscing about my efficiency and leadership. I knew what they were waiting for—for a real crisis to hit. 3 I submitted my vacation request to Dr. Evans—a full thirty days, the vacation time I had accumulated over five years. Her face darkened the moment she saw the form. “Stella, what is the meaning of this?” She threw the paper at me. “The department is short-staffed right now. Are you taking this much time off just to spite me?” She lowered her voice, her tone threatening. “Don’t think you’re safe just because you’re a resident. You have a long career ahead of you! If you piss me off, I have plenty of ways to make sure you never work in this industry again! If you keep this up, it won’t just be a demotion. Do you believe I’ll just fire you?” I didn’t say anything. I took out the results of a recent physical exam from my pocket and placed them on her desk. “Dr. Evans, I’ve been having heart palpitations lately. My doctor recommended I take some time off to rest.” My voice was calm. “Long-term, high-stress work isn’t good for the heart. As a senior physician, you should understand that better than anyone.” She picked up the report, her face turning shades of red and white, but she couldn’t find a reason to argue. “Hmph!” She snorted and angrily signed my vacation form. As I was about to leave, Mark appeared, holding Lauren’s hand. “Well, well, if it isn’t Dr. Reed,” he said sarcastically. “What, a little setback and you’re running away?” Lauren added smugly, “Some people just can’t handle the pressure. In the programs I came from, they would have been weeded out long ago.” Mark chimed in, “Don’t think the department can’t function without you. Let me tell you, Lauren is way better than you. She’s a real professional.” I didn’t bother responding and walked out of the office. The head nurse stopped me at the end of the hall. “Dr. Reed.” She pressed an apple into my hand. “Do you remember that male patient you saved the other day?” I nodded. “He’s the only son of the chairman of Apex Corporation. The chairman sent someone to ask about you. He wanted to thank you personally.” The nurse sighed. “Unfortunately, Dr. Evans intercepted them. She said it was a team effort, and that your supervisor, Dr. Hayes, provided excellent guidance. You’re just too honest, Stella. You don’t know how to fight for yourself.” I just nodded, thinking to myself, *You can’t handle that thank you.* I boarded the train back to my hometown. Just as the train started moving, Chloe, the intern, called, her voice on the verge of tears. “Stella! It’s bad! Something terrible has happened! The chairman of Apex Corporation just had a massive heart attack and was brought to our hospital!” My stomach dropped. “Lauren is the attending. She looked at the EKG and diagnosed it as an acute MI, but the patient has a history of a rare drug allergy, so she’s afraid to use the standard thrombolytic drugs! She’s been staring at her tablet for half an hour, muttering about ‘evidence-based medicine,’ but she won’t make a decision! And she’s too scared to risk an emergency angioplasty, so now she’s trying to get the family to sign a transfer consent form!” Chloe’s voice was choked with sobs. “Stella, it’s an acute MI! Every minute counts! How can they transfer him now?” Just then, my phone rang again. It was Dr. Evans. I hung up on Chloe and answered. Dr. Evans’s roar came through the phone. “Stella Reed! You get your ass back here right now! If anything happens to the chairman of Apex, I’ll have your license!” I held the phone away from my ear until she was done screaming, then replied calmly, “Dr. Evans, first, I am currently on vacation. Second, I am just a resident. I am not qualified, nor do I have the authority, to handle a patient of this severity. Isn’t the highly-educated, Ivy League graduate Dr. Hayes the expert in handling these kinds of complex cases?” Then, I hung up. 4 Chloe texted me again, her words filled with terror: *Stella, the chairman’s condition worsened in the ambulance during the transfer! His heart even stopped once!* *The family is going crazy! They called the hospital president directly and are threatening to hold the hospital fully responsible!* *The whole hospital is in an uproar! The president and all the vice presidents are in our department now!* A moment later, another text came through: *Dr. Evans is spreading a rumor that you deliberately withheld the Apex chairman’s special case file to sabotage Lauren! She’s saying you hid a key allergy report, which is why Lauren couldn’t make the right call! She’s telling everyone you knew about the chairman’s condition and kept quiet just to watch Lauren fail!* I looked at the screen and laughed coldly. Her ability to shift blame was truly an art form. As if that wasn’t enough, another critical patient in the department, who had just undergone a bypass surgery, suddenly went into ventricular fibrillation. The monitor’s alarm blared. Chloe’s “live stream” continued: *Lauren is frantically ordering the nurses to bring the defibrillator. They’ve shocked him several times, but there’s no response! She even set the energy level wrong! A nurse tried to correct her, and she yelled at them!* *The head nurse is saying they need to put him on ECMO immediately! It’s the last hope!* ECMO, extracorporeal membrane oxygenation. The top-of-the-line machine our department had spent millions on, imported from Germany. It was known as the “ark of life.” *Lauren went to start the ECMO, but the machine failed to initialize and kept alarming! The head nurse was yelling, ‘Only Dr. Reed is familiar with the startup procedure and calibration parameters for this machine! She’s the only one who ever operates it! Don’t touch it!’* *But Lauren just pushed her aside impatiently. ‘I’ve used these machines in Europe. The principles are all the same! What does a nurse know? The previous settings must have been wrong, not up to the latest international standards!’* *She forced a reboot of the machine and tried to directly modify the core operating parameters!* *Stella, it’s bad! The ECMO is smoking!* With Lauren’s forceful manipulation, the ECMO machine let out a piercing screech, the screen flashed, and then went black. The smell of burning plastic filled the air. The multi-million dollar “ark of life” was completely fried. Two critical patients. One, whose golden hour for treatment had been wasted, was now clinging to life. The other, who had lost his last line of support, was about to flatline. The cries and curses of the family members, mixed with the blaring of the monitors, turned the entire cardiothoracic department into a scene of utter chaos. The hospital president’s face was ashen. She looked like she was about to faint. With a trembling hand, she personally called the ECMO manufacturer’s engineer in Germany for help. The German on the other end, in broken English, regretfully informed her that the nearest engineer was in Europe and it would take at least two days for them to fly over. A sense of despair settled over everyone. Just as the president was about to hang up, the German engineer added, “Perhaps you could contact the team of Professor Anderson, who assisted us with the initial device calibration. I remember he had a brilliant protégé, a Dr. Reed, I believe. I think she works at your hospital.” The president’s hand froze in mid-air. She whipped her head around and stared at Dr. Evans. The color drained from Dr. Evans’s face, leaving it paler than a corpse. She knew better than anyone that the brilliant protégé of the nation’s leading expert in cardiopulmonary medicine, the Dr. Reed the engineer was talking about, was the very person she had just driven out of the hospital, the person who was currently on a train, on vacation—me, Stella Reed.

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After I started college, my mom suggested I use a credit card for my living expenses, promising to transfer me the money to pay it off at the end of the month. But when the bill was due, she claimed she hadn’t been paid yet and told me to figure it out myself. Panicked, I was searching online for the consequences of a late credit card payment when I stumbled upon a forum post. 【My daughter started talking back to me after she went to college. How do I get her back in line?】 Someone in the comments had a suggestion: 【Simple. Cut off her allowance and make her use a credit card.】 【Trust me, when the bill is due at the end of the month, just drag your feet on giving her the money. She’ll be begging you. She’ll be more obedient than a dog.】 1 I got back to my dorm, exhausted, after cleaning my cousin’s apartment. Earlier that day, I had asked my mom for the money to pay my credit card bill. She hemmed and hawed, saying she was short on cash. She told me to go clean my cousin’s place—he worked in the same city—and my aunt would pay me the market rate of a hundred bucks. With that, she said, she could probably scrape together enough to send me. I hated the idea, but I was desperate. I took a cab across town to my cousin’s apartment, which hadn’t been cleaned in two weeks, and threw out a mountain of old takeout containers. When I got back to the dorm, I asked my mom when she was sending the money. She was evasive again. A sense of dread washed over me. The day before yesterday, she said, “Don’t worry about it.” Yesterday, she said, “Just wait a little longer.” Today, it was the same story. The bill was due in two days. Gritting my teeth, I searched online for the consequences of a late credit card payment. That’s when a forum post caught my eye. 【My daughter started talking back to me after she went to college. How do I get her back in line?】 I clicked on it instinctively. The original poster explained that her daughter had always been sweet and obedient, but after going away to college, she had become “wild” and had even talked back to her. She wanted to know how to make her daughter apologize. A user named “IronHeart” offered some advice: 【Simple. Cut off her allowance and make her use a credit card.】 【Trust me, when the bill is due at the end of the month, just drag your feet on giving her the money. She’ll be begging you. She’ll be more obedient than a dog.】 Hundreds of people were flaming her in the replies. 【Are you raising a child or a dog?】 【If you couldn’t afford a kid, why didn’t you just buy a condom?】 【Treat your kid like that and don’t be surprised if she jumps off a bridge one day.】 But the original poster, “HappyFlower,” was genuinely asking: 【Does this really work?】 IronHeart: 【Of course. I’ve been doing it to my daughter since she was a freshman. She’s a senior now and wouldn’t dare say no to me.】 【Kids with no financial independence are the easiest to control. If you don’t get a handle on her now, it’ll be too late once she starts earning her own money.】 【And who is she trying to threaten by jumping off a bridge? The more you indulge her, the more arrogant she gets. Are you going to let your own child walk all over you?】 【If she really jumped, it would just prove she wasn’t worthy of being my child. If she died, I’d scatter her ashes in a sewer.】 The words were shocking, monstrous. I felt a pang of sympathy for this stranger’s daughter. But it was clear that HappyFlower was taking the advice to heart. She had even “liked” the comment. After that, the two of them stopped interacting, but other users kept bumping the thread. I checked the timestamp on HappyFlower’s original post. It was from exactly one month ago—the same time my mom and I had a huge fight. A terrible feeling started to grow in the pit of my stomach. A month ago, my mom had called and screamed at me, accusing me of being a thief, of eating her food and using her things and then stealing from her. She said I was destined for a life in prison. Then she hung up. I was completely bewildered. After a few frantic calls, I found out from my aunt that my mom’s new gold necklace was missing, and she was convinced I had taken it. But I had been at school, over a thousand miles away. How could I have possibly stolen it? I was furious and humiliated. For the first time in my life, I refused to back down. I argued with her, telling her she was being unfair and accusing me without any proof. Later, my mom found the necklace somewhere. She called to apologize, saying she had misunderstood. Then, her tone shifted. She started talking about how she was getting old, how her company was struggling and her paychecks were late. She asked me to use a credit card for my living expenses for a while, and she would pay it off at the end of the month. Her voice, full of weariness and despair, weighed on me like a stone. I was overwhelmed with guilt, so I agreed. But now, a month later, when I asked for the money, she kept changing her story. We weren’t rich, but we were comfortable. And there was the settlement money from my dad’s accident. My mom had said she was saving it for my college education. There was no way she couldn’t come up with eight hundred dollars. 2 I still didn’t want to believe that HappyFlower was my mom. She was strict and controlling, yes, but she loved me. She would eat ramen for a month just to afford my expensive tutoring sessions. She wouldn’t do something like this to hurt me. But… my rational mind told me it couldn’t be a coincidence. The time of the post and the user’s IP address both matched my mom’s. With trembling hands, I opened my messaging app and typed a tentative message to her: 【Mom, my credit card bill is due in two days. If it’s late, it will affect my credit score.】 【Can you please just send me the $800 to pay it off? If things are really tight, I can get a part-time job next month and earn my own living expenses. Is that okay?】 I don’t know what I said that set her off. 【Jessica, are you trying to use your ‘poor college student’ act to manipulate me?】 【Have I ever let you go hungry? Have I ever let you go without?】 【Don’t you dare even think about getting one of those ‘improper’ part-time jobs. How long do you think you can sell your youth for?】 【How could you do this to me? How could you do this to your father’s memory?!】 … The stinging words made me feel like my mom was right there, screaming in my ear. My head was buzzing. I felt a rush of blood to my head and almost fainted. Why did she automatically assume that any job I got would be “improper”? Is it normal for a mother to talk to her daughter like that? And she was the one deliberately withholding my living expenses to control me. I couldn’t hold back my anger anymore: 【Then what do you want me to do? I have no money. How am I supposed to pay the bill?】 【I just started college! I don’t want to be labeled a deadbeat!】 My mom: 【I never said I wouldn’t pay it. I just said things are tight right now. Can’t you be a little more understanding?】 【You don’t earn a single penny, all you do is ask for money. Do you think it’s easy for a single mother to support a college student?】 A deep sense of guilt and self-loathing washed over me again. I knew it wasn’t easy for her. After I graduated high school, I got a summer job to try and help out. But when she found out, she mocked me, saying I was too stupid and would just cause trouble for my boss, and she’d have to clean up my messes. I tried to explain that my boss had praised me for being a hard worker, that he really liked me. The look in my mom’s eyes changed then, but she didn’t say anything more. The next day, I found out she had broken her leg in a fall and was in the hospital. I had to quit my job to take care of her. I wanted to get a job in college, but my schedule was packed with classes, and I had club activities and labs on the weekends. I clutched my phone, feeling a profound sense of helplessness. My mom sent another message: 【Jessica, instead of fighting with me over $800, you should take a good, long look at yourself!】 A good, long look at myself? I let out a bitter laugh as tears streamed down my face. 3 I didn’t reply. I just put my phone on silent. All I wanted was to escape the drama with my mom, the fear of becoming a defaulter, the shame of being broke. I just wanted to climb into bed and sleep. I hoped the world would end tomorrow so I could just disappear. My three roommates could tell something was wrong. They all moved around the room quietly. I was touched, but I didn’t even have the energy to say thank you. That night, I had a series of nightmares. In one, I was a child and had done something wrong. My mom pushed me out of the house, screaming that if I was so independent, I shouldn’t spend her money or live in her house. I defiantly started to walk away, but she grabbed me and told me to give her back the life she had given me. In another, we were at the zoo. She asked me what animal was in the cage. I just said “ape,” instead of giving its full scientific classification. She got angry and said she had spent money to bring me here to learn, not to have fun. In another, we were on the street and a trivia show was filming. She pushed me onto the stage to participate. When I couldn’t answer a question, she was so embarrassed that she blended into the crowd and went home without me. A kind woman eventually brought me home, and my mom yelled at her for being a busybody, then mocked me for having the nerve to come back. In another, I was in a college classroom, and someone burst in and demanded I pay them back. All my classmates and the professor were staring at me. I woke up feeling exhausted. The world hadn’t ended. The eight-hundred-dollar debt still hung over my head like a guillotine, waiting to fall. The irony was, I didn’t have a single relative or friend I could borrow eight hundred dollars from. If I asked a relative, I knew my mom would find out in a second. And as for friends… in middle school, my mom only allowed me to shower and wash my hair once a week, because it would “waste study time.” My phone lit up. A text from the credit card company, reminding me that my payment was due tomorrow. And the forum post had been updated. HappyFlower had replied to IronHeart: 【I used your method. For the past two days, she’s been doing whatever I tell her to.】 【She’s always been a pushover. It won’t be long before she comes crawling back to me.】 Her smugness was palpable. I let out a small laugh and, for the last time, I swallowed my pride. I sent a calm message: 【Mom, what do I have to do for you to give me the money?】 The reply came almost instantly, as if she had been waiting for me to surrender. 【Write a 5000-word self-criticism essay, and record a half-hour video reflecting on why you yelled at me the other day. And you have to promise to stop your old habit of stealing. If I’m satisfied, I’ll give you the money.】 My old habit of stealing? My eyes stung. During winter break in elementary school, I fell and scraped my knee. My teacher took me to the clinic and paid for the medicine. When I got home, I asked my mom for twenty dollars to pay her back. She snapped at me, saying it was just a small cut and didn’t need any medicine, and that the teacher should have paid for it. I was mortified. After a long internal struggle, I took twenty dollars from her wallet. She caught me in the act. Not only did I never pay the teacher back, but from then on, at every family gathering, she would tell the story as a funny anecdote. After that, whenever something went missing in the house, she would accuse me of having a relapse. And if something went missing at a relative’s house, they would call my mom and subtly ask if I had taken anything home with me. I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore. The last glimmer of hope died. I blocked her number. The extreme panic of being in debt made my stomach cramp. I ran to the bathroom and retched, but only bitter bile came up. I splashed cold water on my face and looked at the dark circles under my eyes in the mirror. I started to think about how I could possibly make eight hundred dollars in two days. 4 It was the weekend. My roommates were still asleep as I quietly left the dorm. It was early. I walked down the street, looking at the “help wanted” signs in the shop windows. My heart sank with each one I read. The highest daily wage for a part-time job was no more than eighty dollars. It was impossible to make eight hundred dollars in two days. And my family’s financial situation didn’t qualify me for student aid. But there was no time to waste. I walked into a fast-food restaurant and asked the manager if they were hiring students. He looked me up and down, saw my desperation, and agreed. I threw myself into the work, not even stopping to eat, trying to ignore the crushing weight of the number hanging over my head. When I got back to the dorm at nine o’clock that night, I noticed a strange atmosphere among my roommates. But I was too tired to care. My bones ached. I scarfed down the leftovers I had brought back from the restaurant, the hunger hitting me all at once. My phone started ringing. It was my mom. She had probably been waiting all day for my essay and video confession. When they didn’t arrive, she must have tried to message me and realized she was blocked. I stared numbly at the name on the screen, switched my phone to silent, and dragged my heavy body to the bathroom to get ready for another day of work. When I came back, the calls had stopped, replaced by a flood of text messages. 【Jessica, you think you’re so grown up now, giving me the silent treatment?!】 【I guess I’ve been too nice to you, and now you don’t know your place.】 【If I had known you were going to be such an ungrateful brat, I would have strangled you at birth!】 But the vicious curses that used to cut me to the core no longer had any effect. … The next day was the same. I left early and came back late. No matter how hard I tried not to think about it, the deadline was approaching. There were four hours left until the payment was due. I looked at the one hundred and sixty dollars in my bank account. My body went numb. I sat in my chair until the lights went out, until my roommates had all gone to bed, and I didn’t move. My mom had been sending me angry texts all day. I hadn’t responded to a single one. Finally, she went back to the forum to ask IronHeart for help: 【This method isn’t really working!】 【My daughter’s credit card bill is due tonight, but she’s blocked me and won’t reply to anything.】 IronHeart: 【Stay strong. This is a battle of wills. If you give in now, all your previous efforts will be wasted, and you’ll have to give in forever.】 HappyFlower: 【But I’ve invested so much in raising her. What if she really defaults? Will it affect her future career?】 IronHeart: 【You win some, you lose some. If she can’t get a job at a big company, she can just come back to your small town and find a job near you.】 【And kids these days are so sensitive about their reputation. Just blow it up…】 I was wondering how my mom was going to “blow it up” when there was a knock on our dorm room door. Several of my class officers and my academic advisor were standing outside, out of breath. “Is Jessica in her room?” “Her mom said she can’t get in touch with her!” “She said Jessica stole something and is in debt, and that she’s working an ‘improper’ job to pay it off!”

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I was reborn on the day the most popular guy in school was caught stealing from my family’s convenience store. This time, instead of pulling him into the back room to talk, I called the police. My childhood friend and high school heartthrob, Leo, was detained for fifteen days. I used those fifteen days to cut off all contact with him. From then on, if he organized a class event, I was suddenly deathly ill. If he went to the coast for vacation, I went to the desert. Basically: if he was at a party, I was sick. If he was home, I was out of the country. If he was in school, I dropped out. I avoided any and all situations where we might cross paths. In my past life, I loved him for twenty years. But in those twenty years, he never once looked at me with anything but contempt. It wasn’t until our house caught fire that I finally understood. I shielded him and our daughter from the flames, pushing them out the window to safety. They were unharmed. I was burned beyond recognition. But my daughter, the child I had raised with all my heart, turned to the other woman—his first love—and said, “She deserved it. She’s the one who broke you and Dad up. She should have died.” My husband stood beside them, his eyes wet with tears. “I was so afraid I’d never see you again,” he whispered to the other woman. I died consumed by hatred. Reborn, I decided that if he loved his first love so much, I would let them have each other. 1 “Take out what’s in your bag!” “I didn’t steal anything.” “We saw you on the security camera! Don’t make us call the police.” … The shouting woke me up. I forced my eyes open, and the scene before me made me freeze. It was my family’s convenience store, from over a decade ago. The store that held so many of my childhood memories, the store my parents had sold to buy me a house in the city so I could marry Leo. I looked toward the commotion. Two cashiers were yelling at a boy in a school uniform. And that boy was my former husband, Leo. But this time, I didn’t step in to save him. I just dialed 911. “Hello? There’s a shoplifter here.” The police arrived quickly. After reviewing the security footage and taking statements, they took Leo away. He hadn’t stolen much. The officer said he’d probably be held for about fifteen days. Even one of our oldest employees, Mr. Henderson, thought I had gone too far. “Mia, don’t you think that’s a bit much? He’s just a kid. A good talking-to would have been enough. How is he supposed to go to school now?” “It’s for his own good, Mr. Henderson,” I said. “If he steals things when he’s young, he’ll steal people when he’s older.” Without another word, I left the store. Walking down the familiar streets, I couldn’t help but think about my past life. Leo’s family was poor. When I found out he was stealing, I took him to the back room and asked him what was going on. I told my parents, and they felt sorry for him. They ended up sponsoring his education all the way through college. I took care of him like a little brother for years. After we graduated, his disabled mother pushed us to get married. I never would have dreamed that the man I shared a bed with secretly believed I had forced him into marriage, that I had torn him away from his true love, a girl named Chloe. He even turned our daughter against me, making her believe I was a villain. So much so that when I was dying from the burns I sustained protecting them, they were lamenting the fact that they had almost lost Chloe. In my final moments, I just wanted my husband and daughter to be with me, but all I got were their cruel words. “If you hadn’t broken up Dad and Aunt Chloe, none of this would have happened. Stop clinging to him. He deserves to be happy.” “Why don’t you just die already? You’re always using your ‘sacrifices’ to guilt-trip me. I’m so sick of it. Chloe was the one who made me realize that this fire was just another one of your pathetic attempts to get attention, wasn’t it, Mia?” The two people I loved most in the world, saying those things to me as I lay dying. Anger, despair, sadness… it all faded into a numb emptiness. I watched them run to another hospital room to take care of Chloe, who had a cold. And then, I closed my eyes for the last time. But fate had given me a second chance. And this time, I wasn’t going to get involved. If he was hungry, the detention center served three meals a day. 2 During the days Leo was in detention, I systematically eliminated any possibility of our paths crossing in the future. In my past life, we had ended up at the same university. This time, I changed my application and went to a school in New York City. I meticulously planned out every other detail to ensure we would never meet again. My plan was to have everything settled within the fifteen days and then go on a trip with my parents. But four days later, at a class reunion, I saw him again. I guess the police, considering he still had to apply for college, had just given him a warning and let him go. But the news that he had been arrested for shoplifting had already spread. At the reunion, most of our classmates were giving him strange looks. Not that it had anything to do with me. But when I saw the hatred in his eyes, I knew. Leo had been reborn, too. Our classmates were excitedly talking about their college plans. The food hadn’t arrived yet when the door to our private room was thrown open. A girl with a rebellious streak and a defiant look in her eyes stormed in. “Mia, what the hell is your problem!” It was Chloe, Leo’s first love, a girl who had never cared much for school. I glanced at her, not bothering to answer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leo’s face light up. I couldn’t help but remember the twenty years of my past life, how Leo had always looked at me with such coldness. No matter what I did for him, for our family, he never showed me a shred of warmth. Even on the day our daughter was born, his eyes were filled with resentment. I never understood it then. I thought it was just his nature, that his difficult childhood had robbed him of the ability to be happy. So I tried everything to make him smile. I’d buy him gifts with my bonuses, I’d plan family outings. But all I ever got was, “What’s the point? I’d rather just be alone.” The indifference in his eyes cut me to the core. My silence seemed to infuriate Chloe. She grabbed a handful of my hair. “I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?” “Leo’s family is struggling! His mom hasn’t eaten in three days! If you’re so worried about the money, I’ll pay you back!” “We’re all classmates! How could you be so cruel? He only took a little food because he had no other choice! And you had to get him a criminal record? Are you even human?” Chloe’s eyes were red with anger. Her words sent a wave of whispers through the room. “I heard Leo’s dad left and his mom is sick. I guess that’s why he did it.” “Still, you can’t just steal things.” “What would you do if your mom was starving and you had no money?” … Listening to them, I just felt a cold emptiness. They didn’t understand. In my past life, I had felt sorry for him, so my family had supported him for years. It wasn’t until I was engulfed in flames that I finally realized: not everyone is worth saving. I ignored their whispers and said, “Fine. Pay me back.” 3 The room fell silent. Chloe was speechless. Leo’s face paled, and he quickly stood up and came between us. “Mia, I’m sorry about what happened. Please, let’s just drop it. We won’t be seeing each other again anyway.” I glanced at him, saying nothing. The way he emphasized that we wouldn’t be seeing each other again confirmed it. He had been reborn, too. That was fine with me. Twenty years of his coldness had taught me that some hearts can never be warmed. And not only was his heart cold, but he had a way of making everyone around him cold, too. In my past life, our daughter, whom I had cherished, had come to despise me because of his words. Chloe had won her over with a simple birthday cake. But my daughter was allergic to too much cream. They didn’t care about that. All they cared about was that I had “torn them apart.” Fine. This time, I wouldn’t interfere with their love story. “Leo, you don’t have to be afraid of her,” Chloe said. “Let everyone see what a heartless person she is. Anyone who wouldn’t help a classmate whose mother is starving… I wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like that. Who knows when she’ll turn on us.” She looked around the room. The other students were now looking at me with disapproval. Leo’s eyes were filled with contempt and resentment. “Leo is so strong. I always knew his family was struggling, but he never said anything.” “Leo, you should have told us. We would have helped you.” “Don’t worry, Leo. You’re a great guy. Things will get better.” “Don’t listen to her, Leo. She has no compassion. We’re all here for you. No one will misunderstand you.” … The other students were now all on his side, as if I were the villain. But in my past life, I had supported him for four years and taken care of him for twenty. What had I done wrong to deserve such an end? A single tear rolled down Leo’s cheek. “Thank… thank you, everyone.” A flicker of emotion crossed his face, an expression I had never seen before. No matter what I did for him in our past life, he had always been a block of ice. I didn’t watch their performance. I didn’t want to have anything to do with them anymore. After this dinner, the past would be the past. But some people just couldn’t let it go. “Mia, you still have the nerve to sit here and eat?” Chloe said, annoyed. I was getting tired of the drama. “So, you’re saying that stealing is okay?” “Are you a monster? Don’t you have a heart? Stealing is wrong, but look at Leo’s situation! And you’re still acting so high and mighty!” It wasn’t just Chloe anymore. Other students were standing up and defending him. “Mia, I always thought you were a decent person. But you’re just like all those rich people. You have no heart.” “Yeah, Mia. You’re a monster. Your family is the wealthiest in our class, but you wouldn’t even help a classmate in need.” “And you got him a criminal record! What’s he going to do now? I’m disgusted to have been in the same class as you.” … I took a deep breath and looked at Leo. His eyes were filled with a smug pride. Now that he had people on his side, he wasn’t afraid anymore. I put down my chopsticks. “Alright, let me say something.” “What do you have to say? You don’t deserve to speak.” “Let’s just hear what kind of nonsense this heartless person has to say.” I looked around the room, my gaze finally resting on Leo. He flinched, but then Chloe took his hand, and he seemed to regain his composure, staring back at me defiantly. I shook my head and decided to just tell them everything. “When Leo was taken away, I brought his mother rice, flour, oil, and groceries.” “For years, whenever his mother came to our store, I never charged her. I would even find excuses to give her extra things.” “And Leo has been taking things from our store without paying since middle school. My family never said a word.” “But he got greedy. He started taking more than just school supplies and food. Sometimes, he would even take small pieces of jewelry.” “Like the necklace Chloe is wearing right now.” “Since Chloe offered to pay, we have security footage and evidence. You can come to the store and settle the bill.” “And the reason I called the police is because he’s going to college soon. He can’t keep this habit.” “Since you all think I did the wrong thing, then from now on, let’s just not see each other again.” “Especially you, Leo. I hope you and Chloe have a good life.” With that, I stood up and walked out of the room. 4 The room was silent. The information I had just dropped was too much for them to process. They didn’t dare to think that I was lying, because everything I had said could be easily verified. If I had made it all up, I would look like a fool. And I had mentioned security footage. Leo’s eyes were red with a hatred he couldn’t conceal. Chloe’s face was a mask of fury. But none of that mattered to me anymore. I had only said those things to change their perception of me. Connections are always useful, no need to throw them all away. In a few months, I would be in New York City. As for Leo, I hoped he and his little rebel would be happy together. Chloe’s family wasn’t much better off than his. She had no ambition, no drive. It was unlikely they would have a good life. But for some reason, Leo believed that Chloe was the only one who understood him, that she was his soulmate. He had held onto that belief for twenty years. This time, I was curious to see where his “soulmate” would lead him. The next few days were quiet. As I had expected, Chloe didn’t come to the store to pay. But while Leo and Chloe were nowhere to be seen, Leo’s mother showed up. “Mia, I heard that Leo has been taking things from your store without paying.” Leo’s mother was a small, frail woman with a limp. She looked down, her whole body hunched over, the picture of misery. She carefully took out a wad of crumpled bills from her cloth bag. “Mia, Leo is not a bad boy. It’s my fault I can’t provide for him. How much does he owe you? I’ll pay you back.” Seeing her, the woman who had been so kind to me in my past life, my heart ached. No matter how Leo had treated me, his mother had always been loving and supportive. Whenever I came home to visit, she would wake up early, limp to the market, and spend hours cooking a feast for me. The thought that I might never see her again was painful. I didn’t know how this woman, who lived on welfare and the little money she made from sewing, would survive. I quickly helped her up. “Mrs. Davis, you don’t have to do this. It’s not a lot of money. I’m not worried about it. It’s just that Leo is going to college soon, and he can’t keep this habit.” “There are work-study programs in college now. If he works hard, he might even be able to help you out. You’ll have a better life soon.” I went and got the bags of rice, flour, and oil I had already prepared for her. “To celebrate Leo getting into college, let me help you carry these home.” I had packed a lot, knowing she wouldn’t be able to carry it all herself. “No, no, Mia. I can’t take your things for free.” She backed away, waving her hands. I sighed. Mrs. Davis was a good, grateful person. How had she raised a son like Leo? After much persuasion, I finally convinced her to let me help her carry the groceries home. I had intended for this to be our last interaction, but when we got to her apartment, we ran into Leo and Chloe, holding hands. When Leo saw me with his mother, his eyes turned to ice. He quickly walked over, pulled his mother behind him, and said hostilely, “What are you doing here?” Seeing him like this, I felt nothing. The past twenty years had taught me exactly what kind of man he was. His opinion of me no longer mattered.

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During Amber Lin’s darkest year, campus tyrant Rex Shannon assaulted her and posted the video online. I stopped her from jumping off a campus rooftop. She spent five years devouring law books, becoming a brilliant attorney. At the peak of her success, she publicly proposed to me. The media called us the perfect couple. But at City Hall, Rex pulled up in a sports car, kissed her possessively, and smirked at me. “Thanks, buddy. Couldn’t have gotten this top-tier girlfriend without you. You can be our wedding witness.” My blood froze. Amber lowered her eyes—her silence said everything. In that moment, I understood. 1 Rex’s hand was still on Amber’s waist, a clear declaration of ownership. I stared at her, the last five years of my life flashing before my eyes, a dizzying montage that ended with the image of her pale, haunted face on that rooftop. “Leo,” she had whispered that day, “if I’m going to live, I’ll live only for you.” Now, she wouldn’t even give me the courtesy of a glance. Her attention was fixed on the hem of her dress, smoothing a non-existent wrinkle. It was the dress I had picked out for her. She’d said getting the license should still feel special. The irony was a physical blow. “Leo, don’t make a scene,” she finally said, her voice unnervingly calm. “Let’s just go inside and get this over with. Don’t give people a reason to talk.” Her words made Rex laugh. He reached into the pocket of his ridiculously flashy jacket, pulled out a stack of photographs, and fanned them into my face. They fluttered to the ground around my feet. Each one was a picture of them from the night before, in a hotel room. On the sprawling bed, Amber, wearing a scandalously flimsy slip dress, was kissing Rex with a raw, desperate passion I had never seen. A bomb went off in my head. I remembered last night. Amber, who rarely drank, had gotten completely wasted. She came home and kissed me with a wild, frantic energy, clinging to me as if she were drowning. “Leo, I love you, I only love you…” she’d repeated over and over, as if trying to convince me, or maybe herself. In the middle of it, her phone had buzzed. The moment she saw the caller ID, the color drained from her face. She shoved me away. I reached for her, my voice hoarse. “What’s wrong?” She avoided my eyes, her voice laced with panic. “We’re getting married tomorrow. I’m… I’m just a little nervous. I need to be alone for a bit.” She had fled our apartment and never came back. It wasn’t nerves. She was rushing to keep an appointment with another man. I bent down, my movements stiff, and picked up every single photograph. I walked over to Amber. She instinctively took a step back. A bitter laugh escaped me. I tore the photos into a thousand tiny pieces. Then, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small velvet box. Inside was the diamond ring I’d spent three months’ salary on. As Amber’s pupils contracted in shock, I took two steps back and tossed the box into a nearby storm drain. The soft splash was the final, definitive end to our five years. “Leo!” Amber’s face was now ashen. “What do you think you’re doing?” “What am I doing?” I repeated, the words choking me. “You’re asking me what I’m doing?” Rex stepped in front of her, jabbing a finger in my face. “Don’t push your luck, kid. If you ruin my day, you won’t be walking away from here.” I ignored him. My eyes were fixed on Amber, the girl I thought I had pulled back from hell itself. I was wrong. She’d never left. She’d just found a new way to live in it, in a gilded cage Rex had built for her. I turned, reached into my briefcase, and pulled out another file. This was the real wedding gift I had prepared for her. A comprehensive dossier detailing Rex Shannon’s history of campus bullying, business fraud, rape, and bribery. For five years, while I worked myself to the bone to pay for her education, I had been quietly gathering every scrap of evidence. I had thought that letting her be the one to put this monster behind bars would be the ultimate catharsis, the final act of her rebirth. But now, she was standing with the monster. I walked straight to a police officer who was handling a minor traffic dispute nearby. Under Amber and Rex’s stunned gazes, I handed him the heavy file. “Officer, I’d like to file a report.” I pointed first at Rex, then at Amber. “Against Rex Shannon. For bullying, rape…” Amber’s composure finally shattered. She rushed toward me, trying to snatch the file from my hands, but the officer blocked her way. She looked at me, her eyes void of guilt or remorse. There was only a cold, burning hatred. Then, without a backward glance, she got into Rex’s obscenely red sports car. The sound of sirens filled the air as I was escorted into the back of a police cruiser. Through the window, I watched the red car carrying my fiancée disappear down the street. My bride had run off with her rapist. And I, on my wedding day, was on my way to jail. 2 “The chain of evidence is weak, and too much time has passed. It’ll be very difficult to build a case.” In the sterile interrogation room, a young officer shook his head as he looked through the file I’d given him. I sat on the cold metal chair, the words not registering. My mind was a relentless loop of the last five years. To send Amber to the best law school overseas, I’d worked three jobs a day. Construction sites in the morning, washing dishes at a restaurant at night, and food delivery in the dead of morning. She suffered from severe PTSD. Nightmares would rip her from sleep, and she’d wake up screaming. I would hold her, night after night, whispering, “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re safe.” I thought I had pulled her from the abyss. I never imagined she would willingly jump back in. The door to the room creaked open. Amber walked in, flanked by a high-powered legal team. Her makeup was flawless, her expression unreadable. She looked at me as if I were a complete stranger. A ridiculous spark of hope ignited in my chest. Was she here to help me? Did she still care? My delusion was shattered a second later. She placed a crisp legal document on the table in front of me, her voice as cold as the steel table. “Leo, I am Mr. Rex Shannon’s legal counsel. I am formally requesting that you retract your baseless accusations and issue a public apology to my client. Your actions constitute slander and false accusation.” I stared at the document. The words “legal counsel” burned into my retinas. I looked up at the face I had loved for five years, my voice trembling. “Amber, have you forgotten what you said to me on that rooftop? You said you would make monsters like Rex pay. You said you would use the law to protect people like you. Have you forgotten all of it?” Her expression didn’t flicker. A small, mocking smile touched her lips. “You have to look forward, Leo.” She sat across from me, crossing her legs elegantly. “I just want to survive. To live a better life. You can’t hold my future hostage with your cheap pity and our so-called past.” She paused, her face softening into a look of condescending pity. “Rex’s father has promised to invest thirty million dollars into my new law firm if I make this go away. Do you know what that means? It means I’ll be instantly catapulted to the top of my field.” I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice. “So, your idea of success is being his dog?” SLAP! The sound cracked through the quiet room. A fiery sting spread across my cheek. Amber’s hand was shaking, her chest heaving. My words had clearly struck a nerve. “What do you know?” she hissed. “This is a shortcut! A shortcut you, who will spend your entire life crawling in the dirt, could never understand!” She pulled a black credit card from her Hermès bag and threw it on the table. “There’s half a million dollars on this. Consider it repayment for the last five years. As of today, we’re even.” Half a million. She was buying my five years of devotion, of sacrifice, of love, for half a million dollars. I looked at the cold, plastic card and started to laugh. I laughed until tears pricked my eyes. I picked up the card between two fingers. As Amber watched, stunned, I snapped it in two. The pieces clattered onto the floor, a perfect metaphor for my shattered heart. I stood up, my voice low and steady. “Amber. We’re not even. You are in my debt. And I will make you pay it back. With interest.” Just then, the officer returned. “We’ve accepted your report,” he said. “As for the counter-accusation of slander against you, there’s currently insufficient evidence. You’re free to go. We’ll be in touch.” I pushed my chair back and walked out of the station without looking back. The moment I was outside, I deleted every trace of her from my phone. In my world, there was no more Amber Lin. There was only a debt, written in blood. 3 I went back to our “home”—the apartment I had renovated with my own blood and sweat, the place I thought would be our marital home. All of Amber’s things were gone. All that remained was the mess she’d left behind and the echoing emptiness of the rooms, mocking me. On the wall, our favorite photo was still hanging. In it, she was smiling, nestled in my arms, looking like she had the whole world. I took it down and threw it, along with every other memory of her, into the dumpster outside. My father was a respected judge, a man of unwavering integrity who had worked himself into an early grave. I had planned to visit his grave today, to show him our marriage certificate. I bought a bouquet of white chrysanthemums and went to the cemetery. From a distance, I saw a group of people clustered around my father’s headstone. As I got closer, my feet froze. It was Rex and Amber. Rex was slowly pouring a bottle of expensive red wine over my father’s tombstone. The dark liquid snaked down the cold stone, staining it. “You old bastard,” he sneered. “You just had to go after my dad for that little issue, didn’t you? Cost our family a fortune. And look what happened. The star student you were so proud of ended up in my bed anyway.” He continued his vile tirade, and Amber… Amber just stood there. She held a file in her hands, her expression blank, her eyes empty, completely unmoved as my father’s final resting place was desecrated. Rage, pure and white-hot, flooded my senses. “Rex! I’ll kill you!” I shoved past his bodyguards and slammed my fist into his face. He staggered back, spitting blood. I lunged at him again, but his two massive bodyguards grabbed me, pinning me to the ground. The taste of dirt and grass filled my mouth. I struggled, my eyes locked on Amber. “Amber! Look at him! He’s insulting my father! The man who helped you! He’s insulting everything you once believed in! You said you wanted to be like him!” Amber finally moved. She walked over and crouched down in front of me, showing me the file in her hands. It was a collection of withdrawal applications. A list of names, all victims in the same case—a business fraud case against Rex’s father from years ago. My father had been the presiding judge, the one who had pushed for a full investigation against immense pressure. Now, Amber had used her legal prowess to intimidate or bribe every single victim into dropping their claims. It meant the case my father had died fighting for would be buried forever. She wouldn’t meet my eyes. Her voice was a whisper. “You have to look forward, Leo. Reopening old wounds doesn’t help anyone.” Rex wiped the blood from his lip and swaggered over. “Hahaha!” He wrapped an arm around Amber’s waist, his eyes glinting with triumph. “You hear that? Your old man was a stubborn fool. And now, your girlfriend has used everything he taught her to plug every legal hole for my family.” He leaned down, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper only I could hear. “You know, last night, she used that same clever mouth to please me. I wonder what your dad would think if he knew. Would he crawl out of his grave?” “I’ll kill you!” I lost control, lunging again. My fist never connected. His bodyguards slammed me back onto the ground. Rex placed his foot on my right hand and slowly, deliberately, began to grind his heel into it. “Aaargh!” The sound of my own bones cracking echoed through the cemetery, followed by my agonized scream. Pain exploded through my hand, radiating up my arm. My body convulsed, a cold sweat drenching my shirt. Just before I blacked out, I forced my head up to look at Amber. She just stood there, watching, a cold, indifferent spectator. The last thing I heard before the world went dark was her voice, speaking to Rex. “Don’t kill him. Keep him alive. He’s still useful.”

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1 A morning call from The Sterling Grand shattered my peace. A manager informed me an intimacy kit from my suite last night had been charged to my account. I froze mid-sip. I’d been working all night at the lab—nowhere near a hotel. I turned to my husband Ethan, the only other person with my account details. “Explain this.” He looked up from his phone, feigning innocence. “Why would I pay for that hotel? It must be a glitch.” He scoffed. “I’ll complain tomorrow.” I didn’t bother arguing. My best friend Vivian owned the hotel chain. I called her directly. “Find out who Ethan checked in with. I’m exposing a cheater.” His excuse was absurd. Vivian had given me a lifetime Founder’s Card—untraceable and exclusive to me. Yet the hotel claimed I’d stayed in the Presidential Suite and used minibar condoms. They confirmed three times: the guest was registered under my name, Chloe Sutton. Rage surged through me. I remembered Ethan mocking me when I first wanted to use the suite. “Isn’t our house enough? Always wasting money.” But it was my gift—why shouldn’t I use it? Furious, I drove straight to the hotel. With the holidays approaching, the lobby was a chaotic sea of tourists checking in. I waited nearly half an hour for the crowd at the front desk to thin. “Hi, I’m Chloe Sutton. You called me this morning,” I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. The receptionist glanced up, her expression shifting to one of confusion. “Ms. Sutton? But… you’re already back in your room, aren’t you? You specifically requested no housekeeping services.” My face hardened. She continued, oblivious. “Just ten minutes ago, a ‘Ms. Sutton’ called down to activate the ‘Do Not Disturb’ service for the suite.” I was trembling with fury. That little tramp had the audacity to use my name. “I am the real Chloe Sutton,” I said through gritted teeth. The receptionist gave me a condescending once-over. “Ma’am, if you don’t have a reservation, I’ll have to ask you to leave. We’re very busy today. Please don’t make a scene.” Her voice dripped with disdain. “The real Ms. Sutton checked in with her husband using a Founder’s Card. I may not have seen her, but Mr. Vance is a regular guest of ours. There’s no mistake.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. My husband. Someone else’s husband. The irony was suffocating. Just then, the elevator chimed open. A young woman walked out, draped in a new-season Chanel suit. Around her neck was the Cartier diamond necklace I’d won at a charity gala auction for over a quarter of a million dollars. I recognized her instantly. Mia Foster, a fresh-faced intern from Ethan’s office. The receptionist looked at her like a savior. “See? This is Ms. Sutton,” she said, gesturing toward Mia. “The lady of the suite is right here. I suggest you leave before you cause any more trouble.” Mia’s face paled when she saw me, but she quickly plastered on a fake smile. “Chloe! What a coincidence! Are you staying here, too?” I slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me, Mia. I think you owe me an explanation. Why are you checked in under my name? Why am I being charged for your condoms?” My voice rose with every question. “And while we’re at it, why are you wearing my shoes? And since when is my husband your husband?” My voice echoed across the grand lobby. The bustling crowd fell silent, and every eye turned to Mia. She glanced around, her eyes instantly welling with tears. “Chloe, what are you talking about? My husband got me this hotel card because he felt bad I was working so hard. He bought me these shoes, too.” She lowered her head, feigning a blush. “And as for the… condoms… is there a problem with me using them with my own husband?” Suddenly, she looked at me with pity. “Chloe… has Ethan been treating you badly? Are you under a lot of stress? I can help you find a good therapist if you need one.” Her performance sparked whispers in the crowd. “Look at her, she looks so worn out. I bet her husband doesn’t touch her.” “That Founder’s Card costs at least fifty grand just to open. She doesn’t look like she could afford that.” “They really let anyone into these high-end places now, don’t they?” I was just in a simple blouse and jeans, hardly the mess they were describing. I ignored them, a cold smile touching my lips as I looked at Mia. “I never realized you were such a talented actress.” I turned back to the receptionist. “When this ‘Ms. Sutton’ checked in, did you verify her identification?” The woman stammered, “Well, she said she didn’t have her ID, but Mr. Vance is a regular, so…” “So you decided to violate hotel policy?” I cut her off, my voice sharp as glass. “Your security protocols are a joke.” The receptionist fell silent. Mia jumped in, playing the peacemaker. “Chloe, she’s just doing her job, why are you making things difficult for her? You know what they say, people stay where they belong. Stop making a scene.” The insinuation was clear: I didn’t belong here. Just then, her phone rang. The screen lit up with the caller ID: My Husband. “Answer it,” I sneered. “Put it on speaker. I want to hear what new lies Ethan has cooked up.” Mia, looking smug, answered the call and immediately switched to a tearful, panicked voice. “Honey, you have to get to the hotel! There’s a crazy woman here claiming I’m not your wife! She’s trying to get me thrown out…” She sobbed theatrically. On the other end, Ethan’s voice exploded with rage. “What crazy woman dares to mess with you? Don’t worry, baby, I’m on my way!” Crazy woman. So that’s what I was to him now. The onlookers stared at me with open disgust. Someone even stepped forward to comfort Mia. “Don’t mind her, dear. You can’t reason with crazy.” Mia offered a soft ‘thank you’ before turning back to me with a look of feigned concern. “My husband’s on his way. He has a bit of a temper. You should probably go.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “He gave me this fifty-thousand-dollar card without a second thought. That’s how much he adores me. I can’t imagine what he’ll do to you when he gets here.” It was a threat disguised as advice. I was shaking, clenching my fists to stop myself from tearing that smug, deceitful mask off her face. Ethan arrived faster than I expected. He stormed into the lobby, and the moment his eyes landed on me, they turned venomous. He shoved me aside, a brutal, unexpected force, and pulled Mia into a protective embrace. “It’s okay, I’m here now,” he murmured, stroking her hair with a tenderness that made my stomach churn. The polished marble floor offered no friction. I stumbled backward, my hip slamming hard into the arm of a velvet sofa. If it hadn’t been there, I would have collapsed. Mia, meanwhile, stood on her toes, wrapped her arms around Ethan’s neck, and pulled him into a wet, sloppy, performative kiss right in the middle of the lobby. “Oh, baby, you’re the best,” she said, breathless and cloying. “You have to set this woman straight. She doesn’t believe a word I say!” Only then did Ethan look at me. There was no guilt in his eyes, only pure, unadulterated loathing. He released Mia and strode toward me. Without warning, he raised his hand, and the crack of his palm against my cheek echoed in the suddenly silent lobby. “Mia Foster! Have you no shame?” he roared, his voice filled with righteous fury. “Just because I turned you down for that promotion, just because I refused to sleep with you, you’ve held a grudge all this time?” He gestured wildly between us. “And now you have the nerve to show up here and harass my wife!” I cradled my stinging, swollen cheek, staring at him in disbelief. This man was a stranger. Before I’d left the house, he’d played the part of the concerned husband on the phone, patiently telling me not to overthink things. Now, he was standing here, spinning a web of lies without a flicker of remorse, even hitting me. He had always been two-faced. The memories clicked into place. The way his eyes would light up when I bought him the latest gaming console, but glaze over with contempt when I talked about my research breakthroughs, which he called “a pile of useless scrap metal.” His concern was never for me, only for my bank account. Maybe he never loved me. Maybe he never even tried to know me. A chilling calm settled over my rage. I lowered my hand and met his gaze, my voice so steady it surprised even me. “Ethan. Say that again.” “Tell me,” I continued, “who am I? And who is she?” A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, but it was quickly buried under a new layer of aggressive bluster. “Are you deaf or just crazy? I said it loud and clear! She,” he said, pointing a dramatic finger at Mia, “is my wife, Chloe Sutton! And you,” he spat, “are Mia Foster, a bitter intern who couldn’t take no for an answer!” He raked his eyes over me, his tone dripping with scorn. “Take a look at yourself, lady. You’ve got to be, what, pushing forty? Do you really think I’d marry someone like you? Get a grip.” The crowd erupted in a fresh wave of murmurs. “Tsk, can’t find a husband so she tries to ruin someone else’s happiness.” “I told you she was nuts. Delusional, too. Scary.” “That poor couple, having to deal with this psycho.” I stood in silence, watching their pathetic drama unfold. He was going to protect Mia at all costs, even if it meant burying me in filth. But did he really think he could rewrite reality with just his words? Slowly, I reached into my purse and pulled out my passport and our marriage certificate. “I believe these will clarify who I am.” Ethan and Mia’s faces froze. Mia’s eyes went wide, and she tugged frantically at Ethan’s sleeve. He lunged forward, snatched the documents from my hand, and without a glance, flung them out through the revolving doors. “Are you ever going to give up?!” he bellowed, a vein throbbing in his temple, his performance reaching a fever pitch. “Last time it was a fake ID, and now this? Forged passports and marriage certificates? Have you no shame, Mia? I swear to God, I’ll call the cops right now and have you arrested for harassment and forgery of federal documents!” The crowd’s looks of scorn had morphed into genuine anger. “Call the cops!” someone shouted. “Get her out of here!” I had to admire his quick thinking. The second I presented evidence, he branded it a forgery. At that moment, I almost wished it was. Mia, visibly relieved, snuggled back into Ethan’s arms. She looked at me, her voice dripping with venomous pity. “You know, Chloe—I mean, Mia—that abusive husband of yours has clearly given you some serious issues. I can recommend a great psychiatrist. And a top-notch divorce lawyer.” She enunciated the word “divorce” with relish. Once I was out of the picture, she could finally be the real Mrs. Vance. Ethan sealed her performance with a kiss on her forehead. His gaze, when it returned to me, was glacial. “Get out. Now. Or I’m calling the police.” He then barked at the receptionist. “Get security down here and remove this lunatic! Who knows what she’ll do next? What if she hurts one of the other guests?” The crowd, now a mob, chimed in. “Get her out of here, or we’ll all file complaints against the hotel!” The receptionist scrambled to call security on her walkie-talkie. Two large guards appeared and grabbed my arms, dragging me toward the exit. I struggled, my elbow scraping painfully against a pillar in the scuffle. In the chaos, Mia drifted closer, unnoticed. Then, just as I was off-balance, she expertly stuck out her foot. I went down hard. “Oh my god!” Mia shrieked, feigning shock. “Are you trying to scam us now? I was just trying to help you, and you threw yourself on the floor to blame me!” A golf-ball-sized lump immediately formed on my ankle. My knee was a mess of raw, scraped skin, blood already seeping through my jeans. The pain was blinding. I tried to stand, but my leg wouldn’t hold my weight. Ethan just watched, his expression cold and detached, as if I were a complete stranger. My heart, in that moment, turned to ice. There was nothing left to hope for from him. With a trembling hand, I fumbled for my phone to call 911. But as soon as the screen unlocked, Ethan lunged, snatching it from my grasp. “What do you think you’re doing? Calling the cops?” he sneered, twisting the narrative. “Everyone here saw you fall on purpose. You’re not pinning this on my wife or this hotel.” “I have a bleeding disorder,” I gasped through the pain. “Call an ambulance.” He didn’t move. Instead, he hurled my phone across the lobby, where it skittered under a concierge desk. The receptionist, terrified of getting involved, just stood there, wringing her hands. I was utterly alone. Gritting my teeth against the waves of agony, I started to drag myself across the floor, using my good leg to push. Suddenly, a sharp stiletto heel ground into the back of my hand. Mia loomed over me. “Sign a statement,” she whispered, “admitting this was all your fault, and I’ll call an ambulance for you. Otherwise…” She pressed down harder. An excruciating pain shot up my arm, mixing with the throbbing in my knee and ankle. It was so intense I nearly passed out. I couldn’t speak, could only tremble from the pain and rage, my vision starting to blur at the edges. Just as I felt myself slipping into darkness, the sharp, rapid click-clack of high heels echoed from the entrance. My best friend, Vivian Sterling, was striding into the lobby like a storm. “Chloe, I checked the records! That bastard Ethan really is cheating! He’s used this hotel more in the past year than you have in your entire life!” Her voice was a thunderclap. “And he dared to give my Founder’s Card to his little tramp? I’m going to skin him alive today!” Vivian, flanked by several senior hotel executives and a new security team, marched toward the scene. Her furious tirade came to an abrupt halt when she saw me, crumpled and bleeding on the floor. The arrogant receptionist, who had been sneering moments before, turned white as a sheet. “Ms… Ms. Sterling…” she stammered.

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The year I turned twenty-eight, Sienna became the uncrowned queen of Port City. She had eliminated the last of the men who’d ever laid a hand on me. She commanded thirty-seven of the city’s docks and eighteen satellite casinos. Millions flowed into her coffers every day. She held the city in the palm of her hand. It was also the year I found our son, Leo, who had been missing for a decade. Our family, our empire—it was all finally coming together. But just as I was about to share the good news with Sienna, I got a call from the flagship casino in the middle of the night. “Nate,” her manager’s voice was strained. “Can you come down here?” “There’s… someone making a scene. He’s telling everyone the boss… that she forced herself on him.” I assumed it was a rival trying to stir up trouble and rushed over. But when I arrived, the only person I saw was a beautiful young man. He wore a wedding band on his finger—the exact same design as mine. But his face held an arrogance I’d never possessed. When he saw me, he shot me a defiant look and then deliberately ground the memorial photo of my daughter, Lily, under his heel. “Sienna was supposed to be here at midnight for my birthday,” he pouted. “If she’s not, then I’m going to make a scene. I’ll make a huge scene!” 1. The memorial table was a disaster. Lily’s photo was covered in shoe prints, and the offerings were scattered across the floor. The once-deafening roar of the casino floor had fallen silent. Even Sienna’s most seasoned capos didn’t dare breathe too loudly. They were all bowing and scraping, trying to placate this petulant boy. “Who is he?” I asked. The manager hesitated, stammering for a moment before he finally managed to get the words out. The young man’s name was Julian. He was a college student, not even twenty, and Sienna was… very fond of him. I was about to ask what “fond of him” meant when a shoulder slammed into mine, shoving me aside. When I looked up, Sienna was already showing me the answer. She draped her own coat over Julian’s shoulders, her face melting into a fond, indulgent smile. “My little trouble, what are you doing out here in the cold?” she murmured. “I wanted to be with you, but today is the anniversary of Lily’s death…” She sighed, stroking his hair. “Okay, okay, it’s all my fault. You can hit me, you can scream at me, just don’t catch a cold.” When they called, I’d been terrified something had happened to Sienna. I’d run out of the house in just a thin shirt. Now, the night wind cut through the fabric, a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature. I hesitated, then finally called her name. “Sienna.” She flinched, only then realizing it was me she had shoved. But the flicker of recognition lasted only a second before it was replaced by a careless smile. “Nathan? What are you doing here?” she asked. “Did our little troublemaker call you? Don’t mind him. He’s young, just loves to cause drama.” She gave Julian a playful pat on the backside. “Go back to the room and wait for me,” she whispered, then turned back to me. “You go home, too. I’ll be back in the morning.” She said it so casually, as if betrayal was the most natural thing in the world. When I didn’t move, Sienna stepped forward and brushed a few snowflakes from my shoulder. “Be good, Nate. Don’t stoop to his level.” The light overhead flickered, and for a moment, I was thrown back in time. To the year we were most in love, when Sienna had grabbed my hand under these same city lights and sworn an oath. Till death do us part. I will never betray you. If I do, may I die a dog’s death. My lips tightened. I snatched a heavy crystal vase from a nearby table and smashed it over her head. A collective gasp filled the room, punctuated by Julian’s shrill scream. He scrambled into Sienna’s arms like a startled fawn, whimpering that he was scared. Blood was trickling down Sienna’s temple, but her first instinct was to shield Julian’s face, to protect him from the sight of her own weakness. Her voice, when she spoke to me, was sharp with annoyance. “Julian is sensitive. He can’t handle things like this,” she said. “Go home, Nathan. Don’t make this any uglier than it has to be.” I looked at the blood-stained shard of glass in my hand and laughed, a cold, empty sound. Then I hurled it at her again. “You think this is ugly?” I snarled. “Remember the time I took eighteen stab wounds for you? My intestines were spilling out. You held them in with one hand and carried me on your back for miles, leaving a trail of blood the whole way. That was ugly.” At the mention of our bloody past, the boy in her arms trembled. Sienna immediately covered his ears, her brow furrowed. “That’s enough! Don’t talk about that in front of him,” she snapped. “He’s not like you. If he gets scared, he won’t be able to sleep.” Of course, he wasn’t like me. At his age, if I had seen someone lay a hand on Sienna, I would have grabbed the nearest blade and fought to the death. Perhaps worried about what other secrets I might reveal, Sienna sighed and waved her men over to escort Julian away. The boy was clingy, clutching her jacket, refusing to let go until Sienna cooed and promised him the world. Only when we were completely alone did she finally sit down across from me. She lit a cigarette, the smoke veiling her face. All I could hear was her voice, steady and devoid of any emotion. 2. “You’re a grown man, Nathan. Why are you picking a fight with a kid?” “I’ve told you, you’re the only one I love. But I’m still human. I have needs.” Sienna casually tapped the ash from her cigarette. Her gaze lingered for a second on the raw, red skin of my chest, chapped from the cold, before quickly looking away. “Look at those scars on your body. They’re terrifying,” she said. “Every time you take your clothes off, I see them… all of them… and I just feel… so…” She paused, then delivered the final blow with chilling precision. “Disgusted.” With that, she stood up. She took the signet ring from her finger—the one she’d killed for, the symbol of her power—and pressed it into my hand. “But don’t worry,” she said, her voice softening into a hollow imitation of comfort. “No matter what, I’ll always love you. No matter who I’m with, no one will ever take your place.” “It’s just… I’ve fought and bled my whole life to get here. Now that things are finally stable, I just want to enjoy myself.” For years, that’s what she’d always told me. Just wait, Nate. Wait until I control all the docks. Wait until I’m at the very top. Then I’ll go straight, and we can finally have a real life. For that promise, I had been beaten, cursed, and stabbed until my body was a roadmap of scars. I never thought of letting go. But my idea of a “real life” was a quiet home with our two children. Hers, apparently, was keeping a pretty young boy on the side. I took a deep breath, looking at the woman before me. She was so familiar, yet a complete stranger. The Sienna who swore she’d paint the city red for me was gone. The Sienna who found me in an alley, a street kid digging through trash, and promised me a home… she was a ghost. My thumb traced the cool steel of the gun tucked in my waistband. I took one last look at her and said, “Let’s get a divorce.” If I were nineteen again, I would have burned this place to the ground. I would have carved up this cheating pair and thrown them into the harbor for the sharks. But now… I touched the locket I wore, a picture of my children inside. A bitter wave of grief washed over me. It was in this very casino, a decade ago, that Sienna and I were hiding from our enemies with our children. Our son, Leo, was lost in the chaos. And our daughter, Lily… I smothered her with my own hands. We were crammed into a shipping crate, trying to escape. To stop her cries from giving us away, I held my hand over her mouth. I held it there until she stopped breathing. The sound of Sienna’s screams that day could be heard across the entire city. She cut off her own pinky finger, swearing an oath on Lily’s body that she would avenge our child. And I prayed. I swore that if Lily could ever forgive me, if Leo ever came back to me, I would dedicate my life to peace. I would never kill again. Now, Sienna was the queen of Port City, the master of this casino. She could reattach her finger and forget her vows. She could let her lover desecrate our daughter’s memory. But I couldn’t. I had to live for my children now. I had to leave this life of blood and betrayal behind. And take my son somewhere safe, somewhere we could finally live in peace. 3. Sienna didn’t agree to the divorce. Not because she couldn’t bear to let me go. It was because her new boy toy called, whimpering that he was afraid of the dark. She rushed out so quickly she didn’t even hear what I’d said. That impatient little brat couldn’t wait to rub it in my face. A video message popped up on my phone. In a penthouse apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows, Sienna was kneeling on the floor, washing his feet. I knew that building. When we first came to Port City, broke and dreaming, we used to stand on the street below and stare up at it. We promised each other that one day, we’d stand together in one of those windows, looking out at the city we’d conquered. A life with my love, sharing that view… it was all I ever wanted. Now, Sienna could afford to buy the entire building. But the person living there with her wasn’t me. Decades of shared blood and battle couldn’t compete with a pretty face and a gentle touch. I tried to let it go. I really tried. But I couldn’t. I carefully cleaned Lily’s photograph, lit a stick of incense, and made a phone call. The next morning, a gift box was delivered to Sienna’s desk. Inside, resting on a bed of silk, was Julian’s severed finger. The blood was still wet, a shocking crimson against the sparkle of his wedding band. Sienna was livid. She had the man who did the job dragged before me, his face a bloody pulp. “Nathan, you’ve gone too far,” she said, her voice dangerously low. “Julian is just a kid.” A kid? The word was a dagger in my heart. I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. Our Lily was buried in the cold earth. Our Leo was still lost somewhere in this cruel world. Every night I spent missing them, every night Sienna was gone, I was sick with worry. Worried our enemies would find me. Worried Sienna was in danger. Worried I would lose her the same way I lost my children. And where was she? In Julian’s arms, probably laughing at the pathetic fool who loved her so much it made him weak. I clenched my fists. “Sign the divorce papers,” I said, my voice hoarse. “And I’ll leave your little lover alone. Otherwise, I don’t care where you hide him. I will find him.” “I’ll cut off his fingers, his ears, his nose. One by one,” I promised. “Let’s see what you run out of first: his body parts, or your time.” Sienna just smiled, radiating absolute confidence. “You won’t,” she said. “I know you, Nathan. You love me too much. You’d never tear us apart over some outsider.” Before she could finish, a soft moan came from the phone she was holding. Her face softened, her thoughts already with Julian. With a swift, clean motion, she slit the throat of the man kneeling on the floor. Then she left, hurrying back to her lover. After that, Sienna kept Julian under even tighter guard. So I went after her empire instead. In seven days, I hit all thirty-seven docks and eighteen satellite casinos. Every single place Julian had ever set foot in, I tore it apart. One afternoon, as I was personally wrecking the main casino floor, one of my men called. “Nate, it’s bad! Someone’s at the cemetery! They’re trying to dig up Lily’s grave!” “What?” My blood ran cold. I floored it, racing towards the cemetery. As I neared the entrance, a car, driving recklessly on the wrong side of the road, slammed directly into me. 4. In the split second before the pain hit, I saw the license plate. A-927. The date Lily died. There was only one person in Port City who would dare use that plate. Sienna. Sure enough, I heard Julian’s cloying voice drift from the other car. “Oh no, Sienna! I hit someone! Are they going to arrest me? I’m so scared! I don’t want to leave you!” Sienna kissed his cheek, her voice a soothing murmur. She didn’t even glance in my direction. She just had one of her men toss a stack of cash onto my crumpled car. Using the power I helped her build to trample on my dignity. A white-hot pain tore through my abdomen, spreading like fire. I clutched my stomach, gritting my teeth as I looked up. Through the shattered windshield, I could see them. Sienna’s men were digging up Lily’s grave. Julian snuggled against Sienna, looking up with wide, innocent eyes. “Sienna, do you think Nathan will be mad about this? What if he comes after me again? He’s so scary…” Sienna stroked his hair, unconcerned. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’m here to protect you. I own this city now.” Julian, emboldened by her devotion, pouted. “Really? Then after all I’ve been through for you, just giving me that theme park isn’t enough. I want you to get on all fours and let me ride you like a horse!” Sienna just smiled and nodded. He pressed his advantage. “And I want you to bake me a birthday cake. And watch the stars with me. And set off fireworks.” “And, and! I want us to have lots and lots of babies together!” Sienna’s smile grew wider. This woman, who had clawed her way to the top through a sea of blood, was now simpering like a lovesick girl. She pulled Julian into a tight hug, nodding again and again. “Yes, yes, of course. Anything you want, my love. Anything!” No matter how outrageous his demands, she agreed without hesitation, that doting smile never leaving her face. The roar of the excavator was the symphony to their love story. And the small body buried in the ground was just a prop. The prayer beads on my wrist were stained with my own blood. The last shred of mercy in my heart burned away, leaving only a pure, cold need for vengeance. I pulled out my gun and, without a second’s hesitation, fired. The moment the shot rang out, Sienna instinctively threw her body over Julian, shielding him. In the next instant, dozens of guns were pointed at me. The pain in my gut intensified. It was as if Lily herself was crying out from her disturbed grave. I stared at Sienna, my voice a venomous hiss. “You’d disturb our daughter’s eternal rest for this… this piece of trash? Sienna, you are no mother.” Sienna frowned. “Calm down, Nathan. Our child is dead. The living are more important.” The living are more important? No. The new toy is more important than the old love. I fought through the waves of pain and raised my gun again. But before I could pull the trigger, Julian stepped out from behind Sienna. He was holding Lily’s urn. With a smirk, he hurled it to the ground. The container shattered. The ashes, everything that was left of my daughter, scattered in the wind. Lily was gone. Again. “LILY!” I lunged forward, a raw, animalistic scream tearing from my throat. The rage was so immense it completely eclipsed the pain. Only after I had desperately scooped what little I could of the ashes into my arms did I realize. My old wounds had torn open. My pants were soaked through with fresh blood. The world tilted, and I fell. I woke up in a hospital. One of my men was pacing by the bed, looking at me with an expression of pure agony. He opened his mouth to speak several times, but couldn’t. Finally, Dr. Evans came in and told me. “Nathan… your son, Leo… he’s gone.” “Someone leaked his location. By the time your men got there, our rivals had already… they’d already taken him apart.” I closed my eyes, a profound, soul-crushing despair washing over me. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. My daughter, her ashes scattered to the winds. My son, dismembered by my enemies. Ten years ago, I was too late. Ten years later, I was still too late. Seeing the utter devastation on my face, the doctor sighed. “Sienna… she thought you were faking it. She refused to leave Julian’s side to come here. She still doesn’t know about Leo.” I said nothing. My grief was hardening into a cold, unbreakable resolve. There was no point in sorrow. Every single person who had a hand in my children’s deaths would pay. In blood. When I returned to the villa, it was in chaos. Julian was directing the staff to throw all of my belongings into the street. He smirked when he saw me. “Thanks for that bullet, Nathan. Sienna said I was so traumatized that I needed to move in here to recover.” Sienna shook her head and called him a little devil, but there was no anger in her voice. She just waved a dismissive hand. “Julian didn’t mean to break the urn. I’ve already hired a master to find a new, better burial plot. Let him stay here for a while. He’ll be good, he won’t get in your way. And he’ll never take your place.” No one in Port City could take my place. Not even Sienna. I ignored them both. I took the ashes of my children and went straight to the airport. As the plane climbed high above Port City, the timers on the bombs in the villa reached zero. I looked down at the glittering, familiar landscape below and whispered, “You once made a vow, Sienna.” “If you ever betrayed me, you would die a dog’s death.” You couldn’t keep your promise. So I’m keeping it for you. … In the villa, just as Sienna was about to tumble into bed with Julian, she got a call from Dr. Evans. The doctor’s voice was sharp with blame. “Sienna, Nathan has suffered so much for you over the years. I can understand you not showing up when he was in the hospital. But Leo… how could you not even ask about Leo? He was your son, too!” “Lily is gone. And now Leo is dead.” “If Nathan ever finds out the truth about what happened back then… he will never, ever forgive you.” Leo is dead? When? A shiver went down Sienna’s spine. Nathan’s pale, bloodless face flashed in her mind. A deep unease settled in her gut. She glanced in the direction he had gone. Before she could ask another question, the world exploded.

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I’ve always had a sixth sense for disaster, a chilling premonition that has saved my life more times than I can count. The Thanksgiving holiday was over, and I was heading back to the city with my boyfriend, Leo, for work. Right before boarding, I was hit with a vision of a plane crash. I blocked the gate, screaming for everyone to stop, and was dragged away by airport security for causing a panic. Five hours later, after a long delay, the plane landed safely. But the passengers, riding a wave of media attention, went live on social media, branding me an extremist, a cult member trying to sabotage the flight. They cried about their financial losses from the delay, demanding I pay for everything. They fueled conspiracy theories and sicced an online mob on me. I was doxxed, and I lost my job. Then Leo, my own boyfriend, saw an opportunity for a promotion. He reported my history of “predictions” to the authorities. I was sentenced to three years in prison. Later, when I foresaw the prison’s collapse, no one listened. I was thrown into solitary confinement and crushed to death under the rubble. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of the airport terminal, the day of the flight. Reborn. 1. “Grace! Hey, Grace!” My boyfriend, Leo, was shaking my shoulder, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “You were just saying you had a bad feeling about today. So, is the plane going to fly or not?” My eyes snapped open. The world spun. The crushing despair, the searing pain of being buried alive, still lingered in my bones. I flinched away from his touch. Looking around at the familiar chaos of the departures hall, I knew it was real. I was back. Last time, the day we were supposed to fly back after the holiday, I’d woken up with a fever, vomiting. On the way to the airport, our taxi hit a rabbit that darted into the road. A hairpin in my bag sliced my finger open, blood welling up thick and fast. A knot of fear had tightened in my stomach. I’d begged Leo to change the flight. But he’d just called me superstitious. In the crowded waiting area, in front of all the other passengers, he’d loudly declared I was having a nervous breakdown, that I was paranoid. He’d joked that one more outburst and he’d have me committed. The strange, pitying stares from everyone around me had been too much. I’d shut my mouth. But then, as boarding began, a horrifying vision had flashed through my mind: the plane exploding in mid-air. For everyone’s safety, I’d thrown myself in front of the gate, demanding the crew perform another safety check, demanding every passenger go through security again. No one believed my premonition, so I lied. I screamed that I’d seen someone with a bomb. That’s when Leo had stood up and pointed at me, telling everyone I was crazy. Eager to get on with their travels, the other passengers had turned on me. They called me sick, an attention-seeker deliberately disrupting their plans. But even so, after security hauled me away, they did another sweep. They re-screened the passengers and re-inspected the plane. When I heard the news in the interrogation room that the flight had landed safely, a wave of pure relief washed over me. I had no idea it was the beginning of my nightmare. The story went viral. Passengers from that flight became overnight media darlings. One after another, they went online to complain. Five hours, they’d been delayed. Five precious hours. A businessman claimed he’d lost a multi-million-dollar deal. A woman wept that she’d missed her own wedding. My face and personal information were doxxed and plastered everywhere. I was a pariah. My company fired me. Strangers threw rocks and eggs at me on the street. I became a prisoner in my own home. And Leo? He didn’t comfort me. He gathered “evidence”—every strange feeling I’d ever shared, every dream I’d ever had—and reported me. He told the court I was a dangerous cultist spreading panic. The judge gave me three years. The last time I saw him, he was visiting me in prison, his face glowing with triumph. When I asked him why, his voice was laced with venom. “They were going to make you the Director of Finance? You? Over me?” he’d sneered. “A woman, standing in my way? I don’t think so.” And then came the final vision: the prison walls crumbling. They threw me in solitary. I was crushed to death. After I died, I watched as the passengers from that flight leveraged their fifteen minutes of fame into careers as influencers, selling cheap junk on livestreams. I watched as Leo took the Director of Finance position that should have been mine. The injustice of it all burned. I would not let it happen again. 2. “Grace! Grace, what are you spacing out for? I’m talking to you!” Leo shoved my shoulder again, his voice sharp with impatience. A woman in a blue hat nearby chimed in. “Boarding was supposed to start five minutes ago. Where’s the plane?” She flashed a diamond the size of a pigeon’s egg. “I’m getting married tomorrow! If this delay makes me late, I’ll sue the airline into the ground!” The man with the briefcase next to her kept checking his watch. “I’ve got a billion-dollar deal waiting for my signature!” he grumbled. “Can this damn airline afford to cover that loss?” “Wow, a real tycoon…” a few people murmured, gathering around him. I stared at their faces, the woman in the blue hat and the man with the briefcase. I wanted to claw their smug faces off. They were the ones who had led the charge against me online, the two who profited most from my downfall, building their brands on my humiliation. “Grace Shaw!” Leo’s voice was a bark. He’d lost his patience completely. I forced down the hatred churning in my gut and looked at the man I despised more than anyone. “What did you say?” I asked calmly. “I didn’t hear you.” They were so ungrateful in the last life. This time, they could all take their seats on the death flight. “I asked,” Leo said, irritated, “if this plane is safe to fly!” I smiled. “Of course it is.” My answer surprised him. He frowned, pressing me. “Are you sure? A minute ago you said you had a bad feeling. You said you dreamed about a crash last night. And this morning, the rabbit, your finger…” “You said they were bad omens,” he finished. Leo spoke loudly, making sure everyone in the gate area could hear. At the mention of a crash, dozens of heads snapped in my direction. Their expressions were a mix of concern and disgust. I was the crazy one, the bringer of bad luck. With just a few words, Leo had put me on trial again. Outside the massive terminal window, thunder rumbled. Leo’s voice cut through the noise. “Well, Grace? Is it going to fly or not?” I looked at him, remembering his cruel words in the prison visiting room. And suddenly, it clicked. This was a setup. The dead rabbit, the cut on my finger… aside from the nightmare, everything else could have been orchestrated. Maybe he had been trying to push me over the edge all along, to make me look unstable so he could steal my promotion. The thought sent a chill down my spine. Meeting Leo’s gaze, I answered with unwavering confidence. “Yes, it’s going to fly. I’m anxious to get back to work. Of course it’s going to fly.” I turned to the other passengers and gave them a reassuring smile. “What rabbit? Don’t be so superstitious. It’s bad luck to even talk about things like that before a flight.” I gestured toward Leo. “My boyfriend just gets a little nervous.” This time, I wouldn’t give him the chance to paint me as the hysteric. “Hick. First time on a plane?” someone muttered. “Pathetic. Needs his girlfriend to calm him down.” “Seriously, so tacky. Who says stuff like that out loud? I’m getting married tomorrow, I don’t need to hear that negativity,” the woman in the blue hat snapped. The whispers spread. I saw Leo’s face turn beet red. He was gritting his teeth in fury. I calmly took out my phone. I had to change my ticket, but I couldn’t just not board. That would look too suspicious. I’d cancel my check-in first. Leo leaned in close, his voice a low hiss. “Something’s not right with you, Grace.” A wave of fear washed over me. He was staring intently at my phone screen, a strange, knowing smile on his face. “You’re not thinking of quietly changing your flight, are you?” My heart hammered against my ribs. “Are you crazy?” I snapped, forcing a look of indignation. “Of course not. Did you hear? I got a tip from HR. They’re about to make me Director of Finance. I can’t wait to get back and pop the champagne.” It was a gamble, but I had to throw him off the scent. This bastard had to get on that plane. As I’d hoped, a muscle in Leo’s jaw twitched. His expression became even more strained. “Oh. Well, congratulations.” I pressed my advantage. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you in a hurry to get back?” I raised my voice again, mimicking his earlier performance. “Is it that the plane can’t fly, or that you don’t want it to fly? Everyone here has urgent business. Can you stop being so selfish?” The murmurs started again, now directed at him. “What is wrong with that guy?” “I’ve got a billion-dollar deal to close!” “Young people today have no consideration for anyone else.” As Leo scrambled to defend himself, I slipped my ID out of my wallet. “I’m just going to the restroom,” I said quietly, and stood up. I had won the court of public opinion. But as I took a step, Leo’s voice rang out, sharp and triumphant. “My girlfriend reads tarot cards! Why don’t we have her do a reading for the flight?” He smiled at me, a cold, demonic smile. “Grace? Come on. Everyone’s waiting.” 3. Leo’s voice was a chilling whisper, an invitation to a trap. “For real? Show us, honey!” “I’ve never seen a tarot reading before. This should be interesting.” “Well, the flight’s already delayed. Might as well have some fun.” The passengers crowded around, their boredom turning to curiosity. Leo smiled sweetly at me. “Don’t say no, Grace. Unless you have something to hide?” I had to admit, the little weasel was sharp. To avoid raising his suspicions, I sat back down, my hands clammy and cold. Leo produced a brand-new deck of tarot cards from my own bag. A dozen people leaned in to watch. My fingers were stiff as I shuffled and drew three cards. Each one was worse than the last. A tower, a skeleton, a devil. It was a clear and catastrophic omen of death. But how could I tell them that? I forced a bright smile. “According to my reading, we will definitely be taking off today!” A few people exchanged looks. The man with the briefcase crossed his arms, unimpressed. “What good is taking off today? I’ve already missed my meeting…” “You could always change your flight,” I suggested sweetly. He scoffed. “And do what? With this weather, every flight will be a mess.” I was about to pack up the cards and make another escape to the restroom when the woman in the blue hat shrieked. “No! That’s not what those cards mean! They mean the plane is going to crash! No survivors! You’re lying to us!” The crowd surged forward again. Leo fixed me with a glare. “Grace, what is the meaning of this? Are you trying to get us all killed?” He grabbed my wrist, his grip like iron, his voice booming for all to hear. My heart leaped into my throat. I held up my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, everyone,” I said, my voice full of shame. “I don’t really know how to read them. It’s just a silly hobby. I just like to pretend.” I pointed to the box. “See? It’s a brand new deck. The plastic is still on it. I had no idea there was an expert among us.” I turned to the woman in the blue hat, my eyes wide with manufactured fear. “Oh my god, ma’am, is it really that bad? Should we all change our flights? Are these things accurate? Oh, what am I going to do? My promotion…” I had turned the spotlight directly onto her. Tarot cards were a niche interest. Most of the older passengers were already skeptical. “My billion-dollar deal!” “My kids are waiting for me to make them dinner!” “No way, I’m not changing my flight! I have tenants to collect rent from…” A cacophony of angry voices drowned out the woman in the blue hat. She was now the enemy, the one trying to derail their lives with her hocus-pocus. Her face turned crimson with rage. “Alright, that’s enough!” she screamed. “You bitch, stop putting words in my mouth! I never said anyone should change their flight! I have a wedding to get to! The last thing I want is another delay! Blame her boyfriend! He’s the one who started this superstitious nonsense!” As the passengers argued, I saw the plane finally pull up to the gate. My anxiety spiked. Leo was busy defending himself. This was my chance. “I need the restroom,” I muttered, and slipped away. The second I was inside a stall, I opened the airline app. My check-in was cancelled. My ticket was rebooked for the same flight tomorrow. Now all I had to do was figure out how to handle the police questioning after the crash. This time, there would be no one to point the finger at me. Dead men tell no tales. I waited in the restroom for thirty minutes. Boarding was about to close. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a text from Leo. Grace, are you still in the bathroom? Why aren’t you boarding? Is there really something wrong with this flight? 4. The message sent a sliver of ice through my veins. The best defense, I decided, was a good offense. I would start a huge, dramatic fight. The fight we should have had during the holiday. About the house deed being only in his name. About his mother stealing and selling my gold bracelet. Any of the things he thought I didn’t know about. All I had to do was pick one and demand he come out and deal with it right now. I knew him. He would run from that kind of confrontation faster than anything. Just then, my phone rang. It was my best friend, Jenna. My screen was already lighting up with a flood of notifications from her. The moment I answered, her drunken, sobbing voice filled my ear. “Grace, what am I going to do? I’m pregnant with Leo’s baby.” “Please, you have to break up with him, please… hic… My baby can’t grow up without a father.” The words hit me like a bolt of lightning. Last time, at this exact moment, I was so busy trying to stop people from boarding that I’d ignored her call. But this time? This call was a gift from the heavens. I feigned a choked gasp of fury, then launched into a tirade against Jenna, making sure to step out of the stall and stand directly under one of the security cameras by the sinks. A few women who were washing their hands gave me strange looks. One even lingered to eavesdrop. Perfect. This was exactly what I wanted. After hanging up on Jenna, I immediately called Leo. He picked up on the second ring. “Grace! They’re closing the doors! What the hell are you doing?” he yelled, his voice frantic. I made my voice as cold as steel. “I’m not flying. Get off the plane. We’re going home.” For a split second, I heard something like relief in his voice. “I knew it. I knew something was wrong with the plane. Fine, not flying. You should have just said so.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “When did you and Jenna start screwing around behind my back? You two disgusting pigs! No wonder you put the deed in your name only! Do you know how much of my money went into renovating that house? Jenna just called me! We’re settling this today. The three of us. Face to face.” Before he could get a word in, I unloaded every grievance, every betrayal, every dirty little secret. The other end of the line went silent. “Leo! LEO! You cowardly piece of trash, are you even listening to me? Get your ass out here right now!” I was screaming. After a long pause, Leo finally spoke. “Grace, look, I can explain. But I have that urgent meeting at work. We can’t let our personal problems interfere with our jobs, right?” He was trying to deflect, trying to escape the mess he’d made. It didn’t matter. Soon, he wouldn’t have any messes to deal with at all. I pushed myself into full-blown hysterics. “Work? Who gives a damn about work! I’ll quit! I have never been so humiliated in my entire life! Get. Out. Here. Now.” I thought I heard a faint chuckle on his end. Was he recording this? To use it against me later, to prove I was unstable and unprofessional? To take my job? It didn’t matter. He would never get the chance. “Grace, I’m already on the plane. We’re about to take off. Let’s not talk about this now,” he said, his voice suddenly calm and dismissive. “Why don’t you go home and cool off. We’ll talk when you’re being rational.” Then he hung up before I could say another word. The entire airport was under surveillance. If I was going to put on a show, I had to see it through. I stormed out of the airport, calling our mutual friends on my way, sobbing about the affair. Once I was back in the city, I went straight to Jenna’s apartment building. I grabbed a meat cleaver I’d bought from a corner store and started hammering on her door. A neighbor peered out, her eyes wide, before quickly slamming her door shut. Probably calling the cops. Good. The bigger the scene, the better. Jenna, hiding inside, refused to open the door. “I’m warning you, Grace, I’ve already called the police!” she shrieked through the door. “You couldn’t give Leo a baby after all these years, and I got pregnant the first time we were together! His mother loves me! She said the house is mine! I’m the woman of the house now! Hahaha, the cops are here! You’re going to jail!” I ignored her, just kept pounding on the door. The nearest police station was only a few miles away. Soon, two uniformed officers arrived. I immediately dropped the cleaver and put on my best victim face. “Officers, that woman in there! She’s sleeping with my boyfriend in the house I paid for! And she’s pregnant!” The two cops exchanged a weary look, but they followed procedure, taking both of us down to the station. In the mediation room, Jenna was still arrogant, rubbing her belly and looking down her nose at me. “This is Leo’s baby,” she sneered. “He’s not going to abandon his own child. You might as well get used to being dumped.” Is that so? I thought. That baby is about to be fatherless. “You should just break up with him now,” she continued. “It’ll be less embarrassing for you in the end. His mother adores me. She gave me this gold bracelet the first time we met.” Jenna deliberately held up her wrist, showing off the bracelet. My eyes narrowed. It was mine. The one his mother had “lost.” Just then, another officer entered the room and whispered something to the two handling our case. Suddenly, all three of them were staring at me. I knew. The plane had crashed.

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Adam’s executive assistant hinted that the new girl wasn’t playing by the rules. I looked down at the résumé. Sophie Bell. A scholarship student from a program the Shaw Foundation had sponsored. Four years ago, clutching her university acceptance letter, she’d shown up at our door with a small gift basket to express her gratitude. Adam had turned her away with a cold shoulder. The timid girl with the neat bangs had blossomed into a poised young woman. No wonder he’d been coming home later and later from “client dinners.” But she wasn’t the only one with a hidden agenda. Just when my search for proof had hit a dead end, Sophie came to me in private, her voice choked with tears. “Mrs. Shaw, please… you have to help me. I can’t be used like this anymore…” 1 The girl in the résumé photo was pretty, with quiet, clear eyes that made you want to like her. What a waste it would be if she were really shameless enough to be the other woman. A message from Adam popped up on my screen. [Honey, got a client dinner tonight. I’ll be late. Get some rest, and don’t you dare stay up late.] Before I could reply, a new friend request appeared. The note read: [Mrs. Shaw, this is Sophie Bell, Mr. Shaw’s assistant.] So it begins. I accepted the request. [Good evening, Mrs. Shaw. So sorry to bother you. Mr. Shaw asked me to add you. He said I should let you know when he’s on his way, in case he’s had too much to drink.] [Thank you, Sophie. I appreciate you looking after him.] [Not at all, it’s my job.] Eleven o’clock. My usual bedtime, but tonight my phone felt welded to my hand. I was waiting. And right on cue, a message arrived. [Mrs. Shaw, are you still awake? Mr. Shaw is quite drunk. The driver and I are bringing him home now.] [I’m up. Thank you for your trouble. I’ll be waiting.] I watched from the doorway as Sophie and our driver helped a stumbling, barely coherent Adam into the house. Her brow was furrowed in a tight line, her slight frame straining under his weight. The moment she saw me, her eyes lit up with relief. “Mrs. Shaw… Mr. Shaw’s had a bit too much.” I moved to take her place, feeling her exhale as I slid my arm around my husband’s waist. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading out,” she said, her voice small. I nodded. “Wait,” I called out just as she reached the door. She paused, turning back with a questioning look. “It’s late. It’s not safe for a young woman to go home alone. Let the driver take you.” A pair of dimples appeared as she smiled. “Thank you, Mrs. Shaw.” Adam clung to me, his words a drunken slur against my ear. “Clara, my love… I love you so much…” “Why did you drink so much? You’re going to hate yourself in the morning,” I murmured, guiding him towards the stairs. “Got you… so I’m not worried…” I told my best friend, Mia, about it the next day. “Have I lost my touch?” I wondered aloud. “I just don’t get a homewrecker vibe from this girl.” Mia let out a short, cynical laugh. “Oh, honey. You’ve been living the good life for so long you’ve forgotten what you’re capable of. This is textbook. Men are all the same. Just you wait. Before you know it, she’ll be posting passive-aggressive digs at you on Instagram.” I sighed, a heavy weight settling in my chest. Mia’s own husband, Leo, had been getting a little too friendly with his own assistant lately. She hadn’t found any concrete proof, but the cold war between them had been raging for weeks. Would Adam be the same? The man who pursued me for three years in college, the man who knelt at my dying mother’s bedside and swore to love and protect me for the rest of his life… was he just another cliché? I steadied myself. Wallowing wouldn’t solve anything. But a week passed, and Sophie’s social media remained disappointingly normal. Sunsets at the waterfront, brunch with college friends. Nothing. Aside from being Adam’s shadow at work, there was nothing, at least on the surface, to raise an alarm. This only made Mia more pessimistic. “You’ve got an advanced model on your hands,” she said grimly. “These new-generation mistresses have evolved. They’re not the type to shove the evidence in your face anymore.” I checked everything. The GPS logs in Adam’s car, his credit card statements. Nothing. Not a single anomaly. Had he really become that meticulous? 2 This intangible, suffocating uncertainty was worse than finding hard evidence. It felt like walking through a thick fog, blind and unnerved. I replayed the past few weeks in my mind, searching for any detail I might have missed. There was almost nothing. Adam was as attentive as ever, buying me things he thought I’d like without a second thought. The only strange thing was the necklace he’d given me last week. It was identical to one he’d bought me years ago. Men aren’t always sentimental about such things; it was plausible he’d just forgotten. But it had never happened before. One afternoon, I decided to surprise him and drove to the headquarters of Shaw Corp. But Adam wasn’t there. His executive assistant, Jenna—an old classmate of mine—pulled me aside, her voice a low whisper. “He left with Sophie. Said he was going to Leo’s firm to discuss a partnership, but I don’t buy it. There’s no partnership in the works with them right now. God knows where they really went.” Leo. Mia’s husband. If the two of them were in on this together, covering for each other, then a direct confrontation would only tip them off. I pulled out my phone. “Mia, I need you to do something for me.” Waiting for her to call back, I tried to keep my breathing even, but Jenna must have seen the color drain from my face. “Hey, don’t panic yet,” she said, her hand on my arm. “If it’s true, you’ve got more important things to focus on.” She was right. I don’t tolerate betrayal. If I found proof, the grief and heartbreak would have to wait. The divorce would be non-negotiable, and dividing our assets would be a war. Mia didn’t call back. She showed up in person. “Clara… something’s not right,” she said, her brow creased with worry. My stomach plummeted. What could be worse than confirming Adam was cheating? “Your husband is definitely there,” she began. “But the new girl, Sophie? She’s not with him. She’s just waiting in the lobby’s seating area. Leo saw me and thought I was there to check up on him, made a few snide remarks. But…” She trailed off, struggling to find the words. “I never saw Adam.” “What?” “He went to Leo’s company. You saw Sophie, you saw Leo, but you didn’t see Adam?” This wasn’t what I had expected. A powerful wave of unease washed over me. But didn’t this at least mean he wasn’t with Sophie, doing something sordid? “I left before Leo got too suspicious,” Mia continued. “Clara, what the hell is Adam playing at?” This was far more complex than I had imagined. When Adam came home that evening, his smile was as warm and gentle as ever. It was the same smile he’d had in college. He, who had always been so composed and confident, had thrown all decorum to the wind to chase me for three years, doing all sorts of ridiculous things that were completely out of character. Before him, we had both been the good kids, molded by our families, never having been in a real relationship. We were young when we married, growing together as he took over his family’s business and I opened my art gallery. After my mother passed, I’d drifted away from my father and his new family. In many ways, Adam had filled that void. “Clara.” He opened his arms and pulled me into a tight embrace, inhaling deeply at the crook of my neck. “Just showered?” I asked. “Mmmhmm.” He smelled clean, fresh. Not a hint of perfume, not a single foreign scent. His shirt was crisp, without a wrinkle. “I’ve been so busy lately, I feel bad I haven’t been home for dinner,” he murmured, his fingers gently tracing my jawline. “You’re not mad at me, are you?” “Am I that unreasonable? You’re the one working hard to provide for us.” While Adam was in the shower, I checked his phone. Still nothing. His chats were all work-related. His conversations with Sophie were sparse and professional—brief instructions, followed by a simple “Received.” 3 He came out of the bathroom, saw me with his phone, and chuckled. “My feed is just boring business news. Not like yours, full of artists and culture.” He sat beside me, draping an arm over my shoulder and planting a soft kiss on my cheek. We hadn’t been intimate in a while, and with his affectionate words, I expected things to progress. I lowered my gaze, waiting for his next move. Instead, he simply lay down and turned on his side. Doubt, humiliation, and a gnawing anxiety washed over me all at once. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. A few days later, Jenna messaged me. Adam had taken Sophie to Leo’s building again. This time, I went straight there myself. I spotted Sophie in the lobby, looking bored out of her mind. “Mrs. Shaw? What are you doing here?” she asked, her expression one of pure confusion. “Sophie, shouldn’t you be with Mr. Shaw instead of slacking off down here?” “No, no…” She waved her hands frantically, her face flushing with panic. “Mr. Shaw told me I didn’t need to go up, that he’d call me if he needed anything. I… I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be doing.” She looked down, the picture of frustrated helplessness. My tone softened. “How long has this been going on?” Sophie hesitated, clearly unsure how much she was allowed to tell me about her boss’s affairs. “It’s okay,” I reassured her. “I’m just worried about him. He’s been so stressed lately, and I don’t know what kind of big deal requires him to come here so often.” She bit her lip. “It’s been about three months now. He doesn’t bring me every time. But when he does, I just sit here. I’d rather be at the office, at least I’d have work to do.” Before I left, I turned back to her. “Sophie, if you ever run into any trouble, you can come to me.” I asked Mia to keep a closer eye on things at Leo’s building. Her call came an hour later, her voice tight with excitement. “Clara! I saw Adam get off on the 27th floor!” “The 27th?” “A few floors in the tower are set up as corporate apartments, usually for visiting clients. I just found out the entire 27th floor was taken off the market three months ago. It’s been leased long-term by a single client.” All the seemingly unrelated details suddenly clicked into place, the weight of them pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. “Mia… can you get me the security footage?” The footage from the elevator bank and the 27th-floor hallway was damning. Over the past three months, Adam had appeared there nearly thirty times during work hours. Each time, he walked to the room at the end of the hall, entered a code, and went inside. The camera never saw who was in there. I watched the clips over and over, zooming in, searching. And then I saw it. In one video, just as the door was closing behind him.

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To defuse the bomb strapped to the hostage, I had to cut away every shred of her clothing. But my sweet, naive new wife decided to post about it online. She called me, sobbing, demanding to know why I couldn’t have at least left her underwear on. “I know you were saving her life, but doesn’t a girl’s dignity matter?” “There were so many cameras on her! How is she supposed to live with that? Couldn’t you have just found a blanket to cover her?” The story blew up. To control the public outrage, the department suspended me. Fine. I decided to clock out mentally. From now on, I would follow procedure to the letter. No more improvisation. No more going above and beyond. Then my wife’s mother was taken hostage in the city’s busiest downtown mall, strapped to the latest compound series bomb. And suddenly, my entire squad was in a panic. … “Ethan! Look what you’ve done!” The moment I walked through the door, my new wife, Lily, shoved her phone in my face, her eyes brimming with tears. On the screen was a picture of me at the bomb scene, tearing the clothes off the hostage. The angle was intentionally provocative, pure clickbait. “All my friends are asking me how my husband could strip a girl naked in front of everyone! What am I supposed to say? You’ve completely humiliated me!” she choked out, her voice thick with self-pity. I shrugged off my jacket, heavy with the smell of sweat and cordite, and tried to explain patiently. “That wasn’t a standard device, Lily. The trigger wires and pressure sensors were woven into the fabric, all over her body. If I didn’t get the clothes off, I couldn’t even start.” “But couldn’t you have left her underwear on?!” Lily’s composure shattered, and she started screaming. “I know you were saving her, but what about her dignity? With all those cameras, how is she supposed to face the world? Couldn’t you have found a blanket? Did you have to be so brutal, so crude?” I looked at her, and a weariness so profound it settled in my bones washed over me. I had no energy left to argue. It was pointless. The next day at the station, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Captain Miller called me into his office. He slammed a stack of printed-out online comments on his desk, his face a mask of barely suppressed fury. “Look at this! The entire internet is calling us brutes, saying we have no respect for hostage privacy!” He lit a cigarette, taking a long, angry drag. “Ethan, I know your style. You do things your own way. But we’re in the middle of a media firestorm. I need you to show some remorse, to give the public something.” He pushed a blank incident report form in front of me. “Write a formal apology. Admit that your handling of the situation was inappropriate, that your methods were excessive. Then you’re on temporary suspension, pending an investigation. We’ll let you back when this blows over.” I stared at the form, making no move to take it. I knew this was the golden opportunity my deputy, Mark Davis, had been waiting for. He’d always despised my unorthodox, “field-expedient” methods, constantly championing the “standardized procedures” he’d learned at some overseas seminar. Sure enough, a few days later, the official suspension order came down. I was temporarily reassigned from frontline duty. I went back to my office—which was more of a workshop, really, cluttered with my modified tools and research on non-standard explosives. I sat down at my computer and, in silence, began to permanently delete every file. All my personal research notes, my custom schematics, my insights on tool modification—gone, one by one. The only thing I left on the hard drive was the department-issued, standard-issue bomb disposal manual. A week later, at a mandatory all-hands meeting, the mood was somber. Captain Miller stood at the podium, his voice booming as he announced my suspension, repeatedly emphasizing the importance of “procedural integrity” and “humanitarian concern.” I sat in the corner, my face a blank slate. Then, his tone shifted. “And now, I’m pleased to announce that Lieutenant Mark Davis will be acting as interim squad leader!” Mark stood up, smoothing down his crisp uniform and clearing his throat. He walked to the stage, his eyes flicking in my direction. “Thank you for this vote of confidence,” he began, his voice oozing false humility. “I believe that every operation must be conducted within a framework of rules and humanity. We are a disciplined force, not savages. We save lives at all costs, but that cost should never be a hostage’s dignity.” His words were sanctimonious and aimed directly at me. A few of the newer guys looked indignant on my behalf. The veterans, the ones who’d walked through fire with me, said nothing. Mark’s first official act was to walk over to my workstation. He tapped on the desk, his chin tilted up in a gesture of superiority. “Ethan, per regulations, you need to turn over all specialized personal tools from your locker for the duration of your suspension. Here’s the key. Clean it out. Now.” His voice dripped with undisguised contempt. I didn’t say a word. I just silently opened the locker and placed my custom-milled tweezers, my specialized wire cutters, and my micro-endoscope on the desk. He watched with a smug grin. “From now on, this squad is going fully standardized. Your little ‘homemade’ toys are obsolete.” I looked up at him. “A question for you, Lieutenant. You encounter a device made with ball bearings suspended in industrial epoxy, glued directly to a hostage’s carotid artery. The manual says to use a chemical solvent, but the solvent will cause severe chemical burns and secondary injuries. What do you do?” Mark’s face froze. He stammered for a moment. “Well… then… then you follow the procedure in the manual! The manual is the result of countless proven cases. It’s the most scientific approach!” He had just exposed his total lack of adaptability, falling back on the only thing he knew: the rules. I thought of my mentor, years ago, the legendary EOD tech they called “Ghost Hand.” When he took me on against all regulations, he’d slapped my shoulder and said, “Kid, rules are dead things. People are alive. What I see in you is a spark that doesn’t fit in a box. That’s what matters.” Thinking of it now felt like a bitter joke. My new life of malicious compliance had begun. A few days later, a bank reported a standard-issue “Thor” model timed explosive. I was assigned to logistical support. When the on-site photos came through, I calmly opened my laptop, pulled up the standard-issue takedown schematic for the “Thor,” and emailed it to the tech on scene. An old teammate called me, his voice urgent. “Ethan, isn’t there a booby trap on the B2 wire in this thing? I swear you mentioned something about it once.” I spoke into the receiver, my voice flat and detached. “Report: according to the standard manual, the B2 line is a standard high-explosive detonator circuit. There are no special notations. Please proceed according to manual protocol.” I hung up. That day, for the first time in my career, I left the office the second the clock hit five. I didn’t go to my workshop to tinker with deadly devices. I went to a shooting range and burned through five full magazines. Meanwhile, Mark instituted an absurdly complex “Deployment Equipment Checklist.” It was over thirty pages long and required three separate cross-checks by two different people before and after every mission, with signed forms filed in triplicate. This new procedure added a solid fifteen minutes to our response time. The grumbling started quietly. “Is this guy nuts? By the time we finish his checklist, the hostage will be a crater.” “That chemical plant alarm last week? We were five minutes late because he insisted on procedure. It was almost a catastrophe.” “Armchair quarterback. He doesn’t know the first thing about the field.” One of the veterans came to me, venting his frustration, hoping I’d offer a solution. I just poured him a glass of water and said calmly, “Mark is the acting squad leader. We follow his orders. Everything by the book.” My complete disengagement, combined with Mark’s inept leadership, caused our squad’s efficiency and success rate to plummet. Simple calls that would have been routine were now turning into near-disasters. I knew they were waiting. Waiting for a real crisis to prove themselves. I filled out a request for my accumulated vacation time and placed it on Captain Miller’s desk. Thirty full days. His face darkened the moment he saw it. “Ethan, what the hell is this?” He snatched the form and threw it at me. The edge of the paper caught my cheek, stinging. “The department is short-staffed as it is. Are you taking this much time off just to spite me?” He lowered his voice, his words laced with threat. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing! This is a temper tantrum. You’re trying to blackmail the department! Well, let me tell you, we’ll get along just fine without you!” I didn’t speak. I just reached into my pocket and pulled out the officially sanctioned Post-Critical Incident Psychological Health Assessment Report. I spread it open on his desk and pointed to the final recommendation. “Captain, the official psych report concludes: ‘Subject is advised to take extended leave for rest and psychological counseling.’ This is a medically-advised, regulation-compliant leave request.” Miller’s face cycled through shades of red and white. He glared at me, utterly speechless. Finally, with a snort of contempt, he snatched up a pen and scribbled his signature on the form. As I turned to leave, the office door opened. My wife, Lily, walked in, arm-in-arm with Mark Davis, a dazzling smile on her face. When she saw me, her voice dripped with sarcasm. “Well, if it isn’t our great hero, Ethan. What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little criticism, so you’re running away? With a fragile ego like that, how are you supposed to protect the public?” Mark added with a smug look, “You don’t understand, Lily. Some guys come up the hard way, all instinct and no discipline. They crack under pressure. Not like us. We’ve had the best, most systematic training. We value stability.” I didn’t even bother to look at them. I walked out. At the end of the hall, one of the rookies caught up to me and pressed a bottle of water into my hand. “Ethan, man… I don’t know if I should be saying this,” he hesitated, then pushed on. “That girl you rescued? I heard she’s the only daughter of the CEO of Titan Microelectronics. Her family tried to find you, wanted to give you a huge reward, but Miller and Davis shut it all down. They blocked everything.” I nodded. I already knew. They couldn’t handle that kind of gratitude. I got on a bus headed for the reservoir out of town. We’d just cleared the city limits when my department-issued emergency comm crackled to life, buzzing frantically. It was Miller’s voice, distorted with panic. “All units, emergency alert! Major explosive threat at the Metroplex Mall downtown! Multiple hostages taken! All personnel, active and on leave, report for duty immediately!” I switched the comm off. A few seconds later, my personal cell phone rang. It was Miller. “Ethan! Get your ass back here right now!” he screamed. I replied calmly, “Captain, first, I am on approved medical leave. Second, per regulations, suspended personnel are prohibited from entering a Class-A hazardous scene.” I hung up the phone. I had just cast my line into the reservoir when Lily called. The second I answered, I was met with a torrent of hysterical sobs. “Ethan! You have to come back! My mom… my mom’s at the mall! The bomber strapped a device to her!” My blood ran cold. “Calm down. Tell me what happened.” “It’s her birthday! We were all supposed to meet there for dinner! Some psycho rushed in and grabbed her! Ethan, you have to save her! You’re the best bomb tech there is!” In the background, I could hear a cacophony of sirens and screaming. Meanwhile, in the temporary command post downtown, the tension was suffocating. Captain Miller stared at the bomb schematics being fed to the screen, his face ashen. It was a compound series bomb, unlike anything he’d ever seen. The structure was a bizarre, intricate nightmare, and the red numbers on the timer were counting down relentlessly. Mark stood beside him, clutching a tablet, his forehead beaded with sweat. His so-called “standard procedures” were now a pathetic joke. Trying to deflect blame, Miller hinted to the senior commanders who had arrived on scene, “This device’s structure is… highly irregular. Ethan Cole has done a lot of personal research into non-standard explosives. It’s possible… he might know something about this. But he’s always been a loner, keeps his cards close to his chest, never reports his findings.” Just then, another urgent report came in. “Command, we’ve found a secondary device in the mall’s central ventilation system! It’s linked to the primary bomb on the hostage!” A collective gasp went through the command post. It meant that disabling one would likely trigger the other. Desperate to prove himself, Mark stepped forward. “I can do it! I can use standard procedure to jam the secondary device’s signal transmitter!” Ignoring the warnings of the veteran techs, he went to work. His efforts were not only a failure, but they also tripped a hidden trap set by the bomb maker. The timer on the main bomb suddenly skipped ahead, its countdown speed doubling instantly. The color drained from Mark’s face. As a dead silence fell over the command post, a young technician’s eyes suddenly lit up. “I remember! Ethan designed a custom jammer, the ‘Ghost.’ He said it could sever the base logic connection between any two linked electronic devices! The prototype should be in our gear truck!” It was their last hope. Mark, seeing a chance to redeem himself, sprinted to the truck and found the silver briefcase. Ignoring the technician’s guidance, he booted up the Ghost jammer himself. “These connectors aren’t up to the latest international standards,” he muttered, “The frequency should be set to this band.” He manually input the frequency parameters he believed were correct. CRACKLE— A wisp of blue smoke curled up from the briefcase. The core chip was fried. Their last hope was gone. The timer was running out. The link couldn’t be broken. The only specialized tool that could have worked was destroyed. The command post was plunged into absolute despair. The on-scene commander made a split-second decision. He used a secure line to contact the most legendary EOD expert in the military, the old man known only by the callsign “Ghost Hand,” begging for remote technical assistance. The situation was relayed in a frantic rush. On the other end of the line, the old man was silent for a long moment. Then he spoke one sentence. “With standard methods, the hostage is dead. That Wild Fox Cascade… I only ever taught it to one man.” “He should be on your team. His name is Ethan Cole.”

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The day our company went public was the day the cops led me away in handcuffs for embezzlement. My wife’s old flame became the new CEO, and I was sentenced to three years in prison. My little sister, my only family, died of a broken heart trying to clear my name. After I got out, I heard a conversation on my car’s dashcam that shattered my world. It was my wife, Sophie, talking to her assistant. “It was you who embezzled the funds. You who framed Aiden and sent him to prison. Do you ever regret it?” “Not for a second,” Sophie’s voice was ice. “If Rick and I were never meant to be husband and wife, then the least I could do was give him the best of everything. A life free of worry. Think of it as my twenty-fifth birthday present to him.” “But the company was Aiden’s to begin with! He has nothing now.” “And you wanted me to just stand by and watch others tear Rick down?” 1 There was a pause. “As for Aiden,” she continued, “he grew up tough. What’s it to him to have a little less? Besides, I married him. I have the rest of my life to make it up to him.” “Then why not clear his name now? Let people know the truth.” “The last time he went out to buy me tampons, people pointed and called him a monster who abandoned his wife and drove his sister to her grave. He was shaking so hard he pissed himself in public.” “He was brutalized in prison. His right hand is permanently damaged, and he has severe depression. If you told the truth, it might give him some peace.” Sophie’s sudden shout made even me, just listening to the recording, jump. “Never! Everyone in Northwood City knows Aiden is a prodigy on Wall Street. If he walked out of there clean, where would that leave Rick? Absolutely not. My Rick has to be number one. No one will ever drag him down.” “So you’d rather let your own husband live in darkness? Let him hurt himself day after day with no one to comfort him? Have you forgotten his sister, her face pale as she knelt and begged you?” “Aren’t you afraid that if Aiden finds out the truth, he’ll destroy everything you’ve built?” A soft, chilling laugh. “He won’t. Aiden only has eyes for me. We’re very happy now.” The blood drained from my face. I couldn’t breathe. I saved the recording. I thought Sophie was the light of my life. I never imagined she was the source of all my suffering. She was the one who pushed me into the world of high finance, the one who gave me the resources to succeed. I thought she was my muse. But she only built me up so high to make the fall that much more devastating. If I hadn’t needed to replace the dashcam’s memory card, I might have spent the rest of my life living under the same roof as my nemesis. I stared at my numb right hand, a sickening suspicion coiling in my gut. I was so lost in the horror of it all that I didn’t even notice Sophie wrapping her arms around me from behind. “What’s wrong, Aiden?” Her voice was sweet, concerned. “Why are you crying again?” “Sophie,” I rasped, my voice cracking. “Why can’t I feel my hand?” My right hand was a mess of fresh, bloody cuts, but there was no sensation. She moved with practiced ease, retrieving the first-aid kit from behind the door. She gently disinfected the wounds, applied ointment, and bandaged them with care. “Oh, Aiden. Why do you keep hurting yourself?” “Every time I open my phone, I see them… calling me a monster who abandoned his family. I didn’t, Sophie. I swear I didn’t. Please… please, tell them the truth, won’t you?” Her hands paused for a fraction of a second. I saw it then—a flicker of disgust in her eyes before it was gone. “Then just turn off your phone. Don’t look,” she said, her tone hardening slightly. “I’ve told you so many times, I don’t care that you have a record. I don’t care that you’re hurt.” She softened her voice again, a masterclass in manipulation. “I’ve taken ninety-nine steps toward you, Aiden. Can’t you just take one toward me? When you hurt, I hurt.” She let out a choked sob, a performance worthy of an Oscar. “It’s Crystal’s memorial in a few days. I’ll take you to see her.” Even knowing the recording was real, hearing her say my sister’s name was like a knife twisting in my heart. I turned my head away, unable to look at her. “You should rest. I’ll go get your medication.” 2 After Sophie handed over the company, we moved into her family’s old estate, where I endured the daily scorn of her parents. They never missed an opportunity to berate me, lamenting how their brilliant daughter was now wasting her life washing and cooking for a “cripple.” Today was no different. Sophie’s father barged into the room, his eyes immediately fixing on my bandaged hand. “You useless cripple. How is it that something like this didn’t just finish you off?” I met his venomous gaze and spoke calmly. “I want to divorce Sophie. I don’t want to be a burden on her life anymore.” I added, “And I need the papers finalized as soon as possible.” The triumphant smirk on his face vanished, replaced by a scowl. “You dare make demands? If Sophie hadn’t begged us not to divorce you, do you think you’d still be living in this house? Back then, if she hadn’t threatened to kill herself just to marry you, someone like you wouldn’t even be fit to clean the toilets here.” He jabbed a fat finger at me. “A wreck like you should have been out of my daughter’s life long ago. You’ll get your divorce in thirty days. The moment you have it, you get the hell out of my house.” He stood there, his big belly practically hanging over my bed, ranting. I could only clench my fists under the covers. Bang. The door slammed shut. While I was in prison, her family had sent divorce papers several times. I never received them. I later heard it was because Sophie had threatened suicide, and I’d believed it was some grand, romantic gesture. How naive. The truth was, she was terrified that if we divorced, I’d get back on my feet and threaten Rick’s position. As I drifted into a medicated sleep, the familiar scent of herbs filled my senses. I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder, a soft voice urging me to wake up and take my medicine. It felt like my mother’s touch. But I couldn’t wake up. The next morning, I had just made it downstairs when I saw Rick sitting across from Sophie. She looked incredibly tense. I ignored them and headed for the kitchen to get some breakfast. “Aiden,” Rick suddenly stood up, his voice trembling as he reported to me like a subordinate. “I was just asking Sophie about some company matters.” He subtly moved to stand behind her, his eyes welling with nervous tears. He’d been terrified of me ever since he took over the company. “If… if you don’t want to see me, I can go.” I didn’t answer him, just poured myself a glass of water. Sophie, however, became animated. “It’s fine, Rick, Aiden doesn’t mind. Why don’t you stay with us for a few days? We can go over the other details properly.” Rick glanced at me nervously. “Would Aiden be okay with that?” The hand holding the glass trembled. A sharp pain lanced through my heart. “It doesn’t matter,” I said, my voice flat. “This is her family’s house. It’s not my place to say.” That’s right. This was their home. I was the outsider. Besides, I would be leaving soon anyway. Sophie flashed a satisfied smile. I didn’t look at her again and walked straight out the door. She blocked my path. “Where are you going?” “To see Crystal.” “Is that Aiden’s sister?” Rick’s voice piped up from behind her. “Sophie, I’d like to go too. We were classmates, after all.” He gave a small tug on Sophie’s sleeve. Without so much as a glance in my direction, she made the decision for me. I was shoved into the car, and I stopped fighting. I ignored the two of them. All I wanted was to see my sister. 3 I held the bouquet in my left hand, gently placing the flowers on Crystal’s gravestone. Suddenly, my face felt wet. Tears were streaming down my cheeks without me even realizing it. Crystal’s photo smiled back at me, her eyes seeming to look right through the picture and into my soul. “Crystal,” I whispered, my voice thick. “You have to believe me. Your brother has lived his life with a clear conscience.” Growing up, it was always just the two of us against the world. She was the only family I had left. And I wasn’t even there to see her one last time. “Let me tell you the truth, Aiden,” Rick’s voice, slick with venom, cut through my grief from behind. “You know, we were originally going to feed your sister’s body to the dogs.” My blood ran cold. “Do you know why? Because Sophie was afraid the police would trace it back to me. Before she died, your sister kept screaming ‘no’ under me. I’d already given her a double dose of the stuff… Still, there’s nothing quite like the first time, is there?” His words, each one a hammer blow, struck my mind. My scalp tingled, and a raw, agonizing pain tore through my chest. If it weren’t for you, if Sophie hadn’t found me, none of this would have happened to us. It was him. He killed Crystal. My reason evaporated. I spun around and threw a punch. But Sophie appeared out of nowhere, blocking my fist. She returned my punch with a vicious slap that echoed through the silent cemetery. “Aiden, how dare you hit him?” Her voice dripped with disappointment. “I don’t care that you’ve been to prison. I don’t care that you’re a cripple. But how can you resort to violence?” “In front of your sister’s grave? Do you want her to never rest in peace?” She kicked the flowers I had placed, stomping on them again and again. “Since prison clearly didn’t teach you anything, since you can’t get rid of these thuggish habits, maybe a little time in the basement will help you learn.” Suddenly, several large men in black suits appeared behind me. They blindfolded me and dragged me to the family estate’s basement, where they began to beat me mercilessly. The clubs they used were studded with thorns, each blow tearing into my flesh. My numb right hand was mangled again, a bloody mess. Blood poured from my left, staining the concrete floor a deep crimson. Through the haze of pain, I heard them talking. “Doesn’t the Missus love this cripple the most?” “Are you kidding? She only loves Mr. Rick! The way she looks at him… she wouldn’t let anyone else even touch him.” Love. I had stopped hoping for love long ago. So why did my heart still ache, as if it were being carved out with a dull knife? Rick came down to the basement. The timid, teary-eyed act was gone. He walked straight up to me. He stomped his foot down hard on my bleeding left hand. The barely-clotted wounds burst open, and I cried out in pain. “Aiden, you should know by now that Sophie has only ever loved me. So why aren’t you dead yet? After all this, how are you still alive?” He leaned in close, his voice a hateful whisper. “If it weren’t for you, Sophie and I would never have been apart for so long.” “I was this close to being crowned the Prince of Wall Street, to inheriting billions and marrying Sophie. And then you showed up. You ruined everything! Now I’m stuck with this shell of a company, and I can never set foot in my own family’s house again.” His face contorted with rage. “Tell me, why won’t you just die?” The blood from my left hand was turning black at the edges. My vision blurred. So that was it. Sophie only got close to me to tear me down, to clear the path for her one true love. I already knew, so why did the pain still feel so sharp, so real? “Rick! Rick…” Sophie’s voice echoed from the top of the stairs. Rick’s expression shifted instantly, a dark, cunning look I’d never seen before. He grabbed a knife from one of the goons, plunged it into his own thigh, and then draped my bloody right hand over the handle. “Sophie! Sophie… I’m down here!” he cried out, his voice filled with fake terror. Sophie practically flew down the stairs. She shoved my hand away and cradled him. “You really are hopeless,” she snarled at me, her eyes filled with pure hatred. “After all I’ve done for you. You’re nothing but a worthless animal.” A doctor rushed in and did a quick examination. “Ms. Sophie, he’s lost a lot of blood. He might need a transfusion, but getting a match from the blood bank will take at least an hour…” The doctor hadn’t even finished his sentence. Sophie’s eyes, cold and murderous, locked onto mine. There was no hesitation. “Use Aiden’s blood.” 4 They tied me to a makeshift operating table. A thick needle pierced the vein in my left arm. The pain from my battered body was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I don’t know how long I served as a human blood bag before I passed out. When I woke up, Sophie was feeding me medicine. My left arm was bandaged, but I couldn’t lift it. It felt just as dead as my right. “You’re awake? Here, drink this.” I turned my head away. Sensing my anger, she softened her tone. “Alright, making you give blood was my fault. I apologize. But you have to take your medicine, even if you’re angry. Your body can’t handle any more stress.” I remained still. With an exasperated sigh, she stood up, pinched my cheeks to force my mouth open, and poured the bitter liquid down my throat. As the herbal concoction hit my stomach, my consciousness began to fade again. “He drank it all.” That was her voice. “Good. Then we can begin.” Rick’s. “Your leg…” “It’s just a scratch. You know how strong I am. You’d better give me a baby this year.” Sophie’s playful protest faded away, replaced by the unmistakable sounds of their lovemaking. The sounds drifted into my ears, a final, cruel torture. I wanted to wake up, to scream, to demand the divorce they owed me. But my eyes wouldn’t open. I was startled awake by the shrill ringing of my phone. Unable to lift it with either hand, I managed to hit the speaker button with my knuckle. “I’ve got the divorce certificate. Now get the hell out of our lives.” It was Sophie’s father. It was the best news I’d heard in years. The pain in my body seemed to lessen at his words. “I’ll be gone immediately. I won’t trouble you again.” Finally. I was leaving. And I would take back everything I had lost. “Trouble who? Leaving where?” Sophie walked in, holding a glass of water. “Nothing. Just listening to an audiobook,” I lied. The suspicion in her eyes faded, replaced by something else. “Aiden, Rick wants to thank you for the blood. He’s invited you to a big dinner tomorrow to show his gratitude.” I looked at my lifeless left hand and managed a twisted smile. “Sure.” Sophie looked like she was about to jump for joy. “Great! I’ll go help him with the arrangements.” I dragged my broken body to find her father and collected the divorce certificate. Then, I immediately booked the next flight to Australia. I didn’t see Sophie for the rest of the afternoon, and the relief was intoxicating. I asked the butler to deliver the divorce certificate to the restaurant where they were having their “thank you” dinner. Then I took a cab and left the city behind. I had no luggage. There was nothing from that life I wanted to take with me. Nothing except my sister, and I didn’t have the power to do that yet. “Crystal,” I vowed, watching Northwood City shrink below me. “Don’t worry. Your brother will get justice for you, even if it’s the last thing I do.” A sense of euphoria washed over me as the city disappeared. It was over. I was heading toward a new life, one that belonged only to me.

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