Author: Momo Chan

1 My sister, Seraphina, is the Empress of the Celestial Realm, the mother to us all. She is also a woman who would burn the world down for our younger brother. But it was me she fed to the demons to pay for his crime. While they flayed my skin and shattered my bones, my sister was weaving a Starlight Mantle for Caelan. Three thousand years passed. Only when Caelan needed my Celestial Core to break through to his next stage of power did she remember I existed. She summoned a servant, her brow furrowed with impatience. “Has that jinx returned yet? Caelan is waiting for his Celestial Core!” The answer she received: “We have not seen him in three millennia, Your Majesty…” And so, the Empress came to my old home. The disgust on her face was plain; she looked as if she couldn’t find a clean place to set her foot. After all, if not for Caelan, the supreme ruler of the unified Celestial Realm would never deign to step into a place like this. Her voice, laced with contempt, echoed through the quiet courtyard. “You cursed wretch, get out here now!” The door creaked open, but she saw only a one-armed old man. A derisive smile touched her lips. General Corbin kept his head bowed, his voice a low rumble. “Your Majesty, Lord Orion has been dead for three thousand years. Please, leave.” Seraphina let out a cold, disbelieving laugh. “He’s a sinner. Is this another one of his pathetic tricks to steal Caelan’s favor? Does he even think he’s worthy?” she sneered. “He knows Caelan’s aptitude is… delicate. That he needs a superior Celestial Core to advance. And still, he dares to hide himself away?” Her voice rose with every word, sharp and cruel. “Does he want to see everyone tormented to death before he’s satisfied? If anything happens to Caelan, I swear I will have his hide!” With that, she unleashed her divine senses, scanning the area for any trace of my aura. She found nothing. Corbin shuffled forward hesitantly. “I told you, Your Majesty. Lord Orion is dead. His very soul has scattered. Can you not let him rest in peace? He has done more than enough for you!” Seraphina shoved him aside, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. “Done for me? What has he done? The only thing he should be doing right now is carving out his own Celestial Core, begging for forgiveness, and then dying!” She fixed Corbin with a glacial stare. “As Empress of this realm, I command you to produce Orion. Do not force me to forget the old loyalties between us.” Corbin’s eyes were hollow pits of sorrow. He simply sighed and shook his head. “Dead. He’s long dead. Not even ash remains. You will not find him.” Seeing his defiance, Seraphina’s patience snapped. “Hmph! Then you leave me no choice, Corbin. Caelan is waiting.” She gestured to her guards. With a sickening crack, they broke one of the old general’s legs. They dragged him into the center of the courtyard, leaving a long, crimson smear on the stone path. “I will ask one last time,” she said, her voice devoid of all warmth. “Where is that spawn of misfortune?” Corbin, crumpled on the ground and gasping through the agony, was a sight that made my spectral form tremble. Sister… this is Corbin! The man who loved us like his own children. The man who saved our lives from the demons when we were just babes! And now, for Caelan, you do this to him? “Dead,” he choked out. “He’s been dead for thousands of years!” Seraphina’s face hardened. She raised a hand, and a shimmering celestial light shot into Corbin’s body. Then, she bellowed at the empty air around her. “Jinx! I know you’re not dead! I’ve planted a Soul-Eater Larva in this old fool. If you don’t show yourself within a month, you can watch it devour him until nothing but bone is left!” Her final words were a poisoned arrow aimed at my heart. “You already caused the death of our father and mother. Do you now intend to bring ruin to everyone who was ever kind to you?” She turned and swept away, leaving Corbin a broken, bleeding heap on the ground. The pool of his blood stained the earth a deeper shade of red. I reached for him, a desperate, useless gesture. I was already dead. I had died the moment she handed me over to the demons. Corbin, with monumental effort, dragged himself to his feet and limped back inside. The Soul-Eater Larva was a ceaseless torment, gnawing at his essence and his physical form, a pain beyond imagination. Yet, he didn’t make a sound. He reached out a trembling hand to touch the old battle standard that had belonged to my father, then gently wiped the dust from my memorial tablet before setting it back in its place. Finally, he collapsed into a corner and took a long swallow of fiery liquor. “My Lord, my Empress,” he whispered to the ghosts of the past. “Your humble servant has failed to protect the young master. I am coming to answer for my sins…” With my sister’s silent consent, the entire Celestial Realm had been allowed to scorn me. Only Corbin had ever shown me kindness, insisting that none of it was my fault. I had promised him I would become the realm’s greatest champion, that I would crush the demons, subdue the Fae, and protect both the mortal and celestial worlds. But I had broken my promise. 2 Seven days later, my sister returned. Her love for Caelan was a desperate, all-consuming thing. She was frantic to get my Celestial Core for him, to bind them together forever in their shared future. The more she pushed, the deeper the phantom knife twisted in my gut. Her purpose today was terrifyingly clear. She had brought the imperial physicians with her, their instruments gleaming, ready to harvest me like a crop. When she saw the life force draining from Corbin, a confident smirk touched her lips. “That selfish wretch. As I thought, he’ll abandon anyone to save his own skin.” She knelt beside the ailing general. “Corbin, help me, and I will remove the larva. You can live out your days in peace. But if you wait much longer, you truly will be nothing but a skeleton. Give him to me, and I will still honor you as General Corbin. What do you say?” She then gently activated the larva. Veins bulged on Corbin’s forehead, and a sheen of cold sweat drenched his back in an instant. He coughed up a mouthful of blood and glared past her at Caelan, who hid behind her skirts. “You and Lord Orion are siblings of the same blood,” Corbin forced the words through gritted teeth. “Is this how you honor the Emperor and Empress’s wish for you to care for your brother?” Seraphina tenderly straightened Caelan’s robes. “I have only one brother,” she said softly, “and that is Caelan. As you can see, I am taking very good care of him.” Her gaze hardened as she looked back at Corbin. “Does Orion think he can just hide and wait for this to blow over? If he jeopardizes Caelan’s ascension, I will issue a decree to the entire realm, stripping him of his title and casting him out forever!” At this, Caelan began his performance. “Sister, please, you mustn’t! It is all my fault. My talents are too poor, nothing compared to Lord Orion’s. I should not have been so presumptuous as to ask for his aid…” Sister. That familiar, yet alien word. I was only ever allowed to call her “Your Majesty.” The one time I had dared to call her “sister,” she had me pinned to the Executioner’s Spire to endure ten thousand lashes of celestial lightning. But at Caelan’s self-reproach, her voice softened to a melodic whisper. “Don’t worry, my love. I will find him, even if I have to tear this realm apart. Nothing will stand in the way of your ascension. You are the only family I have left.” Caelan nodded obediently, his hand gently stroking hers in a display of cloying intimacy. “Orion is your true brother!” Corbin roared, summoning the last of his strength. The outburst startled Caelan, who flinched and hid further behind Seraphina. She merely signaled her guards, who strode forward and slammed a fist into Corbin’s gut, knocking him to the floor. “Don’t you worry, Caelan,” she cooed. “As long as we have this old relic, he’ll show himself eventually.” She gave another nod, and the guards began to beat and kick the defenseless old man. From behind Seraphina’s back, Caelan watched Corbin vomit blood. A faint smile ghosted across his lips as he mouthed silent words at the general: Old fool. This is what you get for defying me. I stood there, a powerless specter, screaming for her to stop, begging her to see that Corbin couldn’t survive this. But she couldn’t see me. Three thousand years ago, Caelan, emboldened by Seraphina’s favor, had been gallivanting across the realms. His recklessness provoked a conflict with the demons. An army of them amassed at our borders, demanding his head. To preserve the peace, my sister chose to hand someone over. She sent a message, luring me from the front lines where I was holding back the demonic tide. She said an old friend wished to see me in the Aetherium Vault. There, she sprung her trap. She activated the Vault’s power, suppressing my cultivation, and bound my body and soul with celestial chains. The look in her eyes told me everything. I understood her plan, and terror seized me. “The one Caelan injured was the Demon King’s favorite son!” I cried out. “And I have been fighting the demons for years! I’ve slain countless of their champions! If you send me, they will kill me!” For a moment, she hesitated. But then Caelan began to weep, whispering a few heartbroken words of farewell, and her resolve hardened into steel. “You are strong,” she said, her voice flat. “You can endure a little suffering. Caelan’s cultivation is weaker than yours, his constitution fragile. To send him would be a certain death sentence.” And with that, she had me escorted out. The celestial soldiers who witnessed it were stunned into silence. A few of my loyal commanders dared to question her, and she had them executed on the spot. When I was brought before the demonic army, a hush fell over the battlefield. The demon general sent to receive me couldn’t believe his eyes. The Demon King was overjoyed and immediately withdrew his forces. The demons were creatures of cruelty, and I was their most hated enemy. They subjected me to unimaginable tortures. They tore out my tongue, gouged out my eyes, and flayed the skin from my bones. They drove eighty-one soul-binding nails into my spirit to prolong the agony. Finally, word reached Corbin, who was guarding the border against the Fae. He ignored the threat at his back and led a desperate charge deep into demonic territory. Carrying our father’s imperial standard, he roared at the demonic host, “Release Lord Orion, or I will tear your infernal kingdom asunder!” The Demon King only laughed. “Wasn’t it your new Empress who delivered him to me herself? Having second thoughts?” He sent his legions to meet Corbin’s charge. Shielded by the power of the standard, Corbin fought like a madman, carving a path to my prison and managing to retrieve a single, fading sliver of my soul. He returned to the Celestial Realm, hoping to beg Seraphina to perform the ritual of soul-gathering, to give me a chance at rebirth. But the Imperial Palace was awash with festive lanterns and music. My sister was busy organizing a grand birthday celebration for Caelan. “Do not bother me with anything or anyone related to Orion,” she had commanded her court. “It disgusts me.” On that day, Caelan stood in the Jade Pavilion, the center of the universe, showered with blessings. On that day, my last wisp of spirit shattered, my soul scattered to the winds, denied even the solace of rebirth. Remembering this, I tried to scream, but without a tongue, only a choked, guttural sound escaped my throat. Sister, do you truly hate me so much? Have you forgotten your promise to our parents to watch over me? Just then, Caelan coughed weakly, complaining that his foundation was unstable, his celestial energy in turmoil. Seraphina immediately flew into a panic, her senses flaring out again, convinced I had to be nearby. Corbin watched her frantic search with cold, dead eyes. He watched until she finally found it. My memorial tablet, standing alone on a dilapidated wooden table. She froze, her eyes widening as she read the name carved into the wood. Slowly, cautiously, she stepped forward to examine it. 3 She had seen the memorial tablet. Surely now she would believe. All I wanted was for her to leave Corbin in peace. He had suffered grievous injuries in that last, desperate war and could not endure much more of this torment. A small, secret hope flickered within me. If she knew I was truly dead, would she, perhaps, seek vengeance for me? Not that it mattered. I just wanted her to live well. But that flicker of hope was instantly extinguished by Caelan’s whining voice. “I know Brother Orion doesn’t want to help me, but this kind of joke is just cruel! We’re Celestials. What use do we have for such mortal trinkets?” Seraphina’s head snapped up, her expression instantly clearing. “Of course,” she said, nodding in agreement. She strode forward, knocked the tablet to the floor, and crushed it under her heel. “Hmph. Trying to fool me with these mortal theatrics?” A single sentence from Caelan, and she couldn’t even tolerate the sight of my memorial. Seeing this, a raw, guttural roar of fury erupted from Corbin. His eyes bloodshot, he summoned his tiger-striped blade and swung at Caelan, only to be thrown back by a shimmering shield of energy. It was a protective jade amulet, capable of deflecting any physical harm. It was the amulet our mother had left for me. Seraphina immediately intensified the Soul-Eater Larva’s torment. Corbin collapsed, writhing in silent agony. “Do not think for a second that because you were my father’s man, you can act so brazenly,” she snarled. “Anyone who dares to harm my Caelan will be executed!” Caelan had barely been startled, yet she reacted with such ferocious protectiveness. I remembered returning from battle against the demons, my body covered in wounds that went down to the bone, and she had merely complained that I was dirtying her palace floors. The larva’s bite grew stronger and stronger, but Corbin only clenched his jaw and glared at them with undiluted hatred. Frustrated, Seraphina gave up for the moment. But as they were about to leave, Caelan added one more thing. “Sister,” he asked sweetly, “this little courtyard… does it belong to our Celestial family?” And so, Seraphina had her guards drag Corbin out and dump him in the street. Countless Celestials gathered, their faces masks of scorn and amusement. In his prime, Corbin had been my father’s fiercest general—an upright man who could not suffer fools or corruption. He had made many enemies. Now, seeing him cast out by the current Empress, those old enemies began to stir. Within moments, he was surrounded. They beat him until his face was a swollen, bloody mess, stripping him of his last shred of dignity. He curled into a ball in a filthy alleyway, clutching the shattered pieces of my memorial tablet to his chest, his body shaking with silent sobs. “It is my failure,” he wept. “I failed to protect you, my prince!” Tears I could not shed streamed down my face as I knelt beside him. No, Corbin, no. After our parents died, in all the three realms, you were the only one who was ever good to me. I am the one who failed. But I was nothing now, a disembodied consciousness, a ghost no one could perceive. Without my Celestial Core, Caelan’s foundation grew increasingly unstable. His cultivation regressed, and even his youthful appearance began to fade. He locked himself away, refusing to see anyone. Seraphina, in turn, neglected all matters of state to stay by his side, coaxing him to eat and take his medicine, gathering every spiritual herb in the realm for him, and swearing on her life that she would dig up my core for his use. For I was the greatest prodigy in the three realms. My power had soared without the aid of a single spiritual treasure. My Celestial Core was the finest in existence. Finally, in her desperation, Seraphina issued a decree for my capture across all three realms. Wanted: dead or alive. All that mattered was the core. For a time, the forces of the realms turned every stone, searched every shadow. But they found no trace of me. How could they? My body had been destroyed, my soul dispersed. I no longer had a place in this world. She considered confronting the Demon King, but he would never give her a straight answer. He merely offered a dismissive reply: he had been rescued by a tiger. That tiger, of course, was Corbin in his true form. The Demon King had assumed that with even a sliver of my soul saved, the Celestial Realm would have the means to resurrect me, difficult though it might be. He had even been frustrated by it for a time. He could never have predicted that the new Empress, my own sister, would simply leave me to fade into nothingness. It was for the best. It meant I would see my parents again soon. As Seraphina’s anxiety mounted, she activated the Soul-Eater Larva with increasing frequency, trying to force my hand. Corbin was on the verge of death, his breath a shallow rattle. “Sister, for the sake of that one boy, you would treat our father’s loyal men this way?” “Sister, have you no shame before the soldiers who defend our realm?” Dark currents began to stir within the Celestial Realm. But the two at the center of the storm remained oblivious in their gilded palace. Caelan wept day and night, leaning against his sister’s side, spinning his tragic tales. “Sister, to have spent these millennia with you has been the greatest blessing of my life. If you cannot find him, then let it be. I wish to walk the mortal realm for a time. Even if my life ends, I can at least leave with some dignity. I hope that with Brother Orion by your side, you will be able to forget me.” His words tore at Seraphina’s heart, her hatred for me deepening with every tear he shed. But as she pulled him into a comforting embrace, a triumphant smirk flickered across Caelan’s face. These words were his shield, his ultimate weapon. He had once taunted me in private. “You think you’re so talented, Orion? So powerful? What does it matter? In our sister’s heart, I am worth so much more than you. Don’t you believe me? Watch. All it takes is a few tears from me, and she’ll break your legs without a second thought. If I were you, I would have killed myself long ago. You murdered your own parents. How dare you continue to exist? Why won’t you just die? Don’t you know you’re completely redundant? The entire Celestial Realm is waiting for you to drop dead!” 4 Caelan knelt by Seraphina’s side, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I’m just so afraid, sister. Afraid of a future without you.” She soothed him with a gentle touch. “With me here, you will always be safe. As for that jinx… once I have his Celestial Core, I will use it to reforge your own body and spirit, and you will achieve ultimate power. There now, stop your crying. You’re like a little puppy, always whimpering, hmm?” At that, Caelan finally managed a watery smile, rubbing his cheek against her hand like a contented cat. “I’m not a puppy. Sister, you’re teasing me again.” I stood beside them, a silent witness to their saccharine display. Suddenly, Seraphina’s head snapped up, her eyes locking onto the space where I stood. A confident, predatory smile spread across her face. “Found you, you little wretch. Time to answer for your crimes.” My non-existent heart skipped a beat. Could she see me? But what could I do, in this state? She walked straight through me, moving toward the great doors behind, her stride purposeful. Her search ended in a clearing not far from the house, where she found Corbin kneeling before a weapon planted in the earth: a three-pointed war spear. “Where is he?” Seraphina demanded, her voice a low snarl. “Where is that jinx? I felt his presence right here!” She laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “He couldn’t stay away, could he? After all, how could someone like him ever bear to leave the comforts of the Celestial Realm?” The truth was, the only reason I had never wanted to leave was because of her. Corbin glanced at her, his expression a mask of indifference. “Have you come to pay your respects to Lord Orion?” With a flick of her foot, Seraphina kicked over the incense burner at the base of the spear. “Tell him to get out here. I’ve had enough of his little game of hide-and-seek. Caelan’s ascension cannot be delayed.” She narrowed her eyes. “You said he was dead? Then I’ll use the Soul-Calling Curse and force his spirit to appear before me.” The curse was a forbidden art, reserved for the most vile and malevolent of Celestials. That she would use it on me… Corbin remained silent. Seraphina began the incantation, but after a long moment, she felt nothing. Not a single wisp of a soul answered her call. She scoffed, flicking her sleeve in frustration. “I can’t sense his soul anywhere. He’s alive, just as I suspected!” I could only shake my head in bitter amusement. Sister, I have no soul left to call. You can search for all eternity and find nothing. Just then, the three-pointed war spear began to pulse with a faint, ethereal light. In a flash, Seraphina sealed the surrounding space. She snatched the spear, a triumphant grin on her face. “Running away? What about this old man? Are you going to abandon him too? Just as I thought. A selfish, miserable jinx to the very end!” She enveloped the spear in her Prismatic Celestial Light, one of the most powerful and destructive forces in the realm. A single touch could injure, a direct blast could annihilate. Not even the Demon King or the Fae Lords would face it willingly. But no matter how much power she poured into it, the spear remained unchanged. Corbin watched her, his eyes as still and dead as a winter lake. Seraphina’s initial confidence began to waver, replaced by a growing unease. This was the Prismatic Light; it could unmake creation itself. If I were truly hiding within the spear, how could I possibly withstand it? Slowly, another possibility began to dawn on her. A memory she had long suppressed started to surface. Three thousand years ago. The day she had cast me out, offered me to the demons as a sacrifice. From that day on, I was never seen again. I watched her stand there, frozen. Are you finally starting to understand, sister? The greatest champion of the Celestial Realm… he vanished from this world long ago. But after a moment, she shook her head, violently denying the thought. “He must be here! I can feel his aura. He’s trying to trick me!” She channeled her power again, pouring everything she had into the Prismatic Light. The very space around us began to hum and tremble. But the hand gripping the spear was shaking, betraying the turmoil in her heart. I stood beside her, a silent phantom. Sister, please stop. I really am… long dead. Ignoring her, Corbin spoke to the spear, his voice a hollow echo of the past. “They tore his soul from his body, stripped the sinew from his bones. They tortured him with a thousand cuts, for three long years, before he finally breathed his last.” “Even as he died,” Corbin continued, his voice breaking, “he bore you no ill will. He only worried… who would be left for you, with all your family gone?” “After his death, they shattered his soul, ensuring he could never be reborn. The proud son of the former Emperor, the mightiest warrior in the Celestial Realm, Lord Orion… and not even a body to bury!” “I fought with everything I had to bring back a single sliver of his soul. I came to you, begging you to help me re-form his spirit, to give him another chance. And where were you?” “You were celebrating that impostor’s birthday!” At his words, a memory seemed to strike Seraphina. The color drained from her face. “You keep asking where he is,” Corbin spat, his voice thick with rage. “He is right there, in your hands!” Seraphina’s hand flew back from the spear as if it had been burned. She stumbled backward, her eyes wide with horror. No wonder she could feel my aura. The three-pointed war spear… Corbin had forged it from my bones. From the last whole bone left in my body. 5 My sister had loved me once. Mother told me that when she was pregnant with me, Seraphina would spend hours with her head pressed against her belly, whispering secrets to me. After I was born, she was my constant shadow. But everything changed after the war.

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1 The day I landed a nine-figure deal, my CEO boyfriend—who’d delayed marriage for years—finally agreed to meet me at City Hall. I rushed over, my heart soaring. But Nathan never came. Instead, a notification popped up: a post from his assistant. A provocative photo showed her hand clasped in Nathan’s, a new marriage certificate vivid against her dress. The caption read: He saved me from an arranged marriage… now he’s my husband! Colleagues buzzed in the comments, anticipating my meltdown. I liked the post and commented coldly: “Married already? When’s the wedding? I’ll send a generous check.” Nathan called instantly, his voice icy. “This marriage to Heather is fake—just to stop her parents from making her quit. It’s not real. Must you be so petty? Delete the comment and apologize. Once this is over, I’ll marry you as planned.” My reply was frosty. “Don’t bother. We’re done.” There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line before Nathan’s voice exploded with anger. “Monica, how many times do I have to explain this? It was a fake ceremony with Heather! Just paperwork to fool her parents. Is that really worth tearing us apart?” “I already promised I’d marry you,” he raged on. “What more do you want? There’s a limit to these tantrums. You don’t just throw the word ‘breakup’ around like a joke!” I clutched my phone, the cavernous, empty hall of the registrar’s office mocking me. A bitter smile twisted my lips. For ten years, marrying Nathan had been my only dream. I’d spent countless nights imagining our happy life together. I had the wedding favors and invitations ready to go. I’d picked out the photographer, our outfits, even the venue. All I needed was for him to say yes. But every time I brought it up, he’d use the company as an excuse. It was a “critical growth period,” he’d say. “Just wait until things are stable.” So I threw myself into stabilizing it for him. I took on every thankless job, every grueling project, working myself to the bone. When the company was finally stable, he said he “wasn’t ready.” He told me to wait a little longer. I waited for ten years. Then yesterday, after I secured the massive project that would set us up for life, he finally relented. He called it my “reward.” I was so ecstatic I couldn’t sleep, thinking my years of waiting had finally paid off. I took the whole day off, got here first thing in the morning, and waited. And waited. Until his assistant, Heather, posted that picture. They’d even driven to the next state over to get the license, just to avoid me. The stark red of the certificate seared itself into my memory. He wasn’t “not ready.” He just wasn’t ready to marry me. For the first time, I didn’t swallow the hurt. “You’re right,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “It’s just paperwork. The whole process, from taking a number to walking out with the certificate, takes less than ten minutes. A ten-minute process you couldn’t find the time for in ten years with me, but you managed it for her.” I took a breath. “And let’s not forget, you were the one who suggested we do this today. You left me hanging all day. Don’t I have a right to be angry?” My firmness seemed to catch him off guard. When he finally spoke, his voice was laced with condescending fury. “Can you stop being so unreasonable, Monica? I told you it was an emergency! Was I supposed to just stand by and watch her parents ruin her life? Do you have any idea how much the company has invested in training her? I was protecting an asset! Was that so wrong?” I almost laughed. As if. The company was full of people whose parents were pressuring them. Why didn’t he “protect” them? What kind of “asset” was Heather, anyway? She had zero competence, couldn’t even use the basic Microsoft Office Suite, and hadn’t closed a single deal in six months. Any other employee would have been fired without a second thought. But in Nathan’s eyes, Heather was a diamond in the rough, a secret weapon who was only “letting us have the sales” to be kind. He was convinced that if a real crisis hit, she would be the one to save us all. In reality, the only thing saving her from termination was Nathan constantly reassigning my successful projects to her name. He probably didn’t even realize how deep his bias ran, how instinctively he protected her, how tenderly he cared for her. “You’re not wrong,” I said, a cold smile in my voice. “I am.” He took the bait, his tone instantly shifting to one of smug satisfaction. “Well, since you know you’re wrong, hurry up and delete the comment. And apologize to Heather. You’re making her look bad in front of the whole company…” “My biggest mistake,” I cut him off, “was not breaking up with you sooner.” “Monica, you’re being impossible! You want to be stubborn? Fine! You just wait!” He hung up. A moment later, my phone buzzed with notifications. He had unlinked all our shared accounts and changed his profile picture, erasing me from his digital life. It was his classic move, his way of punishing me into submission. But this time, I was just tired. Too tired to play his games. As I was about to turn off my screen, a notification popped up from the company group chat. It was Heather, tagging me. “Monica, please don’t misunderstand! Nathan was just helping me out of a tough spot with my parents. It’s rare to find a boss as kind and humane as him these days!” “If I had known you’d be so upset, I never would have posted it. It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry…” Nathan replied immediately. “Heather, you did nothing wrong. You don’t need to apologize. The person who needs to apologize is the one making snide, malicious comments.” The rest of the vultures in the office quickly chimed in. [Yeah, Heather, it’s not your fault! Monica’s just being petty! She’s jealous that you’re young and beautiful and have the CEO’s favor!] [Nathan is such a good guy. For a girlfriend, Monica is so cold and heartless. She deserved to be stood up! Serves her right!] I was used to their backstabbing. Ever since Heather had arrived and become Nathan’s favorite, they’d been kissing up to her and whispering behind my back. Their words couldn’t hurt me anymore. I turned off my phone. The registrar’s clerk looked at me with pity. “Ma’am, you’ve been here all day. Is… is the person you’re waiting for not coming?” “We’re about to close. Perhaps you could come back tomorrow?” I shook my head, my eyes fixed on the floor. “He’s already married someone else. He’s not coming. And neither am I.” I looked down at the ticket in my hand. Number one. The first to arrive, the last to leave. What a joke. With a short, sharp laugh, I tore the paper into pieces and dropped it into the trash can. The man who would never show, the wedding that would never happen—I was done waiting. The love that was never returned—I was done wanting it. I walked towards the exit. Just as I reached the door, my phone rang. It was Nathan. He had unblocked me. 2 My first instinct was to hang up, but muscle memory took over, and I answered. Nathan’s arrogant voice immediately filled my ear. “Monica. Have you learned your lesson?” He didn’t wait for me to speak. “Here’s a chance to make it up to me. Heather is exhausted after the long day, and she’s feeling a bit of a chill. She needs to rest. You’ll take her place at the client dinner tonight.” “If you handle it well, I might be willing to forgive your little tantrum from earlier…” The way he spoke, as if ordering a servant, made me laugh out loud. Had he forgotten that I had also spent the entire day waiting, exposed to the same cold wind? There was a time when a single sneeze from me would have had him draping his coat over my shoulders, fussing over me with hot ginger tea and medicine, terrified I might fall ill. Now, he spoke to me as if I were a tool, my feelings an irrelevant inconvenience. More importantly, had he forgotten that I was severely allergic to alcohol? In the early years of our startup, schmoozing with clients was a necessary evil. But back then, Nathan had shielded me. He would turn down any event with drinking, and if it was unavoidable, he would drink for the both of us. He’d come home staggering drunk, hugging the toilet bowl, but still find the strength to reassure me, telling me not to worry, to get some sleep. That man, the one whose world had once revolved around me, was gone. This time, I didn’t crumble. I didn’t compromise for the sake of our crumbling relationship. My voice was steel. “I can’t go, Nathan. I’m allergic to alcohol. And besides, that’s Heather’s responsibility, not mine.” His stunned silence was followed by a roar of fury. “I’m trying to be nice to you, and you’re going to pull this crap? I pay your salary! That means you are on call for me 24/7. That is your obligation!” A calm smile spread across my face. “Then I quit.” Before he could respond, I hung up and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time. “Mr. Sterling, it’s Monica. I’m accepting your offer.” The company was a major international design firm, a global leader in the industry. I’d met Leo Sterling a year ago on a collaboration. Just before signing the deal, I’d noticed a structural flaw in their new product—a design choice made for aesthetics that would have led to frequent malfunctions and a PR nightmare. After I pointed it out, he immediately halted production, saving the company tens of millions of dollars. He’d become one of my few friends. After learning about the way I was being treated at Nathan’s company, he had flown out more than once, trying to recruit me. He’d offered me the position of Design Director and eight figures in stock options. But Nathan, haunted by his childhood, refused to leave the country. So, for him, I had turned it down, sacrificing my own future to stay by his side. I thought my devotion would be returned in kind. Instead, I had lost everything. I had given him my youth, my health, ten years of my life, and in return, I didn’t even get his name. It wasn’t worth it. It was time to start thinking about myself. Leo’s joyful voice pulled me back to the present. “Monica, really?! We’re ready for you anytime. But what happened? The last time we spoke, you were planning a wedding.” I managed a wry laugh. “Nothing much. We just broke up.” There was a pause on his end, then his voice softened with sympathy. “Monica, I don’t know the details, but I know you. It’s his loss. It’s definitely his loss.” A moment later, a notification popped up on my phone. A fifty-thousand-dollar wire transfer. “A little something to help you get settled, Monica. We’ll be waiting for you.” I smiled, and after a brief chat about logistics, I hung up. Just as I accepted the transfer, Nathan updated his social media. 3 It was a photo of him and Heather at a trendy new steakhouse, all sleek decor and Western cuisine. The caption read: “Love at first sight, and still falling for you every day.” In the picture, Nathan was smiling, actually smiling, as Heather fed him a piece of steak. The irony was so thick I could have choked on it. Nathan hated Western food. He’d told me it was his least favorite thing in the world. His father had been seduced by a foreign woman and had abandoned him and his mother when he was just three. The trauma had left deep scars. He avoided anything and everything foreign, even turning down lucrative overseas business deals. On our first date, I had no idea. Wanting to do something special, I’d spent a month’s savings to take him to the fanciest steakhouse in the city. The moment the expensive steaks arrived, his face had darkened. He flipped the table, sending the scorching hot steak sliding onto my lap, and stormed out without a word, leaving me to be stared at and ridiculed by the entire restaurant. He gave me the silent treatment for a week. The incident was only “forgiven” after I knelt on the living room floor for half a day and transferred him a small fortune as an apology. And now, here he was, happily eating a cheap, frozen-and-reheated steak from Heather’s fork, without a hint of disgust. I guess love really is the best medicine. It can even cure deep-seated trauma. Our colleagues were fawning all over the post. Usually, it was just Heather dropping ambiguous hints, but now that Nathan had made it official, they were all tripping over themselves to offer blessings and pledge their loyalty. And Nathan, usually so stern and formal, was actually replying to them with smiling emojis. I knew he was doing it to get to me, to provoke me into begging for his forgiveness like I always had. But this time, I just smiled and closed the app. My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten all day. I sent a text to my best friend, Maya. [Late-night grill spot?] Her reply was instantaneous: [I’m there!] … At the restaurant, Maya was halfway through a skewer when she glanced at her watch. “Hey, doesn’t your control-freak boyfriend have a 10 PM curfew for you? It’s getting late, aren’t you going to head out?” It was laughable, really. Early in our relationship, Nathan had claimed he was insecure and paranoid about me cheating. He’d imposed a strict set of rules. I had to be home by ten, reply to his texts instantly, and answer his calls within three rings. If he video-called to check up on me, even if I was in the middle of a client meeting, I wasn’t allowed to decline. I’d put up with it, telling myself it was because of the trauma from his childhood. But the rules never applied to him. He would disappear for days, sometimes not even coming home at night. Once, worried for his safety, I’d video-called him. He had exploded, sending me a barrage of texts accusing me of being a controlling psycho who didn’t respect his privacy. He’d frozen me out for a month after that. He thought he was being so clever. But I already knew the truth, thanks to the “accidental” photos Heather would send me. His late nights weren’t for work. They were for her. And I, like an idiot, had played along, strictly adhering to his curfew, turning down countless nights out with friends until they just stopped asking. My world had shrunk until he was the only thing in it. What a waste. I bit into a piece of grilled meat with a vengeance. “Don’t worry about him. He can’t tell me what to do anymore. We broke up.” Maya stared at me for a second, then broke into a huge grin, clapping me on the back. “Monica! It’s about damn time! That guy never deserved you. Tonight’s on me. We’re not leaving until you’re good and happy!” I smiled, and we ordered two more platters, eating and talking until the early hours of the morning. When I finally got home and opened the door, a pillow flew through the air and hit me square in the face. Nathan’s cold voice followed it. “What time do you call this? Did you decide to come home, finally?” 4 I was surprised to see him. Usually, after a “night out with a client,” which was code for a night with Heather, he wouldn’t roll in until the next afternoon. The pillow had hit my glasses, the nose pad digging painfully into the bridge of my nose. A warm trickle of blood ran down my face. Nathan froze, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He reached for a tissue, about to get up, but then seemed to think better of it. He sank back onto the sofa, his voice hard. “Why are you so late? You know the rule. Where have you been?” I ignored him, rummaging through a drawer for some antiseptic and cotton swabs. My silence seemed to infuriate him even more. “Monica, I’m talking to you! Are you deaf? Or did you do something you’re ashamed of and now you don’t have the guts to tell me?” I let out a cold laugh and finally met his eyes. “And you? Why are you home so early? Weren’t you supposed to be keeping Heather company?” His expression faltered. He wasn’t used to me calling him out on his lies. He quickly composed himself, his brow furrowing. “What are you talking about? I didn’t have a client dinner tonight. After I helped Heather, I came straight home. And all those other times were just business trips. Stop letting your imagination run wild.” He tried to sound wounded. “I came back because I was worried about you. I know I was wrong to stand you up today, but that’s no excuse to ignore my calls and stay out all night. I was about to call the police!” He gestured to the coffee table. “I even brought you some of your favorite seafood porridge. I was worried you’d be hungry.” I glanced at the container of congealed, cold porridge and felt a wave of nausea. After all these years, he still hadn’t realized. This was his peace offering, the thing he always brought me right before he was about to ask me to compromise on something related to Heather. The smell alone was enough to make me sick. “No, thanks. I already ate.” He missed the ice in my tone completely, assuming he had already placated me. “Oh, by the way,” he said, “Heather was telling me her parents are still suspicious. They won’t be satisfied until they see wedding photos. So, we’re going to get some taken tomorrow.” He looked at me expectantly. “I remember you did a lot of research on this stuff. Could you recommend a good studio? One that’s quick and has nice dresses?” The hopeful, excited look in his eyes as he planned his wedding photos with another woman was grotesque. He knew I had done all that research for our wedding. “You’re on your own,” I said flatly. “I can’t help you.” His face fell. The seafood porridge had failed. His go-to tactic was useless. Then, his frustration boiled over into anger. “Monica, it’s just an act! Why are you being so dramatic about this?” “Whether it’s an act or you’ve actually fallen for her,” I said, my voice cutting, “you know the truth in your own heart.” The way his eyes had lit up when he mentioned wedding photos… even a blind man could see it was real. Cornered, he stomped his foot like a petulant child. It was the first time he hadn’t gotten his way with me. “You… you’re being ridiculous!” I was done arguing. I turned to go to the bedroom. But he darted in front of me, grabbed my pillow from the bed, and threw it into the hallway. “You’re not sleeping in here with me! You can sleep in the study tonight and think about what you’ve done!” He slammed the door, and I heard the key turn in the lock. Twice. He was treating me like a burglar in my own home. He thought he could break me. He had no idea he was doing me a favor. I hadn’t wanted to sleep next to him anyway. I just needed to pack my things. I looked around the living room. Everything in this apartment was his. I had nothing here but a few old dresses in the closet. I shook my head, grabbed my suitcase from the corner, and went to the study. The first thing I saw was the gift I had given him for our seventh anniversary. It was a string art portrait of us on our first date at an amusement park. I had spent a month of sleepless nights painstakingly winding tens of thousands of threads around hundreds of nails to create it. I remembered that day. He hadn’t wanted to go. He thought amusement parks were childish and a waste of money. He only agreed to take a single photo with me after I promised to cover all of Heather’s work for the next quarter. It was our first and last trip there. That’s why I had turned the photo into a piece of art, to preserve that one happy memory. I had cared for it meticulously, just as I had cared for our relationship. What a fool I’d been. You can’t force a man to love you. I took the portrait off the wall, picked up a pair of scissors, and with a single touch to the taut threads, the entire image unraveled. It looked perfect on the surface, but the slightest pressure shattered it. Just like our love. I swept the tangled mess of thread into the trash. As I was packing up some documents from the desk, I knocked over a loose folder. Hundreds of handwritten letters spilled onto the floor. I froze. 5 They were the love letters I had written to him five years ago. He had caught a bad flu that season, his fever spiking so high he had to be rushed to the hospital. Delirious, he thought he was dying. He had clung to my hand, whispering that he hadn’t heard enough of my love letters. He made me promise to keep writing and reading them to him, so that if he died, I could burn them at his grave and he wouldn’t be so lonely in the afterlife. To keep him conscious for the doctors, I had agreed through my tears. I wrote and wrote, filling page after page with every little memory of our life together, my voice growing hoarse as I read them aloud. By the time his fever broke, I had gone through ten pens. My index finger was raw and bleeding, spattering drops of blood onto the tear-soaked pages. When he finally woke up and saw my hand, cramped and deformed from holding the pen for so long, he had wept. He held me tight and promised he would be good to me for the rest of our lives, that he would never let me be hurt again. And now, there was Heather. And for her, he had hurt me again and again. He had broken his promise. I took a deep breath and swept the letters into the trash can. His promises had expired. Keeping these mementos would only be a form of self-torture. As I finished packing, I looked at the nearly empty study and the suitcase that wasn’t even half full, and I had to laugh. Nathan was always complaining about how tight money was, telling me to save every penny for our future wedding. He painted a grand picture of the ceremony, the rings, the new house… all the things we would have. I had believed him. I’d worn the same cheap, nine-dollar sneakers year-round, through scorching summers and freezing winters. I’d spent hours hunting for online coupons just to save a dollar on a pre-packaged meal. Every cent I saved, I gave to him. And he had used that money to buy himself the latest gaming console, a watch worth tens of thousands of dollars, and a life that looked perfect on social media. I had been so blinded by the promise of marriage that I had let him exploit me, ruin my health, and for what? A man who didn’t love me. I shook my head, dragging my suitcase toward the door. As I turned, it bumped into a small metal safe tucked away in the corner. It was Nathan’s most prized possession. I remembered during a typhoon, when the windows of our apartment had shattered, he had risked his life to drag that safe to a secure spot. No one knew what was inside. I had tried to guess the four-digit code countless times: our anniversary, my birthday, his birthday, his mother’s birthday. Nothing worked. Once, I’d even hired a locksmith. The man took one look at the safe, packed up his tools, and refused to even try, no matter how much money I offered. He finally told me it wasn’t just any safe. The lock was a state-of-the-art nanotechnology from abroad, and the box itself was made of aerospace-grade materials. It was practically indestructible. I had given up. For all our years together, its contents remained a mystery. But now, as I was leaving, a final, nagging thought entered my mind. A test. I keyed in a date I wasn’t supposed to know. The date Nathan had broken up with his previous girlfriend. I didn’t expect anything. He never spoke of her. I only knew she existed because one of his friends had let it slip during a drunken conversation. Beep. The lock clicked open. I stared. Who was this woman, that he cherished the memory of their breakup more than anything else in his life? Then I opened the safe. And my world stopped.

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I was the fake young master. When the real one was brought back, he was thin and dark. My parents, wracked with guilt, offered him compensation. But he scoffed. “I’m their real son. If you want to compensate me, give me the company!” My entire family turned to me. “You’re not our real son, after all. It’s time to give him back his rightful place.” I smiled, nodded, and signed over everything. The next day, the company’s largest client, its core tech team, and every single one of its distributors announced they would only work with me personally. My parents panicked and came begging. I crossed my arms. “Tell your real son to come and beg me, his former employee, to come back.” 1 When Jerry was brought back, he stood timidly in the grand foyer. I had just closed the MC deal. On the way home, my assistant had already briefed me: the Roiland family’s biological son had been found. My heart hammered against my ribs for a moment, then settled into a calm resolve. Fine. They found him. We’ll raise him. The Roilands certainly weren’t short on cash. But I never expected that the moment the real heir saw me, the timidity in his eyes would curdle into raw jealousy. “If you want me to come back and acknowledge my family, fine,” he declared, his voice surprisingly firm. “But he’s been sitting in my spot for long enough. It’s time he gave it back!” “I don’t want anything else. Just the company!” I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ve been running the family business for ten years. Are you sure you can handle it?” My condescension was palpable, and it infuriated him. “I can learn! If I had grown up here, I wouldn’t be any worse than you!” My relatives chimed in, their voices slick with false sympathy. “Just give it to him, Alex. He’s the real heir, after all.” I looked at my parents. My father struggled to meet my eyes. “Alex, we owe him this. Jerry has had a very difficult life.” My mother was already clutching Jerry, sobbing uncontrollably. “Those vile human traffickers… they sold him to a backwoods village. If we hadn’t found him, Jerry would have been stuck there forever…” She turned to me, her eyes pleading. “Alex, just agree. Mom won’t let you be left with nothing.” Looking at their faces, I smiled. “Fine.” I agreed. I would hand it all over. I had always thought that even if the real son returned, I would just continue to do my part. It never crossed my mind to fight him. In fact, I felt sorry for him; I’d already ordered him a welcome gift. But this was the scene I came home to. Compensation, was it? Fine. I didn’t want any of it. On the spot, I had my assistant draw up the transfer documents. I signed them all without a second thought. Holding the company deeds, Jerry was ecstatic, burying his face in our mother’s shoulder. I took a deep breath. “It’s all done. If there’s nothing else, I’m going upstairs to rest.” My mother finally looked up. “Jerry just got back. Let’s have a family dinner.” “I’m tired. I don’t want to eat.” “Is it because you don’t want to see me?” Jerry’s eyes were red as he stared at me. “I just got here, and you’re already treating me like this!” A flicker of annoyance crossed my mother’s face. “Alex! Why are you being so difficult?” My voice was flat. “I just got off a twenty-hour flight. I’m exhausted and jet-lagged.” Only then did she seem to remember I had just returned from a business trip. Seeing the deep red veins in my eyes, she had the grace to look embarrassed. I went upstairs, ignoring the voices below. But in the family group chat, notifications were pinging nonstop. I glanced at it after my shower, a cold sneer forming on my lips. “Jerry’s back! Uncle, when are you holding the welcome banquet? This is a huge celebration for our family!” “Yeah, make it grand! And you can announce the company handover at the same time. By the way, Alex probably can’t live at home anymore, right? And what about the engagement? That’ll have to be reconsidered too, won’t it?” I ignored the rest of the vultures circling, but that last message snagged my attention. The Roiland family had an engagement pact with the Vaughn family. If I was no longer a Roiland heir, what would that mean for my fiancée, Amelia Vaughn? The group chat continued to buzz. It was all so tedious. I left the group. If I was no longer a Roiland, I had no right to be there anyway. Better to save them the trouble of kicking me out. But I still needed to clear things up with Amelia. The next morning, Jerry went out with my parents. I packed a few things, ready to move into my own place. 2 Amelia called and asked to meet. “Alex, there’s a problem with our engagement.” I’d known Amelia for over a decade. I understood her meaning immediately. My voice was cold when I replied over the phone. “You heard I’m not a Roiland heir, so you want to call off the engagement, is that it?” She was silent. Her ten-second pause told me everything I needed to know. “Fine,” I said. “But breaking an engagement isn’t something we can decide on our own. It needs to be discussed between the Vaughn and Roiland families, don’t you think?” After a moment, she just said “Okay” and hung up. I let out a long breath, a strange sense of relief washing over me. For the past ten years, I had dedicated myself to the Roiland family, elevating their company to new heights. The marriage alliance with the Vaughns was mutually beneficial. I prided myself on being a decent fiancé, and Amelia and I got along well. We were a united front in public, and I had mistakenly believed we had a genuine connection. I never thought a change in my status would unravel us so quickly. Shaking my head, I finished packing my things and was about to leave when Jerry and my parents returned. Money was a wonderful thing. The timid boy from yesterday was now dressed in a tailored suit, a completely different person. His skin was still a bit dark, but that would fade with time and care. Seeing me with a suitcase in hand, Jerry froze. “Brother, are you leaving?” I nodded. “It’s not convenient for me to live here anymore.” “You’re leaving as soon as I get back? Do you have a problem with me?” My mother’s face hardened. “Alex, how could you become like this? You’ve been giving Jerry the cold shoulder ever since he arrived!” “Mrs. Roiland, let’s not play games. Weren’t you all discussing how to kick me out of the house in the group chat yesterday? I’m just doing what you wanted. Is there a problem?” Her expression faltered. “I… they were just talking nonsense. That’s not what we meant. The Roiland family has no problem supporting you. By doing this, you’re just trying to humiliate us, aren’t you?” I laughed. “If that’s not what you meant, why did you speak to the Vaughns? Amelia already called to break off our engagement today. I’ve given you back everything. Moving out is what you wanted, isn’t it? Or do you want the world to think the Roilands have two sons, even though you never gave birth to twins?” My words hit their mark. She swayed on her feet. Jerry piped up from the side. “Brother, why do you have to talk like that? Mom is just being kind!” “Besides,” he added, a sly look in his eye, “the place you’re moving to was bought with Roiland money, wasn’t it? If you really want to cut ties, you can’t…” I stopped and turned to face him, my presence so overpowering that he instinctively shut his mouth. “The money I earn is mine to control. You might not understand whether I rely on the Roilands or if the Roilands rely on me, but you’d better have someone teach you, and fast.” With that, I walked out. My mother called after me, “Alex! Alex!” I didn’t turn back. They forced my hand today; they’d be the ones begging me tomorrow. Sure enough, I had barely left when my father called. “Alex, they may not understand, but you do. Can’t you just leave us all with a little dignity and stop making a scene?” “Tomorrow is your brother’s welcome banquet. You have to be there.” I just chuckled and said nothing. My assistant, hearing I had left the Roilands, immediately followed me. “Mr. Roiland, wherever you go, we go.” 3 My entire team pledged their loyalty to me. What Jerry didn’t know, what the whole Roiland family seemed to have forgotten, was that their esteemed position in this city wasn’t built on their “old money” name. It was built on me, Alex Roiland. But I would still attend his welcome banquet. The Roilands had gone all out, booking the entire Stonewater Manor for the event. All the big names were there. I went too. As soon as I arrived, I saw a few of the wealthy heirs I used to associate with. Their faces were twisted in sneers. “Alex? You still have the nerve to show up? Kicked out of your home and still putting on airs. Aren’t you embarrassed?” “Exactly. Look at the scale of this party. This is how you treat a real son. And you? You spent all those years working for someone else’s family, and now you have nothing!” “Why don’t you come beg me? I might give you a job. My company needs a doorman. You’re handsome enough. How does eight thousand a month sound?” I scanned their pathetic faces. “No wonder your families would rather support their illegitimate children than let you clowns take over the business.” My words struck a nerve. They turned red and were about to start something when Jerry appeared, forcing them to back down. My father took the stage. “Everyone, thank you for taking the time to attend the Roiland family’s welcome banquet. We have finally found our long-lost son, Jerry. From now on, we will do everything in our power to compensate him!” Jerry, dressed in a sharp suit, walked onto the stage. In just a few days, he had acquired a visible air of nobility, though the forced posture made him look a bit top-heavy. His eyes met mine, and he puffed out his chest. “Although my brother is not a biological son of the Roiland family, he has worked hard at the company for many years. I am willing to let him continue to work there.” “Brother, stop being angry with Mom and Dad!” His words hung in the air, and all eyes turned to me, filled with mockery and disdain. I curled my lip. “No, thank you. I’m not short on money.” “You might not be, but I am. I had a miserable life while I was away. But I never gave up on educating myself.” “Brother, if it’s possible, I hope you’ll stay. You can work for me!” My parents came to my side. “Alex, I won’t hold it against you for moving out. But your brother is right. The Roiland family raised you for so many years. It’s time for you to repay us.” I raised an eyebrow. “Ten years. I took the Roiland family from a third-rate name to a top-tier powerhouse. You don’t think that’s repayment enough?” “Work for you?” I laughed, my voice ringing with contempt. “I, Alex Roiland, only work for myself. If the boss can’t handle me, he can’t expect me to slave away for him. You taught me that yourself, Mr. Roiland!” My father’s face went pale with fury. The Roiland relatives seized their chance to kick me while I was down. “Look at him, so arrogant. He still thinks he’s the young master of the Roiland family!” “Without the Roilands, what is he? How dare he speak so brazenly!” “Brother, I think you’re just too soft. You should have kicked him out long ago! He occupied Jerry’s place for so long and doesn’t even know how to be grateful!” Jerry stood tall, a triumphant glint in his eyes. I had to laugh. Did this idiot really think these people were on his side? I scoffed. “You don’t have to kick me out. I’ll leave. But remember this: the moment I walk out that door today, I have nothing more to do with the Roiland family!” “Alex!” my father roared, but his anger quickly deflated into a sigh. “Don’t blame us for being harsh. Your temperament needs to be tamed.” “Fine. Then go ahead and announce it. Publicly declare that Jerry is the new head of the Roiland family.” “Because I quit.” I turned and walked away. As I did, I sent a single mass message, announcing my permanent and immediate separation from Roiland Industries. As I left, Jerry fumed. “Dad, brother is being so petty! He…” Before he could finish, my father’s phone rang. And not just his. All throughout the hall, the phones of the Roiland clan began to ring, one after another, a symphony of disaster. “What?! MC will only work with Alex Roiland? The contract is void?!”

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My pen hovered over a ten-million-dollar contract. Across the table, Carter Sterling, the “Crown Prince of New York Real Estate,” watched me, surrounded by the press. Suddenly, the doors burst open. A little girl, his three-year-old daughter, ran in, sobbing. She pointed a trembling finger at her father. “Daddy,” she wailed, her voice piercing the silence. “Mommy’s gone bad.” A collective gasp rippled through the reporters. Carter froze, his pen still in his hand. The little girl wasn’t finished. She pointed a small, trembling finger directly at me. “And you’re still in here flirting with your canary!” My back went ramrod straight. My hand, instead of reaching for the pen, shot to my purse for my phone. What? Who’s gone bad? My God, someone call 911. Wait a second. Did she say… canary? At me? Nobody sent me the memo. And I sure as hell haven’t seen a check for any “services rendered.” … 1 Every jaw in that room, including my own, was on the floor. The reporters, sensing blood in the water, went into a feeding frenzy. Cameras swiveled, flashes erupted, capturing the three of us in a perfect, scandalous tableau: the powerful tycoon, the newly-crowned Best Actress, and the little girl who couldn’t possibly know how to lie. Carter Sterling pinched the bridge of his nose, a deep weariness settling over his handsome features. “Please, everyone,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “She’s a child. Don’t take her words seriously. Ms. Monroe and I have a professional relationship, nothing more.” But the little girl’s sobs only grew louder, more heartbreaking. “Daddy, are you leaving us? Are you leaving me and Mommy?” she cried. “Mommy’s already dead—” Seeing my thumb hovering over the 9-1-1 on my phone screen, Carter’s frown deepened. He was trapped. With a sigh that seemed to drain the life from him, he made a decision. He was going to have to take us all home to see the “bad” Mrs. Sterling for ourselves. The Sterling residence was a palatial townhouse on the Upper East Side. Carter swept through the rooms, calling for his wife, Isabelle, his voice echoing in the marble foyer. The press corps, a pack of well-dressed vultures, followed closely. I trailed behind, feeling like I’d wandered onto the wrong film set. I noticed the little girl, Lily, kept glancing nervously toward a heavy oak door at the end of the hall. “Mr. Sterling,” I said quietly. “Have you checked the master bathroom?” Recognition, or perhaps dread, flashed in his eyes. He didn’t answer, just strode to the door and threw it open. “Isabelle, how long are you going to keep this up?” he roared, his voice cracking like a whip. “Get out of the damn tub! Now!” The raw fury in his voice sent a shiver through the crowd. In an instant, they surged forward, cameras and microphones jostling for position to see into the bathroom. And there she was. Isabelle Sterling, dressed in a delicate white slip, lay motionless in a clawfoot tub filled with water the color of arterial blood. The crimson liquid stained her dress and lapped at her pale skin, creating a tableau that was both tragic and eerily beautiful. Lily started wailing beside me, a gut-wrenching, genuine cry of grief. “Mommy, don’t leave me! I’ll be good, I promise!” she sobbed. “I brought Daddy back from the bad lady, see? Please, just open your eyes!” She looked from the tub to me, her blue eyes filled with a pure, unadulterated hatred that was chilling to see in a child. Just as I was about to finally make the call to the police, Carter did something shocking. He reached into the tub and hauled Isabelle out of the water, her limp body dripping red all over the pristine white marble. “Stop it, Isabelle. Just stop,” he said, his voice flat. “There’s no smell of blood. This is that expensive red bath bomb you love so much.” A stunned silence fell over the room as the reporters slowly processed his words. “He’s right,” one of them whispered. “It doesn’t smell like anything.” “And there are no wounds on her body.” “So… why did the little girl say all that?” All eyes turned to Lily. The three-year-old’s face turned scarlet, and she stared intently at her own tiny shoes, suddenly unable to speak. Just as the silence became unbearable, Isabelle Sterling’s eyelids fluttered open. She blinked, feigning disorientation. “Carter? What… what are you doing here? What happened to me?” Carter stared down at his wife, the last ounce of patience draining from his face. “Are you done playing games, Isabelle?” he asked, his voice dangerously low. “Faking your own suicide, coaching our daughter to lie for you… What was the point of all this?” The performance dropped. Isabelle’s tears vanished, replaced by a venomous glare aimed at me. “It’s because of her!” she shrieked, pointing a dripping finger in my direction. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on. Stella Monroe, your new little canary. The Oscar you probably bought for her…” Her voice trailed off, her implication hanging poisonously in the air. “You haven’t been home in a week, Carter. All for her.” I was speechless. I’m a glamorous actress, yes, but I built my career on talent and grit. I earned that Oscar with my own blood, sweat, and tears. But in the twisted narrative Isabelle was weaving, my greatest professional achievement was suddenly tainted, reduced to a transactional perk. Isabelle’s face crumpled again, the tears returning on cue. “I… I just missed you,” she whimpered, her voice thick with manufactured pain. “I had to do something to get you to come home…” Carter closed his eyes, looking utterly defeated. “I told you, the company has been…” He didn’t get to finish. I’d had enough. “Mrs. Sterling,” I interrupted, my voice calm but firm. “I don’t know what misconception you have about me, but Mr. Sterling and I are business partners. Your husband’s company and my career goals align. That’s why they chose me as a brand ambassador. That is all.” Isabelle collapsed against Carter’s chest, a fragile, weeping damsel. “Stella, please,” she sobbed, her voice just loud enough for every microphone to pick it up. “Please, don’t destroy my family. I love my husband so much. Our daughter needs her father.” She took a shaky breath, delivering the killing blow. “That lace teddy you ‘accidentally’ left in the sofa cushions last week… I washed it for you. It’s clean. You can have it back. Just please, give me my husband back.” 2 Her words were a grenade tossed into the room. The reporters exploded. “Ms. Sterling, what is the nature of your relationship with Mr. Sterling?” “How far has this affair gone?” “Ms. Monroe, was your Oscar win influenced by your relationship with Carter Sterling?” Isabelle buried her face in her husband’s chest, but not before flashing me a triumphant, malicious smile from the corner of her eye. My mind went blank with rage. I’ve never even met this woman before today. Why was she fabricating this elaborate, career-destroying lie? My composure finally snapped. I whipped out my phone, hit record, and aimed the camera squarely at her face. “Mrs. Sterling,” I said, my voice dangerously even. “First, this is the first time I have ever set foot in your home. Second, I am the brand ambassador for a high-end lingerie line. And third, I have never had any private contact with your husband whatsoever. This entire conversation is being recorded. For your baseless and defamatory accusations, I will be contacting the police and instructing my legal team to file a lawsuit.” For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed Isabelle’s face. Her eyes darted to Carter, her default setting when in trouble. But this time, her husband didn’t rush to her defense. Instead, he peeled her off his chest and exposed her lie. “What the hell are you doing, Isabelle?” he demanded, his voice laced with a fury I hadn’t heard before. “We’ve known each other since we were kids, a textbook love story, yet you insist on telling everyone we have an arranged marriage and that I’m destined to cheat on you. Over the years, you’ve accused my assistant, our nanny, and even our chef. I fired them all, just to give you peace of mind. I met Stella Monroe for the first time today. What is this canary nonsense you’re spewing?” Isabelle’s lower lip trembled. “Then fire her, too,” she pleaded weakly. “Replace her with a male ambassador…” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped Carter’s lips. “She’s the face of our new line of sanitary pads, Isabelle. The artists have to test the product. How, exactly, do you suggest a man does that?” Cornered and defeated, Isabelle’s eyes scanned the room, searching for a lifeline. They landed on her daughter. “I wasn’t lying!” she declared, her voice rising with renewed conviction. “Lily saw it with her own eyes. She can prove that the lingerie belonged to Stella.” She shot a look at Lily, a silent, menacing command. If you don’t back me up, you’re in for it. The little girl began to tremble, fat tears rolling down her cheeks like pearls. “Mommy, I…” She hesitated, her small body shaking with fear and conflict. Finally, she took a deep breath. “The panties…” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Mommy put them there herself. And… and she told me what to say to Daddy…” Isabelle’s face contorted with rage. But her fury wasn’t directed at her husband, who had exposed her, or her daughter, who had told the truth. It was all aimed at me. “You!” she screamed, lunging toward me before a security guard caught her arm. “What did you do to my daughter? Why would she help a manipulative slut like you instead of her own mother?” I stood my ground, my face a mask of stone. “Mrs. Sterling, for the last time, I am not your husband’s mistress, and I have no interest in your marriage.” “Enough!” Carter’s roar silenced the room. “One more word, Isabelle, and we are getting a divorce.” He had his security team escort the reporters out. As I turned to leave, finally extricating myself from this nightmare, Isabelle lunged again, grabbing my arm in a surprisingly strong grip. “You’re not going anywhere!” she hissed. “You conniving bitch, is this your endgame? Getting Carter to divorce me?” Carter looked like he had aged ten years in the last hour. “What are you talking about? Our divorce would have nothing to do with Ms. Monroe…” Before he could finish, little Lily suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me, her hands clasped together as if in prayer. “Pretty lady,” she whispered, her eyes wide and pleading. “Please… please don’t take my daddy away.” 3 I knelt, gently helping her to her feet. I smoothed down her tangled curls, my heart aching for this poor, confused child. “Honey,” I asked softly, “who told you I was going to take your daddy away?” Lily glanced nervously at her mother before quickly dropping her gaze back to the floor. That was all the answer I needed. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to worry,” I assured her, giving her a small, reassuring smile. “I would never, ever take your father away from you.” I stood up, ready to tell Carter Sterling that he could keep his endorsement deal; no amount of money was worth this circus. But he spoke first. “One million dollars added to the endorsement fee,” he said, his voice clipped and businesslike. “And Sterling Corporation will donate ten thousand feminine hygiene products to girls in underserved communities, in your name.” The words died in my throat. Really, Mr. Sterling. The money is hardly the point. But that donation… that was a masterstroke. He then knelt down to his daughter’s level. “Lily, listen to me. I will always be your daddy. No one and nothing will ever change that. You understand?” Isabelle opened her mouth to protest, but a single, withering look from her husband silenced her. She settled for glaring at me with pure, unadulterated venom. After that day, I went to great lengths to ensure Carter Sterling and I were never in the same room. While he and his team had managed to kill the story with the press, a faint, ugly rumor still clung to me within the industry. Just as the whispers were starting to fade, Isabelle went live on Instagram. She appeared on screen looking pale and haggard, her voice raspy. “Stella Monroe,” she began, her eyes staring directly into the camera. “I’m begging you. Can you please just give me my husband back?” My name, alongside Carter’s, shot to the top of the trending topics. “My daughter, Lily, is sick,” Isabelle continued, her voice breaking. “She has a terrible fever. But I can’t reach Carter. He hasn’t been home in a week.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I know you’re the one keeping him away, but Lily misses him so much. Please…” As if on cue, she turned the camera to show Lily lying on a couch, her little face flushed bright red with fever. The child was barely conscious, mumbling “Daddy… Daddy…” over and over again. It was a heart-wrenching sight, and the comments section immediately exploded with vitriol directed at me. 【Figures. The whole Hollywood scene is rotten. Stella Monroe looks like an angel but she’s just another homewrecker.】 【I knew that story wasn’t fake! She’s totally sleeping with Carter Sterling…】 The tide of online hate was overwhelming. My fans tried to defend me, but their voices were drowned out in the flood. I was about to request to join her live stream and confront her when someone else beat me to it. Carter Sterling’s exhausted face appeared in a split screen. His voice was rough with fatigue. “Isabelle, what are you doing now?” he demanded. “I told you a week ago I was on a business trip overseas. What’s wrong with Lily?” He sounded genuinely alarmed. “Why haven’t you called the family doctor? Why is she so sick? I pay him a hundred thousand dollars a month to be on call!” Suddenly, a man’s trembling voice could be heard from off-screen on Isabelle’s side. “Mr… Mr. Sterling, it’s Dr. Evans. I’m here. But Mrs. Sterling won’t let me give Lily anything for the fever…” His voice dropped lower. “Sir, she’s been making her take a cold bath every hour. She said she’d fire anyone who tried to stop her…” 4 I knew Isabelle was unhinged, but I never imagined she was capable of this. Lily was only three years old. How could a mother be so cruel? Isabelle kicked wildly in the direction of the doctor’s voice, her eyes red-rimmed and frantic. “Carter, don’t listen to him! He’s lying! She’s obviously paid him off, too!” Tears streamed down her face, splashing onto her phone. “I know you’re not really working, Carter. You’re on vacation with Stella Monroe…” My fans were spamming the comments, pointing out that I was in the middle of a film shoot in the States and posting set photos as proof, but Isabelle was either ignoring them or too far gone to care. I couldn’t take it anymore. I hit the request to join. A second later, my face appeared on the live stream. “Seriously, lady, get a grip,” I snapped, not bothering to hide my anger. “Look at me. It’s nighttime here. I’m in the middle of the damn desert. There’s nothing but sand and stars. Now look at your husband. The sun is shining so brightly on his face it’s practically blinding. How could we possibly be together? For the love of God, keep me out of your weird, twisted games. I’m begging you!” The undeniable proof was like a slap in the face. Isabelle froze, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, utterly speechless. In that moment of stunned silence, Dr. Evans seized his chance. He darted into the frame, scooped up the feverish Lily, and rushed away. Other people—staff, presumably—grabbed a struggling Isabelle, who accidentally ended the live stream in her frantic attempts to break free. Suddenly, it was just me and Carter Sterling, staring at each other from opposite sides of the world through our phone screens. He looked grim, his face an emotionless mask. It wasn’t stoicism; it was the look of a man who had simply run out of options. “Stella,” he said, his voice heavy. “I am so sorry for this. I will make sure my wife apologizes to you.” Before I could tell him to absolutely not do that, he ended the call. A week later, I was on set for a Sterling Corp commercial shoot when Carter appeared, with Isabelle in tow. “Stella, I’m sorry,” she mumbled, refusing to meet my eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten so jealous. I shouldn’t have said those things about you and my husband in front of all those people…” She sniffled, and the waterworks began anew. “It’s just… after I had Lily, I let myself go. It’s only natural for Carter to want something new and fresh.” I stared at her, dumbfounded. Was this supposed to be an apology? I felt a surge of rage so intense I was about to leap out of my chair and give her a piece of my mind. My agent, sensing disaster, grabbed my arm under the table. “The contract is signed,” she hissed. “Breaching it now will cost you millions.” The thought of that astronomical penalty was like a bucket of ice water. I clenched my fists and forced myself to sit back down. Carter was watching his wife, a look of profound disbelief on his face, as if he was seeing her for the first time. Isabelle, oblivious, continued her masterclass in non-apologies, each word a veiled insult designed to reinforce her narrative. Carter caught my eye and silently held up one finger. A moment later, his assistant approached me and discreetly slid a script across the table. It was for the lead role in a new film by one of the most acclaimed international directors working today. My vision cleared instantly. Suddenly, Isabelle didn’t seem like a demonic succubus anymore. She was my lucky charm. My golden goose. Carter then wrapped an arm around his wife, pulling her into an embrace. “Honey, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice softer now. “I’ve been neglecting you. I’m going to clear my schedule for the next month. We’re going to find you some help. A good doctor.” I learned later that Carter and Isabelle had been college sweethearts, a genuine love story that had culminated in a fairytale wedding. But after Lily was born, Carter’s work became all-consuming. Isabelle, alone and isolated, fell deep into the world of over-the-top romance novels, the lines between fiction and her own life blurring until she couldn’t tell them apart. She was a woman suffering from severe, untreated postpartum depression. Thinking of it that way, I found it hard to stay angry at her. After that incident, I avoided Carter Sterling like the plague. If I saw him at an event, I would execute a perfect 180-degree turn and walk in the opposite direction. But even with me keeping my distance, Isabelle wouldn’t let it go. 5 She refused to see a therapist, insisting there was nothing wrong with her. So Carter, the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar corporation, started working from home to be with her. Trapped in the house, Isabelle began a new campaign, mailing photos of me and Carter from the press conference to every tabloid and gossip blog in the country, hoping someone would expose my “true identity” as his canary. But no one took the bait. The photos clearly showed a professional, social distance between us. In fact, a few of the more reputable journalists contacted me directly to warn me about her. Undeterred, Isabelle upped the ante. She sent a new batch of photos to the seediest online gossip sites—blatantly photoshopped images of me and Carter in compromising positions. Her goal was to create a scandal so massive it would force him to terminate my contract. The plan backfired spectacularly. The photos ended up in Carter’s hands before they were ever published. The paparazzi, however, had a field day capturing the fallout. Photos of Carter, his face like thunder, were splashed across every entertainment site. The accompanying articles detailed their explosive argument, with Isabelle screaming that he was protecting me. “Right now, Stella is just your canary, but soon you’ll divorce me for her!” her voice was recorded saying. “You’re going to fall in love with her, I know it!” “I love you, Carter! I don’t want to lose you!” Carter’s fury was palpable even in the grainy photos. He was seen throwing a stack of files across his study. “I have told you a thousand times, my relationship with Stella Monroe is purely professional! It is not whatever twisted fantasy you’ve cooked up in your head!” he roared back. “And sending these obviously fake AI-generated pictures to gossip sites? Are you trying to destroy my reputation or hers?” For the first time, it seemed to dawn on Isabelle that she had gone too far. Seeing the genuine rage in her husband’s eyes, her bravado crumbled. “Fine… I’ll apologize to her, okay?” she stammered. I wanted nothing to do with another one of her “apologies.” I just wanted her to leave me alone. But, of course, her next apology was as unique and horrifying as the last. I was at the ribbon-cutting ceremony for a new Sterling Corporation manufacturing plant. As I stood on the stage, scissors in hand, Isabelle suddenly burst through the crowd, dragging Lily behind her. She threw herself to the ground at my feet, a dramatic, theatrical kneel. “Ms. Monroe, I know I was wrong!” she cried out for all the news cameras to hear. “Please, I’m begging you, don’t make Carter throw my daughter and me out on the street!” I was completely bewildered. Carter rushed forward, trying to pull her to her feet. “What are you talking about?” he gritted out. “You’re my wife! When have I ever said I was kicking you out?” Isabelle ignored him, her performance solely for the audience. “Carter, I know I shouldn’t have exposed your affair with Ms. Monroe,” she sobbed. “But I’m a mother! I have to think of my child’s future! Ms. Monroe,” she said, her voice dropping to a low, menacing tone, “I will not let you destroy my family.” She looked up, her eyes like a cornered snake’s, locking onto mine. In one swift movement, she sprang to her feet, produced a small, black pill from her pocket, and shoved it into my mouth. I tried to spit it out, but she clamped her hand over my mouth, forcing me to swallow. Chaos erupted. People screamed and rushed forward to pull her off me. But before they could reach us, Isabelle popped an identical pill into her own mouth. The crowd froze, terrified of what she might do next. Lily was screaming, lost in the sea of panicked adults. Carter’s face was a mask of pure fury. “Isabelle, what did you give her? What did you do? You said you were here to apologize!” A faint, triumphant smile played on her lips as tears streamed down her face. “You wouldn’t choose between me and your canary, Carter, so I’m making the choice for you,” she said, her voice breathy. “We both took the same pill. It’s a powerful aphrodisiac, and the only antidote is… a man. It takes effect in three minutes. The cure is in your jacket pocket.” Her eyes gleamed with a crazed light. “But there’s only one dose. Who do you save, Carter?” His hand shot to his pocket, pulling out a small vial. He stared at the single pill inside, his eyes wide with horror. “You have two minutes,” Isabelle taunted, her breathing already becoming labored. “This is insane, Isabelle! Give me the rest of the antidote, now!” Carter yelled, his voice tight with panic. My vision was already starting to blur at the edges. A wave of heat washed over me. Beside me, Isabelle let out a soft moan, but her smile was chillingly triumphant. “Time is running out, Carter.” Beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. “Thirty seconds.” “I choose!” Carter shouted, his voice raw. He lunged forward, holding the antidote out to…

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The moment the entire class could suddenly hear my thoughts, a series of glowing comments, like a chat feed in a video game, scrolled through my vision. Before I could even process the first miracle, the second one clarified my nightmare. 【Here we go! The villainess is about to play the victim and frame our girl with her inner monologue!】 【This is exactly what she did in the last life. Falsely accused our girl of bullying and got her ostracized by the whole class!】 【Too bad for her. Our girl is a reincarnator. She knows all the tricks. The villainess is about to get so owned.】 A mind-reading superpower versus a second chance at life. Interesting. But who said anything about framing her? My plan was much simpler: I was going to personally lift her so high she’d have nowhere to go but down. 1 【Ascend runs, what, three hundred dollars a person? And Scarlett, our dear class president, knows I can’t afford that. Is this her way of publicly humiliating me?】 The thought had barely formed when Scarlett, standing at the front of the classroom, glanced over at me. A subtle, knowing smirk played on her lips. It was a look that dripped with condescension. So, the comments were right. Not only had Scarlett lived this life before, but she could also hear my thoughts. Right now, the invisible commenters were tearing me apart. 【This girl is such a snake. If she cried into a river, it’d turn into poison ivy.】 【She knows Scarlett would never do that, but she’s planting the idea in everyone’s heads anyway. Good thing our girl is one step ahead of her cheap tricks.】 【So what if she’s the real heiress in the end? Even her billionaire parents are embarrassed by her. Scarlett is in a different league entirely.】 【I mean, you gotta feel a little bad for the villain. Switched at birth by the nanny, then dumped on a mountain to die just to protect the secret…】 【That’s no excuse for what she did to our girl. She used her powers to ruin her life and get her killed. She deserves everything she gets.】 Wait. The comments said I’m the real heiress? All this time, Scarlett had been treated like royalty. She wasn’t just from a wealthy family; she was the Sterling heiress, daughter of the city’s most famous CEO. On top of that, she was always number one in our class rankings. Me? My father was sick in bed, and my mother worked odd jobs to keep us afloat. And in school, I was always, inevitably, number two, right behind Scarlett. But now, this invisible audience was telling me I was the one who was supposed to have it all. Well. This game just got a lot more interesting. 2 A cruel glint appeared in Scarlett’s eyes. She was about to speak, to expose me, but I beat her to it, broadcasting a new thought for the entire class to hear. 【I’m being paranoid. Scarlett would never deliberately humiliate someone. She’s always been so kind and considerate. She must have chosen Ascend for another reason.】 I let the thought hang in the air for a second before adding the masterstroke. 【Wait… what if she’s planning on treating the whole school? Maybe she mentioned it to our class first so we wouldn’t feel awkward when she made the big announcement. A surprise for everyone before graduation?】 The effect was instantaneous. Jessica, a girl in the back row who lived for gossip, shot up from her seat. “No way, Scarlett! Are you really treating the whole school? That’s amazing!” The classroom exploded. “Wow! Ascend? I’ve only seen that place on TV!” “Scarlett, you’re the best! That must cost a fortune!” “Of course she can, she’s a Sterling! She’s probably treating the whole school, not just our class.” Scarlett’s smile froze on her face. Her fingers dug into the edge of the lectern, the veins popping on the back of her hands. I saw a flash of pure panic in her eyes. According to the comments, her original plan was just to look generous in front of our class, win some points, and put me in my place. A simple, effective power play. Since she wanted to look generous, I was happy to help. All I did was push her onto a much bigger stage. Now, with Jessica’s outburst, every eye in the room was on her. The entire school was almost a thousand students. At three hundred dollars a head, she was looking at a bill of around three hundred thousand dollars. She was clearly not happy about it. She opened her mouth, probably to backpedal, to find some excuse. So, I gave everyone another little nudge. 【Or… maybe I got it all wrong? Maybe she never intended to treat anyone. Of course. A place like Ascend isn’t for people like me. I was getting ahead of myself, thinking I could ever belong in the same room as her.】 The mood in the room shifted. The other students’ expressions turned speculative. If she backed down now, after that thought, she’d look like a cheap, manipulative bully. Scarlett’s face was a patchwork of red and white. She stared at me, her eyes burning with a hatred so pure it was almost beautiful. But dozens of phones were already out, secretly recording. If she said no, the perfect persona she’d spent years building would shatter. After a long, tense silence, she took a deep breath and forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “You’ve all worked so hard this year. Consider it my treat. A dinner at Ascend for the entire student body, to wish you all luck on your finals!” The room erupted in thunderous applause. “Scarlett is a legend!” “You’re my hero, Scarlett!” “What’d I tell you? She’s a Sterling. A few hundred grand is pocket change to her.” The look Scarlett gave me promised murder. She was probably furious enough to spontaneously combust. The thought made me ridiculously happy. Meeting her venomous gaze, I slowly, deliberately, lifted my chin and mouthed two silent words. Thank you. The comment feed was going insane. 【HOLY SH*T! The villainess just roasted her alive! She totally backed her into a corner!】 【You can plan for the enemy, but you can’t plan for idiots. What was that Jessica girl thinking?!】 【Wait a minute, isn’t our girl supposed to be a reincarnator? How did she not see that move coming?】 【A thousand people at Ascend? That’s like, 300k. The villainess played her HARD.】 3 The final bell for study hall had barely faded when I packed my bag and took the long way home, through the poorly lit alley that was always deserted. The comments had already told me that Scarlett would be waiting. Sure enough, as I rounded the first corner, five or six guys with cheap dye jobs and bad attitudes stepped out of the shadows, blocking my path. A moment later, Scarlett emerged behind them, her shadow stretching long and distorted under the single flickering streetlamp. “Well, well, Chloe. You’ve grown a backbone.” She strolled toward me, her voice dripping with venom. “Who gave you the nerve to play games with me?” I lowered my eyes, making myself small, feigning fear. “Scarlett, what are you talking about? I don’t understand. Did I do something to make you mad?” My mind, however, was broadcasting something else entirely. 【What is she doing? This isn’t right. She shouldn’t be able to hear my thoughts. She must be bluffing, trying to trick me into admitting I have a power.】 Scarlett let out a cold, sharp laugh and lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. “The dinner at Ascend. That was you, wasn’t it?” “How did you know?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. I immediately clamped my mouth shut, widening my eyes as if I’d revealed a secret. The performance worked. Her face lit up with smug triumph. She let go of my hair and patted my shoulder, her touch a mockery of comfort. “Did you really think your pathetic little schemes were a secret? To me, you’re nothing but a clown.” She flicked her chin toward the goons. “Do it. And remember, stick to places clothes will cover. No visible marks.” They closed in. Fists and feet landed on my back, my sides, the pain so sharp I curled into a ball on the filthy asphalt, able to do nothing but let out choked sobs. Scarlett just stood there watching, a cruel smile on her face, as if she were enjoying a particularly satisfying movie. After what felt like an eternity, they stopped. Scarlett walked over and used the toe of her expensive shoe to tilt my chin up. She looked down at me, her face a mask of contempt. “Three hundred thousand dollars is nothing to me, Chloe. I don’t care about the money. But you… you should care about whether your parents live or die, shouldn’t you?” My eyes shot open in genuine fear. “What are you going to do?” She smiled. “Your mother having that street-sweeping job? That’s a gift. From me.” She drew the words out slowly. “What do you think would happen to your family if I had her fired?” I trembled, scrambling up from the ground and onto my knees. I bowed my head and begged, knocking my forehead against the cold, gritty concrete. “I’m sorry, Scarlett! I was wrong! It was a moment of stupidity, I’ll never go against you again! I’ll do whatever you say, just please… please don’t hurt my parents!” The impact sent stars through my vision, but I knew the act had to be convincing. It was. Scarlett’s smile widened. She bent down and patted my cheek, her touch condescending. “See? That’s much better. Remember your place. Crushing you is as easy as stepping on an ant.” With that, she turned and walked away, her entourage trailing behind her. I stayed on the ground until the sound of their footsteps disappeared completely. Then, slowly, I pushed myself up. The terror in my eyes was gone, replaced by an icy calm. The throbbing pain in my body was real, but it was nothing compared to the path I had to walk. The comments were scrolling furiously. 【YES! That’s how you do it! You can’t go soft on a snake like her!】 【Teach her a lesson! Let’s see her try to scheme against our girl now!】 【Scarlett is too kind. If it were me, I’d have her whole family run out of town.】 【The party this weekend is going to be epic. Scarlett will be the star, and that little witch will be crying in a corner somewhere.】 【Exactly. A villain should know their place. Trying to fight the main character is just pathetic.】 I leaned against the brick wall, dusting off my clothes. A small, unnoticeable smile touched my lips. Pathetic? They would all soon find out who the truly pathetic one was. The grand feast at Ascend was just another trap I had set for her. And she was walking right into it. 4 At the weekend party for the whole school, Scarlett was the undisputed center of the universe. She wore a champagne-colored silk gown, a diamond necklace glittering at her throat that probably cost more than my house. The moment she saw me standing hesitantly at the entrance, she turned. A flicker of triumph crossed her face as her eyes swept over me. “Chloe! You finally made it.” She gathered her dress and glided over, her voice pitched just loud enough for everyone nearby to hear. “You’re so practical, Chloe. Wearing your school uniform to a party. It’s… refreshing. So clean and simple compared to all of this.” Her words were a masterclass in backhanded compliments, and they drew a ripple of quiet, cruel laughter from the surrounding students. Someone raised their voice. “A uniform? Chloe, are things that bad at home? You can’t even afford a single nice dress?” I looked down, feigning embarrassment, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw a waiter passing with a tray of champagne flutes. Right on schedule. As the comments had predicted, the show was about to begin. A second later, someone “accidentally” bumped into the waiter. The tray tilted, glasses shattered on the floor, and golden liquid splashed all over a nearby student’s designer dress. The waiter, a middle-aged woman, went pale. She bowed frantically, apologizing over and over. “I’m so sorry, so sorry! It was an accident!” “Are you blind?” the student shrieked, pointing at the woman’s face. “Do you have any idea how much this dress costs? You’re going to pay for this!” Just then, a voice from the crowd mused aloud, “Hey, doesn’t she look familiar?” Another voice chimed in instantly. “Yeah! She’s the one who sweeps the streets near our school! I think… I think that’s Chloe’s mom!” A lightning bolt of silence struck the room. Every single head swiveled from the terrified waiter to me. Their gazes were now filled with a mixture of mockery and disgust. “So Chloe’s mom is a street sweeper…” “No wonder she wore her uniform. They really are that poor.” “Scarlett is such a saint for even inviting her. I’d be worried she’d stink up the place.” Scarlett stood in the middle of it all, a faint, pleased smile on her lips. “Don’t say that, guys. You’ll hurt Chloe’s feelings. It’s not her fault her mom sweeps streets for a living.” The comments were a chorus of praise for her cruelty. 【Savage! A total fatality! The villainess is completely humiliated.】 【Best move ever! Paying a few hundred bucks to hire her mom as a server just to expose her in front of the whole school? Genius!】 【A stinky, dirty street sweeper for a mom. If I were the villain, I’d just go die of shame.】 【And Scarlett didn’t even have to say a word! She let everyone else do the dirty work for her. So smart!】 I remained silent, counting down in my head. Three… two… one… “What is going on here?” A deep, commanding male voice cut through the chatter from the doorway, carrying an authority that could not be ignored.

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The day of my wedding, my brother ruined my dress. He stormed into the bridal suite and emptied a glass of red wine right down the front of it. “Chloe, are you sick?” he spat, his voice shaking with rage. “You know how Ava feels about Caleb. What is all this? This whole spectacle, just to rub it in her face?” My fiancé, Caleb, stood behind him, leaning against the doorframe, his face a mask of cold indifference. “I’ll give you two choices,” Caleb said, his voice low and steady. “One, you walk down that aisle in the stained dress and we get this over with.” He paused, letting the cruelty of it sink in. “Two, you go to Ava right now and apologize. You fix what you broke, you make her feel better. If you can manage that, I’ll tell everyone the wedding is postponed.” I didn’t choose either. I chose a third path. I walked out in that ruined gown, stood before our family and friends, and I called off the wedding. My brother, my fiancé, my sister… I was done. I wanted none of them. But later, long after I had left, I heard the stories. The heirs to Northwood’s two most powerful families had lost their minds. They were scouring the globe, trying to hire the world’s most brilliant designers, all for one impossible task: to repair a wedding dress stained with wine and memory. 1 When Ethan burst into the suite, I had just finished putting on the dress. It had been my mother’s final design, the one she poured the last of her strength into, a masterpiece I had treasured for a decade. I hadn’t even had a chance to see myself in the mirror before the man who shared my face kicked the door open. “Chloe, what is wrong with you?” he yelled. “I warned you! How many times did I tell you not to go through with this circus?” He stomped toward me, his face contorted. “Do you have any idea how much you’re hurting her? Ava’s been crying her eyes out all morning because of you. Is this what you wanted?” His words were a physical blow. The flicker of joy I’d felt seeing him, just for a second, died. Of course. It was always about Ava. The weight of the dress, the intricate beading and layers of silk, suddenly felt like a cage. It was my wedding day. A day for peace, for promises. Not for this. I took a shallow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. I wouldn’t trade insults with him, not today. “Ethan, can we please not fight?” I said, my voice quiet. “Not today. It’s my wedding day. I just want to be happy.” His face darkened. “Happy?” He took another step, invading my space. “Can you stop being so selfish for one second? It’s just a wedding. Is it more important than Ava’s feelings?” He was practically pleading, but there was an edge of accusation in his tone that made my skin crawl. “She is so fragile, Chloe. She’s heartbroken, but she still wanted to wish you and Caleb the best. All she asked—the only thing she asked—was for you to tone it down. A small family dinner would have been perfect. Why do you always have to be so stubborn?” His entitlement, his complete blindness to my own feelings, made my hands tremble. The carefully constructed calm shattered. “The person getting married is me,” I shot back, my voice rising. “What is so wrong with me wanting a real wedding? Who cares if Ava is sad? Why am I the one who always has to pay for her emotions?” “Don’t you talk about her like that!” he roared. “Ava is your sister! It’s your job to look out for her, to be the bigger person!” A hot, dizzying rage washed over me. “She is your sister, not mine! My mother only had one daughter!” “Shut up!” The cold liquid hit my face first, then cascaded down my hair, a river of dark red over the pure white silk of my dress. For a second, we both froze. The world went silent. Ethan looked down at the empty wine glass in his hand as if he’d never seen it before. The rational part of him seemed to flicker back to life, his hand starting to shake. “Chlo… Chloe, I didn’t—” He fumbled for a napkin on the vanity, scrambling to wipe my face, but I flinched away. I was numb. Like a ghost in my own body, I looked down at the ugly, dark stain blooming across the bodice of my mother’s last gift to me. Wine was still dripping from the ends of my hair. Ethan, probably realizing how pathetic this looked, tried again, pressing the napkin to my forehead. “Honestly, Ethan, why bother?” A new voice, laced with contempt, cut through the tension. Caleb was still in the doorway, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a cruel smirk on his face. I saw then that he wasn’t even wearing his tuxedo. He had on a casual jacket over a white t-shirt. On the chest was a faded, hand-painted sun—Ava’s birthday gift to him last year. 2 He tilted his head, a soft, mocking laugh escaping his lips as he took in my ruined appearance. “You really thought you could pull this off, didn’t you, Chloe?” he said, smoke curling from his nostrils. “You thought charming my parents meant you could control my life? Dream on. You can play all the games you want, but you’ll never be half the woman Ava is.” The pure hatred in his eyes was almost comical. Our families had been planning this since we were kids. Not once, not a single time, had he ever said he didn’t want it. Even after he started orbiting Ava, treating her with a tenderness he never showed me, he never once mentioned breaking the engagement. The wedding had been his parents’ idea. They were tired of waiting. When Ava heard the news, she’d thrown a fit, refusing to eat. Ethan and Caleb had been beside themselves with worry, both of them ignoring my calls to comfort her. The last time I’d managed to get Caleb on the phone, I’d asked him straight out: “Caleb, do you even want to marry me?” There was a long silence. Then, in the background, I heard Ava’s tearful voice, small and wounded. “Caleb? Who is that? Is it… is it Chloe?” He’d finally snapped. “God, this is so annoying. It’s been decided, okay? What’s the point in asking? Just stop calling me!” His father had assured me everything was fine. He would handle the arrangements, and he would talk to Caleb. Looking at him now, I realized what “talking to Caleb” meant. His father must have laid into him, and this was his petty revenge. A dry laugh escaped my lips. I took the napkin from Ethan’s limp hand and calmly wiped the wine from my face. “Chloe! Chloe, is Caleb here yet? The coordinator needs you both for the processional… Oh my God.” My maid of honor, Maya, skidded to a halt in the doorway. Her eyes widened in disbelief, darting from my stained dress to the two men standing there like vultures. She understood instantly. “You bastards! Are you hurting her again?” She lunged for Caleb, nails out, but I caught her arm just in time. Maya’s dad was a senior VP at Caleb’s family company. It wasn’t worth it. Nothing about this was worth it. Caleb, however, seemed to misread the gesture. He saw me standing between him and Maya, and for a fleeting moment, a flicker of confusion crossed his face. Then his expression hardened again, and his voice dropped. “I’ll give you two choices,” he repeated. “One, you wear the damn dress and we get this over with.” “Two, you go apologize to Ava. You fix this. If you do, I’ll postpone. I’ll even find someone to make you a new dress. Your call.” He said it was a choice, but his face was a taunt. He was daring me to fight, to scream, to make a scene. Tears of rage streamed down Maya’s face. She looked like she wanted to kill him. But me? I felt nothing. The anger had burned out, leaving behind an unnerving calm. I looked him straight in the eye. “No, thank you, Mr. Thorne. My mother—the world-renowned designer Elena Vance—made this dress for me before she died. I don’t think you can find anyone better than her.” Thud. Behind me, Ethan stumbled back into the vanity. I glanced over my shoulder and met his wide, shocked eyes. His lips trembled, but no words came out. He had forgotten. I turned back to Caleb. “So, your two choices? I don’t want either of them.” 3 I walked down the aisle alone, carrying my own bouquet. At the altar, only Caleb’s parents were waiting. My own parents were gone, lost years ago. Other than the brother who had just assaulted me, I had no blood relatives left in the world. Ignoring the gasps and confused whispers from the crowd, I calmly took the microphone from the officiant. “I’m so sorry you all have to see me like this,” I began, my voice clear and steady. “Please, forgive my appearance.” Caleb, finally realizing what was happening, rushed onto the stage and grabbed my arm. “Chloe, what are you doing?” “Exactly what you wanted,” I said, pulling my arm free. “As you can all see, my fiancé, Mr. Thorne, hasn’t even bothered to change.” I let my eyes sweep across the stunned faces in the audience. “He believes I schemed my way into this wedding. Well, as of right now, consider my scheming over. I am officially announcing that my engagement to Caleb Thorne is broken. From this moment on, we go our separate ways.” I dropped the microphone. The clatter echoed through the silent venue. I turned and walked off the stage, leaving Caleb standing there, a statue in a storm of chaos. At the back of the hall stood Ethan, his face pale, his eyes wide with a frantic, desperate energy. He reached out to stop me, but his hand froze in midair as his gaze fell on the deep, crimson stain on my dress. I didn’t pause for him. I didn’t pause for anyone. I tossed my bouquet aside and walked right past him, out the door where Maya was waiting, her car already running. “Chloe! Get in!” The moment the door slammed shut, I felt the tremors start in my hands. In the rearview mirror, I saw a face streaked with tears, my makeup a faint smudge beneath my eyes. Maya pressed a tissue into my hand, muttering a stream of curses against Caleb. “He used to be such a sweet kid. What happened to him?” she fumed. “He used to adore you! God, men are trash. They change their minds faster than they change their clothes.” Her voice softened as she saw me press the tissue to my face, my shoulders shaking silently. “Chloe…” “I’m okay, Maya. Really,” I whispered. “I just… I miss my mom.” The car fell silent. I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window, watching the familiar scenery blur past. Everything had changed, and I was the only one foolish enough to stand still, waiting for a past that was never coming back. It wasn’t always like this. Ethan and Caleb… they were good to me, once. They really were. My mother was a world-famous wedding gown designer. She always said she would create a one-of-a-kind dress for me, that she would watch me with her own eyes as I wore her love and blessings to marry the man I loved. The year our families decided Caleb and I would one day marry, he had come to me, his cheeks flushed red, and taken my hand. Ethan had immediately shoved him away. “Hey! The deal was for when you’re grown-ups, not now!” The adults had laughed. I had buried my face in my mother’s dress, shy and giddy, as she stroked my hair. Back then, my mother hadn’t been diagnosed with stomach cancer yet. Back then, there was no sister named Ava in our house. Everyone I loved was right there, with me. 4 My mother passed away when I was twelve. She’d spent her final months working on my dress, constantly guessing at how I would grow, re-stitching seams, and finally, in a concession to the future she wouldn’t see, adding adjustable closures to the waist and bust. It was the last gift she ever gave me. And I almost lost it. The same year my mother died, my father brought a little girl home. Her name was Ava. He said she was the daughter of an old army buddy who had died, a man who had made my father promise to care for her. “Ethan, Chloe,” he’d announced, “this is your new little sister. I expect you to make her feel welcome.” I tried. But it seemed Ava had other plans. I had never met a child like her. One second, she would be hissing at me, trying to snatch a doll from my hands, and the next, she would be running to Ethan and Caleb with tears streaming down her face. Is it human nature to automatically side with the one who seems weakest? I don’t know. All I know is that the two boys who had always been on my side slowly began to drift away. “Chloe, you can’t be like that! Ava’s lost her parents. Have some compassion!” “She’s right, Chloe. You need to share. You have a brother, and you have me. Ava has nobody.” I lost track of how many fights we had. They always ended the same way: with them telling me I wasn’t as kind, as gentle, as sweet as Ava. Eventually, I just stopped fighting. But my silence only made Ava bolder. She started going after the one thing that was sacred. She tried to take my mother’s dress. The day I found her dragging it down the stairs, its white silk hem collecting dust, something inside me snapped. For the first time, I hit her. When she came into my room later, a bright red handprint on her cheek and Ethan in tow, I was on my knees, gently cleaning the smudged hem with a damp cloth. “Sniffle… Ethan, please don’t be mad at Chloe,” Ava cried, hiding behind him. “It was my fault. I made her angry. I deserved it.” I’ll never forget the look in Ethan’s eyes. Disappointment. Confusion. And something else… disgust. “I never thought you could be so cruel, Chloe,” he said, his voice cold. “She’s never seen anything so beautiful before. She just wanted to look at it. How could you hurt her like that?” My hands were shaking with rage. I tried to explain, to defend myself, but our shouting brought my father into the room. He saw Ava’s tear-streaked face and immediately went to her side. “Ava, don’t cry,” he soothed. “Daddy will have someone make you an even more beautiful princess dress, okay?” After he had calmed her down, he turned and finally noticed me standing there. A flash of awkwardness crossed his face. “Ahem, well, both of you. Chloe will get one too, of course.” As I watched him and Ethan dabbing at Ava’s tears, a cold realization settled over me. I was the outsider in my own home. I didn’t ask for a new dress. I took my mother’s gown, locked it away in my closet, and understood, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that there was no one left in this world who truly loved me. “Chloe, we’re here. I’m coming in with you. I’m not letting that little snake get another shot at you.” 5 Maya’s eyes were as red as mine. I shook my head. “No.” Over the years, she had gotten into so much trouble defending me, falling for every one of Ava’s petty traps. Maya was all heart and no guile; Ava could set a snare at her feet and she’d walk right into it, every time. And Caleb, using his family’s influence, always sided with Ava, leaving Maya furious and in tears. I was leaving. I couldn’t let her burn any more bridges for my sake. “It’s okay, Maya. I just need to grab my passport and a few documents. I’ll be right back out.” I took a deep breath, gathered the heavy skirt of my dress, and walked into the house I grew up in. The first thing I saw was Ava. The same Ava who was supposedly “crying her eyes out” was lounging on the sofa, twirling a lock of hair around her finger, a smug smile on her face. “Well, look who it is. Back already?” she chirped. “I thought Caleb just left. That must have been the world’s fastest wedding.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise. “Oh, dear. What happened to your dress? Caleb can be so mean. Even if he doesn’t like you, he shouldn’t have poured wine all over you. Especially since that was your mother’s final creation.” Her performance was flawless, but as I stood there, silent and unmoved, the smile faded from her eyes. I felt no anger. Just a deep, hollow sadness. Even she remembered whose dress this was. But my own brother… he had forgotten. Before she could speak again, I cut her off. “It wasn’t Caleb.” She froze. I held her gaze. “It wasn’t him. It was Ethan.” The color drained from her face. Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. “You don’t have to fight anymore,” I said, my voice flat. “Ethan, Caleb… they’re all yours. I don’t want any of it.” I turned to go to my room, but she lunged, her fingers digging into my wrist. Something I said had hit a nerve. Her entire demeanor shifted, becoming manic and agitated. “‘Let me have them’?” she shrieked. “What do you mean, ‘let me’? You didn’t let me have anything! You lost! You couldn’t hold on to them!” Her face twisted into the familiar, venomous mask she only ever wore when we were alone. “I won! It was always me! I won!” she chanted, her eyes wild. “You’re insane, Ava.” I tried to pull away, her grip tightening painfully. “Let go of me.” “You lost, Chloe! You lost to me! Hahahaha!” She was completely unhinged. I finally shoved her away, not even that hard, just enough to break her grip. But she let out a piercing scream and threw herself backward, crashing into the tall curio cabinet against the wall. CRACK. The entire thing toppled over with a deafening crash. All the little treasures I had collected over the years—glass figures, painted boxes, delicate ornaments—shattered into a thousand pieces. I stared, stunned, at the glittering wreckage. My eyes fixed on a broken glass jar on the floor. I was so lost in the haze of it all that I didn’t see the figure rushing in from behind until a violent shove sent me stumbling forward. “Get away from her!” Caleb roared. He had come back. “I was actually coming back to apologize to you, and I find this? You can’t be left alone for five minutes without hurting her!” He had pushed me right into the pile of broken glass. A sharp, searing pain shot up from my ankle. 6 “Ah—” I gasped, the pain cutting through my shock. I tried to push myself up, but Caleb grabbed my shoulders, his grip like iron. “Why are you so cruel?” he raged, his face inches from mine. “You’ve been bullying her since the day she arrived! Always competing with her!” “For toys, for clothes, for a brother’s attention… you even had to take the person she loved!” “You already won, Chloe! You got everything you wanted! I agreed to marry you! Why can’t you just give her a break? Why can’t you cede an inch?!” Ava was on the floor in the only clear spot, a small patch of carpet, sobbing dramatically. Caleb shook me, his forehead vein throbbing, his voice cracking with a mixture of hatred and desperation. But I wasn’t looking at him. My gaze was fixed on the broken glass jar. It had split in half, revealing the contents scattered on the floor: dozens of small, folded pink stars. Paper stars. My breath hitched. Ignoring Caleb’s tirade, ignoring the throbbing pain in my ankle, I whispered, “It wasn’t me.” The pain was becoming overwhelming, a sharp counterpoint to the dull ache that had been building in my head all day. I could feel tears welling in my eyes, and I saw my own blurry reflection in Caleb’s amber irises. But I didn’t care. My hands, shaking, found the sleeves of his jacket and clenched them tight. Just like I had done ten years ago, I was trying to make him believe me. “Caleb, it wasn’t me. I didn’t hurt her,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “She grabbed me first. I didn’t even push her that hard. I didn’t.” For a second, I thought I saw his expression soften. His frantic breathing seemed to even out. He even started to raise a hand, as if to wipe away my tears. But then Ava spoke from the floor, her voice choked with sobs. “Caleb, please don’t yell at Chloe. She’s right… she didn’t push me hard. It was my fault. I’m just so clumsy, I lost my balance and fell.” She sniffled loudly. “But… I think I twisted my ankle. It really hurts. Can you take me to the hospital?” Caleb hesitated. His eyes flickered between me and Ava, a silent war playing out on his face. In the end, he pulled his arm away from my grasp. “I’m taking Ava to the emergency room. We’ll talk when I get back.” He knelt down, scooping Ava into his arms. As he stood, he glanced back at me, his voice heavy with a weary sigh. “Your brother and my parents are handling the guests. They told everyone we had a fight and you said things you didn’t mean. Our wedding is… postponed.” He looked at me, a hint of pleading in his eyes. “I already agreed. We’ll have the wedding. Just stop fighting, okay? Wait here for me.” He kicked a shard of glass out of his path and walked past me, his shoe crushing one of the pink paper stars on the floor. In his arms, Ava shot me a look of pure, triumphant hatred. I felt nothing. The pain, the world, it all faded away. I sank to the floor, my movements slow and robotic, and picked up the star with the dirty footprint on it. I unfolded the tiny paper. Chloe don’t be scared. Your dad and Ethan like Ava more now, but I like you. I like you the most. Only you!! He had given it to me in class, two years after Ava had arrived. The other kids had teased us, guessing it was a love note. I’d opened it, read it, and burst into tears. Even now, after all this time, that childish promise felt more real, more precious, than any love poem. At fifteen, Caleb Vance had seen my fear and loneliness. With the fierce, clumsy sincerity of a teenage boy, he had tried to heal the wounds left by my mother’s death and my family’s betrayal. But years passed. And this is what we became. This.

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Isabelle Croft had always been the queen of our campus, an ice princess enthroned, and I was the only one she ever let into her frozen kingdom. But then the new transfer, Caleb Ryder, arrived. He started engineering “chance” encounters, a constant, smirking presence in her orbit. Everyone whispered that the new flame could never outshine the lifelong friend, that Caleb’s little stunts were a waste of time. A story as old as time. They were wrong. It all shattered the night a man with a grudge against the Croft empire slipped past campus security and took Caleb hostage. In that moment, Isabelle’s composure finally broke. She didn’t hesitate. She threw herself in front of Caleb, taking the knife that was meant for him. Even as she lay bleeding, her life fading, she just caressed Caleb’s face. “As long as you’re okay…” she whispered. I stood on the edge of the crowd, the world’s biggest fool, a punchline for a joke I never knew I was a part of. Later, in the sterile silence of the hospital room, Isabelle was a mess of tubes and monitors. She struggled to speak, her voice a dry rasp, but her words were for me. “I don’t want to owe him anything,” she said. “Leave him alone.” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. This twisted little drama of love and hate belonged to them now. I had no part to play. The moment that man chose Caleb as the perfect leverage against her, my own irrelevance became blindingly clear. Fine. I’m out. 1 I had just finalized the last of my paperwork to study abroad when Isabelle walked in. Her eyes fell on the passport and the crisp visa documents on the table, and a flicker of confusion crossed her face. “I thought we were doing this together.” It took me a beat to realize she was talking about the European trip we’d planned for the summer. A lifetime ago. This was not a tourist visa. I gathered the documents, my movements slow and deliberate, and shook my head. A practiced, placating smile touched her lips. “I didn’t forget, Leo,” she cooed. “It’s just… Caleb’s cast isn’t even off yet.” Caleb Ryder. When Isabelle had shoved him out of the way of the knife, he’d stumbled and fractured his tibia. “We’ll go as soon as he’s fully healed, okay? I promise.” “It doesn’t matter anymore, Isabelle. My plans have nothing to do with you.” The smile vanished. “Leo, I know you’re angry. But I told you, I just didn’t want to be indebted to him.” Her voice took on a sharper edge. “Besides, you waited months to do this, long after I was out of the hospital. You were obviously waiting for me. Don’t pretend this isn’t about us.” A dull ache pulsed in my chest. She thought I’d been waiting for her. The truth was, I’d submitted my applications the same night she’d taken that knife for him. The bureaucracy was slow, but she saw the delay as proof of her power over me, another reason to take my devotion for granted. I suppose I’d enabled it. For years, my love for her had been unconditional, a quiet, steady force she’d learned to treat as a natural resource. “I just didn’t want him to get hurt because of me,” she continued, her tone shifting from placating to the cool, detached logic she was known for. “It wasn’t about humiliating you.” “But you’re still sulking,” she said, the warmth gone completely. “You’ve been giving me the silent treatment for months. It makes things awkward for me and Caleb. I have to endure all the gossip and stares just to have a conversation with you.” She paused, her gaze unwavering. “I think you need a little reminder.” Her hand went to her phone. She stared right at me as she dialed, her voice perfectly calm. “Mr. Davison? I need you to terminate Leo’s father. Effective immediately.” My jaw went slack. My blood ran cold. She put the call on speaker. The hesitant voice of her father’s Senior VP came through the phone. “Ms. Croft, with all due respect, his father has been with us for nearly a decade. He’s a senior manager… and besides, I thought he and your son, Leo…” Isabelle cut him off, her voice like ice. “I said now, Mr. Davison. Right now.” Less than three minutes later, a text from my dad lit up my screen. Son, did you do something to upset Isabelle? A second later, the message was deleted. My fists clenched. My entire body hummed with a rage I couldn’t voice. Our family’s company went under ten years ago. Isabelle’s father had given my dad a position, a lifeline that kept us afloat. But before all that, before the bankruptcy, it was my father’s mentorship that had helped build the Croft empire in the first place. This wasn’t just business. This was a deliberate, cruel severing of ties, a middle finger to decades of shared history. I forced the words through my teeth. “Isabelle, have you even considered what our parents will think about this?” She was unmoved. “Why should I care? It’s not like you’ll starve. You can always come live with me. I’ll take care of you.” The condescension in her voice made my stomach turn. She knew. She knew how much I’d always hated the rumors that painted me as her follower, her glorified assistant. Ignoring my fury, she reached out, her fingers gently smoothing the crease between my brows. “Don’t be angry,” she murmured, her voice softening into a familiar, intimate whisper. “It makes you look ugly.” It was so casual, so disarmingly familiar, like a scene from a life before Caleb Ryder ever existed. A life where there were no cracks in our foundation, where she’d sketch out our future with a seriousness that belied a secret, childlike innocence—a side of her no one else ever saw. But someone else saw it now. I pulled my head back. Her hand froze in mid-air. A slow, chilling smile spread across her face, as if she’d just discovered a fascinating new game. “Leo,” she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush, “do you have any idea how much… when you’re angry like this…” She leaned closer. “You look just like Caleb.” 2 Screech. The sound of my chair scraping against the floor cut through the quiet cafe. I ignored the heads that turned in our direction, my gaze locked on her, cold and final. “Take care of yourself, Isabelle.” Without another word, I gathered my papers and walked out, leaving her sitting there. I didn’t look back, but I felt her eyes on me. A few seconds later, I heard her own chair move, and she stormed off in the opposite direction. Back at my apartment, an anonymous email was waiting for me. I opened it without surprise. Just as I’d expected, it was a message from my mysterious benefactor, offering a list of executive-level job openings for my father. This had been happening for months. When I first started the process of applying to schools abroad, this person had offered to handle everything. I’d refused, yet every step of the way—from transcripts to recommendations—had felt suspiciously smooth. They seemed to know everything about me, materializing with a solution every time I hit a snag. I’d tried to trace the source, but it was like chasing a ghost. As usual, I typed a polite refusal. A moment later, a formal invitation to the Croft family’s annual gala appeared in my inbox. A message from Isabelle’s father. I decided to go. It was time to sever this last tie, cleanly and for good. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Caleb Ryder there, preening in a bespoke suit from Isabelle’s private designer label. Her favor had turned him into the evening’s mystery guest, the man everyone was whispering about. I kept my distance, but he sought me out, a smirk playing on his lips as he raised his glass. “Still giving Isabelle the cold shoulder? Take some friendly advice, man. Don’t overestimate your importance.” He leaned in, his voice dropping. “After all those years you spent playing the perfect gentleman, who do you think was the one to finally get her to let go?” He loosened his tie, tilting his neck to the side. A constellation of hickeys, new and old, dotted his skin. It was impossible to count how many times she’d been with him. I closed my eyes for a second, then turned to walk away. He threw an arm around my shoulder, stepping in front of me again, his voice a greasy whisper. “She’s a wildcat in bed, you know. All that ice just melts. I bet you never even got close, did you? Too busy being the good little boy.” He laughed. “Once she got a taste of a real man, she was begging me for more.” That was it. I snapped. My fist connected with his face in a single, satisfying crack. “Keep the details of your sordid little affair to yourself.” The commotion drew every eye in the room. Caleb staggered back, blood trickling from his nose, his moment of glory shattered. I took a step back, gave a brief, apologetic nod to Isabelle’s father across the room, and headed for the exit. I’d barely made it to the lobby when Isabelle caught up to me, her face a mask of fury. “Leo, you’ve gone too far! I want you to go back in there right now and apologize to Caleb in front of everyone!” My voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. “By telling him to stop broadcasting your private life to the entire world? Was I wrong?” I let my gaze drift down to her collarbone, where a faint red mark peeked out from the edge of her gown. Her eyes widened in surprise. “You knew?” She stared at me, a strange look of disbelief on her face. “Why aren’t you angry?” Of course. In her world, I was a fixed star, destined to revolve around her forever. My indifference was a disruption of the natural order. She couldn’t comprehend it. “Oh, I get it,” she said, a confident smirk returning to her lips. “This is your new strategy, isn’t it? Trying to get my attention by pretending you don’t care.” I took another step back, putting more space between us. Seeing this, she switched tactics instantly, her entire demeanor softening. She closed the distance between us, her movements slinking and playful as she draped her arms around my neck. “Oh, come on, Leo… don’t be like this…” The cluster of hickeys on her neck was right there, impossible to ignore, a vulgar tattoo against her pale skin. Her red lips, parted and glistening, moved as she spoke. A wave of nausea washed over me. I shoved her away, doubling over as my stomach churned, and vomited onto the pristine marble floor. Isabelle’s face flushed as if I’d slapped her. Her voice was sharp with rage and humiliation. “What the hell, Leo? Don’t you dare stand there and pretend you’re so pure! I know you’ve wanted me for years!” I wiped my mouth, the bitter taste of bile coating my tongue. I forced myself to look at her and managed to choke out a single word. “Filthy.” The color drained from her face. That one word stripped her of every last shred of dignity. Her eyes narrowed, filled with a cold, venomous promise. “Fine,” she hissed. “You remember what you did tonight, Leo. I’m going to make you regret it.” 3 She had tried to placate me, to charm her way back into my good graces, and I had thrown it all back in her face. Her patience had finally reached its limit. I didn’t give much thought to how she planned to make me “regret it.” I should have. The next day at the university, I walked into class and was hit by a wall of stench. My desk was overflowing with rotting garbage. Students nearby pinched their noses, shooting me looks of disgust. The whispers followed me. “Guess Leo’s not the golden boy anymore. Looks like Caleb is the real deal.” “Yeah, Isabelle would never do something like this to someone she actually cared about.” “I heard she told everyone not to help him. He’s going to be totally ostracized.” “Serves him right. He was always just her shadow anyway. It’s not like he has any other friends.” An involuntary tremor ran through me. She was using my own trauma against me. After my family went bankrupt, this was my life. The social ruin, the isolation, the constant, petty acts of cruelty from people who suddenly saw me as less than human. Back then, Isabelle had been my shield. She’d stood in front of me, a small, fierce protector against the world. And now… she was the one orchestrating the attack, using the very wounds she’d once healed as a weapon. Had she forgotten? Or did she simply not care anymore? I fought to steady my breathing, telling myself to stay calm. I was about to start clearing the mess when Caleb Ryder and a group of his cronies from the football team burst into the room. “Leo,” he said, a malicious grin spreading across his face. “Isabelle asked me to deliver a little gift.” I froze, a knot of dread tightening in my stomach. Without another word, Caleb nodded to his friends. Two of them, built like linemen, grabbed me. I struggled, landing a solid punch on one of them, but I was outnumbered and overpowered. Caleb leaned in close, holding up his phone. A live video was playing. The subject was my father. My pupils contracted. “What are you doing?!” I roared. On the screen, my dad was at the wheel of his car. The camera shook violently, and the car swerved, hitting a concrete barrier. Before he could even unbuckle his seatbelt, a burly man with menacing tattoos covering his arms yanked him out of the car. Caleb’s voice was a gleeful whisper in my ear. “I just mentioned to Isabelle that my jaw still hurt from your punch. She was more than happy to tell me exactly where your weak spots were.” Just then, Isabelle herself walked into the classroom. She saw me being restrained, but her only concern was for Caleb. “Feeling better now?” she asked him softly. Every muscle in my body strained, veins popping on my neck. “Isabelle!” I snarled, the name a curse. She finally looked at me, her expression cold as stone. “You hit my boyfriend at my family’s gala. That’s the same as hitting me. Humiliating me.” She shrugged. “Your father loses a leg. Caleb lost face. It seems like a fair trade.” Caleb, basking in her defense, smirked at me and spoke into his phone. “Do it.” “NO!” With a surge of pure adrenaline, I threw the two men off me and lunged for the phone. But I was too late. I saw it all. The man on the other end of the call lifted a heavy iron pipe and, without a moment’s hesitation, brought it down on my father’s leg. The sickening crack of bone and my father’s agonized scream hit me at the same time. My world tilted. I stumbled, nearly collapsing. Isabelle’s face paled slightly. She rushed forward to steady me, but her words were utterly devoid of compassion. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s not like it happened to you.” It felt like a hand was crushing my heart. She knew. She knew my dad and I had been a team, just the two of us, since I was a kid. She knew how he’d worked himself to the bone to build a life for us, only to lose it all. She remembered how she’d been the one to comfort me, to fight for me, when everyone else had turned their backs. Back then, I thought we had a bond that could never be broken. How ironic. When the love died, it didn’t just disappear. It twisted, metastasizing into a weapon she now aimed not just at me, but at the only family I had left. Something inside me snapped. I launched myself forward, kicking Caleb square in the chest and sending him sprawling. Before anyone could react, I brought my heel down hard on his uninjured leg. Not satisfied, I grabbed a broken chair leg from the corner and began bringing it down on his leg again, and again, and again. The room was filled with the sounds of my ragged breaths and the wet thud of wood against flesh. The other students were frozen, staring in horrified silence. “Leo, stop!” Isabelle, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fury, threw herself in front of Caleb, shielding him with her body. The chair leg connected with her arm. She cried out in pain. A chilling cold washed over me. She was protecting him. Just like I had once protected her. Caleb pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. “Isabelle, why would you do that?!” But she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were locked on me. “Are we even now, Leo?” she asked, her voice strained. I gripped the makeshift club, my knuckles white. I couldn’t comprehend what she was saying. “If this makes you feel better,” she gasped, “then you have to promise to leave Caleb alone from now on.” I stared at her, incredulous. The man she was protecting had just ordered my father’s leg to be broken. His own injuries were superficial at best. And she was asking me to call it even? “Leo, I don’t want you to live with so much hatred in your heart. It will destroy you.” Caleb, clutching his leg, glared at me with pure venom. “The one who can’t let go of a grudge is him, Isabelle,” I bit out. “I was just returning the favor. You should be saying that to him!” Her face twisted in disbelief. “I already told you! Your father’s injury was payback for you hitting Caleb in public! That doesn’t give you the right to attack him like this!” A wild, humorless laugh escaped my lips. I was done talking. I shoved her aside, grabbed a whole chair this time, and brought it down towards Caleb. Today, he was going to learn what regret really felted like.

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1 The day Dr. Adrian Vance brought his girlfriend home, my job, as head of his security detail, was to meticulously scan their personal belongings for listening devices. Suddenly, Lily Medak pointed a trembling finger at me, her eyes welling with tears. “You men are all the same! We’ve been apart for one month—one month! — and you’re already keeping a canary on the side.” I, the canary in question, was speechless. Who, me? All six-foot-one, one hundred and eighty pounds of me? There was no sugar daddy footing my bills; I was drawing a government salary as a bodyguard. … Dr. Adrian Vance was a key government scientist, a national asset whose latest research had put him on the radar of hostile operatives. The state had assigned me, one of their top agents, to ensure his safety. To prevent his family from being used as leverage, I’d moved his parents and his girlfriend into the safe house with him. Full protection detail. Before I could even speak, Lily clung to Adrian, her voice rising hysterically. “Don’t even try to deny it! If this woman isn’t your little pet, then why is she living with you? And why is she going through our luggage? I’m the lady of this house! I’m your girlfriend! You think I would ever do anything to hurt you?” “I know you’re a world-renowned scientist, and I’m just an ordinary woman,” she sobbed, changing tactics. “The gap between us is huge, I have no right to question you, it’s just…” With that, she threw herself into Mrs. Vance’s arms and began to wail. Adrian’s mother immediately started comforting Lily while scolding her son. “Lily has been with you for so many years! How could you do this to her?” Adrian rubbed his temples, a deep weariness in his eyes. “Mom, what are you talking about?” he explained. “I would never betray Lily. Riley is my government-assigned bodyguard. My work has put me at the top of an international hit list. This is a necessary precaution.” Lily shot up, her voice cracking. “You’re lying! Who’s ever heard of a bodyguard who looks like that? She’s your kept woman, and you know it!” Adrian’s brow furrowed in frustration. “Kept women are for billionaire CEOs, Lily. I’m a scientist. Every paycheck I’ve earned for the last five years, I’ve sent directly to you. Where would I even get the money?” Her face was a mask of disbelief. Adrian sighed. “What do I have to do to make you believe me?” Lily lifted her chin, looking down her nose at me. “I don’t believe a word you say. I only believe what I see with my own eyes!” I had been kneeling by the door, finishing my sweep of their luggage. Now that the job was done—no bugs, no cameras—it was time to deal with Miss Medak. I slowly rose to my feet. Lily had been looking down at me, but as I unfolded to my full height, her gaze had to travel up… and up. By the time I was standing straight, she was staring up at me, her mouth agape, wide enough to fit a tennis ball. I spoke calmly. “Miss Medak. Perhaps now you can believe that I am not Dr. Vance’s… canary.” “You’re… like, six-foot-four?” she stammered, swallowing hard. I simply smiled and handed the cleared luggage to the family. A professional operative never reveals exact personal details. My silence, however, did nothing to dampen her newfound curiosity. She began circling me, inspecting me from all angles. “I mean, you’re tall, sure. But maybe he’s into that sort of thing,” she mused. “There’s no rule that says a six-foot-four woman can’t be a kept woman…” Her words left not just Adrian and me, but also his parents, utterly dumbfounded. Adrian started apologizing to me while trying to pull Lily away, but she took this as proof that he was siding with me. She wrenched her arm free and shot me a contemptuous smirk. “Did you really think you could hide your affair from me? I’m the main character in this story! I can see the chat feed!” “The chat feed told me everything! It told me you betrayed me, and that this woman is your little plaything! It warned me that if I don’t get rid of her now, you’ll eventually have my family’s empire burned to the ground and leave me for dead!” 2 Having delivered her breathless monologue, Lily’s chest heaved with emotion. Adrian pinched the bridge of his nose, looking like he wanted to say something but had no idea where to start. Lily grabbed the front of his shirt. “Tell me! It’s me or her!” “Lily, for the love of God, stop reading those trashy romance novels! Burn my family’s empire to the ground? I’m a scientist, not a ruthless billionaire. And what is this about a chat feed? You’re not making any sense.” He shot me an apologetic look and tried to lead her away. But my internal alarms were screaming. Something was wrong with her. I stepped in front of them, blocking their path. “Apologies, Doctor. Miss Medak is not acting rationally. I’m going to need her to cooperate with an official assessment.” Adrian started to protest, but he met my unyielding gaze and let his hand fall from her arm. My credentials were unimpeachable; his own superiors had introduced me, and my file included protection details for world leaders. He knew better than to question my judgment. “Adrian, help me!” Lily shrieked. “Don’t let this evil woman take me! She’ll kill me! I’ll come back with a kidney missing!” Adrian didn’t move. I escorted Lily to a small, soundproofed debriefing room. No matter what I asked, she stuck to her story: I was Adrian’s mistress, and a stream of scrolling comments only she could see had told her so. Based on my training, she wasn’t lying. She genuinely believed it. After a moment’s thought, I called in a medic. The diagnosis was… unexpected. Lily had cooked herself a lunch of wild mushrooms. Apparently, she hadn’t cooked them thoroughly enough, inducing a hallucinogenic state where she believed she was seeing a live chat feed about her own life. After treatment, she returned to normal. A background check I’d ordered also came back clean. She and Adrian were childhood sweethearts, her social circle was tiny, and her only hobby was reading romance novels. She had no connections to any foreign entities. But even after the doctor explained that her “chat feed” was a mushroom-induced trip, she remained convinced I was Adrian’s canary. She took every opportunity to sneer at me, and one day, she even tried to shove me down the stairs. She seemed to forget that I was a six-foot-one elite operative. There was no way a civilian like her could move me an inch. After putting her entire body into the effort and failing to make me budge, she changed tactics, let out a yelp, and threw herself down the staircase. By the time Adrian rushed over, she was a mess of red-rimmed eyes and crocodile tears. “Adrian, don’t blame Riley! I’m sure she didn’t mean to push me!” After calling the medics, I projected the security footage onto the living room’s main screen. When the video showed the part where Lily was straining with all her might to push me, Mrs. Vance couldn’t stifle a snort of laughter. Lily shrieked, “You have cameras?!” “Miss Medak,” I stated calmly, “my sole purpose here is to protect Dr. Vance. This entire residence, excluding the bathrooms, is under 24/7 surveillance, monitored by a three-person team in real-time. I would advise you to choose your actions carefully.” Her face flushed crimson. She was speechless. After that incident, I did my best to avoid her. But today, a confrontation was unavoidable. There was a critical issue during the testing phase of Adrian’s project. I had to get him to the research institute immediately. The moment we got in the car, Lily threw herself in front of it. “Where are you two going? On a secret date behind my back?” Adrian tried to explain the urgency of the situation. Lily just covered her ears, chanting, “I’m not listening, I’m not listening!” Finally, she lay down on the pavement in front of the tires. “If you insist on taking your mistress on a date, you’ll have to run me over first!” 3 Adrian looked exhausted, the apology in his eyes deepening into profound guilt. I glanced at my watch. We didn’t have time for this. I gave a subtle look, and two of my team—both built like refrigerators—materialized and simply lifted her out of the way. Adrian opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and remained silent. In the car, he finally spoke. “I’m so sorry, Riley. I apologize for all the trouble she’s causing. When this is over, I’ll make sure your superiors know how professionally you’ve handled this.” I kept my eyes on the road, my focus absolute. As long as Adrian’s work helped strengthen our country, Lily’s petty dramas were less than a nuisance. As we approached the institute, my instincts screamed. Something was wrong. I slammed on the brakes and yanked Adrian out of his seat just as he was starting to ask what was happening. A split second later, our car erupted in a massive fireball. The force of the blast sent us rolling. I shielded him with my body, absorbing the impact as we skidded across the asphalt. I kept him pinned beneath me, my eyes scanning our surroundings for threats. “What do you think you’re doing?!” A car screeched to a halt behind us. Lily jumped out, pointing an accusing finger. “You shameless hussy! I knew you were after my boyfriend! You kept me from coming along just so you could throw yourself at him, didn’t you!” “You home-wrecking fox! I’m going to kill you!” She let out a war cry and lunged, her hand raised to slap me. The next second, I had her wrist in an iron grip. I applied the slightest pressure. “Ow, ow, ow!” she screamed. “Shut up!” I hissed. “The people who planted that bomb are still nearby. Unless you want to die, be quiet.” Thankfully, the institute was located next to a military base. Backup arrived within minutes. While Adrian was in his emergency briefing, Lily circled me like a vulture. She tried to give me a look of contempt, but because I was so much taller, she had to crane her neck to do it, which made her attempted intimidation look ridiculous. I ignored her completely. Eventually, her stream of insults dried up, leaving her parched and frustrated. Just then, Adrian emerged from his meeting. Lily immediately threw herself into his arms. “Adrian, she completely ignored me! Can you believe the nerve?” she pouted. “Look, I’ve decided that since she’s useful for protecting you, I’m willing to let her stick around. But she has to know her place, and you have to promise that you’ll always love me most. Swear to me you’ll never let her hurt me.” The other researchers coming out of the meeting stared at her, their expressions a mixture of confusion and morbid curiosity as their gazes shifted to Adrian. Adrian’s face turned beet red as Lily continued her tirade. “Enough!” He finally lost his patience. “What are you talking about? This is the 21st century! We don’t have mistresses and second wives! Stop talking nonsense!” His shout stunned her into silence. Then, tears began to stream down her face. “I knew it. You’re tired of me. It’s all about your precious canary now, isn’t it? I was willing to compromise! What more do you want from me? Do you want me to die? I just want to live my life…” Her words made no sense to the onlookers, but Adrian and I knew exactly what she was referencing. Adrian sighed, a look of grim resignation on his face, and began to soothe her. Just like that, her tears vanished, replaced by a triumphant smile. She hugged him tightly, and over his shoulder, where no one else could see, she shot me a smug, provocative smirk. Right. She hadn’t forgotten her role in the drama. After we returned to the safe house, Adrian and Lily had a long talk. When she emerged, her eyes were red and swollen. She walked straight up to me. “Riley, I’m sorry,” she said. “I was wrong. I promise I won’t call you a canary or anything like that ever again.” I gave a curt nod, accepting her apology. For a while after that, things were quiet. Until another critical issue arose with the data, requiring Adrian to hold an emergency meeting with his research team. Given the recent bombing, it was decided the team would come to the safe house. With so many high-value targets in one place, I ramped up security protocols. All day, Lily watched me with a strange, unnerving smirk on her face. 4 My senses were on high alert, but she did nothing besides prance around her room trying on an endless series of flashy dresses. I wrote it off as another one of her episodes. The scientists had all arrived and the meeting was about to begin when Lily burst into the room. She was wearing a tight, scarlet red dress that clung to her curves. She sauntered over to the conference table and provocatively perched herself on it, right in front of Adrian, batting her eyelashes. “A woman,” she purred, “needs to be soft and delicate to earn a man’s affection.” The room was filled with serious, academic types. Jaws dropped. The female scientists looked at her with disdain, while the men awkwardly averted their eyes. “Lily, what in God’s name are you doing?!” Adrian roared, pulling her off the table. “I’m in a meeting! Get out!” She stumbled, then regained her footing and pointed a finger at me. “Why does she get to stay? You’re kicking me out, but she gets to be here? She’s your kept woman! You’re finally introducing her to all your friends, and you’re still trying to hide it from me!” Adrian froze for a second, a look of pure, soul-crushing exhaustion on his face. “Lily, I am so tired. Please, just stop making things up.” “These are my colleagues! And Riley is my bodyguard! My. Body. Guard!” He was practically screaming the last words. The other researchers began whispering among themselves, casting judgmental glances at Lily. Seeing that her little spectacle had failed, she turned her fury on me. “You bitch! This is all your fault!” That was it. My patience had finally snapped. I grabbed her by the collar and lifted her up like she was a misbehaving kitten, carrying her out of the room. She flailed wildly, clawing at the air. “Let go of me! She’s seducing my boyfriend, and now she’s assaulting me!” I remained silent. She then turned on the gawking onlookers. “What are you all staring at? You work for my husband, don’t you? Why aren’t you helping me? The boss’s woman is being attacked!” “Riley is a brute! She’s huge and has no femininity at all! You should be laughing at her! Why are you looking at me like that? You’re all just NPCs! Background characters! Stop looking at me like I’m crazy!” Finally, one of the older researchers had had enough. “Riley is doing her job. As a bodyguard, her attire is appropriate, and her formidable physique provides a sense of security. Who are you to compare yourself to her? You want to compete? Let’s see you go a round in a boxing ring with her!” Others chimed in with agreement, adding a few digs at Adrian. “You know, Adrian, brilliant as you are, you really need to learn how to judge character.” Adrian’s face cycled through shades of red and white. After the meeting, Adrian and Lily had the most vicious fight I’d ever seen between them. I watched from a discreet distance. My mission was to protect him from physical harm; verbal spats weren’t in my purview. I let out a quiet sigh. This job was not easy. The moment this assignment was over, I was taking a long, long vacation. The argument ended with Adrian roaring, “We’re done! It’s over!” Lily just stood there, stunned, a look of utter disbelief on her face. Finally, she seemed to snap. “Fine! Break up with me! Just you wait until you come crawling back, begging for my forgiveness!” She stormed off, returning minutes later with a suitcase. She marched to the front door, but when she saw that no one was stopping her—not even Mrs. Vance, who had always doted on her—she paused. “It’s so late,” she muttered to herself. “I’ll never get a cab. I guess I’ll stay one more night.” And with that, she dragged her suitcase back to her room. While I was protecting Adrian, other government agencies were working to dismantle the network of operatives targeting him. I had just received an update. By tomorrow, my services might no longer be needed. That night, I heard a crash from Adrian’s room. I burst in instantly. A broken water glass lay on the floor. Lily stood before Adrian, a triumphant, crazed look in her eyes. “You took the potion I gave you! Now, you have to do everything I say!”

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1 For my twenty-ninth birthday, my husband gave me a bottle of perfume. I sprayed it on without a second thought and went into anaphylactic shock. When I finally came to in the hospital, Liam was there, a bouquet in hand, with his childhood friend, Chloe, hovering by his side. I calmly asked for a divorce. Chloe immediately rushed to his defense, her voice choked with tears. “Ava, please don’t blame Liam! The perfume was my idea. I just thought the scent would be perfect for you.” Liam wrapped an arm around her, comforting her, then turned to me with an impatient glare. “You’ll regret this.” The next time I saw Liam was a month later. After being discharged, I’d spent some time recovering at my old apartment before finally returning to our villa. The housekeeper informed me that Liam had only come back once, right after I was hospitalized, and hadn’t been seen since. I wasn’t surprised. This wasn’t his only home. He had another one with Chloe. I took a USB drive to the study and printed out the divorce papers. Two copies. I signed my name and then called him. He arrived late that night, a gift bag dangling from his hand. Seeing me on the sofa, he casually issued his usual command. “Make me some soup. I was out with Mr. Harrison and the board. Drank too much. My stomach is killing me.” He tossed the bag onto the couch and went upstairs to the master bedroom. He showered, changed into his pajamas, and then came back down. He noticed I hadn’t touched the bag and pushed it toward me. “A replacement birthday gift.” I didn’t take it. He placed it on my lap. I stood up and set it aside. “Aren’t you going to see what it is?” I tried to smile, but couldn’t. I looked up at him. Our house was littered with identical gift bags. I already knew what was inside. Ever since we’d had our son, he’d put zero thought into my gifts. Skincare sets, handbags, jewelry. The styles were always the same, the brands predictable. It was as if he spent less than three minutes picking them out. He never seemed to notice that sometimes, his gifts would sit unopened for months. Only that bottle of perfume had been different. The box was unique. I’d opened it, sprayed it once, and regretted it instantly. It was rose-scented. And I am deathly allergic to roses. Even the scent is enough to trigger a reaction. I picked up the divorce papers from the coffee table and handed them to him. “My lawyer drafted these. Take a look. If there are no issues, just sign.” He froze, his hand hovering over the papers. “The soup… did you make it? I’ll go check.” I let him escape to the kitchen. He was back in a moment, his expression grim. “You didn’t make it.” “I’m tired. I don’t feel like it.” His stomach must have genuinely been hurting. He pressed a hand to his abdomen and sat back down. I pretended not to see. He sidled up next to me, wrapping an arm around my waist, his voice suddenly soft. “Ava, I was wrong. I’ve just been so busy, I asked Chloe to help me pick out your gift. How about this? I’ll book a restaurant, and tomorrow, we can have a proper birthday celebration. Just the two of us.” I looked at him and shook my head, gently removing his hand from my waist and scooting away. His face hardened. “Why? Is it really just because of the perfume?” It wasn’t just the perfume. It was because the author had stopped writing. The sweet romance novel was over. His heart had wandered, and I had developed a mind of my own. We were no longer just characters, forced to be sweet for the sake of the plot. The day after our wedding, my memories had returned. I was the female lead in a cliché romance novel. Beautiful, smart, the campus ice queen with a fatal allergy to roses. Liam was the male lead: the cold, handsome CEO-in-training with a chronic stomachache who would do anything for me. We had a sickeningly sweet college romance. After graduation, one night of passion led to an unexpected pregnancy. I had terrible morning sickness, and Liam, ever the doting partner, insisted I quit my job so he could take care of us. During the difficult months of my pregnancy, he’d scold my belly, telling our unborn son to stop tormenting me or he’d get a spanking when he came out. It was shortly after my memories returned that Chloe came back from studying abroad. She started working at Liam’s family company, becoming his special assistant. That’s when I learned that their families were old friends. After Chloe’s parents died, Liam’s family had taken her in. They were childhood sweethearts, and she had always been in love with him. And I, the supposed love of his life, had never even heard her name. A character who had never appeared in the sweet romance novel had suddenly materialized the moment it ended. But I couldn’t blame Chloe. She had confessed her feelings to Liam long ago. He knew how she felt, yet he kept her by his side. His motives were his own. While I was pregnant, they traveled for business together, drank together, attended high school reunions together. In the beginning, when I’d get jealous, he would just laugh it off. Eventually, I stopped bringing it up. And Chloe silently wedged herself between us, where she remained to this day. And now he was asking if this was all about a bottle of perfume. A wave of pity washed over me. “The perfume was just the final straw.” “Liam, I’ve wanted to divorce you for a very long time.” His brow furrowed, his eyes turning cold. “Ava, are you seeing someone else?” “I forbid it!” Before I could call him insane, he lunged, pinning me to the sofa. “Liam, no!” I struggled, but he was too heavy. When his hand started to slip under my dress, I slapped him. Hard. The sting of it stopped him. His eyes were bloodshot, a cruel glint in them. “Ava, don’t forget you’re still my wife. Am I not even allowed to touch you anymore?” The memory of the D&C I’d had to undergo after the miscarriage flooded my mind, and my whole body began to tremble. “You disgust me.” Our eyes met. I didn’t back down. He finally pushed himself off me, slumping to the floor. A self-deprecating laugh escaped his lips. “So that’s it. No wonder you want a divorce.” “Who is he?” I said nothing. He grabbed his jacket from the sofa and stalked toward the door. “Ava, you can dream on about a divorce!” “You’d better hide him well. Because when I find out who he is, I’ll kill him.” As he reached the door, a sharp pain lanced through my chest. I called out his name. “Liam.” He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Do you love me?” I asked. He was silent. I pressed on. “If you loved me, would you keep a woman who’s been in love with you for years by your side? If you loved me, would you let your mother take our son away from me, to another country?” “Liam, the day you agreed to let her take our son, I started to doubt everything you’ve ever said about love.” He finally turned, his eyes filled with confusion. “I thought we agreed to let Mom take Ethan so we could have some time to ourselves.” “You wanted that. I didn’t.” “He is the child I carried for ten months. I would never send him away for the sake of some ‘alone time.’ I’m not that kind of person.” He shook his head slightly. “But we said we’d have another baby.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “There is no other baby. I went into anaphylactic shock from the perfume. I miscarried.” The expression on his face was beyond grim. “Why didn’t you tell me when I came to the hospital?” he demanded. “I was going to tell you on my birthday. But you never came. You sent Chloe with the perfume instead.” “Liam, what good would it have done to tell you?” He was silent for a long time. “We can have another child,” he said finally, his voice flat. “No, we can’t. Liam, let’s just get a divorce.” “If we don’t, I don’t know what I might do.” I walked over to him with the papers. “Sign them.” He took them. “And you, Ava? Do you still love me?” “I’ve let go.” “Recently? Or a long time ago?” I didn’t answer. He did. “A long time ago. You stopped being clingy. When I went on business trips, you stopped telling me to be safe. When I drank, you stopped telling me to drink less. The longest I was away was that trip to Moscow. I waited ten days, and you never sent me a single message. Just like tonight, with my stomach. You couldn’t care less.” “Ava, you were the one who stopped loving me first.” “I stopped being clingy because Chloe was always with you, leaving no space for me. I stopped asking about your trips because she would post pictures of the two of you together. I stopped telling you to drink less because you were always taking drinks for her. And that trip to Moscow? I didn’t message you because I saw a video of the two of you dancing intimately in a club. I didn’t want to interrupt.” “As for tonight… you’re right. I don’t love you anymore.” “Liam, I’m making way for Chloe. I wish you both the best.” His knuckles were white as he gripped the papers. His eyes, red and furious, watched me as he tore the documents to shreds. Then, he stormed out. I had the housekeeper clean up the mess and went back to the study. I printed ten more copies. An hour later, I saw Chloe’s latest social media post. A selfie of her sitting on the edge of a bed, Liam asleep behind her. The caption read: “The man I love has never learned to love himself. If you don’t love him, why can’t you just let him go? Why do you have to torture him?” I took the ten copies of the divorce papers, got in my car, and drove to Chloe’s house.

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1 Our company’s new head of HR was supposed to be a rockstar. A “golden hire.” After my department pulled a month of brutal, round-the-clock overtime to land a massive project, he celebrated our success by presenting us with a bill. It was for the air conditioning, bottled water, and facility usage fees we’d incurred during our late nights. To “strengthen management,” he installed timers in the restrooms. Five minutes per person, per day. Total. If you wanted a single sheet of A4 paper, you needed to submit a 2,000-word written request in advance. Then, in the name of “cost reduction and efficiency,” he proposed to the CEO that I be laid off. This was right after my father had emergency surgery. He was in the ICU, and the bills were piling up fast. When I demanded my legally mandated severance package, Carter Price slammed his fist on the table. “Severance? You’ve got to be kidding me! If you’re leaving, you should pay back every salary you’ve ever earned. Consider it tuition for the education this company gave you!” … The day we landed the Sterling account, a wave of relief washed over the entire department. We were just starting to plan how we’d spend our commission bonuses when Carter slapped a bill on my desk with a sharp crack. “Liam,” he said, his voice slick with smug authority. “Here’s the tab for your team’s recent expenses. Settle it with finance as soon as possible.” Confused, I took the sheet of paper from him. • Utilities (HVAC): $15,000 • Bottled Water & Supplies: $5,000 • Facility Usage Fee (After Hours): $20,000 There were other miscellaneous charges, bringing the grand total to a staggering $40,000. Attached were meticulous records of our daily electricity usage and even photos of the water cooler, with the water level marked each day to calculate our consumption. After factoring in our salaries and overtime pay, we were somehow expected to pay the company $20,000 out of our own pockets. I stared at the numbers, convinced it had to be a joke. “Carter, we were working overtime to secure the single biggest client this company has seen all year. This one deal accounts for more than half of the annual revenue target. And now you want us to pay the company for the privilege?” I demanded, my voice rising. “Do you have any idea what we sacrificed? My team practically lived here for a month. Mark missed his girlfriend’s birthday for this project. Does this seem reasonable to you?” Carter shot me a condescending smirk. “For all I know, you were just using ‘overtime’ as an excuse to waste company resources,” he sneered. “I’ve seen your type before. You slack off during the day and drag out your work into the evening just to rack up some extra overtime pay.” He puffed out his chest. “Ms. Vance brought me in to instill discipline, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I’m putting an end to these bad habits. This company is not a charity for you to take advantage of!” Holly, the new intern, tugged at my sleeve, her eyes welling up with tears. “Liam… I promised my grandma I’d buy her an air conditioner when I got paid,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “She’s not well, and this heat… she can’t take it. Now, not only is my paycheck gone, but I owe money? Where am I going to get that kind of money? What do I do?” Carter jabbed a finger toward the young woman’s forehead, his expression dripping with disdain. “This isn’t a non-profit. Don’t think we don’t know about you Gen Z kids, always looking for new ways to fleece the company. You probably fill up your water bottles to the brim before you leave every night. Well, let me tell you, as long as I’m here, those days are over. I will not tolerate it!” My face was a cold mask. I took the bill from Holly’s shaking hands, looked Carter dead in the eye, and ripped it into tiny pieces. “We’re not paying this,” I stated flatly. “If you have a problem with that, we can take it up with Ms. Vance.” Carter was stunned. “Ms. Vance hired me at great expense to manage this company. Are you defying my authority?” I met his gaze, my voice low and steady. “I said, we are not paying. We will receive every single cent of our salaries and our overtime. If you disagree, let’s go see Diana right now and clear this up, face to face.” I had publicly humiliated him in front of the entire team. His face flushed with rage. “Liam Foster,” he seethed, “you will regret this.” He stormed off. Holly looked at me, her face pale with worry. “Liam, Ms. Vance specifically headhunted Mr. Price. If she finds out about this… are we going to be in trouble?” I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you. Besides, we just landed the Sterling account. Diana is thrilled. She’s not going to punish the team that made it happen.” Holly let out a relieved breath. Diana Vance was my girlfriend—or, she had been. We’d started this company together right out of college. After years of grinding, we finally made it. Once we were stable, she asked for the CEO title to give her a “sense of security.” I agreed, stepping back to run the sales department, continuing to build the empire for her. It wasn’t long before we were both summoned to Diana’s office. Carter was already there, standing beside her, his hair a mess, still breathing heavily from his tantrum. Diana didn’t even look at me. She just launched in, gesturing at Carter. “Liam, Carter was only thinking of the company’s bottom line! How could you undermine him in front of everyone like that? How is he supposed to manage anyone now?” she scolded. “I paid a fortune to bring him in. You need to respect his authority. You can’t just do whatever you want in a company this size!” I almost laughed. “Diana, have you lost your mind? Go ask around. Find one single company that charges its employees for working overtime. Are you trying to destroy the morale of the very people who built this place?” She glared at me. “You need rules to have order! Carter must have his reasons. Besides, if everyone starts using overtime as an excuse to freeload, how am I supposed to run a business?” I stared at her. It was like looking at a stranger. “The contract with Sterling isn’t signed yet,” I said coolly. “I can always call the client and tell them there’s no rush.” Diana panicked. “Are you threatening me? You don’t call the shots here anymore!” I rolled my eyes. “You’ve known me for seven years. What do you think?” Carter, seeing his chance, jumped in. “This is Ms. Vance’s company! How dare you speak to your boss like that?” I gave him a lazy, dismissive glance. “This is between Diana and me. Stay out of it.” He was so thoroughly shut down he couldn’t manage a single word in response. Defeated, Diana finally backed down. “Fine, Liam. You win this time. But watch yourself from now on.” I walked out of her office, a cold pit forming in my stomach. Carter caught up to me in the hallway, bumping into me hard from behind. “Oh, and Liam,” he said with a malicious grin, “I forgot to mention. To improve management, I’ve drafted a new set of regulations specifically for your department. Make sure you follow them diligently.” He thrust a thick stack of papers into my hands. My team immediately gathered around to see. “Rule #1: Clock in no later than 9:00 AM, clock out no earlier than 5:00 PM. No exceptions.” “Rule #2: Total daily restroom time not to exceed five minutes. Use of more than two squares of toilet paper per visit is prohibited.” “Rule #3: To receive any office supplies, a 2,000-word request form must be submitted for my personal approval.” “Rule #4: All leave requests must be submitted three days in advance. No request will be approved without my signature.” The list went on. Over one hundred new rules in total. The team exploded. “We’re in sales! We have client meetings all over the city. How can we possibly clock in and out at the exact same time every day?” “Five minutes for the bathroom? What if you have an upset stomach? That’s inhuman!” “And the leave policy is insane! What about emergencies? How can you plan for that three days in advance?” Carter’s smile was triumphant. “I’ve always disliked you sales types, always using ‘client meetings’ as an excuse to show up late and leave early. It’s high time you were brought into line.” He continued, savoring every word. “As for the restrooms, I’ve already had infrared timers installed on the stall doors. Every second is logged. Go over your five minutes, and you’ll be fined.” “I’m not soft like Liam. Ms. Vance has given me her full support, and I am going to teach you all some discipline!” I held up the stack of papers. “Carter, do these new rules apply to the entire company, or just to our department?” He pursed his lips. “Oh, Ms. Vance and I discussed it. We both agreed that your department has the worst discipline, so we’re starting the pilot program with you.” Just then, Holly returned from a client visit, flushed and sweating from the summer heat. “Liam, good news! The client loves our proposal and is really interested in moving forward!” she chirped, beaming. “I had to wait outside his building for two hours, but I finally caught him. God, I’m so thirsty.” She went to the water cooler and filled a large cup, downing it in one go. Carter watched her, then made a sharp checkmark in his notebook. “Holly, daily water consumption exceeding 500ml,” he announced loudly. “That’s a $150 fine.” Holly choked, sputtering water. “Mr. Price, I just had some water from the cooler! Why is that a finable offense?” Carter sneered. “It’s in the new company regulations. No employee may consume more than 500ml of company water per day. Violators will be fined.” Mark, one of our veteran salesmen, finally snapped. “Why don’t you just admit you’re targeting our department? Who the hell is going to follow these bullshit rules? I’m not putting up with this!” Carter didn’t get angry. He just smiled. “Violation of rule #35: insulting a manager. That’s another $150 fine, Mark.” Mark was stunned into silence. He opened his mouth to curse again, but I grabbed his arm and shook my head, signaling him to stop. I turned to Carter, my expression calm. “If these are the official company regulations, my department will, of course, comply with them.” Carter nodded, satisfied. “Good. Glad to see you’re finally seeing reason.” After he left, the team swarmed me. “Liam, he’s openly bullying us! How can you just take that?” “Everyone knows our department brings in most of the revenue! If he ties our hands like this, how are we supposed to close any deals?” “Let’s go to Ms. Vance! She can’t possibly let him get away with this!” I shook my head, the disappointment a bitter taste in my mouth. “It’s useless. You think Diana doesn’t know about this? She signed off on it.” Mark was furious. “Then let’s just quit! I’m not going to be treated like this!” “And then what?” I countered. “What good does quitting do right now? We all have families, mortgages, bills to pay. How are you going to support them if you can’t find another job right away?” Holly nodded slowly. “Liam’s right. So, what’s the plan? I’ll do whatever you say.” A grim smile touched my lips. “He made the rules. So, we’ll follow them. To the letter. And as for the consequences… well, that’s out of our control.” The next day, every single person in my department arrived on time. We clocked in, sat at our desks, and proceeded to do our own thing. At exactly 5:00 PM, we all clocked out and went home. Contacting clients? Impossible. What if we missed the clock-out time? For two solid weeks, our entire department enjoyed the air conditioning, played on our phones, and had a wonderfully relaxing time. Carter, however, was not relaxing. He stormed into my office, his face red with fury. “Liam! Your team is in sales! You can’t close deals sitting in the office all day! The entire company’s payroll depends on you!” I casually adjusted my new haircut. “I’d love to be out there, Carter. But you set the rules. Punctual clock-ins and clock-outs. I can’t risk being a minute late. I’m just diligently following company policy.” “You can’t go out, but you can still make calls, can’t you?” he retorted. I shook my head with an expression of sincere regret. “All that talking would make me thirsty. And the company only allows me 500ml of water a day. It’s just not enough to stay hydrated.” He ground his teeth. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you, Liam? Do you really think this company can’t function without your department?” I feigned shock. “I would never say such a thing. I’m simply abiding by the rules you put in place, Mr. Price. Isn’t this the disciplined environment you wanted to create?” He shot me a look of pure hatred and stormed out. Holly peeked in, trying to smother a laugh. “Seeing him so frustrated is the best thing ever. I bet Ms. Vance won’t be able to sit still for much longer, either.” I flicked her gently on the forehead. “Maybe, but our paychecks this month are probably going to be nonexistent. Here.” I transferred her $1,000. “Go buy that air conditioner for your grandma. The elderly can’t handle this kind of heat.” Her eyes turned red. “Liam… thank you.” “Don’t mention it,” I said, ruffling her hair. “But listen, none of you can slack off completely. Keep in touch with your clients, maintain the relationships. Just drag out the actual contract signings. Let’s see who blinks first.” Holly snapped to attention, giving me a mock salute and a playful grin. “Sir, yes sir! Mission accepted!” A month later, the company’s revenue had plummeted. It was barely a third of what it was the previous month. Diana slammed the performance report on my desk so hard it could have cracked the wood. “Liam, what the hell happened with your department this month? Why did the numbers fall off a cliff? Am I paying you all to just sit around and do nothing?” I sighed, putting on a show of helplessness. “Well, in order to comply with Mr. Price’s new regulations, my team had to strictly adhere to the clock-in and clock-out times. We couldn’t even work overtime. How are we supposed to generate revenue under those conditions?” Diana was not satisfied. “Can’t you find other ways? Stop blaming everything on Carter! A true professional doesn’t complain about their environment!” Carter, standing beside her, chimed in smugly. “Exactly. I proposed these reforms for the good of the company. I never expected Liam to use them as an excuse to stop working entirely.” I was done arguing with them. “My department followed the rules set by Mr. Price to the letter. As for the consequences, that was something I could not have predicted.” Diana clenched her jaw. “Fine. From now on, your department is exempt from the company regulations. Just close the deals. Do whatever you have to do!” Carter stomped his foot like a petulant child. “Diana, how can you just give in to him? Who runs this company, you or him? You can’t let him manipulate you like this!” Diana whispered to him, “If we don’t close some deals soon, we won’t even be able to make payroll. We’ll stabilize things first, then deal with him.” That night, I got a call from my mother. She was sobbing so hard she could barely speak. “Liam… your father… he collapsed at home. The doctors say it’s a brain hemorrhage… he needs surgery… I don’t know what to do, I’m all alone.” My heart leaped into my throat. After calming her down, I arranged for my dad to be transferred from my small hometown to a major hospital in the city. My mom’s hands trembled as she clutched mine. “Liam, this is going to cost so much money, isn’t it? The doctor said even if he pulls through, there could be permanent damage.” Her voice broke. “Maybe… maybe we should just take him home. We’ve never been able to help you with much, son. We can’t be a burden to you now.” I looked through the glass into the ICU, at my father lying motionless, hooked up to a web of tubes and machines. My heart shattered. “Mom, that’s my dad,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “I will do everything in my power to save him, no matter what. Don’t worry about the money. I’ll figure it out.” I gave her every penny of my savings. To pay for my father’s medical bills, I threw myself into my work with a desperate ferocity. After I closed several major deals in quick succession, the way Carter looked at me changed again. One evening, after my team and I had just finalized yet another big contract after hours of work, Carter called me into his office. He was practically glowing with self-satisfaction. “Liam,” he began, “Ms. Vance and I have been discussing the current market downturn. We feel it’s time to… optimize your department.” A cold dread settled in my stomach. “Optimize who?” He walked over, standing uncomfortably close. “We think it would be best for the company if you were the one to leave.” I thought I must have misheard him. “Are you out of your mind? I’m personally responsible for over half of this company’s revenue, and you want to fire me?” Carter scoffed. “Do you really think you’re that special, Liam? Without the platform this company provides, who would even take your calls? We’ll just distribute your accounts to the other team members. I bet they’ll do just as well, if not better.” He leaned in, his voice dripping with venom. “And think about it. How many times have you openly defied Ms. Vance? With a cancer like you in the office, how can we expect any other employee to respect authority?” I forced myself to remain calm. “My father is sick. I need the money. If you’re firing me, I want to hear it from Diana herself.” Carter slammed his hand on the desk. “Who do you think you are? So what if you co-founded the company? Big deal! If you can’t afford your dad’s treatment, maybe he should just go home and die! Out of humanitarian consideration, the company can send a couple of wreaths for the funeral!” I snapped. Before I even knew what I was doing, I lunged forward and struck him across the face. The sound of the slap echoed in the silent office. “Shut your filthy mouth,” I snarled. “Say one more word, and I will rip it off your face.” He was stunned for a second, then raised his hand to hit me back. I kicked his leg out from under him, sending him sprawling to the floor. Just as he was struggling to get up, Diana burst into the room. She rushed to Carter’s side, helping him up with a look of frantic concern before turning on me, her eyes blazing. “Are you insane? You can’t just attack people! If anything happens to Carter, I’ll hold you responsible!” In that moment, whatever was left of my heart turned to ice. “My father is in the hospital, and you haven’t even bothered to visit once. Now this piece of trash wishes him dead, and you’re defending him?” Diana shot back, “Your father is sick, but I’m not a doctor! What good would my visiting do? Carter is my hire. It’s my job to protect him!” I stood there in silence for a long time, the weight of her betrayal crushing me. Finally, I made my decision. “Fine. You can fire me. But I want my severance.” Before the words were even out of my mouth, Carter shrieked from behind Diana. “Impossible! You won’t get a single penny! Now get the hell out of this company!” I leveled a cold glare at him. “On what grounds? The law entitles me to it. Who are you to deny me my legal rights?” Carter’s face was contorted with rage. “Not only will you get no severance,” he roared, “but you’re going to pay back every salary you’ve ever earned! This company trained you! It’s the tuition you owe for the privilege of working here!”

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