Author: Momo Chan

One minute, I was nursing my thirty-year-old husband through a fever. The next, I blinked, and I was back in college, staring at his twenty-year-old self. That boy, all sharp edges and guarded eyes, awkwardly shoved a slip of paper with his number into my hand. But before I could even think about adding him, I blinked again and was back at the sickbed. My insanely jealous CEO husband was biting my hand, his voice a low growl. “Stella, where the hell have you been all day?” The truly terrifying part? A few days later, that same wounded, twenty-year-old version of my husband appeared out of thin air in my bathroom, looking utterly lost. And now, my two husbands are locked in a death-glare, both demanding to know the same thing: “Who is he?” 1. I was back. It was my first time time-traveling, and my head was still spinning. Ethan, however, was glaring at me. “Where did you go? I have a fever, and you just disappear?” I held up my hands, a picture of innocence. “What if I told you… I was with you the whole time? Just, the twenty-year-old you. Would you believe me?” A man fresh off a high fever is not a reasonable creature. He grabbed my hand, nipping it gently, his eyes, still glassy from the fever, filled with a look of pure, theatrical betrayal. “Stella, you’re getting better and better at lying.” God, I was being framed. I looked at the pouting, jealous man-child before me, then thought of the prickly boy who’d just handed me his number… Each had his own unique flavor. A wicked little smile played on my lips. But I had to explain. I gently pried his hand off mine. “It’s true. I think I just… time-traveled.” Ethan propped himself up on his pillows, tilting his head with an expression that screamed, I’m waiting to hear this bullshit. I dabbed the sweat from his temple with a tissue. “I just dozed off for a second, and when I opened my eyes, I was at a university.” “You were in the library, studying. A bunch of girls were trying, and failing, to pretend they weren’t staring at you.” “Then it must have been lunchtime. You left the study hall, and some guys came up to say hi.” I searched my memory, trying to dredge up more details. But the next part was a little hard to say. My thirty-year-old Ethan, listening to my surprisingly detailed fabrication, nudged me. “And then?” I glanced cautiously at his pale, post-fever face, hesitating. “I couldn’t hear exactly what they said, but… they basically dumped their milk teas all over you.” Ethan’s expression froze. Don’t tell me that actually happened… I tried to change the subject, but Ethan was fixated. “And then what?” I had no choice. I launched into the full story—how I’d given my jacket to his twenty-year-old self, followed him to the diner where he worked, helped him chase off a couple of thugs, bought bandages to patch him up, and then coaxed his contact info out of him. With every sentence, the storm clouds gathered on his face. He looked just like he did when we first met. I felt a prickle of unease and tugged on his sleeve. “Honey…” Ethan snapped back to the present, his expression softening slightly, but his eyes still held a sharp, unhappy glint. “That’s it?” I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out a small, folded piece of paper, smoothing it open. “The last thing that happened was the twenty-year-old you giving me his number.” Ethan snatched the note. Seeing the familiar handwriting and the string of digits, he finally, completely believed me. Then he ripped the paper to shreds and threw it in the trash can. “That shameless bastard. Trying to seduce a married woman.” …You do realize you’re yelling at yourself, right? 2. The emotional rollercoaster was too much for Ethan’s recovering body. He started coughing violently. Forgetting everything else, I rushed to his side, rubbing his back to soothe him, my voice soft and gentle. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop talking. Don’t get worked up, just breathe…” When he finally caught his breath, the first thing he asked was, “He didn’t touch you, did he?” I was speechless all over again. My mind flashed back to the grimy alley behind the diner. I was gripping the younger Ethan’s arm, my voice fierce. “Don’t you move! You’re bleeding!” The boy’s arm had been lean and fever-hot beneath my fingers. A guilty flush crept up my neck. Technically, I touched him. That doesn’t count, right? I slowly shook my head. “No.” Ethan knew me too well. His voice shot up an octave. “Stella!” I immediately surrendered, my voice dropping to a placating murmur. “You were bleeding…” He clung to my hand, a flicker of panic in his eyes, like a child terrified of being abandoned. “That’s not me. I’m here.” It finally hit me. That boy may have been a younger Ethan, but he wasn’t the man I’d met, fallen for, and married. “But…” I couldn’t help it. I looked down, twisting the edge of the blanket. “The you back then was so… raw.” And so pitiful. Like a lonely little stray. I couldn’t just leave him there. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. He stared at me for a long moment before awkwardly sinking into my arms. The high-and-mighty CEO was acting like a needy child. I stroked his forehead, still a little warm. “But… was what I saw real?” He never liked talking about his past, as if it were a source of deep shame. And I’d always respected that. Everyone has their secrets. But after what I’d just seen, how could I pretend it didn’t exist? He closed his eyes and mumbled a low, “Yeah.” Then he added, “So… you should probably show me a little extra love.” …I pinched his cheek, hard. “Oh, get over yourself.” 3. Life returned to normal, so much so that I nearly forgot about the whole time-travel incident. Until I woke up from a nap on my sunroom lounger, stretched, rolled over… and fell flat on the floor. A wave of laughter erupted around me. What the hell? Dazed and confused, I rubbed my aching elbow and blinked my eyes open. I wasn’t in my familiar sunroom. I was in a massive university lecture hall, packed with young students. On the stage, an old professor peered at me over his glasses, his expression disapproving. All around me were unfamiliar faces, their smiles tinged with mockery. Seriously? Again? My eyes instinctively scanned the crowd for that familiar face. And there he was, in a faded white shirt, a look of concern flashing across his features—the young Ethan. I gave him a reassuring smile. He flinched slightly and looked away, but the tips of his ears turned a suspicious shade of red. I scrambled to my feet, gave the professor a quick bow of apology, and sat down properly. After class, students left in chattering groups. Ethan, however, slowly packed his books into a canvas messenger bag, all by himself. “Ethan, is your hand feeling better?” I hurried over to him, noticing the bandage was gone. He ignored me completely, shouldering his bag and walking out of the classroom as if I were invisible. I’ve been married to the man for four years. I know his moods. He was sulking. But all I did in this world was fall on the floor! What did I do to piss him off? I snapped. “Ethan, are you deaf?!” Apparently, my angry voice had a certain power over him, regardless of his age. He stopped, turning to face me with a thunderous expression. “Can I help you?” I caught up to him. “Why are you ignoring me?” He let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Weren’t you the one who wanted to keep her distance?” “When did I ever say that?” The genuine confusion on my face seemed to wound him further. His expression turned to ice. “You never added my number, did you? So why are you bothering to talk to me today?” My face froze. After my husband had torn up the note, I’d dismissed the whole time-travel thing as a one-off fluke and completely forgotten about it. Besides! The thirty-year-old me still ended up getting his number five years later anyway! Seeing my silence, a look of profound disappointment washed over his face. He turned and walked away. His retreating back was stiff with the pride and hurt of a young man who felt betrayed. He disappeared around the corner of the stairwell. I stood there, paralyzed, a sour, aching feeling in my chest. Oh, God. I could picture it so clearly now: him, awkward and nervous, mustering all his courage to give me that note. I could feel the secret, fragile hope he must have held, checking his phone again and again, only to be met with crushing silence each time. The Ethan I met at the company gala five years later was confident, charming, and utterly in control. But this twenty-year-old version… he was sensitive, insecure, like a little snail peeking out of its shell, only to have it stomped on. I started to run after him. But what could I possibly say? “Hey, I’m your future wife, I came from another dimension and just kind of forgot to add you”? He’d think I was either a lunatic or a cruel liar playing games with him. I groaned, running my hands through my hair. I felt like a total, absolute heartbreaker. 4. I thought I would be sent back soon, just like last time. But I wasn’t. I fell asleep and woke up several times, and each time, I was still stuck in this world. Panic began to set in. The Ethan in my own time must be going crazy. With no other choice, I had to find his younger self again. That evening, I finally heard a familiar voice coming from the alley behind the diner where he worked. In the dim light, Ethan was surrounded by three sketchy-looking guys. One of them, wearing a grimy chef’s coat, was viciously poking him in the chest. “Damn it! I gave you a job washing dishes, and this is how you repay me? You broke a whole stack! You’re not leaving until you pay me five hundred bucks!” Ethan’s jaw was tight, his face ghostly pale in the gloom, but his eyes burned with the fury of a cornered wolf. “It wasn’t my fault,” he said, his voice tight with suppressed anger. “The floor was slippery…” “So what?” The chef shoved him hard. “You’re a broke loser! If you don’t have the cash, you can work it off!” This was straight-up bullying. Rage flooded through me. Without thinking, I stormed forward and slapped the chef’s hand away from Ethan’s chest. “What do you think you’re doing, ganging up on him?” The men were clearly startled by my sudden appearance. The chef looked me up and down, saw I was just a girl, and sneered. “Get lost, little missy. This ain’t your business.” “You’re the ones who should get lost!” I stood in front of Ethan. My heart was pounding, but I wasn’t backing down. “If he broke dishes, he pays market price! Why are you trying to rip him off? You want me to call the cops?” I subtly reached behind me and grabbed Ethan’s wrist. It was cold and trembling. I gave it a squeeze, telling him not to do anything rash. At the mention of the police, the men hesitated. “The cops would still make him pay! One hundred, right now, and he can go!” A hundred dollars. For the Ethan of this time, that was probably a fortune. I felt the muscles in his wrist tense up. It’s okay! I have money! I have plenty of— My hand hit my empty pocket. I’d forgotten I didn’t have my phone in this world. In a moment of desperation, I slipped off the bracelet I’d been wearing—the one that had traveled with me—and thrust it at the chef. “It’s designer! That’s more than enough, right?” The chef blinked, taking the bracelet dubiously. After inspecting it for a moment, he and his cronies finally left, muttering curses under their breath. The narrow alley fell silent, leaving just me and Ethan. The only sound was his ragged breathing. I let go of his wrist and turned to see if he was hurt. He whipped his head away, refusing to look at me, the line of his jaw razor-sharp. It was a toxic mix of humiliation, shame, and the raw helplessness of being seen at his absolute worst. “You…” his voice was a hoarse whisper. “Why do you keep showing up?” Why did I always find him at his lowest, most pathetic moments? “I…” I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. Comfort felt cheap, and an explanation was impossible. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over me. The world around me began to warp and blur. Ethan must have noticed something was wrong, because he instinctively turned back to look at me. As he stared in shock, my form began to fade. “Ethan!” I yelled with all the strength I had left. “Don’t give up! Just hold on! Everything is going to be okay! I promise!” My voice scattered in the wind. His eyes widened in utter astonishment and disbelief. Then I blinked. The soft bed. The familiar chandelier. And beside me, looking haggard and worn, was the thirty-year-old Ethan, his eyes locked on me. He grabbed my wrist, his voice a torrent of panicked, jealous fury. “Stella! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?” “And you show up here shouting another man’s name? Telling him ‘everything is going to be okay’? What the hell happened between you two?!” I pressed my fingers to my throbbing temples. “Honey… you’re not going to believe this…” 5. Ethan was holding me so tightly I could barely breathe, but the scowl on his face could curdle milk. I tried to push him away. He roared, “Are you trying to go back to that pathetic loser?” …Just how much did he hate his former self? “No…” I mumbled. “I just need a shower…” “A shower?” The suspicion in his eyes didn’t fade. He held me even tighter, as if terrified I’d vanish if he let go. “You finally come back to me, and the first thing you want is a shower? Stella, have you no heart?” His tone was so accusatory. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. My heart ached for him, but I was also completely exasperated. It seemed my extended “disappearance” this time had really terrified him. I softened my voice, trying to calm the storm. “I don’t know why I went back to that world either.” I gave him the condensed version of my second trip, including how I’d found him being bullied again and used my bracelet to bail him out. “Look.” I held up my wrist, the one he’d been gripping. It was bare. “The bracelet you always see me wear? It’s gone. I gave it to that chef.” Ethan’s gaze fell on my empty wrist. His brow furrowed, and his voice turned glacial. “My anniversary gift to you… you just gave it to someone else?” “Ethan!” I couldn’t believe his focus was always on the most ridiculously petty details. I had to shout to get his attention. “You don’t value what I give you, and you don’t value me!” He was fuming one second, then his face crumpled in panic the next. He buried his face in my neck, taking deep breaths as if trying to calm himself down. After a few tense seconds, he muttered, “Don’t you ever do that again…” I seized the opportunity to placate him. “Okay. How about I take a quick shower, and then we can have a date night?” “Mm,” came the meek reply from the man in my arms. “So… can I go take that shower now, Mr. CEO?” He reluctantly let me go, but his eyes stayed glued to me, as if he expected me to time-travel straight out of the bathroom. I just shook my head with a small smile and headed for the en-suite. I stepped inside, locked the door behind me, and turned on the hot water. Steam began to fill the spacious room. I let out a long sigh. These days were getting way too intense. Just as I reached for the hem of my shirt, I heard it. A tiny, stifled gasp from behind the shower curtain. I froze, every hair on my body standing on end. Who? Is someone in the house? My heart hammered against my ribs. In one swift motion, I reached out and ripped the shower curtain open. The next second, I was completely petrified. Curled up in the bathtub was a figure. Tall but painfully thin, dressed in a soaked, yellowed-white shirt and jeans. Dark, messy hair was plastered to a pale forehead. At the sound, he jerked his head up. Those young, sharp eyes… it was the twenty-year-old Ethan. How was he here? In my bathroom? Did I travel back the instant I returned? Our eyes met. The air was dead silent. He stared at me, his gaze filled with utter confusion. He clearly had no idea how he’d gone from a filthy back alley to this luxurious, pristine bathroom with a “familiar” woman standing in it. “You…” His chapped lips moved, his voice weak and hoarse. “What… is this…” Before he could finish, the bathroom door clicked and was thrown open. My thirty-year-old Ethan stood in the doorway, a look of impatience on his face. “Stella, what’s taking so long? I don’t even hear the water runn—” His complaint died in his throat. His gaze shot past me, landing squarely on the younger version of himself huddled in the tub. Time itself seemed to freeze. The expression on my husband’s face shifted from concern to annoyance, then to absolute, mind-bending shock, before finally settling into a dark, thunderous rage. He looked at me. He looked at the soaking wet boy in the tub. A vein pulsed violently in his temple. “Stel-la!” He bit out my name, each syllable dripping with a venomous mix of jealousy and fury that had just been lit on fire.

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Since kindergarten, Charles and I had never gone more than three days without seeing each other. But the moment our families started talking about our engagement, he vanished. For an entire year, he ghosted me. He blocked me on everything. His company security had a standing order: no solicitors, and absolutely no Arabella Fairchild. If I so much as appeared in his line of sight, he would turn on his heel and walk away. Eventually, even his friends couldn’t stand it anymore. One of them, Leo, arranged for me to see him. But when I arrived, Charles’s cold voice sliced through the crack in the private room door. “She’s just a little plaything who comes running whenever I snap my fingers.” “No ambition, no personality… Being engaged to her would be beneath me.” 1 My hand froze on the doorknob. I couldn’t bring myself to push it open. Leo, standing behind me, quickly covered my ears. “Bella, don’t listen to him. He’s drunk, he doesn’t know what he’s saying!” “I’ll go give him a piece of my mind!” He made a move to shove the door open, but I grabbed his sleeve and shook my head. All this time, all I’d wanted was an answer. Why was he so violently opposed to our engagement? He’d made it a public spectacle, the talk of our entire social circle. I had looked up to him as my protector, my big brother, for seventeen years. But he wasn’t my real brother. We both had to get married eventually. Why couldn’t it be me? Now, I finally had my answer. It wasn’t that I wasn’t good enough, or pretty enough. It was that he had only ever seen me as a pet. A little creature he’d raised from childhood. Something to amuse him? To pass the time? Or maybe just something pretty to have around. Leo dabbed at my tears with a handkerchief, muttering, “Damn it, Carter and the guys shouldn’t have… this was a terrible idea…” “It’s okay, Leo.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “Can you just take me home? I don’t want to see him anymore.” “Yeah, of course…” Just as we turned to leave, the door swung open from the inside. We froze, staring at Carter, who was standing there, equally surprised. He didn’t know what had just happened. He just grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. The whole point of this dinner was for them to convince Charles to make up with me. Carter sat me down in the chair directly across from Charles. “Come on, man,” Carter said. “Even if you’re fighting with your family, you can’t take it out on Bella.” “We’ve all known her since we were kids. Just talk to her. Don’t let your pride cause some stupid misunderstanding.” Charles hadn’t looked up once since I entered the room. But the veins on the back of the hand gripping his glass were stark and white. Leo followed me in, shaking his head and trying to signal to Carter to shut up. Before Leo could pull me away, Charles finally spoke. His voice was low and tight. “Arabella, why can’t you ever just listen?” “Didn’t I tell you we shouldn’t see each other until my grandfather and my parents change their minds?” “Why do you have to be so damn stubborn?” I stared at my lap, the words lodged in my throat. The air in the room was thick with tension. The last time I’d seen him this angry was when one of his college friends—a guy he actually liked—had asked me out. Leo sighed and came over, gently stroking my hair. He then herded the other guys out of the room, leaving Charles and me alone. 2 Charles threw back a mouthful of whiskey, his frustration palpable. “Bella, can’t you have some self-respect?” “I told you, I’m not interested in you. I have never, not once, looked at you as a woman.” “Instead of clinging to me all the time, why don’t you do something to improve yourself?” “All you ever do is orbit around men…” “Are you that pathetic?” “When I take over the company for real, I’ll be traveling constantly for meetings. I can’t just drag you along with me everywhere.” I felt like I’d been plunged into an icy sea. A cold numbness spread through me, stealing the strength from my limbs, the words from my mouth. So this is how he saw me. After all these years. “So just be a good girl and stay away from me. The old man will probably give up on this engagement idea soon enough.” “I understand,” I whispered. “And you’ll stop bothering Leo and the others to track me down?” “I’ll stop.” A slideshow of my life flashed through my mind. I used to cherish those memories like precious jewels. Now, I saw how ridiculous I’d been. I had ignored how his patience with me had worn thinner and thinner since high school. I had ignored the undisguised disdain in his eyes when he looked at my clothes, my style. I had ignored the first thing he said when he found out his friend had asked me out: “Someone actually likes her?” … I lifted my head and looked at him, my gaze clear and steady. “Charles. Thank you for saving me when I was a little girl.” “I’ll learn my lesson now. I promise, I will never bother you again.” With that, I stood up and walked out, and I didn’t look back. 3 I flipped on the lights in the villa. As always, it was empty. Silent. My parents were perpetually away, and my grandfather lived a quiet life of self-cultivation in the mountains. Charles’s mom once told me that from the day I was born, I was raised by a single nanny. When I was three, the nanny went out for groceries and forgot to close the front door. I wandered out of the house and fell in the middle of the road. Charles, who was playing in his yard next door, heard my crying and carried me back to his house. For the next fifteen years, I grew up trailing behind him. I followed him to the same elementary school, the same middle school, even the same university. When I was bullied for being quiet and withdrawn, Charles was the one who stood up for me. He taught me how to protect myself. When I thought about it, Charles had been in my life more than my own parents. I depended on him too much. So when he first started avoiding me, I panicked. I searched for him everywhere, feeling like my entire world had become a terrifying, empty void. A year isn’t a long time. But it was harder than the fifteen years that came before it. I sat at my computer, staring blankly at the acceptance email for the foreign exchange program. My therapist said a change of scenery would help. New hobbies to distract me. I had wanted to tell Charles… A bitter laugh escaped me. He was probably dying for me to get as far away as possible. When I left, I only sent a text to my parents. Not that they would notice, anyway. … Landing in Italy, I fumbled my way through the paperwork and renting an apartment. It wasn’t as hard as I’d imagined. While waiting for the semester to start, I traveled, exploring nearby cities. Just as my therapist had said, getting away really did change my perspective. And my habits. After being pickpocketed three times and harassed more times than I could count, I decided to learn Krav Maga. There was no one to protect me here. I had to learn to protect myself. 4 Two months into the semester in Italy, I got a sudden call from Leo. “Bella! You went to Italy? Why didn’t you tell us? We only found out because we ran into one of your classmates.” “Yeah, I just wanted a change of scenery, clear my head. I’ll be back in a few months, don’t worry.” “So how are you doing? Is your place safe?” “Everything’s great. It’s perfectly safe.” “Good, good. Hey, maybe you should give your brother… uh, Charles… a call? He knows some people over there.” “No, that’s okay. I’m fine on my own. No need to bother anyone.” “Alright then. Well, if you need anything, call me or… uh… him.” Back in the Sterling Corporation office, Leo waited until he heard the click on the other end before hanging up. “She’s got some nerve,” Charles muttered, flicking a lighter open and closed, his face a dark thundercloud. “Dude, you were the one who told her to get lost,” Leo said, sprawling lazily on the sofa and glancing at a copy of Arabella’s exchange application. “Telling her to get lost doesn’t mean she can’t send a text or make a phone call.” “Oh, for God’s sake, Charles, check your own block list. You were the one who said you had to make it look convincing and blocked her on everything. How was she supposed to tell you?” “If I were her, I wouldn’t bother with you either,” Leo grumbled, rolling his eyes. He was Charles’s childhood friend and had watched Arabella grow up too. He knew, more or less, about the situation with her family. Parents who were never there, a kid who barely spoke to anyone but clung to Charles like a lifeline. But Charles didn’t have romantic feelings for her. Now that she was far away, he was clearly worried sick, but too damn proud to admit it. What a mess. Let them sort out their own drama, he thought. After Leo left, Charles rubbed his temples. There was a knot of irritation in his chest that he couldn’t loosen. It was even worse than the time he’d discovered her art studio was filled with dozens of portraits of him. The two family patriarchs were still pressuring them to get engaged. Bella was just a junior in college. A kid who’d never even been on a date. What did she know about any of this? Charles scrolled through his phone. After a long hesitation, he unblocked the contact labeled “Little Sister.” Then he buzzed his secretary, Lina. “Mr. Sterling, you wanted to see me.” “Bella went to Italy by herself.” A flicker of a triumphant smile crossed Lina’s lips before she quickly suppressed it. “That just proves that my ‘tough love’ approach worked,” she said smoothly. “Miss Fairchild has been without guidance her whole life. No one ever corrected her when she was wrong.” “She’s a junior in college and her world still revolves around you. What kind of future can she have like that?” “With girls like her, who have no sense of self, you have to use harsh words. Otherwise, she’ll never learn to stand on her own two feet.” Lina smiled sweetly. “Besides, her going abroad doesn’t necessarily mean she’s making progress. She could just be copying a scene from a romance novel, playing hard to get.” “I’m a woman, too. I know all about these little games.” “To cure her of this… dependency, you have to maintain your distance.” Charles looked thoughtful. “But she’s never been anywhere far on her own…” “Mr. Sterling, she’s a college junior. She’s not a child. I was younger than her when I went off to college in a strange city. It’s not that hard. Girls don’t need to be coddled so much.” On second thought, she had a point. Maybe Bella had just seen so few men in her life that she’d mistaken her sibling-like affection for him for romantic love. It was probably for the best to let her fend for herself for a while. He told Lina to cancel the plane ticket to Italy he had just booked and turned his attention back to his work. 5 Bang. Bang. Bang. “Perfetto!” I nodded to the instructor, set down the M1 rifle, and rubbed my wrists. My marksmanship was getting better. I packed up my things in silence, trying to clear my head. I had my combat class this afternoon and needed to get home early tonight. Otherwise, I’d run into that obnoxious neighbor again. Just as I reached the door, a tall Asian man walked toward me. I kept my head down, moving to the side to let him pass. But he stopped directly in front of me. “Excuse me, are you Miss Arabella Fairchild?” he asked in fluent, unaccented English. “Yes, and you are…?” I looked up, curious. The man before me was dressed in a bespoke suit, easily six-foot-three, and radiated an aura of command. But the moment our eyes met, that intimidating pressure vanished. His eyes were a deep, startling blue. “My name is Dominic Moretti. I’m a friend of Charles’s.” “Oh… hello.” “Charles told me you were studying here alone. He was worried, so he asked me to look out for you.” “The apartment you’re in isn’t the safest. I’ve arranged another place for you. Would you like to move?” “You can call him and confirm, if you like.” Dominic gestured for me to follow him, and we sat down at the café next door. He took out his phone and dialed. After a brief exchange, he handed the phone to me with a gentlemanly grace. “Bella.” “Hi.” “Dominic is from the Moretti family. We have some business dealings. He’ll arrange a place for you to stay. You can ask him for help with anything you need.” I took a steadying breath. Hearing that familiar voice felt like stepping back in time, to before he started avoiding me. Maybe it was the time, or the distance, or maybe the year of withdrawal had finally worked. I wasn’t as heartbroken as I thought I’d be. “Okay, I understand. Thank you.” There was a slight pause on the other end. “But don’t be a leech and latch onto him. Learn to be independent. Show some progress, you understand?” “I understand.” After hanging up, I returned the phone to Dominic with both hands. Then, I obediently followed him to his car. Since they were business partners, Charles must have already offered Dominic something in return for this favor. For my own safety in a foreign country, I wasn’t going to be stubborn. 6 In the car, Dominic made a call and arranged for someone to pack up my things. Then, he took me out for a proper Italian dinner. An hour later, the driver pulled the car through the gates of a sprawling estate. “Miss Fairchild, after you.” “Thank you, Mr. Moretti.” As I stepped out of the car, I saw a butler and several maids waiting for us. Dominic gestured for me to follow him inside. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Moretti. You were seven years old the last time I saw you, at the Sterling’s house.” I looked up at him, puzzled. “You and Charles were playing hide-and-seek. You ran right into my leg and fell down and started crying.” Dominic remembered it vividly. He’d been very struck by her. He and his father were visiting the Sterlings. The moment they walked in the door, a little white puffball had collided with him. Most kids that age would have wailed. But little Arabella just sat there on the floor, rubbing her nose, fat tears rolling silently down her cheeks. Before he could even say anything, the little puffball wiped her own tears, whispered to herself, “Bella’s okay, be good,” and then scrambled up and ran off. Combined with the file his assistant had given him this morning… She probably cried because no one was there to comfort her. Charles was just a nine-year-old kid himself, and the Sterlings were too busy to pay much attention to the neighbor’s child. At the time, Dominic had thought to himself, If no one wants this kid, I should just take her back with me. He never imagined that over a decade later, that childhood whim would actually come true. 7 We made our way to the second floor. At the top of the stairs, a door to the right was open. Inside, a man and two maids were unpacking my luggage. The man saw us and came out to greet us. “Mr. Moretti, Miss Fairchild.” “Sir, I thought we were taking her to the south-side flat. Why the change to your estate?” Hearing this, I looked at Dominic as well. The tall man rubbed his nose. “Oh, my cousin is coming to stay there for a while. I had to put Miss Fairchild here for the time being.” “Ah, I see.” … The days that followed were peaceful. Dominic even cleared out a space for a small art studio for me in the third-floor library. When I didn’t have class, I would paint. Dominic was often in the library as well, working. Sometimes he would sit beside me and watch, joking that he was collecting the early works of a future master. When he found out I was learning marksmanship and combat, he volunteered to be my coach. He noticed that my wardrobe consisted entirely of simple, athletic wear, and had a high-end designer send over a collection of perfectly coordinated outfits. He had excellent taste. I never knew I could look so beautiful. I thought my life would continue on this tranquil path. Until one day, I noticed a shift in the atmosphere of the estate. The butler knocked on my door. “Miss Fairchild, we will be conducting a deep cleaning of the estate. We’ll need you to stay at a hotel for a few days, perhaps a week.” “The driver and a maid will accompany you, so your daily routine will not be disturbed.” I traced the edge of the doorframe with my finger. After a moment’s hesitation, I couldn’t help but ask, “Will… Dominic be staying at the hotel too?” This feeling… My heart sank. It was horribly familiar. Was Dominic tired of me, too? After only three months? “Sir is… going on a business trip. He will come and pick you up personally when he returns.” I clenched my fists, forcing down the sour feeling rising in my throat. “Okay.” “When do we leave?” “Whenever you are ready.” I told him I’d just change my clothes and then closed the door. A bitter laugh escaped me. It’s fine. It’s not the first time. Thinking back on the last three months with Dominic, I sometimes felt a strange kinship with him, like I had met one of my own kind. His small, compulsive habits, the way he understood my paintings… Whatever. Maybe he really was just busy. I slung a backpack over my shoulder and went downstairs. The maids were almost all gone. Only the butler and the driver were waiting for me by the door. A ridiculous thought popped into my head. What if Dominic went bankrupt? I couldn’t help but find a sliver of dark humor in the thought, and then promptly choked on my own saliva. I motioned to the butler and hurried to the kitchen for a glass of water. I still didn’t know the estate very well; it wasn’t a castle, but it was far from small. After drinking the water, I passed by a room with the door slightly ajar. I heard the faint sound of shattering glass from inside. Didn’t they say everyone was gone? Maybe it was one of Dominic’s pets? A cat or a dog? It couldn’t be a person… Curiosity killed the cat. I went back to the kitchen, grabbed a knife, and returned to the half-open door. I pushed it open. Behind the door was a staircase leading down. A basement? The lights along the stairs were on, and the walls were adorned with beautiful murals. Holding my phone in one hand and the knife in the other, I slowly descended. At the bottom was another, more ornate door. I thought about turning back. What if it was dangerous? But just as I was about to leave, I heard a familiar sound. It was just a muffled grunt, but I recognized it. It was Dominic’s voice. I turned back and pulled the door open. Slumped on the floor, amidst the shards of a broken wine bottle, was him. 8 Dominic was clutching a piece of glass in his right hand. His left hand was a bloody mess from where he’d been punching the wall. I hesitated, torn between running away and my stupid bleeding heart. I settled on a cowardly compromise: I stayed in the doorway and called his name. “Dominic? Are you okay?” His body went rigid, every muscle tensing. It was as if he was shocked to hear another person’s voice. He turned and looked at me. “Bella? How did you find this place…? Didn’t the butler take you away?” Dominic forced a smile, the same gentle smile he always wore, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I could see his left hand trembling. I debated for a few moments, regretting that I’d called out to him. “I’ll go now. I won’t disturb you. Just… make sure you take care of your hand.” I was about to close the door when I heard him whisper, a desperate plea: “Don’t go…” “What?” “I won’t hurt you. Don’t be afraid.” “I just… I had a nightmare. I can’t sleep. I’m scared.” “Bella, can you just… stay with me for a little while?”

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In the seventh year of my crush on my childhood best friend, Caleb, my own best friend finally gave me the push I needed. I bought flowers and his favorite cake, took an all-night bus, and went to confess my feelings. Only to find him at a packed basketball court. Kissing her. Caleb had his arm wrapped around my best friend, Lily. His voice was cold when he saw me. “What are you doing here? Can’t you see I’m busy?” Humiliated and a mess from my trip, I was about to stammer out an explanation. But then his roommate let out a soft laugh from the sidelines. “My girlfriend brought me a cake. What’s it to you?” 1 When I found the basketball court, cake box in hand, Caleb had Lily pinned against the chain-link fence, kissing her. Lily only froze for a second before wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him back just as deeply. The air was thick and hot. I stood just outside the court, dizzy and lightheaded after the overnight bus ride. The roar of the crowd felt like it was going to burst my eardrums. “Dude, I told you! I bet he’d finally make a move on Lily today.” “It’s about time. They’ve been flirting for ages.” “Pay up, pay up!” The words hit me, and the strength drained from my arms. The flowers and the cake suddenly felt impossibly heavy. On my phone was the last text Lily had sent me. “Caleb’s at the court! Go get him!” 2 The sky had turned a gloomy gray. A wind was picking up. Swallowing the lump of humiliation in my throat, I turned and ran. Behind me, I heard Lily’s frantic voice, thick with tears. “Chloe… it’s not what it looks like…” “Let me explain.” I’d been on a bus for nearly twenty-four hours. I was exhausted and my heart was shattered. I didn’t have the energy to figure out why Lily, on the very day she pushed me to confess my feelings, was kissing the guy I was supposed to be confessing to. But she grabbed the hem of my shirt, stopping me. Her usually rosy cheeks were pale. She frantically tried to push Caleb toward me, her voice trembling with unshed tears. “Chloe, let Caleb talk to you…” Caleb just grabbed her hand, his voice a low murmur. “What are you doing? Trying to give your new boyfriend away already?” Lily stubbornly held onto my shirt, not letting go. But she didn’t pull her hand from Caleb’s, either. The three of us were frozen in a horrible tableau. Seeing the tears welling in Lily’s eyes, Caleb’s expression darkened. He turned on me. “Who told you to come here?” “Can’t you see I’m busy?” I had traveled all night, my heart a nervous wreck, only to be met with his icy dismissal. The words I had rehearsed died in my throat. I pulled my shirt from Lily’s grasp, ready to just disappear. But then a calm, cool voice cut through the tension. “I did. Is there a problem?” A tall figure appeared a short distance away. He lazily lifted his gaze to meet mine. “You can’t even deliver a gift to the right person. Get over here.” 3 I never expected to see Liam Hale again in a situation like this. The last time we’d met was three years ago, when Liam, as our school’s valedictorian, gave a speech at graduation. When I went to hand him his award, I tripped on the stage runner and sent both myself and the trophy flying. After that, he and Caleb had gone to the same university. They’d even become roommates. It seemed like every time I saw him, I was making a complete fool of myself. Caleb looked annoyed. “Liam, stay out of this.” “Just let her go back to wherever she came from.” Liam just let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Are you confused about something?” “My girlfriend brought me a cake. What business is it of yours?” And just like that, I ended up at Caleb’s birthday party that night as Liam’s “girlfriend.” The atmosphere was… awkward. Lily kept staring at me, forgetting to eat. “Why are you looking at her?” Caleb frowned. “Eat up. Don’t worry, no one’s going to hurt you.” Something inside me finally snapped. I stared directly at Caleb. “Make it clear. How exactly am I hurting her?” Caleb’s face hardened, but he said nothing. I turned to Lily. “Are you afraid of me? Did you do something to feel guilty about?” Lily just shook her head, whispering, “No.” Liam slid a glass of watermelon juice in front of me. “If she’s this fragile, you probably shouldn’t take her out in public,” he said, his voice light. He then grabbed a handful of pistachios. “Shell these quietly. You might scare her to death.” A few people at the table snorted, trying to stifle their laughter. Lily’s face flushed. She mumbled an excuse about needing the restroom and fled. Later that evening, exhausted and sleepy, I decided to leave early. I saw Liam step out to take a call and followed him. I wanted to thank him. I’d come all this way, and at my most vulnerable moment, he’d saved me. The hallway was dimly lit. Liam was at the far end, his voice low and cool, echoing slightly in the empty space. I realized then that he was the Student Body President. He had another commitment tonight but had postponed it for this party. I waited a few feet away for him to finish his call. When he saw me, he paused. “I’ll call you back.” He hung up and turned to me. “What’s up?” “Tonight… thank you.” Liam leaned against the windowsill, just watching me. Just when I was starting to think I had something on my face, he asked, “Want to go to the amusement park tomorrow?” “With you?” “Who else?” he asked, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Didn’t you post about wanting to go? You shouldn’t come all this way for nothing.” The wind from the open window stirred his dark hair, the hem of his white shirt fluttering. The casual way he looked at me made all the hurt I’d been suppressing bubble to the surface. I quickly looked down, wiping my eyes. “Thanks. I’ll buy you dinner tomorrow, then.” Liam was quiet for a long moment. I thought he was going to make fun of me for being a crybaby, but instead, he drew out the words slowly, “Alright, girlfriend.” 4 Liam had to leave early for his student government meeting. When I came out of the restroom, I ran into Lily. There was a fresh bite mark on her lip. The second she saw me, the tears started falling. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I never meant for any of this to happen. Can you please forgive me?” I just felt sick. I pushed her hand away and took out my phone. “How much was the hotel room? I’ll transfer you the money.” Lily froze. “Chloe… I’m sorry. I forgot to book you a hotel.” Her voice sounded distant, like it was coming from underwater. I thought I must have misheard. Was this really the best friend I had trusted completely? She had insisted on booking the hotel for me, telling me to just worry about getting here. And now this. “Lily, you did this on purpose, didn’t you?” “I’m sorry,” she said, looking pained. “All the rooms near campus were booked, and Caleb was being so persistent… I just forgot. You can stay in my dorm tonight, if you want?” I didn’t want to hear any more. I turned to leave. But she grabbed my arm. “Chloe, wait. Liam has a girl he likes. He… he was just helping you out tonight. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and get hurt again.” I looked at her, at this carefully crafted, innocent victim act, and I was just done. I yanked my arm free. Lily, caught off guard, stumbled and fell to the floor with a dramatic, “delicate” thud. A sarcastic smile twisted my lips. “What, are you a mind reader now? You know what Liam is thinking?” Lily kept her head down, but her breathing was suddenly ragged. Caleb appeared out of nowhere, shoving me aside to help her up. “Does that cake you brought have mango in it?” he demanded. I just stared at him coldly. His anger flared. “Don’t you know Lily’s allergic to mangoes? Are you trying to kill her?” For the first time, I noticed the purplish tint to Lily’s lips. I knew she was allergic. But the mangoes… Lily was the one who told me to add them. “It’s Caleb’s favorite,” she’d said. 5 At one in the morning, Lily was admitted to the university hospital. The doctor sighed. “If you know you’re allergic, why would you eat it? Do you have a death wish?” Caleb whipped his head around, his face dark as he glared at me. “She’s in there because of you. Are you happy now?” I took a deep breath. “Caleb, are you an idiot?” I shot back. “Lily knew there were mangoes in that cake. She’s the one who couldn’t control herself. What does that have to do with me?” His gaze turned to ice. “Stop pretending, Chloe.” “Don’t think I don’t know why you really came here.” “Does it bother you that much that she and I are together? Did you have to bring a poisoned cake just to hurt her?” Looking at this man, so blind and unfair, I felt a sharp, clear pang of regret. Regret for all the times he’d stayed after school to tutor me in math. Regret for when he’d encouraged me to apply to the same university. Regret for when he’d joked about how lost I’d be without him. I shouldn’t have ever thought he liked me. I hadn’t slept in over a day. The exhaustion was making my heart pound erratically. I closed my eyes for a second, then took out my phone and dialed 911 without a second thought. Just before the call connected, Caleb snatched the phone from my hand and smashed it on the floor. “Enough! How long are you going to keep this up?” I stared at the shattered phone, then slowly crouched down and began to pick up the pieces. Then, I stood up and threw them all in his face. I had a crush on him for seven years. That didn’t mean I didn’t have any pride. “Doctor,” I said, my voice shaking. “Could you please call the police for me?” I was at my limit. Black spots danced in my vision. As I started to fall backward, a pair of strong hands caught me, steadying me. The clean scent of soap and mint filled my senses. Liam’s cool, clear voice came from above me. “She didn’t eat much for dinner. It’s probably low blood sugar. Doctor, could you please take a look at her?” Through the haze of my fading consciousness, I thought I heard him dialing a number. His voice was a distant, cold murmur. “Hello, I’d like to report an incident.” 6 The doctor gave me a glucose packet, and the world slowly came back into focus. Liam had finished his call and was now staring at Lily with a flat, unreadable expression. Lily flinched and burrowed deeper into Caleb’s arms. “I… I only had a little taste. The cake was just sitting there, it was meant to be eaten.” “The doctor seems to think you had more than just a little taste,” Liam said, his face impassive. “I think it’s best if we get the security footage and clear this all up with the police.” I knew from high school that Lily was terrified of authority. Just seeing a cop on the street made her walk funny. Now, with the police actually on their way, she was frozen to the spot. I explained everything, from start to finish. The officer pointed to the security footage on his monitor, which clearly showed Lily eating three large slices of the cake. “You knew you were allergic, and you ate three pieces? You couldn’t taste the giant mango filling?” Lily was pale with fear. All she could do was apologize over and over. “I’m sorry… I just have a sweet tooth. It won’t happen again.” She hung her head, silent tears tracking down her cheeks. Caleb, of course, softened. “Alright, just try to control yourself next time.” His tone was a world away from the venom he’d directed at me. Lily’s eyes reddened, and she was about to lean on him for comfort. But I took Liam’s phone and held up the payment app’s QR code to Caleb. “Lily ate my cake, and you broke my phone. In front of a police officer and a doctor, it’s time to pay up.” Liam, suddenly brought into it, chimed in smoothly, “I can confirm. My girlfriend has indeed suffered a financial loss.” Caleb’s face was a mask of thunder. “Chloe, are you really going to be like this with me?” “You told me to get lost. Should I be thanking you for smashing my phone?” With the police present, Caleb quickly transferred the money. But as he watched Liam help me out of the hospital, his expression turned dark and stormy. 7 I walked out of the hospital and down a small alley, my pace getting faster and faster. When I turned a corner onto an empty street, I finally collapsed, crouching down and burying my face in my knees. The summer night was silent. A sea of purple lilacs spilled through the bars of an old, wrought-iron fence from a nearby apartment complex. A breeze rustled through them, sending petals drifting to the ground. The streetlight was dim, casting only two shadows on the pavement. Mine, crumpled on the ground. And Liam’s, standing a few feet away. “It’s okay,” he said. “Go ahead and cry. I won’t tell anyone.” The dam broke. A sob tore from my throat, echoing through the empty street, lost in the scent of the lilacs. Before I came here, I had prepared myself. Rejection was fine. At least I would have Lily. On the bus ride, we had chatted excitedly about everything—food, sights to see, which bar we’d hit if the confession was a disaster. But in the span of a single day, I’d been humiliated by Caleb and betrayed by Lily. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Liam stood a short distance behind me, giving me space, shielding me from view. After a long time, I finally stood up, my eyes swollen. “Thank you, for today.” Liam didn’t look at me. He was staring at his phone, his voice casual. “It’s three hours till sunrise. Get some sleep. We can do the amusement park the day after tomorrow, okay?” “Okay,” I croaked. Just then, a police car pulled up beside us. The window rolled down, and the officer inside greeted Liam like an old friend. “Liam, this is your friend?” “Yeah,” Liam said. “She couldn’t get a hotel. My aunt said she could stay at her place tonight. Could you give her a ride?” “Sure thing. Hop in.” Seeing my confused expression, Liam explained quietly, “My uncle. I figured you’d feel safer if he was the one to drive you.” It clicked. He was worried I wouldn’t trust him. So he had his police officer uncle take me to a safe place for the night. I opened my mouth, but I’d already said “thank you” too many times tonight. So I said something else instead. “The day after tomorrow… I’m buying you dinner.” Liam smiled, as if he knew what I’d been thinking. “You already said that, too.” He opened the car door for me, saving me from my embarrassment. “Alright, see you in two days.” The door closed. Before I could say goodbye, his figure was already shrinking in the distance, a dark silhouette against the fading streetlights. 8 I never would have guessed that Liam’s aunt lived in the residential quarters right next to the police station. I felt so safe that I slept for a full day and night. When I finally opened my eyes, I saw a text from Liam. “Text me when you’re awake.” I stared at the message for a moment, then shot out of bed. I had a date with Liam at the amusement park, and I was going to be late. I rushed to the park, arriving out of breath. Liam was sitting on a park bench, his long legs stretched out in front of him, looking relaxed and at ease. Sunlight filtered through the trees, dappling him in gold. “When did you get here?” I panted. He placed a sunhat on my head, his voice laced with a smile. “Just now. Not too early, not too late, girlfriend.” Then, he casually took my hand. My entire body went rigid. Liam leaned in close, whispering, “Don’t look now. Caleb’s behind us.” Sure enough, I heard Lily’s voice. I cursed my luck. Why did they have to be everywhere? I deliberately leaned closer to Liam, pressing against his arm. “Let’s go to the haunted house.” Lily was a coward. She’d avoid a place like that. But as the park attendant was sorting us into groups, I saw her, clinging to Caleb’s arm, walking right in. “Chloe, I was calling you… you didn’t hear me.” Caleb’s gaze lingered on my and Liam’s clasped hands for a second before he looked away, his expression cold. He said to Liam, “Wanna team up?” Liam looked at me. “I don’t mind,” I said. So, of course, Liam didn’t mind either. The four of us were sent down the same path. The moment we stepped inside, the world went dark. Lily immediately shrank into Caleb’s arms. “Caleb, I’m so scared.” Honestly, so was I. But I was too proud to cling to Liam. I just gripped his hand tightly, my steps quick and nervous. Sensing the sweat on my palm, Liam squeezed my hand. “Slow down. We’ll get out.” I nodded, but a cold draft on the back of my neck made me hurry anyway. Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream from Lily echoed from around a corner. I jumped, and Liam pulled me back, into his arms. The chilling cold vanished, replaced by the solid warmth of his body. “Shh…” His warm breath grazed my ear. I think his lips might have brushed against my skin. “The ‘ghost’ is over there. You almost ran right into him.” Lily was sobbing hysterically now. I forgot all about being proper and just clung to Liam’s waist. “Don’t let him come over here, please, don’t let him come over here…” I think Liam might have chuckled. “Okay.” The sound of rattling chains seemed to be getting closer. Liam gently pressed my head against his chest and said to the actor, “Hey man, can you give us a break? My girlfriend’s a little scared.” The actor let out a frustrated roar, then dragged his chains away, muttering under his breath. Even after he was gone, Liam didn’t let go. I could hear the frantic beating of both our hearts, mingled with our soft, warm breaths. I finally realized how close we were. “Can you walk?” Liam’s voice was a low murmur, almost a whisper. My face was burning. I started to let go. “I’m sorry… I…” He tightened his grip. “Nothing to be sorry about.” His words were like a feather, settling gently on my heart. His palm felt impossibly hot against mine. I looked up and met Caleb’s eyes across the narrow passage. His expression was dark, unreadable. Then he looked away. The rest of the way, the actors left us alone, but Lily’s screams continued to punctuate the darkness. Liam led me out, shaken but unscathed. I had some dust on my arm, so I went to the restroom to clean up. Lily followed me in. “Chloe, why have you been ignoring me?” In the bright light of the restroom, I saw that she had dressed up today, wearing a cute, photo-ready dress. She was looking at me with big, wounded eyes. I dried my hands and turned to leave. Suddenly, her voice rose. “Chloe, were we ever really friends?” “I thought you would be happy for us.” That hit a nerve. I turned back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lily, have you lost your mind?” She looked stung. “I know you have a crush on Caleb, but you didn’t get into the same university as us! I had to watch him for you every day. Of course I was going to fall for him…” “Then why did you push me to confess?” “Because I couldn’t hold my feelings in anymore! I never meant for us to get together, but he just came over and kissed me, and you know I can’t say no—” “Enough!” I cut her off. “You’re innocent, you’re weak, you can’t say no when someone confesses to you, you can’t resist a piece of cake you know will hurt you. And in the end, I’m the one who has to deal with the consequences. How dare you ask me to be your friend?” Lily just stared at me, her eyes red, silent. We heard Caleb’s voice from outside. “Lily, are you ready?” She wiped her tears and whispered, “It’s all my fault. I’m sorry for everything. I’ll break up with him, okay?” Then she pushed the door open and ran out.

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I was with Asher for ten years. I even had his favorite flower, the gardenia, tattooed over my collarbone. He finally agreed to marry me, only to keep an 18-year-old girl on the side. In the days leading up to our wedding, he indulged her in a “breakup countdown.” He took her skydiving, skiing, to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. But what he didn’t know was that I didn’t have long to live. I booked a flight out of the country, donated every penny he had to his name, and had the tattoo lasered off. For every day he counted down to our wedding, I was counting down the days to leaving him forever. 1 The day I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, the little girl Asher was keeping on the side came to find me. “I know I’m the other woman.” Her opening line was terrifyingly sincere. She bit her lip. “Ma’am, I know you’re about to get married, but—” “Asher doesn’t love you anymore.” “I’ve been with him for a year. We’ve slept together seventy-eight times. Fifty-three times in hotels, twenty-one at my place.” Her voice dropped, laced with a cruel sort of triumph. “And four times at your place. In your bed.” She looked me straight in the eye. “If Asher still loved you, I wouldn’t even exist.” I almost had to laugh. I lit a cigarette, watching her through the haze of smoke. “What else? Go on.” She pulled out her phone and played a video. The angle was discreet, clearly filmed in secret. The girl, Janice, was curled up in Asher’s arms, sobbing. “Even if you have to marry her out of duty, can you please not leave me?” Asher pushed her away and tossed a credit card onto the table. “Find a decent guy. Being with me is no good for you. It’s too dangerous.” “I don’t want to!” She wrapped her arms around his waist, her voice a sweet, pleading whine. “I’m not afraid of danger.” “Please, don’t get rid of me.” “Asher, I’ll never be a liability to you. I swear.” Asher froze. His gaze swept over her face, and for a moment, he seemed lost in a memory. Then, he leaned in and kissed her. 2 I stubbed out my cigarette. The girl was eighteen, her face brimming with the soft glow of youth. Pure innocence. And I knew, the moment I saw her. She looked just like me. Just like the eighteen-year-old Elara. “You were right about one thing,” I said, my voice steady. “If Asher still loved me, you wouldn’t exist.” I pushed myself up from the chair. A sharp pain lanced through my abdomen, but I braced myself against the tabletop, careful not to let it show. “But let me give you a piece of advice: don’t fall too deep. Asher doesn’t love you. And he doesn’t love me, either.” “He only loves the memory of Elara.” The innocent, beautiful girl who died a long time ago on the bloody path he climbed to the top. “In a few years, he’ll find a new replacement, and you’ll end up worse off than me.” That was a lie, of course. I was already dying. How could she possibly have it worse than me? The worst she’d face was being tossed aside when Asher finally got bored. 3 I was eighteen when I got with Asher. I grew up without a mom or a dad; the grandmother who raised me passed away when I was fifteen. That’s when Asher appeared. He pursued me relentlessly, throwing money at me like it was nothing, acting as if he wanted to lay the entire world at my feet. Asher was handsome, and he gave me a sense of security I’d never known. I fell hard and fast. On my nineteenth birthday, he coaxed me into bed. That night was a blur of pain that slowly melted into pleasure. We became one. The very next day, Asher took me to meet his crew. I’d never been in that kind of scene before, and I clung to his sleeve, shyly mumbling greetings as he introduced me. Their eyes raked over me, full of amusement and disdain. “Asher, where’d you find this little doll?” “Too sweet. She’ll just be dead weight.” Back then, I had no idea what “dead weight” really meant. I couldn’t help but whisper a defense, “I won’t.” “I’ll never be a liability to Asher.” I swore it. But as I was slowly drawn into Asher’s world, I began to understand the life he led. It was a life lived on a knife’s edge. To avoid dragging him down, to be able to stand by his side, I had no choice but to force myself to adapt. Ten years. I cut my hair short, dyed it, started smoking, got tattoos. My body became a roadmap of scars. My ruthlessness earned me a place as his second-in-command in the city’s underbelly. But Asher never seemed happy about it. Countless nights, he’d hold me close, his fingers tracing the scars on my skin before kissing each one. “Elara.” He’d bury his face in my chest and sigh. “I miss the girl you used to be.” And every time, after a moment of stunned silence, I would push him away and light a cigarette. I’d laugh, a bitter, smoky sound. “Asher, you say that like you have a goddamn soul.” 4 Asher came home in the dead of night. I was lying in bed, wide awake, staring into the darkness. He slipped under the covers and pulled me into his arms. “Still awake?” He leaned down to kiss me, but I turned my head away. He paused, then reined in his temper and held me tighter. “Who pissed you off? Tell me and I’ll go take care of them, okay?” “Asher.” “Yeah?” The room was so dark I couldn’t see his face. But I could smell it on him. The cloying scent of gardenias. “Let’s break up.” Asher’s body went rigid. He released me, rolling onto his back. “What is it now?” He rubbed his temples, his voice thick with irritation. “You’re not a kid anymore. What’s with the drama?” “Break up?” He scoffed. “Elara, you’re not getting any younger. Who’s going to marry a woman who smokes, drinks, has tattoos, and is tougher than most men?” A sharp pain pierced my chest. I pressed my hand to my heart, but the ache wouldn’t subside. Last year, I’d needed twelve stitches in my arm. I had an allergy to anesthetics, so they stitched me up raw. I bit down on my teeth and didn’t make a sound. But a few careless words from a drunk Asher were enough to make my eyes burn. “Asher,” I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “if I were terminally ill, would you…” “Elara.” He cut me off, his impatience flaring. “Don’t ask such pointless questions.” “If you were really dying, I’d kill myself right alongside you, alright?” He rubbed his brow again. “I’m swamped with the wedding and business right now. I don’t have the energy to coddle you. Stop acting out.” Just then, his phone buzzed. Asher irritably declined the call. It rang again. After a few rounds of this, he finally got out of bed and answered it. “What?” A girl’s crying filtered through the receiver, faint and distorted. Asher swore under his breath. “Such a goddamn pain.” But even as he complained, he was already pulling on his clothes. “Something came up with business. I have to go deal with it.” “Get some sleep. Don’t wait up for me.” 5 Our wedding was set for the third of next month. A simple ceremony. I never told Asher about my diagnosis. It was terminal. There was no cure. I also never told him that I had no intention of marrying him. I could accept everything about Asher. Everything except betrayal. The thought of him holding another woman, kissing her face, searching her features for the ghost of my younger self, made my stomach churn with nausea. I got with Asher when I was eighteen. It had been exactly ten years. Now, the doctor was telling me I had maybe six months left. By that math, I’d wasted nearly half my life on him. With what little time I had left… I just wanted to be Elara. I booked a flight out of the country. I wanted to see the world I loved but had never had the chance to explore, while I still had the strength. The ticket was for the third of next month. 6 In the morning, I crossed another day off the calendar. Ten days left until I was gone. The front door opened behind me. Asher strode in, bringing a gust of winter air with him. He shrugged off his coat and wrapped his arms around me from behind. He still hated my short hair. His eyes followed mine to the calendar, to the date circled heavily in red. A smile touched his lips as he gently pinched my cheek. “Can’t wait to marry me, huh?” He counted the days. “Ten days left.” He buried his face in my neck. “How about I make some time in the next couple of days to take you to get your hair dyed back to black? Maybe get some extensions?” “You’d look beautiful at the wedding.” “No need.” I stared blankly at the calendar. “It’s only a few more days.” “Short hair is fine.” Asher was quiet for a long moment. “Alright.” He let me go and picked up his jacket from the chair. “Things are crazy with the wedding. And Leo’s place got trashed yesterday. I’m going to be busy, so I won’t be back for a while.” He watched me as he spoke. As if he was waiting for me to back down. Waiting for me to say, Okay, let’s go dye my hair. Let’s get extensions. But I just met his gaze with a cool indifference. “Go.” “After all, there are only ten days left.” Asher didn’t say another word. He turned and walked out into the night. He didn’t look back. 7 Seven days until the wedding. I went to a tattoo shop on the outskirts of the city. The owner was a woman in her thirties. She was well-maintained, but her eyes held a world of weariness. She glanced at me. “What can I get for you?” I rolled up my sleeve, pointing to the ‘A.V.’ on my wrist, then revealed the gardenia below my collarbone. “I want them gone.” She studied them. “It’ll hurt. A lot. And it’s going to scar.” I smiled. “I’m not afraid.” Pain was the one thing I wasn’t afraid of anymore. As for scars… My body was already covered in them. What were two more? Besides, in six months, this body would probably be nothing but a pile of ash anyway. We chatted as she set up. “Breakup?” I smirked. “Yeah. Soon.” “Seven days.” She let out a low whistle. “That’s some ceremony. A countdown to a breakup?” Maybe it was the quiet of the shop, or maybe I just felt a connection with her. The moment I saw her, I felt like we were kindred spirits. I told her about the past. When Asher was chasing me, I gave him a deadline. Three hundred days. If he could stick it out, I’d be his. So, every morning when he showed up, he’d count down the days. “One hundred and seventy-nine days left.” “Elara, ninety-six more days until you’re my girlfriend.” “One day left, future girlfriend.” … The boy who chased me for three hundred days, rain or shine… Had slowly grown tired of me over the last ten years. I felt comfortable talking to her. As the laser worked its painful magic, I told her what the tattoos meant. The ‘A.V.’ on my wrist—for Asher Vaughn—I got a year after we got together. I’d been kidnapped by his rivals, used as bait to lure him into a trap. Asher came alone to save me. He knew it was a death trap, but he didn’t hesitate. He was almost hacked to death that day. When he got out of the hospital, I went straight to a tattoo parlor and had his initials permanently etched into my skin. I was so naive back then. I thought, Asher is the one. For the rest of my life. But that night, when I proudly showed him my still-red and swollen wrist, he just stared. There was no trace of the emotion I’d expected. He frowned, asking me why I did it, if it hurt. Finally, he pulled me into his arms. “Don’t do this again. I don’t like it.” “I don’t like seeing you hurt yourself.” “You’re perfect the way you are. I like the clean, flawless Elara.” I was young then, and I thought he was just worried about me. I never imagined he was already telling me exactly what he wanted. The gardenia on my chest, I got that when Asher swore he would marry me by the time I was twenty-eight. Gardenias were his favorite. He loved their pure, untainted white. So I had one tattooed over my heart. Waiting for him to marry me. Now, he had finally set a wedding date in my twenty-eighth year. He was planning a wedding seven days from now. And I was planning my escape. Even though this body was already broken, I didn’t want to leave with any marks of his on me. I pointed to the other side of my collarbone. “Here,” I told the artist. “I want a trumpet vine.” Asher loved the gardenia. But I had always loved the trumpet vine. He wanted me to be pure and flawless. But in the last days of my life, I was going to be the trumpet vine, beautiful and defiant, climbing any wall I chose. 8 It was evening when I left the tattoo shop. The owner and I had really hit it off. We exchanged numbers and added each other on social media. Her name was Rhea. On the way home, I passed a small stand selling cotton candy. I couldn’t help but stop. The last time I’d had it was when I was a child, before my grandmother passed away. Whenever I’d be so captivated by the fluffy clouds of sugar that I couldn’t walk away, she’d empty her pockets of loose change to buy one for me. She’d watch me eat the whole thing, then lovingly scold me, “You little sweet tooth.” My grandmother always loved to see me smile. It made the wrinkles on her old, kind face deepen. A cold wind blew, scattering the memory. I walked up to the stand and bought a cotton candy rabbit. It was so sweet. Just as cloyingly sweet as I remembered. As I rounded a corner, I heard a little girl’s high-pitched voice. “Mommy, look! That lady is so cool! But why is she eating cotton candy?” “Isn’t that for kids?” Her mother laughed softly. “Who says only kids can eat cotton candy? Anyone can. A little bit of sugar can make you feel happier.” I walked past them, my heels clicking on the pavement. I heard the girl’s innocent voice again. “But Mommy… she ate all that sweet cotton candy, but she doesn’t look happy at all.” “Mommy, that lady looks so lonely…” Her voice faded into the distance. By the time I got home, the cotton candy was gone, leaving only a sticky residue on my hands. I went inside and washed them. Just then, my phone rang. It was Asher. He sounded drunk. “Elara.” “I’m here.” He chuckled on the other end. “Seven days left. You’re going to be my wife.” “Tomorrow. I’ll take you to pick out a dress?” “You can just pick one. You know my size.” There was a long silence on his end. Faintly, I could hear a girl’s coquettish voice in the background. “Ash, let me go with you to try on dresses. Don’t you want to see what I look like in a wedding gown?” 9 A long moment passed. Asher’s voice was hoarse when he finally spoke. “Okay.” I couldn’t tell if he was answering me, or the girl beside him. I woke up. I crossed yesterday off the calendar with a thick, dark line. Six days left. Today, I was going to a concert. I got dressed, did my makeup. My body ached all over, a dull, persistent throb, but I could manage. In the full-length mirror, a woman in a short skirt—the kind Asher hated—stared back at me. Her limbs were slender, her smile serene. She had finally made peace with the ugly scars that littered her body. And there, just below her right collarbone… A trumpet vine bloomed. The stadium was packed, a sea of thousands of roaring fans. I sang along with the crowd, my voice raw and loud: “I’m the proud destruction, of the ordinary I despise, only to remember it’s what I loved the most.” I must have been lost in the music, because it wasn’t until the song ended that I felt the sharp, gnawing pain inside me again. I gripped the armrest, trying to steady myself. Suddenly, a carton of milk appeared in front of me. My stomach felt like it was being twisted by knives. I looked up to see a young, unfamiliar face. The boy was wearing a cream-colored puffer jacket and smiling kindly at me. “Stomach ache? The milk is warm. You can have it.” I took it, the warmth seeping into my cold hands. “Thank you.” We were in between songs. The boy shook his head. “It’s nothing. My girlfriend loves helping people. She’d be happy to know I gave it to you.” I glanced at the empty seat beside him. “She couldn’t make it to the concert?” He smiled, but his eyes were instantly filled with a winter frost. “She passed away.” “I’m here for her.” The milk I’d just swallowed felt like a stone in my throat. “I’m so sorry.” “It’s okay.” The music started again, and everyone turned their attention back to the stage. It was time for the lucky fan drawing. The massive screens flashed through rows and rows of faces. The moment the screen froze… I saw myself. The camera operator must have thought the boy and I were a couple. People around us started shouting for us to kiss. The boy quickly pulled a photo from his jacket and held it up to the camera. It was his girl. A microphone was thrust into my hand, and for a moment, I was speechless. Finally, I looked at the singer on stage, an artist I’d admired for years, and said softly, “I hope more and more people get to see you, to love your music.” “I hope you all find even greater success.” “I don’t really know what else to say, so… to everyone here tonight—” “I wish you all a long and happy life.” Some people in the crowd chuckled, probably wondering why my wish was so plain and ordinary. The camera quickly cut away. As the melody of the next song began, I saw the boy next to me gently tracing the outline of the girl in the photo. His eyes were red as he whispered, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it. “And I wish my Suzie a long and happy life, too.” In that moment… For some reason… I felt an overwhelming urge to cry. 10 The concert ended. I forced myself to make it home. I’d forgotten to close the window this morning, and the apartment was bone-chillingly cold. I shut the window, took off my makeup, and collapsed onto the bed. I opened up a social media app, scrolling aimlessly, when a video from a “person you might know” popped up. The user ID was “Janice S.” In the video, the young girl was dressed in a pristine white wedding gown. The face of the man whose arm she held was blurred out. Her eyes were a mix of youthful innocence and raw ambition. “Countdown: 6 days until my boyfriend marries someone else!” “Holding onto you for these last few days. I wish this moment could last forever.” In the frame, Asher gently held the girl’s waist. His touch was tender. 11 Five days left. I was feeling relatively energetic today. I got up early and took care of something important. I donated every last cent of Asher’s money that he’d put in my name. An eight-figure sum. Gone. Asher might have betrayed me emotionally, but he’d been completely open with his finances. For years, he’d transferred almost everything he earned to me, keeping only enough for daily expenses. As a final touch, I made the donation in his name. After all, it was his money. Might as well earn him some good karma. As for my own savings, I donated half and kept the other half for myself. Knowing your life is about to end is an incredibly painful thing. So I needed to make sure I didn’t add to the pain by running out of money before I ran out of time. But… The moment I walked out of the charity foundation’s doors, my vision went black, and I collapsed. I woke up in a hospital bed. A nurse told me they’d tried calling my emergency contact multiple times from my phone, but no one had answered. My only emergency contact was Asher. “I’m sorry. I’ll go downstairs to pay the bill in a minute.” The doctor, his face grim, urged me to be admitted. “If you don’t start treatment now, you might not even make it six months.” I managed a weak smile. “And if I do get treatment?” “I can’t guarantee how the disease will progress, but I can guarantee that as long as there’s a sliver of hope, we will do everything we can.” Basically, even with treatment, the chances were slim. “Thank you, doctor.” “But could you please help me with the discharge papers?” As soon as I left his office, Asher called. “Sorry, I was busy. Didn’t hear the phone.” “What’s up?” My eyes fell on a familiar figure at the other end of the hallway. “Nothing. I lost my phone, and a kind stranger called my emergency contact.” “Good, as long as you’re okay. The wedding’s almost here. Is there anything you need?” “No.” Another stretch of silence. I could hear Janice’s impatient whine on his end. “Hurry up, the ice cream is melting.” Asher spoke again. “Call me if you need anything.” The line went dead. I frowned, my gaze fixed on the person down the hall. It was Rhea, the owner of the tattoo shop. She was bending over to pick up a wig that a passing child had knocked off her head. As she looked up, our eyes met. “You?” She clearly recognized me. She adjusted the crooked wig on her head. “Didn’t get a chance to tell you last time, but we’re in the same boat. Two short-timers.” “I was actually planning on closing the shop for good that day,” she said with a wry smile. “You were the last customer of my career.” “What is it?” I asked. “Leukemia.” She shrugged, a picture of nonchalance. “No cure.” We walked out of the hospital together. I pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered her one, and we stood in the biting wind, struggling to light them for each other. Our eyes met. And suddenly, we both burst out laughing. Two goddamn unlucky souls. We laughed, watching the smoke dissolve into the wind, just like our own impending ends. 12 I changed my flight. No more trip abroad. Rhea and I booked tickets to Oregon together. My body couldn’t handle the long flight across the Atlantic anymore. Maybe it was fate. Maybe I was never meant to see that ocean view. The two of us, both on borrowed time, had the same idea. We wanted to see the ocean. Last night, Janice posted a new video. “Countdown: 5 days. Thank you for facing your fears to go skydiving with me.” “I love you too.” In the video, Asher and Janice were strapped together, standing on a platform hundreds of feet in the air. They leaped, wrapped in an embrace. His body was stiff, a clear sign of his fear of heights. But as they fell, he still managed to scream. “I love you!” “Janice!” But if you listened closely, the last word he shouted wasn’t Janice. It was Elara. 13 Four days until the wedding. Rhea asked me if there was anything else I wanted to do. I thought for a moment, then asked her to come with me to see someone. On the way, Rhea asked, “Is she a friend of yours?” I shook my head. “Quite the opposite. She’s my… mortal enemy, I guess.” Rhea raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. She even stopped with me at a flower shop to order a bouquet. Mara ran the East Docks. She was the toughest woman in that part of the city. She controlled a half-dozen bars and was as ruthless with herself as she was with others. We’d been fighting for control for years. Neither of us ever came out on top. The moment Rhea and I walked into her main bar, we were stopped. “Elara?” Mara was called out from the back. She frowned at me. “What are you doing here again?” “Came to call you an old hag.” Her face instantly darkened. Then she let loose a string of curses. We stood there and traded insults for a solid half hour. By the end, I felt fantastic. I grabbed a nearby bottle, took a swig of whiskey, and was about to take another when Rhea stopped me. “Just a taste is enough.” I sighed and put it down. I gave Mara a wave. “Alright, I’m leaving.” “You should tone down the fighting and killing. Settle down a bit.” “Otherwise, where are you going to find the energy to chase after pretty boys?” I was already out the door when I heard Mara’s bewildered voice. “What the hell? Did she come here just to yell at me for thirty minutes?” “Seriously, is she insane?” I turned back just in time to see her kick one of her guys. “I didn’t lose that argument, did I? I wasn’t really on my game today.” I laughed and kept walking. Maybe it was because I was dying, but even my years-long rival seemed kind of adorable. On the way home, my phone vibrated. Mara had sent me a picture of a bouquet of roses. “You sent these??” “Yeah.” She was silent for nearly two minutes, then a flood of messages came through. Mara: “What’s the meaning of this?” Mara: “Only little girls like flowers. You think I give a damn about this crap?” Mara: “You didn’t hide a bomb in there, did you?” Mara: “Elara, don’t think sending me flowers smooths things over between us.” Mara: “This isn’t the first time I’ve gotten flowers in my life.” Mara: “They’re actually pretty nice… Thanks.” Mara: “Let’s get dinner sometime.” I looked at my phone and smiled, slowly typing out a reply: “Yeah, if there’s a chance.” 14 That evening, Janice posted again. “Only 4 days left. I don’t want this to end…” “Skiing together. I love how you protect me. You’re like the father I never had.” In the video, Janice falls in the snow. Someone skis down from above, and Asher throws himself over her, shielding her with his body. The videos had been gaining traction over the past few days, and a lot of people were following along. 【omg whyyyy, why do people who love each other have to be apart?】 【His body language is screaming that he loves her, so why is he marrying someone else? Is it an arranged marriage?】 【God, my heart breaks for her. She looks like she’s always holding back tears.】 【Seriously, are you shippers brainless? The guy is about to get married and he’s doing a ‘breakup countdown’ with his ex. He’s trash and she’s a homewrecker. They deserve each other. Feel bad for the bride.】 The comment section was a warzone. But mostly, it was full of people waiting to see how the drama would unfold in four days. I had no patience for their melodrama. I swiped past the video. And gave a ‘like’ to the next video of a hot guy dancing. 15 Three days left. I treated the crew to dinner. They had no idea what was going on; they just assumed it was my bachelorette party. Bottle after bottle was emptied, and the mood grew rowdier. Everyone reminisced about the old days. Someone brought up Asher and me. “Seriously, Ash loves you so much. For real.” The speaker was rail-thin but was nicknamed “Tiny.” “One time, he got wasted and just cried for hours. He said he hated himself for not protecting you. He said sometimes he’s scared to even come home because seeing you reminds him… that he’s the one who turned you into this.” He sighed. “But… but I thought about it for a long time, and I think you should know.” “Elara, Ash is keeping a girl on the side. He…” Someone kicked him under the table. “Dude, how much have you had to drink?” “Ma’am, Tiny’s drunk. I’m gonna take him home. You guys keep going…” Tiny was dragged away. No one else believed him; they all just thought he was drunk and talking nonsense. The table erupted in a chorus of stories about how much Asher loved me. Someone, emboldened by alcohol, even called him. “What’s up? Spit it out.” Asher’s voice came through on speakerphone, sharp and clipped, but with a slight upward tilt at the end of his words. My heart clenched. I knew that tone all too well. It was the sound he made right after sex. “Elara’s treating us to dinner! We haven’t seen you in forever!” everyone chimed in. “Ash, you busy right now? Come have a drink with us!” Asher was silent for a couple of seconds. “I’ve got something here. You guys go ahead.” “Take care of Elara.” “And don’t let her drink too much. When you’re done, make sure a couple of you see her home safely, you hear me?” After he hung up, the guys all sighed dreamily. “See, Elara? Ash is always thinking about you.” “We’re so sick of being the third wheel to you guys!” I didn’t say anything. I took a sip of juice. It was room temperature, but it still sent a pang of pain through my stomach. I hadn’t brought my painkillers. The pain became unbearable, so I stepped outside for some air. I didn’t realize until I was out that it had started to snow. Leaning against a lamppost, I found myself, against my better judgment, opening Janice’s social media page. Maybe it was hearing so much about Asher just now, but in that moment, I had a desperate need to know what they were doing. Five minutes ago, Janice had posted a new video. He and she were standing side by side, the brilliant aurora dancing in the sky above them. “Breakup countdown: three days left! He flew us to Iceland overnight just to make my wish of seeing the Northern Lights come true.” “The lights are beautiful, but not as beautiful as him.” “But what can I do? Soon he won’t be mine anymore… Whatever. Universe, don’t worry about me, just make him happy.” “I’ll be okay.” In just five minutes, the video already had thousands of likes and was climbing fast. 【I’m crying. ‘Universe, don’t worry about me, just make them happy.’】 【For the first time ever, I actually hate the fiancée. Did she save his entire family or something?】 【Ugh, a pair of scumbags, and a comment section full of idiots. (To anyone who wants to reply: I already bought a resurrection pass for my family, my front and back cameras are broken, my pee is matte, I don’t own any mirrors, and please present your parents’ death certificates before insulting me.)】 I stared at the aurora in the video, so dazzlingly beautiful. I suddenly remembered when I was nineteen, curled up in Asher’s arms, watching a travel show with envy. “Asher, when you make a lot of money, will you take me to see the Northern Lights too?” “Of course.” “I promise I’ll take you one day.” A snowflake landed on my eyelash, blurring my vision. I blinked, and it melted. But the girl holding his hand, watching the aurora… that wasn’t the nineteen-year-old Elara.

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I dated Jaxon when I was younger. Three months, then we were done. He said I was too much of a good girl, no fun to mess around with. I tried shadowing my best friend, who was deep in her edgy phase. After two weeks, she blew a perfect smoke ring in my face and told me to just stick to the books. I didn’t have the “bad girl” gene. I accepted my fate. After a period of deep reflection on my youthful foolishness and the flawed belief that “love is all you need,” I decisively found myself a rich kid. His name was Marty. He was rich, generous, and handsome. His only flaw was a long list of exes and a flock of female “friends.” The moment Marty’s engagement ring was on my finger, I received a sonogram from one of his closest “friends.” She was eight weeks pregnant. I sat in the coffee shop, thinking long and hard, before finally saying with the utmost sincerity, “My love for Marty is simply too deep. I can’t bring myself to leave him.” “Why don’t you have the baby? I may be young, but I don’t mind being a stepmother.” 1 I swear, I was being completely genuine when I said that. But I think his friend, Isabelle, took it as sarcasm. Seeing that I wouldn’t leave Marty on my own, she started recounting their history. How they went to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower, climbed snow-capped mountains together, celebrated New Year’s Eve side-by-side. How Marty would be on a video call with me, telling me he missed me, only to hang up and fall into bed with her seconds later. Isabelle was a fantastic storyteller; I felt like I was listening to a beautifully written, poetic novel. After about fifteen minutes of this, I glanced at my watch and politely interrupted her. “I’m so sorry, but I have to get back to work.” The look on her face was priceless. She just stared at me, utterly speechless. I put on my coat, wrapped my scarf around my neck, and stood up to leave. “Are you really that shameless? Clinging to Marty like this? You, a woman whose entire style screams ‘wife material.’ Do you honestly think a guy like Marty, who’s seen countless beautiful women, would ever truly be interested in you?” Her voice was sharp, and the previously buzzing coffee shop fell silent. I stopped and turned back to look at her. Her expression was twisted with anger. But a beautiful woman is still beautiful, even when her face is contorted in a sneer. Far more beautiful than me. I smiled, but in the end, I didn’t say a word. 2 It was true, I didn’t want to break up with Marty. After all, of all the men I knew, he was the best overall package. His family was wealthy, he had a cheerful personality, and he was generous with me. Aside from being a player, he had no other faults. But what rich man isn’t a player? He could party, fool around, and have his female “confidantes.” It didn’t matter. As long as I was his official girlfriend, the woman he wanted to marry, that was enough. I had a very clear understanding of my own value. If I broke up with Marty, I’d never find another man in his league. Stepping into the elevator, I examined my reflection in the polished steel doors. A knit scarf, a mid-length wool coat, and a pair of snow boots. My entire outfit screamed “plain and simple.” I was miles away from fashionable, a perfect match for the internet’s stereotype of a “wife material” girl. I thought of my best friend Maya’s assessment of me: “You’re too quiet, too straight-laced. You’ll never be the kind of bad girl who can wrap a man around her finger.” “You’re a bookworm who can’t think outside the box. The best you can hope for is to land a safe government job. You’ll never be some high-flying career woman.” “If you ever want to change your life, your only shot is to play the ‘good woman’ card. While you’re still young and have the looks, find a rich man.” “A rich heir is fine, a self-made millionaire works too. Be his comfort, cater to his every need. But most importantly, you have to be gracious. You have to be virtuous.” “But you need to hurry. A woman’s prime years are fleeting. Once you’re older, it won’t matter how gentle or considerate or gracious you are; no rich man will give you a second look.” Thinking of this, I looked down at the ring on my middle finger and sighed. My only hope now was that nothing else went wrong before the wedding. Once I was married to Marty, I could accept a secret son or daughter. But sometimes, the thing you fear the most is exactly what comes to find you. 3 Just before the end of the workday, I got a message from Marty. He sent me an address, telling me to come over. A get-together with friends; he wanted to introduce me. This had never happened before. There were certain things Marty and I both understood without ever saying them aloud. We weren’t from the same world. Our lifestyles were completely different. Marty kept his world split into two distinct halves. When he wanted to play, he partied with his childhood friends, bringing along this girl or that one, living life on his own terms. When he was tired of playing, he came back to me, to enjoy my devoted care. Did he love me? Of course not. But he couldn’t leave me. That’s why, even though my background was average and I didn’t know how to dress, there were moments he would impulsively want to marry me. But that was all it was. He would never introduce me to his friends, never let me into his circle. Because in his eyes, I wasn’t presentable. And I was always smart enough never to ask to meet them. After all, while I was fully aware that I was reaching above my station with Marty and had accepted my subordinate role, I had no desire to become the subject of their gossip, to give them the chance to look down on me to my face. On this point, Marty and I had always had a tacit understanding. But today, he broke it. 4 I rushed to the restaurant. The heating was cranked up high, so I had to take off my coat and scarf, draping them over my arm as I followed the waiter through a maze of corridors. We finally stopped outside a private room. I stood at the door, took a deep breath, and mentally prepared myself before pushing it open. It turned out, my mental preparation was not nearly enough. The room was buzzing with a crowd of young men and women. The first person I saw wasn’t my boyfriend, Marty. It was Jaxon, standing at the center of it all. My first love. He was as devastatingly handsome as I remembered, a single diamond stud in his left ear, radiating an aura of untamed rebellion. Jaxon. Jaxon. I mouthed his name twice, a silent, ghost of a word on my lips, then calmly tore my gaze away to find Marty. He was in a corner booth, laughing and talking with a woman. In the middle of their playful banter, she reached up and tapped Marty’s forehead with her knuckles. It was intimate. Sweet. I knew who she was. Marty’s childhood best friend. They’d grown up together, their bond incredibly close. If I had to describe it, it was more than friends, but not quite lovers. I understood. Sometimes you know someone too well to cross that line, afraid you might lose the friendship altogether. I was rather glad they never got together. Otherwise, where would there be room for me in this game of love? I stood by the door for a long moment, completely ignored. A familiar sense of helplessness began to creep up from my bones. I felt like I was eighteen again, excitedly going to a bar to find Jaxon, only to be hit with a wave of alienation and despair the moment I opened the door to his private room. I was hit with the profound realization that I was not, and had never been, a part of their world. Back then, I forced myself not to care because I loved Jaxon. Now, I forced myself not to care because I loved money. I quietly made my way to Marty’s side and tapped him on the shoulder. His eyes landed on me. I saw the smile in them fade just a little. I put on a gentle, serene smile of my own, brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, and said in a soft voice, “Sorry, I had to work late.” He finally snapped out of it, taking my hand in his and rubbing it. He frowned slightly. “Is the heat not on high enough? Why are your hands so cold?” “It’s probably just the temperature difference. My body hasn’t adjusted. Are you cold?” I said, trying to pull my hand back. Marty instinctively tightened his grip. “I’m worried you’ll catch a chill.” The noisy room had somehow quieted down. The atmosphere hung thick and strange for a few seconds before someone spoke up, their voice dripping with amusement. “Marty, is this your mythical girlfriend we never get to see? Now that she’s finally graced us with her presence, aren’t you going to introduce her?” I followed the voice to its source. The speaker was a guy in a flashy baseball jacket, slouched next to Jaxon, looking every bit the troublemaker. Jaxon was leaning back lazily, fiddling with a lighter in his hand. Click, flick. Click, flick. His signature move when he was annoyed. Marty stood up, wrapping an arm around my waist and leading me toward the group. “Alright, everyone, this is Clara. My girlfriend.” “Girlfriend? She’s wearing a ring. When are we getting an invitation to the wedding?” someone with sharp eyes pointed out, laughing. My hand clenched into a fist, then quickly relaxed. Marty’s body tensed for a second before he recovered. “As soon as you guys have your wedding gifts ready, I’m ready to get married.” Someone was about to tease us more, but Marty stepped in to defend me. “She’s shy. You can joke with me all you want, but leave her out of it.” This, of course, only made them louder. Marty was pulled away by his friends for a round of drinks. With nothing to do, I sat quietly in the corner, playing on my phone. Though there wasn’t much to play. I didn’t watch reality TV, didn’t play games, didn’t read novels, and didn’t scroll through short videos. I liked to just zone out, but in such a lively atmosphere, it felt inappropriate. So I started to eat. Slowly, in small bites, I ate the pastries from the coffee table. I hadn’t had dinner yet, and I was actually a little hungry. I sat in that room for two hours and nineteen minutes. I ate a plate of green bean cakes, three cherry tomatoes, and drank two glasses of juice. The entire time, a pair of eyes were fixed on my back. But I never once turned around. 5 It was past midnight when the party finally broke up. Marty had been forced to drink too much and was stumbling. Several girls tried to help him, but Marty waved them away, finally choosing his childhood best friend to support him. As for me, I was in charge of his coat and car keys, ready to be the perfect designated driver. Halfway to the door, Marty turned back dazedly and called my name. “Clara…” I answered softly, “I’m here.” When we reached the parking garage, I opened the back door of the car and watched his friend struggle to get him inside. I said my goodbyes to the others. Once I was in the driver’s seat, ready to start the engine, my eyes happened to glance at the two coats on the passenger seat. I realized I’d forgotten my scarf. But his friend had already closed her door and was waiting for me to drive. Whatever. It wasn’t anything valuable. If it was gone, it was gone. Before leaving, I couldn’t resist one last look in the rearview mirror. Jaxon was standing with his side to me, his head bowed as he lit a cigarette, a cold, unapproachable aura surrounding him. I pulled my eyes away and gave a small, silent smirk. A mockery of the naive girl I used to be. 6 The car pulled into the garage of Marty’s family home. I had planned to stay and take care of him, but the house had plenty of staff. There was really no need for me. His friend also gently implied that Marty’s parents preferred a sensible, discreet girl. Since Marty hadn’t officially brought me home to meet them yet, I should know my place. So at two in the morning, I discreetly stood outside the gates of the luxurious gated community, freezing for half an hour until my rideshare finally arrived. God bless big cities, you can even get a ride in the middle of the night. But forgetting my scarf was a disaster. The winter wind was biting, and I was nearly frozen solid. It was three a.m. by the time I got back to my apartment building. I dragged my exhausted body to my door. As the elevator doors opened, I fumbled for my keys. A thick smell of smoke hit my nose. My tired brain sluggishly wondered if someone’s apartment was on fire. Then I saw him. A tall man standing in front of my door. The floor around his feet was littered with cigarette butts. A red ember glowed between his long fingers. In his other hand, he was holding my lost scarf. 7 I never really imagined what it would be like to see Jaxon again. When I was younger, I thought he had broken my heart. It’s no exaggeration to say my world had ended. I was a zombie, with no will to live. But time passes, and you realize it was just a small thing, a simple case of “I love you, you don’t love me.” In the grand scheme of things—money, career, health—what isn’t more important than love? Besides, I was exhausted today. Once you pass a certain age, your body just starts to give out. These days, if I go to bed after eleven, my brain turns to mush. I can’t think straight. So I just numbly unlocked my door, numbly changed into my slippers, and numbly turned to close the door in his face. Jaxon’s hand shot out, blocking it. “We had something, you know. Not even a ‘hello’? That’s pretty rude.” His voice was hoarse, probably from all the smoking. Sometimes I think I’m just too conservative. I can’t understand this modern way of living, where people stay on good terms with their exes, message them privately, and even have a “relapse” when the mood is right. I once discussed this with Maya. As someone who had definitely slept with an ex again, she assured me it was perfectly normal. She said it was nostalgia. Like a toy you loved as a child. You grow out of it, but that doesn’t stop you from picking it up and looking at it with fond memories when you see it again. I couldn’t understand it at the time. “But shouldn’t people be faithful in a relationship?” Maya laughed at my naivety. “This era has a new definition for faithfulness. We call people who are hopelessly devoted to one person ‘love-sick fools.’ And someone like you, who gave everything to Jaxon with a sincerity that was almost laughable, we call that a ‘simp.’” Back then, to understand Jaxon’s mindset, I diligently followed Maya around for a while. She took me to all sorts of places, introduced me to all sorts of people. Unfortunately, I was never a quick learner. I could never grasp their way of life. In the end, I had to accept the truth: Jaxon and I were from different worlds. He would never slow down for me. He didn’t love me. Not one bit. In fact, he probably only got with me in the first place for a good laugh. I had clumsily followed him around, racking my brain for ways to make him happy, going to absurd lengths to be good to him. I once took a two-hour bus ride from one end of the city to the other just because he casually mentioned he was craving pork ribs, so I immediately cooked them and brought them to him. In Jaxon’s eyes, all my efforts were probably just cheap and pathetic. But what could I do? I was just an ordinary girl with no special qualities, nothing to make me stand out. The only thing I had was my heart. I reverently cut it out and offered it to Jaxon. He took it, looked it over, examined it from all angles, found it boring, and tossed it aside. And so my heart shattered. Later, I gathered the pieces and realized I had been using the wrong method. A true heart can’t be exchanged for another true heart. But it can be exchanged for money. Marty gave me plenty of feedback. Every time he found a new “friend,” he gave me an expensive gift. From jewelry to handbags. His guilt was very valuable. For example, the fact that I had to take a taxi home alone tonight would probably earn me another new handbag once Marty sobered up tomorrow. All I wanted was the handbag. I didn’t want anything to do with an ex who had hurt me so deeply. So I held the doorknob and stared at Jaxon for a long time. His expression was obscured by the haze of smoke, or maybe the light was just too dim. I couldn’t really see his face. I asked him, “Are you here to return my scarf?” He said, “No.” I nodded and carefully pushed his arm out of the doorway. This time, I was able to close the door. And lock it. 8 Marty started calling me out to hang with his friends more frequently. And, of course, Jaxon was always there. After a while, Marty would inevitably start talking about his friends. That’s how I finally learned who Jaxon was now. A hotshot rookie race car driver. The long-lost heir to the Vance family fortune. It was surreal. The Jaxon I knew was a defiant teenager who lived with his grandmother. He did love cars, but back then, he could only afford a beat-up old motorcycle to cruise around on. In our short-lived romance, the most memorable moment was probably him putting a heavy helmet on my head, telling me to wrap my arms around his waist as I sat behind him on the motorcycle, and saying he was going to take me far away. Back then, I really believed him. 9 In front of Marty’s friends, I never shied away from showing my meticulous care for him. At first, they would tease us, but after seeing it enough times, they got used to it. Whether they were secretly scornful or envious, I didn’t care to know. As for Marty’s pregnant “friend,” I don’t know how he handled it. But his attitude toward me remained the same, which put me somewhat at ease. Still, a subtle anxiety began to grow inside me. Maybe it was the almost predatory way Jaxon’s eyes were always on me, or maybe it was Marty’s lack of enthusiasm for our wedding plans. I was always worried something would change. And, of course, something did. During a weekend camping trip, Marty suddenly got a phone call. His face immediately soured. He just said he’d deal with it when he got home. A little while later, Marty announced he had an emergency and had to leave. Instantly, I felt several pairs of eyes on me. I had come in Marty’s car. If he was leaving, and I didn’t know anyone else well, I would have to go with him. But Marty was clearly in no mood to drive me home. I was thinking of just catching a ride down the mountain with him and then getting a cab from there, when I heard Jaxon speak up. “Marty, go take care of your business. I’ll give your girlfriend a ride home later.” The moment the words left his mouth, Marty casually nodded. “Alright, thanks, man.” Clearly, Marty didn’t care if I stayed or left. My movement to stand up froze, and I slowly sat back down. Before he left, Marty gave me a long, deep look. I had a strong feeling that this was it. Once he drove away, we were probably over. For the first time ever, I broke our unspoken rule and made a request. “Marty, I want to go with you.” “Be good. Listen to me,” Marty frowned, stepped on the gas, and drove off. I stood there, frozen. My phone vibrated twice. A new message. I looked down. It was from the “friend,” who had been silent for a while. She told me she had gone to see Marty’s parents, and they had agreed to let her marry him. A warm body pressed against my back. Jaxon shamelessly leaned over my shoulder to look at my phone screen and let out a lazy laugh. “She moves fast.” My eyelashes fluttered. I looked up at him. “Clara, she has a good family, a beautiful face, and now she’s carrying Marty’s child. What do you have to compete with?” “I thought you would have backed down after you two met at the coffee shop.” “You didn’t really think that just by endlessly pandering to Marty, he would actually marry you, did you?” 10 Of course Marty would marry me. If Jaxon hadn’t interfered. But now that his parents were involved, the chances of him marrying me were slim to none. I was disappointed, but there was also a sense of resigned finality. From the day I saw Jaxon again, I knew my plans wouldn’t go smoothly. I silently put my phone away, ready to pack my things and call a cab. This campsite was remote; it wouldn’t be easy to get a ride. But it didn’t matter. I would rather walk for two hours down the mountain than get into Jaxon’s passenger seat. Charging cable, water bottle, sunglasses—I shoved them all into my bag. Jaxon followed behind me, a thunderous look on his face, watching my every move. Finally, he snapped. He snatched my bag and threw it. The contents spilled everywhere. The clearing fell silent. Curious eyes darted between me and Jaxon. I glanced at the bag. A bit of a shame. It was expensive. If Jaxon hadn’t been here today, I probably would have scurried over to pick everything up. But right now, I just felt drained. “Sorry, you guys have fun. I’m heading back,” I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling. But turning and walking away empty-handed just made me look pathetic. Jaxon’s body was tense. He grabbed my arm, his grip tight. I stopped, raised my hand, and slapped him. Hard. I could hear gasps from the people around us. Jaxon’s head snapped to the side from the force, but his hand on my arm didn’t loosen. “Feel better? If not, want to do the other side?” he asked, pointing to his other cheek.

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I was on vacation in Bali when I got the urgent call to return home. It turns out, I’m not my parents’ biological daughter. My family commands a billion-dollar empire, but my adoptive mother struggled with infertility. So they adopted me, raising me as their own flesh and blood. My mother was terrified I’d feel slighted. “We looked into your birth parents, darling. They’re… not well off. If you have a hard time, you must promise to tell us.” So here I was, in my mid-twenties, heading to meet them with a heart full of complicated emotions. At their house, my biological parents were sitting on a sofa, with a girl about my age nestled between them. They greeted me with a warning. “We’ve always thought of Rina as our own daughter. The majority of our assets will be left to her. We hope you won’t get any funny ideas.” 1 I asked, with genuine curiosity, “Then why bring me back at all?” If they weren’t calling me home to inherit a fortune, was it because they thought my life was going a little too well? Mr. Vance, my biological father, snorted. “A Vance belongs with the Vances. We couldn’t let our bloodline just wander in the wild.” Whenever I’d reunite with my adoptive parents after a long time apart, they’d always have a gift ready to celebrate. My first day reuniting with my biological parents, their gift was to put me firmly in my place. Before I came, my mom had painted a tearful picture of their poverty, as if I were being sent to live in a beggar’s den. Looking around now, the Vance home was better than I expected. The girl squeezed between them had red-rimmed eyes. “Aria, I know you must have suffered so much all these years. I’ve usurped your identity, and you must be furious, but I really don’t want to leave Mom and Dad.” My biological mother hugged her, tears streaming down her face. “Rina, darling, what are you saying? In our hearts, you have always been our real daughter.” My biological father’s face was stern as he looked at me. “There’s no ‘real versus fake heiress’ drama in this family. Rina is our daughter, and she is your sister.” “We’ve poured everything into raising her to be the exceptional young woman she is. We won’t tolerate any petty scheming from you.” I watched this picture-perfect family moment, unsure of what to say. I wasn’t particularly hurt. I’m in my twenties, raised in a bubble of love and wealth. The last thing I was going to do was agonize over whether my newfound biological parents loved me. Mrs. Vance’s eyes scanned me, noticing I was empty-handed. “You’re dressed nicely enough, but you couldn’t even bring a single bag?” It took me a second to register her meaning. I shrugged. “Nothing worth bringing.” The truth was, my parents had packed so many suitcases for me that I’d arranged for our butler, Mr. Kingston, to have them all sent over later. But I’d just changed my mind. I wouldn’t be calling him just yet. Mrs. Vance’s brow furrowed at my answer. “People from simple backgrounds are always so stingy. They raised you all this time and didn’t give you a single decent thing. Don’t think you can use this as an excuse to latch onto our family.” “Whatever bad habits you picked up in your old life, you’d better leave them at the door.” Mr. Vance pulled out a credit card. “Here’s fifty thousand dollars. Consider it a thank-you to them for raising you. I expect this card to be the end of it. We don’t want them showing up here, trying to cash in on their good deed.” My eye twitched. Fifty thousand? For a family this cheap, that wasn’t even enough to bribe Mr. Kingston. 2 Footsteps echoed from the staircase. It seemed there was one more person in the house. A man in a sharp suit descended, his face a thundercloud. “Benjamin,” Rina chirped. Benjamin Vance glanced at me. “I only have one sister. And it’s Rina.” Me: “?” Mr. and Mrs. Vance said nothing. “Benjamin, dear, where are you off to?” Benjamin’s expression shifted to one of smug satisfaction. “Preston from Apex Industries and I have really been hitting it off. He invited me out to dinner.” Mr. Vance shot to his feet. “Apex Industries?!” “That’s my son! Making friends with the likes of Preston.” A smirk played on Benjamin’s lips. “And in two weeks, the Foster heir is coming back to the country. The Fosters are throwing a welcome-home banquet, and Preston promised me an invitation.” Mr. Vance’s eyes were practically glowing with excitement. “The Fosters?” Benjamin nodded proudly. The Fosters. A dynasty among dynasties. Their family had only two children, a son and a daughter. The heir Benjamin was talking about was the younger son, Caleb Foster. There were whispers of old royal blood in their family line, which had earned Caleb the nickname “The Heir.” His last name was Foster; fortune was his destiny. Father and son were still waxing poetic about the mystique and grandeur of the Foster family. My face was turning red from holding back laughter. My name is Aria Beaumont, and my adoptive family, the Beaumonts, are lifelong friends with the Fosters. The Foster heiress, Maya, and I have been joined at the hip since we were kids. And yet, I’d never heard any of these ridiculous rumors. This was hilarious. My phone vibrated. Speak of the devil. A text from The Heir himself. Caleb: Aria, I heard you’re back! It’s so boring over here. I wanna come home too. Caleb: [CryingKitty.gif] Me: Your Highness, we are blessed by your message. Caleb: ? Meanwhile, Rina was completely captivated by Benjamin’s stories, practically swooning at the thought of The Heir. Her eyes were shining. “I can’t believe someone as incredible as The Heir actually exists in this world.” Mrs. Vance nodded. “Such an outstanding young man. I wonder which family will be lucky enough to have him.” She then gave me a pointed look. “A family like the Fosters… some people will go their whole lives without ever even hearing their name.” 3 “Hahahahahaha! No, did they really say that?” Maya Foster nearly spit out her coffee. I nodded, amused. “Benjamin said he’s going to bring Rina to the banquet. Now all she can think about is your little brother.” Maya and Caleb were only a few years apart and had spent their entire childhood fighting. “You know that little leech will be stuck to your side the entire night. Won’t your new sister just die of jealousy when she sees you two?” I took a sip of my coffee. “My new family already looks down on me. Can you imagine if I went up and announced that I used to spank The Heir for being a picky eater?” Maya was laughing so hard she was doubled over. “Your biological family is something else. How on earth did they get the impression you were poor?” I sighed dramatically. “I don’t know. Maybe I just radiate a certain broke-girl energy?” Maya rolled her eyes. “If Aria Beaumont is broke, then there are no rich people left in the world.” I grinned slyly. “Well, there’s still the Foster Princess and her Heir Apparent~” Maya bristled. “Aria Beaumont! You take that back!” 4 Mr. Kingston called to confirm that the luggage was still on hold, then asked about Mochi. “Mochi seems a bit down without you here.” Mochi is my cat. I found him when I was hanging out at the Fosters’ estate. A scruffy little white kitten had snuck into their yard. Oh, right. The famous Heir is terrified of cats. The staff was about to shoo the kitten away, but he was so dirty and had a limp in one leg. He looked utterly pathetic. So I took him to the vet, got his leg fixed and his shots, named him Mochi, and he’s been with me ever since. I gave Mr. Kingston the address. “Bring him over. I’m out with Maya right now.” A little while later, Maya peered into the cat carrier and sighed. “Mochi, you get uglier every time I see you.” I slapped her arm lightly. “Don’t say that! He’s not ugly at all. Our Mochi is the cutest.” Maya’s apology was swift. “Sorry, Mochi. You’re adorable.” Objectively speaking, Mochi wasn’t a conventionally handsome cat. But that was just my first impression. Now, I find him ugly in the most endearing way. Uniquely ugly. Especially when Caleb, torn between his fear and his desire to pet Mochi, would finally work up the courage to reach out. Mochi would just sit there, staring calmly at him. The second Caleb’s hand got close, Mochi would dart away, not letting a single finger touch his fur. How could such a perfect cat exist? 5 “Ugh, what is that ugly cat!” Rina shrieked. When I got back to the Vances’ house, no one was home, so I let Mochi out in the living room. I didn’t expect Rina to walk in and start screaming, startling him. I scooped Mochi up, annoyed. “He’s my cat.” And you’re the ugliest thing here. Rina’s face twisted in disdain. “Sorry, sister. My friends all have, like, Abyssinians or Devon Rexes. I’ve just never seen a cat like… that.” I had to physically restrain myself from rolling my eyes. What an uncultured snob. Soon, the rest of the family arrived. Benjamin was holding an invitation, his eyes alight with triumph. “The Fosters’ invitation. It says one guest can bring two people.” Rina clung to his arm. “Benjamin~” He patted her head. “Go buy yourself a beautiful dress.” Rina let out a happy cheer. Then, as if remembering something, she looked at me. “Benjamin, you should bring Aria, too.” Me: “…” Benjamin just grunted, noncommittal. “I heard that even the notoriously private Beaumont heiress will be attending. The Beaumonts are on par with the Fosters, you know.” Yup, can confirm. A glint of ambition appeared in Benjamin’s eyes. “I’ve long heard that Miss Beaumont is gentle, quiet, and stunningly beautiful. A perfect match for a man like me. Mom, Dad, if I could marry Miss Beaumont…” I jumped. Whoa! No way. I’m your sister! Mr. Vance was thrilled. “Benjamin, you’re handsome and so accomplished. Even Miss Beaumont is sure to fall for you.” No, Miss Beaumont will not. Rina suddenly looked shy. “Mom, Dad, do you think The Heir will like me?” Oh, please, not this again. I think of Caleb as a little brother. My dad said you’re my sister. That makes you and Caleb practically siblings! You can’t be together! Mr. and Mrs. Vance were already lost in their fantasy, their faces flushed with excitement. “Rina, you’re so beautiful and sweet. Of course The Heir will like you. You just have to seize the opportunity, you understand?” I felt faint. This entire family was insane.

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At his lowest point, the hero of the story had it all: a gambling-addicted father, a mother with crippling hospital bills, and a sister he was single-handedly putting through high school. He faced a daily onslaught of debt collectors, and on top of it all, a broken version of himself. Oh, right. And there was usually a wealthy, obsessive female antagonist forcing herself on him. As luck would have it, I transmigrated into that malicious side character—at the peak of her wealth and power. “I’ll sponsor you. Is twenty thousand a month enough?” His name was Alex. And me? A joke? So what if I was the villainess? I was rich as hell. 1 “You’re just a damn bartender. Me telling you to drink with me is a compliment. It’s your honor to have caught my eye, so don’t be an ungrateful prick.” “You’re selling yourself one way or another, so what’s the difference who you’re selling to? Think you’re too good for me, huh?” Even from a distance, I could see Alex standing there, his head slightly bowed. A single glance was enough to tell he was handsome. The man berating him was aggressive and loud. With his bulging belly and arrogant stance, he was clearly trouble. He poked a thick finger into Alex’s chest, forcing him back step by step. Then, the man pulled out a thick wad of crimson bills and slapped them straight across Alex’s face. “Is this fucking enough? If you want it, get on your knees and pick it up.” Alex’s head snapped to the side from the impact. After a brief moment, he knelt to retrieve the scattered cash. The instant his fingers touched a bill on the floor, the man stomped his foot down hard on Alex’s hand. From the grimace on Alex’s face, it was clear he used his full weight. “Why pretend to be so high and mighty when you’re desperate for money? If you were with me, this would be nothing. Me wanting you is a favor, you get it?” I was watching Alex endure the humiliation, and I had to admit, there was a certain rugged charm to it. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her—the story’s heroine, Fiona, dressed in a simple white sundress. I knew this moment perfectly. The heroine swoops in, heroically saves the handsome stranger, and from that day forward, becomes the woman Alex can’t forget. She becomes his motivation, his driving force. And later, when Alex becomes a titan of industry, their sweet, fairy-tale romance begins, and they ascend to the pinnacle of life together. But not today. Sorry. I closed the distance in three long strides, positioning myself right in front of the hero. I reached into my limited-edition handbag and pulled out a stack of bills far thicker than his. I slapped it hard across the loudmouth’s face. The wad of cash hit the floor with a heavy, satisfying thud. “Is that all the cash you have? And you’re acting this big?” I sneered. “You old creep.” 2 It was only then that I noticed Fiona, who had been lagging behind the man, finally arriving. She looked at the scene before her, utterly bewildered, but still started walking toward us. The man, stunned by the slap, quickly recovered and pointed a trembling finger in my face. “Who the hell are you? Do you know who I am? You looking for trouble? If you want to play the hero, you better make damn sure you’re qualified.” He looked ready to throw a punch. Honestly, his words were pathetic. “Vivian Sterling.” “Daughter of the chairman of Sterling Enterprises.” The instant change in his expression was priceless. Just one word for it: satisfying. Please. As if I didn’t know exactly who this nobody was. I had, after all, read the entire novel. In the early stages of the story, my character was an invincible, god-tier entity. My power was almost laughably absolute. The man stammered for a long moment. “It was my mistake. I was blind. I’m so sorry, Miss Sterling, so sorry.” I let out a soft chuckle, putting on an air of authority. “Apologize to him.” The moment the words left my mouth, the man practically fell over himself apologizing to Alex. Alex stood there in his bartender’s uniform, his handsome features unreadable. He showed no reaction, no emotion. Fiona now stood at his side, watching me with a wary expression. With the trash taken care of, only the three of us remained. I took a moment to appreciate Alex’s face. He was the hero, after all, and just as devastatingly handsome as the book described. He was completely blank-faced, though. I knew this was his lowest point. A gambling-addicted father, a mother in the hospital with astronomical medical bills, and a younger sister he was single-handedly supporting through high school. He was hounded daily by debt collectors, a shattered man trying to hold the pieces together. He was utterly exhausted, just trying to scrape together enough money to survive. He looked nothing like the future tycoon who would dominate the business world. He was just a tragic, beautiful mess. My original plan had been to snuff out the hero before he could ever rise. But looking at that face, I reconsidered for a solid 0.0001 seconds and changed my mind. “Alex, you’ve caught my eye. Be my arm candy. Keep me entertained, make me happy. Ten thousand a month. How about it?” My words were blunt, my gaze fixed on him. He was just too gorgeous to pass up. Now that I had money, I wasn’t about to short-change myself. Forget chasing girls or hot guys—I was going straight for the hero-level prize. This was going to be fun. Alex remained silent, but Fiona, standing beside him, spoke up first. “Vivian, thank you for helping Alex just now, but that doesn’t give you the right to insult him like this.” I looked at her indignant face and laughed out loud. “I’m not just going to insult him. I’m going to own him.” If it weren’t for my unexpected appearance, they’d both be in the hospital tonight. “Fifteen thousand. Is that enough?” Seeing the flicker of consideration in his eyes, I realized just how fun it was to be a rich bitch. “Alex would never agree. You…” Fiona was still chattering on, grabbing Alex’s hand to pull him away, her eyes filled with pity. I had no interest in arguing with the heroine. My patience was wearing thin. “Twenty thousand.” “I’ll do it.” “Alex, she’s humiliating you!” When Fiona finally left, her eyes were brimming with tears. Alex didn’t move, but I could tell he was still thinking about her. He stared after her for a long time. But I didn’t care. They say forced fruit isn’t sweet, but who cares? I’m not looking for sweetness. I wanted his beautiful face; I couldn’t care less who was in his heart. “Down payment.” I pulled ten grand from my purse and stuffed it into his hands. Looking at his handsome face made me happy. “Silverwood Hills estate tomorrow. Be there. You have my number.” With that, I gave his abs a quick, appreciative pat. The money should be enough to prevent the tragedy with his mother. My conscience was clear. I slung my designer bag over my shoulder and walked away. 3 When Alex reported for duty, he was wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans. Clean and crisp. Up close, I noticed his eyelashes were incredibly long. “The housekeeper has the day off. The kitchen’s over there. You’re making lunch. And one more thing: I need my food spicy.” Soon, a delicious aroma filled the air. It was actually quite good. “What are you standing there for? Sit down and eat with me.” Alex nodded and started to walk to the far end of the table. “Sit here. Next to me.” I saw him hesitate for a split second before moving to the chair beside me. He ate delicately, taking only a few small bites of the dishes before focusing on his rice. I slammed my bowl down on the table with a loud clatter. Alex looked up at me, his expression perfectly calm. “You have a problem with me?” I asked. “No.” I nodded, my tone hardening. “Good. I want you to remember something. I’m paying you twenty thousand a month, not to watch you play the martyr. You took my money, so you serve me well.” “And another thing,” I added, “I don’t like this cold, dead-inside act. It pisses me off. Got it?” Alex nodded. “Now, look up and give me a smile.” He looked up, and after a long moment, the corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. It was obviously forced. “Ugly.” With that, I got up and left. Over the next few weeks, Alex improved. He became a competent, if not enthusiastic, entertainer. The man was smart; he learned quickly, whether it was a new dance I wanted to see or just anticipating my moods. That, combined with his face, was a killer combination. Who needed to go to clubs? All in all, I was having a very pleasant time. Until Fiona showed up at my door. 4 I came out when I heard the shouting. A young girl was clutching Alex’s shoulder. He stood rigidly still. Beside them were a scruffy, middle-aged man and Fiona. I watched the scene unfold with amusement. The girl holding onto Alex glared at me. “Vivian, what gives you the right to make my brother serve you? Even if you buy his time, he’ll never like you! My brother only loves Fiona!” To wake up to this drama first thing in the morning was almost funny. But before I could speak, another familiar voice piped up. “Miss Sterling, Alex is a good person. He has his own thoughts, his own ambitions. He shouldn’t be trapped here by you.” For god’s sake, I couldn’t even be bothered to argue. They were both here to ruin my day. I pointed at the girl clinging to Alex. I knew who she was. Alex’s sister, Hailey. A staunch Fiona supporter. In the original novel, she had caused my character no end of trouble. “The right? My money gives me the right.” “The fact that you get to sit comfortably in a classroom is because of my money, you little idiot.” Hailey was stunned speechless, her large eyes filling with tears. Alex was looking at me too. My words were harsh. In the book, Alex was fiercely protective of his sister, but I met his gaze without flinching. “Alex, give me money! Give me the money, you ungrateful brat! Making all that cash, twenty grand a month, and trying to hide it from your old man!” The middle-aged man finally spoke, his voice agitated, his eyes wide and bloodshot, like he was about to pounce and devour someone. I instinctively took a step back. That was Alex’s father. A drunk, a gambler, and an abuser. Half of Alex’s misfortune stemmed from this man. I retreated into the house, making sure I was safe before calling security. They arrived quickly. Once they were there, I stepped back outside, staying behind the safety of the doorway. “I don’t have any money,” Alex said flatly. Fiona seemed terrified by the sudden turn of events and hid behind Hailey, leaving Alex to face his father alone. “If you don’t give me money, I’ll go to the hospital and find that sickly bitch! She’s gonna die anyway, it’s a waste keeping her there. I know you care about her. If you don’t want me to make a scene, give me the money!” The security guards moved in and restrained the man, holding him until he stopped struggling. He was still spewing curses. I couldn’t stand it. This man was disgusting, as both a father and a husband. I strode forward and delivered two sharp, clean slaps across his face. The sound echoed crisply. Still not satisfied, I kicked him hard in the knee. He crumpled forward, landing on his knees with a pained howl. It still wasn’t enough for me. “You scum. Send me the medical bills. And one more thing: I am no longer employing Alex. You won’t get a single cent from me. Get all three of them out of here.” Hailey ran off first. Fiona stood frozen until a guard approached her, then she too left, calling back over her shoulder. “Alex, I didn’t mean for this to happen, really! I didn’t know your father would be like this!” … Only Alex remained. I stood on the porch, a full head taller than him. “If you even think about chasing after her, you can get the hell out too.” 5 “Smile.” Alex forced a smile. I critiqued it again. “Fake.” His expression stiffened. That made me feel a little better. “You’re coming shopping with me this afternoon.” “You’re not firing me?” I shook my head and picked up a piece of vegetable with my chopsticks. “That was for your father to hear. And have your mother transferred to a different hospital, one he can’t find. Tomorrow—no, this afternoon. Go with Arthur. The expenses will be deducted from your salary.” I left the table before he had a chance to react. That afternoon, I returned from my retail battlefield, followed by my driver, Arthur, laden with shopping bags. I was finally experiencing the life of a rich heiress. So simple, so unpretentious. The pure joy of swiping a black card until my heart was content. Alex was already back. He opened the door for me. “Get me a glass of orange juice.” Alex went back to the kitchen. I leaned against the doorframe, watching him. I’d seen him in an apron a few times, but today he was wearing a well-tailored black suit. The contrast was pure, raw sex appeal. It made my mouth water. When he brought out the juice, he stood in front of me, hesitating. I could tell he wanted to say something. “Spit it out.” “I wanted to ask… how do you know so much about my situation? And… did you know about it, and that’s why you hired me, to give me the money?” 6 It was true. When I read the novel, I learned that Alex’s mother was a wonderful person. I didn’t want her to suffer that fate. “Congratulations, you guessed it. No need to thank me, I’m not interested. You just need to remember that I am kind, beautiful, and generous.” I praised myself lavishly. I heard a very faint, “Thank you.” “Don’t thank me. It wasn’t a handout. You earned it through your own labor. I just provided a good opportunity. You don’t owe me anything.” Alex lowered his gaze, hiding the emotion in his eyes. … Being a rich heiress had its downsides. One, a love for shopping. Two, a bad temper. “What took you so long to get the food? It’s cold now. Did you do it on purpose?” I took the takeout from Alex, my tone impatient. I walked straight to the trash can and placed the bag on top of it, announcing loudly as I walked away, “I’m not eating this. I’ve lost my appetite.” Then, I turned a corner, got in the car, and drove off, leaving Alex standing there alone. Alex stood frozen for a moment, then a bitter smile touched his lips. It seemed a waste to throw away food he’d traveled so far to get. He started to walk towards it, but an elderly man picking through the trash got there first. The plastic bag on his back was already full of bottles. Alex’s sharp eyes noticed something under the food container: a red bill. The old man opened the container and began to eat ravenously, completely unaware of the money on top of the bin. Standing there, Alex thought again that maybe the heiress wasn’t so bad after all. The old man finished eating quickly and only then noticed the money. He froze, looking around as if searching for its owner, hesitating to take it. Alex walked over, took the money, folded it neatly, and pressed it into the old man’s hand. “Sir, the young lady who left the food here put this here for you.” He added, “She’s just a bit proud, too shy to give it to you directly.” The old man took the money, his eyes welling up with tears, and nodded repeatedly. “She’s a kind-hearted girl. Heaven will bless her.” Yes, it will, Alex thought. 7 Junior year of college started. I was determined to enjoy my second chance at university life. But a rumor started circulating on campus, accompanied by a photo of me bossing Alex around, making him carry my luggage. The gist of it was that I was a bully, using my power to force the campus idol to be my servant, holding his mother’s medical bills over his head. I read the post. The actual wording was a hundred times worse. The comment section was a war zone. People were cursing me, my family, you name it. “There’s no morality anymore. Money is king. I hope she goes bankrupt. Karma’s a bitch.” “Down with the bourgeoisie! Down with the evil elite! I hope she spends the rest of her life miserable, starving, and broke.” “Maybe she won’t even live that long. Hope she gets in a car crash tomorrow.” … It got so bad that people were waiting for me at the school gates to hurl insults. I had Arthur investigate. It didn’t take long to get the truth. A guy had posted it. Under a little pressure, he confessed everything. He had a crush on Fiona, and after seeing her crying over the photo and complaining about me, he got angry. He stole the photo and posted it online to be her champion. “I didn’t post it! It has nothing to do with me! Let me go, you’re illegally detaining me!” Fiona’s whining was giving me a headache. I didn’t waste my breath on her; Arthur pulled her aside to explain the legal ramifications. I turned to Alex. “What do you think?” “Fiona… she didn’t mean it.” “Vivian, can you just let it go?” “At her core, Fiona isn’t a bad person.” Of course. The destined couple. I didn’t say anything, but a wave of irritation washed over me. “Who the hell do you think you are, Alex?” He froze. I had never spoken to him like that before. “Everything you have, I gave to you. You still don’t understand your place. If I didn’t take pity on you, you wouldn’t even have the right to speak to me.” My temper was never great, rich or not. I don’t like being wronged, especially over something so stupid. I had been more lenient with him before because he was the hero of the story. But now, I was annoyed. The novelty was wearing off. “That’s not what I meant…” I cut him off. “Don’t try to explain. I don’t want to hear it.” … The clarification post went up quickly. I paid to boost it, and it immediately went viral. In the dean’s office, I didn’t mince words. “Hello everyone, I’m Vivian Sterling. Regarding the recent online rumors, I have found the culprits: Kevin Tao and Fiona Bell from the sophomore design department. The full story and evidence will be posted online shortly.” “Rest assured, they will pay for what they’ve done.” Public opinion shifted instantly. With a little push from me, the narrative changed from outrage at me to sympathy for me in just a few hours. The tide had turned, and Fiona was now suffering the consequences of her own actions. I stopped reading the comments. I refused to be a victim. Now that I’d gotten my anger out, it was time to treat myself. …

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384853”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

As our whole class watched the game stream together, the vice president, Caden, sneered at the female player on screen. “Man, it must be nice not having balls. Just spread your legs and the mission’s done. Wish I was a girl!” Just as everyone was about to argue with him, we were all suddenly dragged into the game. 【Welcome to the Live Chat Battle Royale!】 【Survive by completing the game according to the rules set by your own live chat comments!】 The moment the voice faded, Caden’s crude comment materialized as a crimson banner above his head. The next second, his crotch erupted in a mist of blood. 1 We were in the international program at Northwood Prep—just twelve of us, all set to head to universities abroad this summer. The usual pre-exam tension was nonexistent. The day before our finals, we were all gathered, watching a horror battle royale stream. The game was set in an abandoned school. The female streamer was being coddled by her teammates, never having to lift a finger for any of the tasks. My classmates’ fingers flew across their keyboards, flooding the live chat with a storm of complaints. 【What a fucking useless leader, all he does is hide with the girl. Man up and fight!】 【God, I hate it when couples drag the team down. Can’t they just break up before playing?】 【Not to be sexist, but I hate teaming up with girls. So much drama!】 【A true leading lady does it alone. No need for teammates!】 And Caden, the vice president sitting next to me, just had to shout his opinion out loud with a contemptuous smirk. “Man, it must be nice not having balls. No need to grind, just spread your legs and someone else does the work for you. Wish I was a girl!” As he spoke, he typed the exact same words into the chat and hit send. Several of the girls in the room instantly blew up. “What the hell is wrong with you, Caden? What did girls ever do to you?” “Did you just crawl out of a sewer? Your mouth stinks. Go brush your teeth!” But Caden was completely unfazed. “People just can’t handle the truth. It’s a fact you girls don’t have anything between your legs. Did I say a single word that was wrong?” He had that smug, self-satisfied look of someone who thinks they’re the only sane person in a world of fools. It made me sick. But in the next instant, the world warped. The clean white walls of our classroom were suddenly smeared with dark, crimson stains. “What’s going on?” “Holy shit, don’t scare me like that…” “Why… why does this look exactly like the game?” I lifted my head to the blackboard. In the stream we’d been watching, that’s where all the clues appeared. Sure enough, glowing green text materialized on its surface. 【Welcome to the Live Chat Battle Royale!】 【Survive by completing the game according to the rules set by your own live chat comments!】 2 Confusion swept through the room. “Live Chat Battle Royale? What the hell is that?” “Someone explain this! I don’t get it!” A moment later, Caden’s scream provided all the explanation we needed. A sharp, wet pop echoed in the classroom, and Caden’s lower body was instantly shrouded in a cloud of red mist. The comment he’d just posted hovered ominously above his head, a translucent, blood-red banner that seared itself into our eyes. 【Man, it must be nice not having balls. No need to grind, just spread your legs and it’s over. Wish I was a girl!】 Not having balls. It clicked. I suddenly understood. Caden said he wished he didn’t have anything between his legs, and the game had made it a reality. A few students, their faces drained of all color, stumbled into a corner and started retching. A cold sweat broke out on my own skin. I was just thankful I’d been so focused on Caden’s disgusting rant that I hadn’t typed anything myself. In his condition, he probably wouldn’t last the day. Oh, not even a day. His legs began to spread apart at a horrifyingly unnatural angle. He seemed to realize what was happening and desperately tried to pull them back together. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said it! I know I was wrong!” he shrieked, his voice cracking with terror. “I shouldn’t have insulted women! Please, stop, don’t—” A sound like a pig being slaughtered filled the room as his bones groaned with an audible, sickening crack. He was already in a full split, but his legs kept pulling, slowly, relentlessly, in opposite directions. I heard the sound of tearing flesh and squeezed my eyes shut. Behind me, one of the boys screamed, his voice breaking into a high-pitched squeal. “He’s being ripped in half!” Students at the back of the room were frantically pounding on the door and windows, trying to escape, but nothing budged. Caden was torn apart, starting from his legs. His insides spilled out onto the floor in a grotesque heap. His eyes were wide with horror, staring blankly even after he stopped breathing. The bloody text above his head slowly faded until it vanished completely. Amidst the chaos, a speaker crackled to life from above. 【Warm-up complete. The general rules for this game will now be announced.】 3 The sudden voice made me jump. You call that pool of guts a warm-up? 【This Battle Royale will last for four days and four nights. During the day, players may move freely. At 8 PM every evening, all players must gather for a mandatory discussion, followed by a vote to determine that night’s eliminated player. At night, all players must rest separately; prolonged grouping is a violation.】 【Each comment has corresponding sub-rules that must be strictly followed. The game will only reveal the comment’s content, not its owner. When a player dies, their corresponding comment and its rules will disappear.】 【There are a total of six Item Cards hidden throughout the school. Three ‘Cancel Cards’ can eliminate a designated comment (your own or someone else’s). Two ‘Swap Cards’ can randomly exchange the ownership of two comments. One ‘Generator Card’ can create a new comment, but its rules cannot override or contradict the general rules.】 【Surviving for four days and four nights constitutes victory. The winners will split a prize of twenty million dollars.】 I let out a small sigh of relief. In principle, multiple people could survive. And for kids in the international program, none of us were hurting for money. 【The system has identified 9 valid comments. Player Caden has been eliminated. The remaining 8 comments are now displayed on the blackboard. Please review them.】 Eight blocks of large, green text appeared on the board. Below each, smaller red text detailed the specific rules. Everyone had more or less pulled themselves together and we all started reading. Comment 1: 【I never trust random probability. With precise calculation, you can’t lose!】 Rule: The owner of this comment has a passive skill that grants a one-time immunity to the effect of any Item Card. We all knew who this had to be. Leo, our resident academic star. A 24-karat nerd who believed every problem in the universe could be solved with an equation. This had his name written all over it. I glanced over at him; he looked as calm as ever. Comment 2: 【If you’re a man, play with your chest out! No hiding!】 Rule: All male players must remain in motion during the day. Hiding in the same location for more than thirty minutes will result in elimination. One of the guys cursed under his breath. “Which son of a bitch posted that? What kind of asshole drags all the other guys down with him?” My heart skipped a beat. A comment could actually affect other players. Comment 3: 【I wish I had a see-through item. A god’s-eye view would be sick!】 Rule: Each night, you may choose one person and learn the content of their comment. So, a Seer, like in a game of Mafia. I sighed internally. People with that kind of power never lasted long. Comment 4: 【A true leading lady does it alone. No need for teammates!】 Rule: This player must act alone at all times, except during the discussion phase. A girl, then. Comment 5: 【If I’m playing, no one touches my woman before I die!】 This one was basically a confession. There was only one couple in our class: Asher, our class president, and his girlfriend, Mia. It could only be Asher, trying to protect her. Comment 6: 【Not to be sexist, but I hate teaming up with girls. So much drama!】 Rule: Outside of discussion and voting, this player cannot be alone in the same space with any female player for more than 10 minutes. If this rule is broken, the other female player will die. That familiar knot of tension tightened in my stomach. Another comment targeting female players. My first thought was that some other idiot guy had posted it, but then I reconsidered. This felt… different. It sounded more like a pick-me girl. Comment 7: 【Just kill everyone else, right?】 Rule: This player must kill one person each night. Every face in the room went pale. 4 Son of a bitch. This really was a game of Mafia. We were already set to lose four people to the votes over four days, and now we had a nightly murderer on top of that. Unless this ‘Wolf’ was voted out or had their comment canceled with a card, they might be the only one left standing. I quickly calculated in my head. As soon as we could, we had to find a Cancel Card and get rid of that comment. I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I hadn’t even looked at the eighth and final comment. It was the shocked gasps from two classmates beside me that snapped me out of it. Asher and Mia had collapsed to the floor, their faces masks of pure despair. The last comment on the blackboard was especially cruel. Comment 8: 【God, couples who drag the team down are the worst. Can’t they just break up before playing?】 Rule: At the start of the game, all couples must internally vote to eliminate one member. Asher and Mia… one of them had to die. Right now. It was possible? You could post a comment that forced someone else to die? Amidst the heavy silence, a girl named Skylar folded her arms and sneered, “Come on, hurry it up. Don’t waste everyone’s time.” She was the school’s resident bad girl, known for bullying others. Most people steered clear of her. There had been rumors she’d pursued Asher before, and seeing her now, it seemed plausible. Her eyes were filled with nothing but gleeful malice. “Aren’t you two just so in love? Time to prove it.” No one spoke. Mia clung to Asher, her voice choked with sobs. “No, baby, please, you can’t…” Asher held her tight. “I’m so sorry, my love.” Tears streamed down Mia’s face as she desperately tried to stand up first, to take the fall herself. But Asher was well over six feet tall and easily broke her grip. He pushed her away, gently but firmly, and rose to his feet. “Everyone,” he said, his voice steady, “please, look after my Mia. I’m begging you.” As Mia’s cries filled the room, he raised his hand. “I choose to eliminate myself.” Snap. With a faint, sickening crack, Asher’s neck twisted at an impossible angle. The comment he’d made to protect his girlfriend appeared above his head as a bloody halo, then slowly faded away. Mia’s sobs turned into silent, ragged gasps. She somehow found the strength to catch her boyfriend’s falling body with her own small frame, her hands gently closing his lifeless eyes. I sighed. Our president was a true man. He deserved respect. A few other students were quietly crying. “Asher lived a good life. He didn’t go out without a fight.” But there’s always someone with a sick mind. Skylar, for instance, shot a final, bitter remark at Mia. “You’re a curse. Asher was just unlucky to have ever dated you.” And then there was Leo, who chose that moment to “comfort” everyone. “Actually, this was the only optimal solution. The president’s comment contained a logical constraint…” “Because Mia couldn’t be harmed before he died, if she were chosen for elimination, he would have died with her. The proposition had only one unique solution…” “Shut up!” a guy named Rhys snapped. “You goddamn nerd, you’re sick in the head!” Another boy, Quentin, slammed his fist against the doorframe. “Enough with the bullshit. Let’s go explore and find those items!” As if on cue, the speaker crackled. 【The game has begun. All players may now act freely according to their respective rules.】 The lock on the door clicked open. Everyone who could move scrambled out of the suffocating classroom as if fleeing a plague. After one last look at the blackboard, I left too, my mind already racing, analyzing the seven remaining comments. Leo, the calculation freak, was a known quantity with a one-time immunity. The couple-breaker comment was now useless. That left one comment forcing guys to keep moving, one pick-me comment that could kill lone girls, and one lone-wolf girl comment. And somewhere among us, a Wolf who had to kill, and a Seer who could see. There were ten of us left. That meant besides me, there were two other “vanilla” players with no comments. I started running through the personalities of my classmates. With the president and vice president dead, we were down to five boys and five girls. Among the other four girls, Ruby was quiet and introverted; I didn’t know her well. Mia was usually sweet and easygoing, but now she was a wreck, impossible to analyze. That left Skylar and the stunning, mixed-race Lillian. My gut told me one of them was the pick-me, and the other was the lone wolf. Of the five remaining boys, Leo was too clinical for me to even want to understand. Silas was quiet and reserved, but I always felt there was a turbulent current beneath his calm exterior. Rhys, Liam, and Quentin were the more outgoing types. Maybe I could get some useful information by focusing on them during the discussions. Right now, the priority was to scout the area, find items and clues, and figure out how to stay alive. The moment I stepped out of the school building, a chilling wind hit me. The air was thick with the smell of blood and decay, making my stomach churn again. Four days. Besides the game rules, starvation and dehydration might not be fatal, but I knew my hypoglycemia could be a serious problem. If my blood sugar dropped too low, I could just pass out and die. I had to find supplies. Even a few pieces of candy could be the difference between life and death for me over the next four days. This school was completely enclosed. The rulebook I’d seen mentioned a military-style management, so I wasn’t surprised when I couldn’t find a convenience store or supermarket anywhere. My only option was the cafeteria. As I walked, a grim thought crossed my mind. If there was no food or water, this game would truly force us to kill each other. But all my worries vanished the moment I stepped inside. Ten exquisite meals were laid out on the tables. Steak, mashed potatoes, creamy mushroom soup, and two small pastries for each setting. The silverware was ornate, the sense of ceremony a cruel irony in this place. I picked up a steak knife and made a small cut. Pink juices oozed out. Medium rare. The sight of blood and flesh brought back the image of Caden’s mangled body. I turned and threw up again, the bitter taste of bile filling my mouth. In the end, I just wrapped the two pastries in a napkin and stuffed them in my pocket. I searched several storage rooms but found no Item Cards. I was feeling weak and utterly drained. I took the key from one of the janitor’s closets, locked the door from the inside, and unrolled a yoga mat I found to lie down for a while. For the first time, I felt a small sliver of relief. At least the girls didn’t have to be constantly on the move. We could find a place to hide and rest. When I woke up, my hypoglycemia had kicked in as expected. I ate half a pastry, but my appetite was gone. I hid the rest under the yoga mat and headed to the classroom for the first discussion and vote. 5 Within ten minutes, everyone had trickled back into the classroom. 【The discussion will now begin. After the discussion, a vote will be held. No player may abstain from voting twice in a row. Good luck to all players.】 My stomach dropped. Can’t abstain twice in a row. That meant we would be forced to make enemies. Silence hung in the air. Leo was the first to speak. “Is anyone willing to reveal their comment?” He held up his hand. “Mine is the calculation one, with the immunity. I think you all figured that out.” Skylar immediately stood up. “I’m not one to hide. I’m the one who doesn’t like playing with girls.” Of course. The pick-me herself. Judging by the lack of reaction, no one was surprised. “Anyone else?” I stayed silent as a mouse, huddled in my corner, afraid that speaking up would make me a target. Skylar scanned the other girls. “Look at you all, a bunch of whiny, scared little bitches.” Just then, Mia, her face pale, raised a trembling hand. “I didn’t post a comment.” Skylar’s expression soured instantly. “Oh really? You. Didn’t. Post. A. Comment.” She dragged out the words with theatrical sarcasm. “Who’s gonna believe that? You got any proof?” Mia managed a self-deprecating smile. “When my boyfriend was posting his comment, I was holding onto his arm and refused to let go. I never even had a free hand to look at my own phone.” I raised an eyebrow. If Skylar really did have a thing for Asher, those words were a knife straight to the heart. Even in a death game, people can’t resist gossip. Everyone’s eyes drifted subtly towards Skylar. As expected, a flicker of humiliation crossed her face. “Wow, still have the energy to show off your perfect relationship. Impressive.” “I wasn’t…” “Shut up,” Skylar snapped, rolling her eyes. “If you loved him so much, why didn’t you die for him? Don’t you want to join him?” Mia’s face was ashen, but her eyes were firm. “I won’t let my boyfriend’s death be for nothing.” “I might not win, but I’m going to fight to live as long as I can.” Skylar let out a derisive chuckle. “Don’t waste your breath.” A vicious smile spread across her face. “I say we help our dear Mia fulfill her dream. Let’s send her to be reunited with her precious boyfriend!” I couldn’t help but feel contempt for her. While the rest of us were trying to find the Wolf, she was using her “I don’t play with girls” rule to start a catfight, one that could get someone killed. I made a mental note to stay as far away from her as possible. If she ever tried to come after me, I’d bite her damn head off before I went down. My thoughts were interrupted by the sharp crack of a slap. It was Mia. She had suddenly lunged forward and struck Skylar across the face. “You think you’ve won? Skylar, you think I don’t know about you trying to seduce Asher?” “Too bad for you. He never even opened those private photos you sent him!” “Calling yourself ‘one of the guys.’ What kind of ‘guy’ sends videos of themselves in a bra to another man? Hahaha!” “He’s dead, but he died for me. You never had a chance, Skylar. You couldn’t even be his side piece!” “Fuck you!” Skylar screamed, and the two of them started brawling. “You fucking bitch, you little fox! I’ll kill you sooner or later!” “You just wait, I’ll drown you in a pig cage…” A few of the guys, unable to watch any longer, stepped in to pull them apart. “Stop it! We only have five minutes left to vote…” Leo pushed his glasses up his nose. “If Mia is truly a vanilla player, voting for her is meaningless. I have a candidate in mind.” Lillian spoke up suddenly, and all heads turned to her. She sat perched on a desk, her blonde hair and blue eyes standing out, her light, poofy dress a stark contrast to the grim surroundings. “I saw it. I saw who posted the comment that killed Asher.” “What did you say?” everyone asked, stunned. The next second, Liam, who was standing nearby, dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry, it was me!” he cried, tears and snot streaming down his face. “Asher was my brother, I’m so sorry…” “I admit I was jealous of him and Mia… but I never wanted him to die! Mia, I’m so sorry…” Hearing this, Skylar’s face twisted into an even uglier sneer. Lillian just rolled her eyes. “An eye for an eye. It’s only fair.” Mia was breathing heavily, staring at Liam with a blank expression. After a long moment, she raised her hand. “I vote for Liam.” Liam, still kneeling, trembled. He looked at Lillian and Mia with a last shred of hope. “I can help you, I can protect you…” But Lillian just scoffed. “I don’t need any teammates.” One by one, the others pointed at Liam. His eyes went vacant as he muttered, “I’m sorry.” I followed the majority and voted for him too. Only Skylar, her jaw tight, pointed stubbornly at Mia. The countdown ended. Liam’s pupils dilated abruptly. Thin trickles of blood began to seep from his eyes and nostrils. He fell backward and didn’t move again. The comment about breaking up couples appeared, then vanished. This time, everyone was much calmer. The voting was over, and the click of the unlocking door echoed through the room. People began to file out. I let out a slow breath. Tonight, the owner of the ‘kill everyone’ comment would strike. I took a roundabout path, making sure no one was following me, before slipping back into the equipment room and locking the door. I had a pretty good idea who tonight’s victim would be. Either Skylar, who had made herself a public enemy, or… The lone wolf, Lillian. Her last sentence had given her away. I don’t need any teammates. Combined with the fact that she was a girl, I was almost certain she was the ‘lone leading lady.’ She was forced to be alone, making her the easiest target. If I were the Wolf, I’d go after Lillian tonight as a warm-up. I lay on the yoga mat, clutching a small dumbbell, staying alert for half the night before exhaustion finally took over.

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The shoes Guillermo gave me for my birthday were the wrong size. I was silent for a long moment before I finally asked for a divorce. He was bewildered. “Over something so small?” “Getting me size 7s when I’m a 6 is a small thing,” I said, my voice flat. “Forgetting our anniversary is also a small thing.” “Losing your wedding ring, another small thing.” “And you having lunch with your college crush while I was in surgery… I suppose that’s a small thing, too.” I pushed the shoe box back into his hands. “Tell me, Guillermo. What exactly counts as a big deal to you?” My voice was quiet, but it cut through the air between us. “Let’s get a divorce. Please make some time to go to the courthouse this week.” Guillermo rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed, the picture of weary patience. “Honey, don’t be like this.” We’d thrown the word ‘divorce’ around in arguments more times than I could count over the years. He assumed this time was like all the others—a lot of thunder, but no rain. He didn’t realize the storm had finally broken until I placed the signed separation agreement on the table in front of him. 1 Guillermo and I had been married for seven years. In those seven years, he’d climbed his way up from nothing, a scrappy entrepreneur who fought through countless setbacks to become the tech wunderkind he was today. Everyone envied me for snagging such a promising stock. And by all traditional measures, Guillermo was a good husband. He always told me where he was going, and even after making his fortune, his name was never linked to a single scandal. Logically, I should have been content. Isn’t that what they say online? A rich husband who’s never home is the dream. I tried to tell myself that for a long time. Until I had to be hospitalized recently. It wasn’t anything major, just a small surgery to remove a nasal polyp. But it was my first time going under, and anxiety had been chewing at me for days. Guillermo was swamped with work, and as I tried to explain my fears, his patience wore thin. “It’s a minor procedure, Olivia. Don’t be so dramatic.” His words froze me. Of course, I knew it was a minor procedure. But I’m just a normal person, and normal people have an instinctual fear of the unknown. All I wanted was a little reassurance from him. He must have realized he’d gone too far, because he apologized immediately. “I’m sorry, babe. I’ll be there with you tomorrow. I promise.” But in the end, he broke that promise. He wasn’t there when I woke up from the anesthesia. He never came. Instead, his assistant showed up with a bouquet of flowers and an awkward smile. “Mrs. Anderson, there was an emergency meeting. Guillermo had to fly to London.” I glanced at my phone. The screen was dark, empty. Not a single text. I couldn’t pinpoint when he’d become so stingy with his affection that even a simple message was too much to ask for. I forced a bitter smile. “Okay. I understand.” Guillermo knew better than anyone that in this city, he was the only person I had to rely on. After the anesthesia wore off, a throbbing pain pulsed through my sinuses. I wanted to scream, to sob, but all I could do was bury my face in my pillow and choke back quiet tears. I didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but when I finally looked up, a figure in a white coat materialized in the doorway, hands shoved casually into his pockets. My vision was blurry with tears. It was a doctor. “Do you need anything?” he asked, his voice calm and gentle. I blinked, my mind slowly clearing. As his face came into focus, a jolt went through me. It was a face I never expected to see again. A thousand memories flashed through my mind, and a hot blush crept up my neck. “No, I’m fine. Thank you,” I stammered. He watched me for a long moment, a hint of something unreadable in his eyes, before sighing softly and walking closer. “Then why are you crying?” I pointed a shaky finger to my nose. “It hurts.” I had imagined running into Ethan Cole again a million times, but never like this—a pathetic, tear-stained mess in a hospital gown. He drew a small penlight from his pocket and clicked it on. “Tilt your head up. Let me take a look.” Numbly, I obeyed, letting him conduct his examination. “It looks fine,” he said, his voice reassuring. “I’ll get you some painkillers. Take one if it gets really bad.” He paused, his gaze softening just a fraction. “And try not to cry into your pillow. It’s not good for the healing process. If you need anything, just call. I’m on duty tonight.” I was completely stunned. All I could manage was a weak nod. My mind was racing. When had Ethan moved back from abroad? If I had known he was working at this hospital, I would have gone anywhere else. Thankfully, he was considerate enough to leave after the check-up, giving me space to process. 2 I was in the hospital for three days. For three days, it was as if Guillermo had vanished from the face of the earth. The next time I saw any news of him, it was on a trending topic on Instagram. A rising starlet named Alana had posted a photo that set the internet on fire. Her caption was playful: Finally got to have that dinner with my old college mentor! followed by a cutesy, tongue-out emoji. In the photo, a man’s wrist was clearly visible. On his hand was a ring—the one I had custom-made for him. The comments section exploded with well-wishes. Alana had already gained a legion of fans after her private account was leaked. Everyone knew the story: the glamorous actress was secretly just a shy girl, hopelessly in love with an upperclassman from her past. Her private feed was a shrine to him, filled with poetic entries detailing her unrequited love through high school and college. Even her username, @ChasingTheAura, was a nod to him. The story had been dormant for years, ever since her private account went public. Now, with this new post, the unrequited love story had a sequel. The internet crowned it the most epic crush of all time. Her fans, never ones to miss an opportunity, egged her on. 【OMG GIRL, GO FOR IT!】 【Get together! Get together!】 【Alana, follow your heart!】 【Did she finally get her man?!】 The post trended all day. It didn’t take long for sharp-eyed netizens to notice the wedding band on the man’s ring finger. A married mentor and the innocent starlet. The story was too juicy to ignore. The speculation intensified as more details were dug up. The ring’s unique design had only been seen on one person: Guillermo Anderson, the celebrated new genius of the tech world. Soon, Guillermo’s bio was all over the web, and he and Alana were trending together. The scandal was so big that the topic was forcibly scrubbed from the trending list. And through it all, Guillermo—the man at the center of the storm—offered no explanation. I stared at the circus on my phone, a hollow laugh escaping my lips. Three days passed. No call from him. No text. No explanation. A few nights later, he came home as if nothing had happened. He looked exhausted, his usually perfect hair disheveled. “Babe, I’m so sorry. Things have been insane at work. I haven’t been able to check in.” He didn’t mention the hospital. He didn’t mention the scandal. My eyes fell on his left hand. His ring finger was bare. A surge of cold anger washed over me. “Where’s your ring?” He instinctively glanced at his hand, his voice suddenly strained. “I… I lost it.” Lost it? Or got rid of it? Only he knew the truth. The rush of emotion made my sinuses ache. I massaged the bridge of my nose, too tired to fight. We’d had this same argument, or variations of it, for years. I was done. As I turned to leave, Guillermo grabbed my arm. “The stuff online… I can explain.” “Liv,” he said, his voice earnest. “Alana is just… we knew each other in college. We were both in London at the same time, so we had dinner. That’s it.” “Nothing happened between us. I swear.” A cynical smile touched my lips. “Then why not just say that? One press release would have cleared it up. Why kill the story and let the rumors run wild?” He sighed heavily. “Alana’s career is just taking off. I couldn’t risk ruining it for her.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “She’s the one who created this mess, isn’t she? If her career gets ruined, she has no one to blame but herself. And besides, how would a simple clarification destroy her career? That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard.” “Liv, don’t be so cruel.” I couldn’t believe those words came from the man I’d been married to for seven years. For the first time in a long time, I completely lost control. “Cruel?” I yelled, my voice shaking with rage. “You want to talk about cruel? My husband disappears while I’m in the hospital having surgery, only to pop up in London having a cozy dinner with his little admirer, and you have the nerve to call me cruel? You’re disgusting, Guillermo.” I ripped my arm from his grasp. “Get out. I’m done with you.” I had become so numb over the years, so emotionally stable. This raw, screaming version of myself felt like a stranger. A deep sadness settled in my chest. When had we become this? A flash of panic crossed Guillermo’s face. He pulled me into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry.” I pried his fingers off me, one by one. My voice was chillingly calm. “I think we both need some space to cool off.” The ugly, contorted face I had just seen in his eyes was one I never wanted to see again. 3 Following the fight, Guillermo and I entered a deep freeze. We didn’t speak for nearly a month. It was his mother who finally noticed something was wrong. She arranged a dinner party, using my upcoming birthday as an excuse to get us in the same room. Guillermo was running late, as usual, so his mother and I sat in the living room alone. “Olivia, you and Guillermo have been through so much together, from the very beginning,” she said gently. “I know he’s neglected you these past few years while building his company, and I know that’s been hard on you. But I want you to know, that boy has always been stubborn. He’s not good with words, and he never explains himself when there’s a misunderstanding. But, Olivia, he truly has you in his heart.” Guillermo’s mother was one of those rare, perfect mothers-in-law. She respected boundaries. In all our years of marriage, she never once made a single demand of me. Her philosophy was that a marriage belongs to the couple, and outsiders should stay out. She lived by it. For her to be playing peacemaker now meant that Guillermo must have gone to her for help. Her concern felt genuine, so I decided to be honest. “But, Mom,” I began, my voice quiet, “I got married because I wanted a home. A place where we could eat our terrible home-cooked meals together, read useless books on the couch together, wander aimlessly on weekends together. A place where we could live out all our ordinary, boring days… together.” My voice cracked. “But what do I have now? I eat alone. I get sick alone. I lie in a hospital bed alone. When I have good news to share, or when I need a shoulder to cry on, he’s never there. What’s the point of a marriage like that?” I’d asked myself that question a thousand times. What was the point? Friends told me to hold on tight to Guillermo, this rising star. They said he was headed for greatness, and my status would rise with him. That our future children would have a head start in life that others could only dream of. “So what if he cheats on me one day?” I asked them. “Am I supposed to just close my eyes and forgive him?” They’d fall silent, stammering about how marriage eventually becomes about companionship, not passion. But they forgot one thing: I had a perfectly good career of my own. I didn’t need to cling to his tree to survive. All I ever wanted was a home. And now I knew, with painful certainty, that he couldn’t give me one. I didn’t need to console myself with platitudes about companionship when my husband’s heart had already moved on. When the love is gone, it’s gone. Why disguise it as something else? Guillermo’s mother was quiet for a long time. Finally, she patted my hand. “My dear child, you’ve been through too much.” Her words were the final crack in my dam. Tears welled in my eyes. Yes, I felt sorry for myself. How had I let my life become this empty? The family dinner was supposed to start at six-thirty, but with Guillermo’s absence, it was postponed indefinitely. At eight, Guillermo’s father finally declared, “We’re not waiting for him any longer. Let’s eat.” The housekeeper reheated the dishes, offering me a placating smile as she noticed my somber expression. “Good things come to those who wait,” she chirped. At eight-thirty, Guillermo finally arrived. He sounded genuinely apologetic. “Sorry, everyone. A last-minute meeting came up.” I smiled, a sharp, humorless thing. “See, Mom, Dad? Everything else always comes before us.” Guillermo always had another meeting, another conference call. He was never on time for a family gathering. Not even for my birthday. He walked over, holding a gift bag. “Honey, I’m so sorry I’m late. Happy birthday.” He handed it to me. “Look, they just came in. It’s that pair of heels you love.” I had mentioned loving those shoes months ago. They weren’t available in the States, and every time he traveled abroad, I’d asked him to look for them. He never had. With his parents watching, I had no choice but to take the box, forcing a tight smile. The packaging was exquisite. Tucked inside was a handwritten card. Dear Olivia, May you be happy every day. I glanced at the card, then back at him, my smile turning into a smirk. “Who’s Olivia?” I shoved the card back into his hand. “Give this to your Olivia.” Without another word, I turned and walked out of the dining room. From the hallway, I could hear his parents’ hushed voices. “Guillermo, work is endless. You need to make time for Olivia.” Guillermo’s low voice replied, “I know. Once the company goes public, I’ll…” I didn’t bother listening to the rest. This villa was one Guillermo had bought for his parents after he made his first fortune. I rarely visited, and tonight was the first time I’d really taken in the backyard garden. I sat on the swing, staring blankly at the rows of blooming roses. My phone buzzed. A link from a friend I hadn’t spoken to in years. It was a post from an entertainment blogger. Her text came with a single, cutting remark. “Looks like someone else didn’t get their fairy-tale ending after all.” She used to be my best friend. I ignored her and clicked the link. The blogger’s post was pure speculation, written with breathless excitement: “AuraTech’s new drone is being endorsed by Alana! Has anyone considered that Alana might actually be the CEO’s wife? Maybe her Instagram post was a secret announcement!” Attached was a paparazzi photo of Alana sitting in a car outside the AuraTech headquarters, sunglasses on, laughing brightly at the man in the driver’s seat. The top comment read: 【I SHIP IT! Put me down for a $200 wedding gift, and put it on Guillermo Anderson’s tab!】 I liked the comment, then closed the app. When I turned, Guillermo was standing right behind me. His face was pale, but his eyes were dark and intense. “Liv, are you really just going to ignore me?” he asked, his voice low. “Can you give me ten minutes? I can explain everything.” I looked up at him. “Fine. I’m listening.” “I asked Alana to buy the shoes for me,” he said, the words rushing out. “She was flying back today, so I had her pick them up. The salesclerk must have thought they were for her and wrote that card.” A small, incredulous laugh escaped my lips. “And what’s the explanation for the size 7s? Don’t tell me our great CEO doesn’t even know his own wife’s shoe size.” He looked like a child caught in a lie. “I’m sorry.” I stared at him for a long, silent moment. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said again, the words feeling more real, more solid this time. 4 Guillermo looked at me, his face a mask of disbelief. “Over something so small?” he repeated, his voice strained. I reached out and plucked a single, perfect rose from the bush beside the swing. It had a faint, sweet scent. My sense of smell had been dull for years, a side effect of the polyps, but since the surgery, it was slowly returning. Which meant I could now clearly smell the subtle, expensive perfume clinging to his shirt. And I never wear perfume. I stated the facts calmly, one by one. “Getting my shoe size wrong is a small thing.” “Forgetting our anniversary is a small thing.” “Losing your wedding ring is a small thing.” “Disappearing to have a date with your old crush while I was having surgery… that is also a small thing.” My gaze flickered to the shoe box I’d discarded on the grass. “Tell me, Guillermo. In your world, what counts as a big deal?” “Let’s get a divorce. Please make time this week to go to the courthouse.”

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Before the system erased me, I ordered five male models. If I was going to die, I was going to die with dignity. Then the man I’d been chasing my whole life burst into the hotel room with a dozen of his squad members. “Vice raid! You’re all under arrest!” he barked, his eyes burning into mine. “The woman stays. For a… private… interrogation.” And in the chaos, I heard his voice echo in my mind, a voice no one else could hear: 【My wife is misbehaving. She needs to be punished.】 1 My system is called “Touch Julian or Die.” Basically, how long I live is directly proportional to how much I can touch him. A simple touch: +1 day. Holding hands: +5 days. A hug: +10 days. A kiss: +30 days. And, well, you know… +50 days. Insane, right? There’s no cure. It’s just that insane. Luckily, there’s a real condition called “skin hunger” that’s been the perfect cover story for my little systemic curse. I can ignore the judgmental stares from other people, but the one thing I can’t fix is the fact that Julian King doesn’t like me. When we were kids, it was easy. Hugs, kisses, being carried around—it was all perfectly normal. But the moment puberty hit, Julian started avoiding me. No touching, no getting close. He even got a girlfriend just to keep me at bay. The system was already forcing me to live without boundaries; I couldn’t bring myself to be immoral, too. So, without my daily dose of Julian, my life’s clock began its final countdown. And today, August 15th, on my twenty-second birthday, it’s about to hit zero. “Time remaining: five hours, seven minutes, and thirty-nine seconds.” It’s 6:53 PM. That means when the clock strikes midnight, my heart will just… stop. My body will be discovered the next day. Cause of death: sudden cardiac arrest. The system’s planned exit for me was so… boring. So, for my grand finale, I booked the presidential suite and ordered five male models. “SHOCKER: Popular Food Blogger Dies Suddenly in Hotel After Wild Night with Multiple Male Models!” Now that has a ring to it. If you’re going to go, go out with a bang. “System,” I whispered, “please let me die painlessly at the peak of my happiness. Thank you.” The system remained silent. 2 Let me tell you, pretty-boy models are worth every penny. Six-packs, broad shoulders, long legs—the works. They surrounded me, pouring drinks, dancing, and calling me “beautiful” until my head was spinning with delight. Any one of them was better than Julian, who only ever called me “Ivy” in that cold, flat tone, telling me not to waste my time on him. “You’re drifting off, beautiful. Am I not keeping you entertained?” The handsomest of the five leaned in close, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and pulling me into his solid chest. Over the thumping bass of the music, he whispered right next to my ear, his voice laced with a smile. “Why don’t you send the others away? Let it be just me and you, huh?” I melted back into his embrace and smirked. “Why do you think I ordered five, sweetheart? I have a big appetite.” “What if I can handle it?” he chuckled, his voice a low rumble against my back. “I think I’ve got what it takes to earn all five paychecks myself. What do you say, beautiful? Give me a shot?” Thank God for the alcohol, or my blush would have been a dead giveaway. I was a complete novice at this. The only person I’d ever chased was Julian, and the furthest I’d ever gotten was stealing a quick peck on the cheek. This was the boldest thing I’d ever done. And of course, I run into a guy this hot and this smooth. Honey, if I wasn’t scheduled to kick the bucket tomorrow, I’d take you home and keep you forever. BANG! BANG! BANG! Someone was pounding on the door, the sound barely audible over the music. I froze. Did we get a noise complaint? I tried to move, but the arms around my waist didn’t budge. I patted his hand. “Let go. It’s probably the neighbors.” “Nope,” he murmured, resting his chin on my shoulder and nuzzling against my neck. “What if they’re mean? I have to protect you.” Wow. This kid must really need the money. 3 The pounding grew more frantic. Not wanting to cause a scene, I let him hold onto me as I stumbled toward the door. I opened it just a crack, peering out to see what the fuss was about. My eyes met a familiar face, and my blood ran cold. Julian? Oh, hell no. My body went rigid. My first instinct was to slam the door and pretend nothing ever happened, but Julian was faster. He wedged his foot in the opening, blocking my escape. He lifted his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine. He looked like he was interrogating a criminal. “What… what do you want?” I stammered. Julian’s eyes narrowed, his gaze dropping to the arm wrapped around my waist. His expression darkened instantly. “Well, Ivy. Looks like you’re having a real party.” My face burned with embarrassment. But then I remembered I was about to die anyway. What did it matter? I lifted my chin defiantly. “What’s it to you? I told you, if you don’t want me, there are plenty of guys who do. I’ve got four more in here, you know!” “Good. That’s just great.” A slow, chilling smile spread across Julian’s face. It was a handsome smile, but the storm brewing in his dark eyes terrified me. Then, he lifted his left hand and crooked a finger. “Vice raid! Nobody move!” Oh, right. I forgot to mention. Julian’s day job? He’s the captain of the city’s vice squad. 4 “Take all the men into custody!” The words were clipped, laced with a fury that was barely contained. Before I could react, a dozen officers swarmed past him, slamming the door wide open and storming into the room. “Hands on your head! Get on the ground, now!” The four other models, all shirtless and in the middle of a beer-fueled dance party, froze in shock. They dropped their bottles and scrambled to the floor, hands clasped behind their heads. Julian’s gaze shifted to the man still holding me, his voice dropping another ten degrees. “You too.” “Hey, what’s the big idea, officer?” the model—my model—said, tightening his grip on me. He didn’t let go. “I finally get the girl of my dreams, and I invite my buddies over to celebrate. Is that a crime?” He actually had the nerve to sound indignant. “In fact, you guys are the ones barging into our private room without a warrant. I think I have grounds for a complaint here.” I sucked in a sharp breath. Was this kid drunk? What was he saying? Julian’s face grew even darker. He stared at me, his eyes burning with an intensity I knew all too well. This was him at his absolute limit. “Ivy,” he said again, his voice dangerously low. I opened my mouth to speak, but the arm around my waist squeezed tighter. My model leaned in, pretending to nuzzle me, and whispered against my ear. “Play along unless you want to spend the night in a holding cell.” “Uh, right!” I blurted out, catching on. “We just… we just got together! We’re celebrating! Is that illegal?” 5 To my surprise, Julian let out a dark, wicked laugh. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and shoved it in my face. “This is your idea of a celebration?” On the screen was the social media post I’d made a few hours earlier. The caption read: “Who knows the joy of spending money! I’m gonna die in the arms of male models tonight!” The picture was of me, surrounded by the five models, laughing hysterically. My stomach dropped. But that’s impossible. I’d set that post to private, only visible to a specific friend group. Who would have screenshotted it and sent it to Julian? “And for the record,” Julian sneered at my model, “we received an official complaint from the hotel. So go ahead and file your complaint. Be my guest.” He took a step forward, yanked me out of the model’s arms, and surveyed the chaotic, party-strewn room. Up close, I could feel the rage radiating off him. “Get dressed. You’re all coming with me.” The models grumbled as they put on their shirts, shooting me resentful looks. I stared mournfully at their disappearing abs. My model was the last one to get dressed. As I tried to sneak one last, longing glance, a hand covered my eyes. Ding! Life value +10 days. A warm, solid chest pressed against my back. Julian’s unique scent filled my senses, and for a moment, all I could hear was the frantic thumping of my own heart. “Sir, we have everyone. That just leaves…” an officer started to say, his voice trailing off. Leaves what? Me? “The woman stays with me,” Julian’s voice was a low growl, each word deliberate. “For a… private… interrogation.” He said it with such venom, you’d think he wanted to tear me apart. If I didn’t know for a fact that he despised me, I might have even thought he was jealous. 6 I thought he was taking me to the station. He didn’t. Julian sent his team ahead with the five models to start the paperwork. Once we were alone, he released his grip on me and kicked the hotel room door shut with a loud SLAM that made me flinch. I shrank back. “Aren’t… aren’t we leaving?” He shot me a glare, saying nothing as he shrugged off his uniform jacket and tugged at the collar of his shirt. In the dim hotel lighting, I could see the fury simmering in his dark eyes. He stalked toward me, backing me up against the wall until I had nowhere to go. He planted his hands on either side of my head, trapping me. “Ivy,” he began, his voice a low growl. “Wasn’t it you who said you loved me so much you couldn’t live without me? That I was the only one for you, forever?” “Is this what you call love?” For some reason, I heard a flicker of… hurt in his voice. But what right did he have to be hurt? I was the one who should be upset! Do you have any idea how much this room cost? How much the appearance fee for five models is? I was on the verge of death! Couldn’t I have a little fun before I went? “Ivy! Answer me!” he roared. His shout unleashed all the pent-up frustration and grief inside me. Tears welled in my eyes. “Yes! This is my love! What’s wrong with it? Fine, I’ll stop chasing you, is that what you want?!” “You think I’m annoying, right? Shameless? Well, I won’t bother you anymore, okay?” “You want to arrest me? Interrogate me? Go ahead! There’s nothing to interrogate. I’ll tell you right now, yes, I hired all five of them. Because tonight, Ivy Jones was going to—” A hand suddenly cupped the back of my head, and a pair of warm lips crashed down on mine, silencing my tirade. My eyes flew open in shock. A mechanical voice echoed in my head: Ding! Life value +30 days. In the next moment, Julian pushed me onto the sofa, pinning me with one hand while the other started unbuttoning his shirt. And then, clear as day, I heard his voice in my mind: 【My wife is misbehaving. She needs to be punished.】 【She needs a little reminder.】 7 I was stunned. I blinked, completely bewildered. Julian was kissing me, so where was that voice coming from? “Ouch.” A sharp pain on my lip made me wince. I tried to push him away, but he caught my hands, guiding them down his chest, past the now-unbuttoned shirt— My heart leaped into my throat. My palm came to rest on his hard, chiseled abdomen. My eyes widened. My brain short-circuited. And then I heard it again, that clear, internal voice: 【Fine. Liking to touch me is still a form of liking me. I’ll take it. I won’t hold it against her.】 【If I keep being so stubborn, I’m going to lose her for good.】 【These abs I’ve been working on for two years have to be good, right? Better than those pretty boys’, at least. She’ll like them, won’t she?】 Just as suddenly, Julian pulled back. His expression was still cold, but his lips parted. “You like abs, don’t you? Touch them all you want.” Honestly, under normal circumstances, that comment would have infuriated me. What did he take me for? Did he think I’d just touch anyone? But the voices I’d just heard left me no room for anger. What was that? Was I hearing… Julian’s thoughts? “Ju-Julian, why did you… why did you ki—” My head was buzzing. I just wanted to understand what was happening. But a sharp knock on the door cut me off. A hushed voice came from the other side. “Captain King… call from upstairs. They’re saying it was a misunderstanding. We have to let them go.” The color drained from Julian’s face. He looked down at me, his eyes dark and deep. “Well, well, Ivy. Looks like one of your little boy toys has some serious connections.” Boy toys? They were professional models, thank you very much! 8 Julian let go of me. He stood there silently, his expression grim, and slowly began re-buttoning his shirt with his long, elegant fingers. I sat on the sofa in a daze, his anxious inner monologue still rattling in my head: 【He’s not some rich heir, is he?】 【If he is, my job doesn’t look so impressive anymore, does it?】 What was he even thinking about? I ran a hand through my hair, wishing I could ask my system what was going on. But my system was purely functional. It tracked my life value and nothing else. No chat feature. It was usually just me talking at it out of boredom. Julian opened the door. Leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed, was the model from before—the handsome one. He raised an eyebrow at Julian. “Take care, officer~” Almost instantly, Julian’s head snapped back toward me. “Ivy. You’re coming back to the station with me.” Before I could even react, the model chuckled. “Didn’t they just confirm it was a misunderstanding? What’s this, officer? Abuse of power? On what grounds?” He took a step forward, standing toe-to-toe with Julian. At six-foot-one, Julian was tall, but this kid was easily his match. They faced off, the animosity between them palpable. The air grew thick with tension. After a few silent, charged seconds, Julian suddenly smirked. A few strands of dark hair fell across his forehead as he cocked his head in a challenge. “On the grounds that she doesn’t want her parents to find out about this.” “I’m taking her with me. You got a problem with that?” At the same time, his inner voice screamed: 【Die, pretty boy! My wife and I have history. Who the hell are you?】 9 When it came to my parents, Julian had me cornered. My family situation was… complicated. My mother passed away when I was young. The woman in my house now is my stepmother, who has her own son. Our relationship is best described as a fragile, unspoken truce. My father, thanks to a leg up from my maternal grandfather, had become a powerful politician. His life revolved around networking and appearances. His entire world was built on reputation. He showed his affection for me primarily through a generous allowance, but his expectations were rigid: I could live my life, as long as I never, ever embarrassed him. My decision to become a food blogger instead of taking a cushy government job after graduation had sent him into a rage. Just yesterday, he’d finally kicked me out of the house. His parting words were, “Let’s just see how far you get without this family’s name and money.” The problem was, I was a fresh graduate. I hadn’t made any real money yet. The suite and the five models had cost me every penny I had to my name. What was meant to be a final, glorious celebration had just become the prelude to my life on the streets. If my father found out I’d hired five male models… I wouldn’t need the system to kill me. He’d do it himself. So, faced with Julian’s “dad” card, I had no choice but to surrender. “Let’s go.” 10 I never would have guessed the model—the kid—drove a heavy-duty motorcycle. How could someone who supposedly needed money so badly afford such an expensive bike? “Come on, beautiful. I’ll give you a ride to the station.” The kid, now dressed in a cool black utility jacket, handed me a helmet with a sweet, boyish grin. “Consider it part of the service you paid for.” Ugh, if I could, I’d ask for a partial refund. Julian was in the hotel lobby, speaking with the manager. He glanced over at us, and his face immediately hardened. He strode toward me. “Ivy, wait for me in the car.” “No need to trouble you, officer,” the kid said, snapping his helmet on and giving Julian a jaun. “I’ll deliver her personally.” With that, he wrapped his arms around my waist, lifted me onto the back of the bike, and swung his leg over. The engine roared to life, and before I could even process what was happening, we shot forward like a bullet. I screamed, instinctively wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. The wind whipped past my ears. I could smell the faint, familiar scent of tobacco on his jacket. His voice was muffled by the helmet, but I heard him shout against the wind. “My name’s Leo, by the way!” “Remember it!” 11 At the station. Julian, who had arrived shortly after me, was still radiating icy fury as he dragged me inside. Leo, clever as he was, had managed to get my number and add me on social media just before Julian’s car pulled up, then sped off into the night. Leaving me to face the music, feeling utterly miserable. The officer at the front desk saw us and gave me a once-over, clearly assuming I was some kind of streetwalker Julian had arrested. He tutted. “Such a pretty girl. Why throw your life away like this? Young women these days, think they can use their looks to make a quick buck. You’ll regret it one day.” I was about to argue, but Julian beat me to it, tapping the officer on the head. “Watch your mouth.” “She’s with me.” He said it so casually, but my heart skipped a beat. My mind flashed back to the kiss in the hotel room. Right. I still hadn’t asked him about that. “Oh, with you~~” The officer’s expression immediately shifted to one of pure gossip. He opened his mouth to ask me something, but Julian grabbed the hood of my sweatshirt and pulled me toward his desk. “I’m going to change. Wait here.” “Why did you even bring me here? I didn’t do anything illegal.” Just get it over with, whatever it is. My hotel room was paid for until noon tomorrow. I wanted to go back and get some sleep. “Who says you didn’t?” Julian snorted, a strange look on his face. “We’ll settle this at home.” Huh? At home? Before I could ask, he disappeared into a back room. The gossipy officer immediately sidled up to me. “So, miss, you and Captain King… how far have you two gone, hehe?” 12 To the kissing stage. But without a title, without any explanation. In fact, it was textbook bad-boy behavior. If it weren’t for those inner thoughts that had piqued my curiosity, I’d probably want to punch him. I quickly shook my head. “No, no, it’s not like that. We’re just childhood friends. I’m not his girlfriend…” Then a thought struck me. “He’s been with his girlfriend for two or three years now, right? Hasn’t he introduced you guys?” I asked it casually, but my question seemed to hit the pause button on the entire office. Everyone stared at me. Then, a younger officer waved his hand dismissively, a “what are you talking about” look on his face. “You’ve got to be kidding!” he laughed. “Captain King is the most eligible bachelor in this entire precinct.” “I went to the police academy with him and we’ve worked together ever since. I have never once seen him with a girlfriend.” “Two or three years? Where did you hear that?” I was dumbfounded. Was I crazy, or were they? How could Julian not have a girlfriend? 13 Before I could press further, Julian emerged, changed into civilian clothes. Damn him. He was the one who had captivated me all those years ago for a reason. Even in a simple gray hoodie and sweatpants, he looked effortlessly handsome. He said his goodbyes to his colleagues, a slight, roguish smile playing on his lips. Then he walked over to me and jerked his chin toward the door. “Let’s go. Home.” I blinked. “Whose home?” “Mine.” Seeing my bewildered expression, he explained, “My housekeeper is on leave visiting her grandkids. I need a new one.” He looked me up and down. “Besides, do you have anywhere else to go?” I rolled my eyes. “Excuse me, I’m a food blogger, not a housekeeper.” Julian smirked. “Right. A food blogger with nowhere to go but a hotel room.” Hmph! Ivy Jones would rather starve on the streets, freeze to death outside, than… Julian added quietly, “If you don’t come, I’ll just screenshot that social media post of you and your five models and send it to your father.” At the mention of my dad, all my fight drained away. I slumped my shoulders and trudged after him. Suddenly, I heard a faint 【Yes!】 in my head. I snapped my head up, staring at Julian’s back, and then I heard it again: 【Finally got my wife home.】 【Her dad is still useful for something.】 【Although, thinking about her dad… ugh, this is going to be a long road. I have to win over both the wife and the father-in-law.】 If I couldn’t tell something was seriously up by now, I’d have to be an idiot. 14 Julian’s family hadn’t been well-off when we were kids. His parents were low-level civil servants who lived in the apartment below mine, a perk of their government jobs. My father, a notorious snob, never gave them the time of day, always maintaining an air of superiority. So, it wasn’t just me who was scared of my dad; Julian was too. I was used to it. But because my mom was gone, my dad favored my stepbrother, and my stepmom specialized in passive-aggressive remarks, I always felt like an outsider in my own home. I spent most of my time at Julian’s, eating his mom’s cooking and, because I was younger, shamelessly begging for hugs and piggyback rides. Most of my life value was accumulated during those years. We were the epitome of childhood sweethearts. Until I turned eighteen. That year, two major things happened. First, Julian’s parents quit their jobs and went into business for themselves. They moved away. Second, just before he transferred schools, Julian suddenly got a girlfriend: the most popular girl in school, Cici Chen. We didn’t lose touch completely. I’d occasionally see updates from his mom on social media. But we grew distant. I knew from his mom that his dad’s business was booming, and their financial situation had changed dramatically in just a few years. Julian later got into the police academy, which meant four years of a completely regimented, cloistered life. After graduating, his talent and a bit of family influence helped him climb the ranks quickly. He made captain in just a year and a half. But he never posted anything online, so I had no idea what happened between him and Cici. Julian was a serious, steady guy; he wouldn’t break up with someone lightly. I just assumed they were still together. But now… his colleagues were saying he didn’t have a girlfriend? 15 “Julian, back at the hotel… why did you kiss me?” I’m not one to bottle things up. If I have a question, I ask it. He was driving, and he didn’t even glance at me. His expression was impossibly calm. But then, I heard the chaos in his mind: 【Because I’m in love with you, you idiot!】 【I waited all this time for you to graduate, and the first thing you do is go find a bunch of escorts?】 【And you said all those things just to piss me off!】 My heart hammered against my ribs. I clutched my phone, my breathing shallow. Did I hear that right? Julian… loves me? This jerk actually loves me?! He was the one who started pushing me away when he was fifteen, always telling me to stay away, not to touch him. Sometimes he’d get so angry he’d snap, “Ivy, have you no shame?” and storm off. I confessed to him when I was sixteen and chased him for two years, and all he did was reject me with a weary look, telling me to think about whether I really liked him. And what was the result of all my thinking? He got a girlfriend! That wasn’t him telling me to think; that was him telling me he wasn’t interested. After his family moved, we went to different universities. I understood the police academy was strict, but there were holidays, right? Times he could use his phone? He never once—not once—contacted me. And he calls that love? “You have deviated from the route. Rerouting…” Julian irritably swiped the navigation app away, tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, and said, staring straight ahead, “You talk too much, Ivy.” If it weren’t for the way his hands tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from the force, I might have actually believed him. Sure, I talk too much. Or maybe you just can’t come up with a good lie.

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