Author: Momo Chan

Barry was the boyfriend I conned into loving me. He was deaf. My favorite thing was to take off his hearing aid when we were tangled in the sheets and whisper wicked things in his ear. Then I found out he was Barry Seret, heir to the Seret empire. So the night we broke up, things got ugly. With eyes rimmed in red, Barry told me to get out. So I did. I didn’t dare set foot in New York again until three years later, when the news of his engagement broke. I thought I could slip in unnoticed. But Barry, with a face as calm and cold as a frozen lake, turned around and tied me up with his belt. “Where do you think you’re running this time?” he murmured. “My… fiancée.” 1 I kept my head down, pretending to adjust my camera, but my palm was slick with sweat. I never thought I’d run into Barry this soon. “Mr. Seret, don’t let her age fool you. Linda here has been raking in international photography awards for years,” Rebecca, my editor, said, patting my shoulder with a playful grin. “I had to pay a small fortune to poach her from L.A.” “I guarantee you won’t regret giving us the exclusive for your first cover shoot.” Barry’s gaze swept over me, as placid and undisturbed as still water. “Is that so?” “Well then, I’m in your hands, Ms. Shen.” It was the most formal, impersonal pleasantry. I lowered my voice, trying to make it sound deeper, less like the girl I used to be. “Of course, Mr. Seret.” He gave a slight nod, his eyes holding no flicker of recognition, before looking away. I let my eyelids fall, my lashes trembling. He didn’t recognize me. Then again, I had changed my last name. With a mask covering half my face and my current style, no one would ever connect me to the vibrant, wild Linda Reed of the past. The entire shoot, Barry was a professional. With the slightest direction, he gave me the perfect angle. Whispers erupted from the crew behind me. “God, Mr. Seret’s body is insane. I am looking respectfully.” “Okay, I see why Rebecca paid top dollar for this Linda girl. Her understanding of the human form is incredible. The angles, the poses… I can feel the raw power under his shirt just from looking at the monitor.” My mind drifted. I remembered a boy, his neck flushed red, completely naked. Even though I’d drawn him countless times, he was still impossibly shy. Well, for the first half, at least. Somehow, our life drawing sessions always ended up migrating to a different location. The bedroom, the sofa, the bathtub, the floor-to-ceiling windows. I’d always end up more exhausted than if I’d sketched ten different models. “Barry, it’s always like this!” I’d kick at him, exasperated. “I’m never drawing you again! I’m going to find a new model! One with an eight-pack!” He’d catch my ankle, his grip firm but gentle, saying nothing. After a long moment, he would lean down and kiss the corner of my mouth. “Linda, I’m sorry.” I’d pause. Was he actually admitting fault? Was he going to change his ways? The next second, he’d take off his hearing aid. Four boxes of condoms, assorted flavors. I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed for a week. Damn him. And he had the nerve to apologize. So polite. But in the end, we still broke up. That night was a catastrophe. The corners of his eyes were a faint, painful red, his voice ice. “Linda, this is the last time. I don’t do second chances.” I hung my head, my “okay” barely a whisper. He clenched his jaw, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “Fine. Get out.” “And don’t ever let me see you again.” “Or I swear to God, I’ll kill you.” 2 During a break, I slipped back to the equipment room to grab a portrait lens I’d forgotten. Suddenly, a shadow fell over me. A familiar, woody cologne filled the air, wrapping around me. My body went rigid. I turned, forcing a calm I didn’t feel. “Is something wrong, Mr. Seret?” He looked down at me, his gaze the same as it had always been. I held my breath, my fingernails digging into my palms. Don’t lose your cool. “Nothing,” he said, his voice smooth. “Just looking around.” His eyes were dark pools, a faint smile playing on his lips. “But you, Ms. Shen. What are you so nervous about?” I hid my trembling right hand. “The camera is heavy. My hand starts to shake after holding it for so long.” “Is that so?” I lowered my head. “If there’s nothing else, Mr. Seret, I should get back to the set.” I didn’t wait for a reply, just turned to leave. “Ms. Shen,” he called out, stopping me in my tracks. “If someone who betrayed you showed up in your life again, what would you do?” 3 Our breakup had been a disaster, but I wouldn’t call it a betrayal. And knowing Barry, if he had recognized me, he would have exposed me on the spot. He wasn’t capable of this cool, detached act. I took a deep breath and turned slightly, my voice laced with a professional, smiling tone. “Mr. Seret, while I don’t know the history between you and this person, I believe one should always look forward. There’s no need to get bogged down in the minor details of the past.” “Minor details? You’re quite magnanimous, Ms. Shen.” He smirked. “But what if I’m the type to hold a grudge?” “That’s a personal matter, Mr. Seret. I’m just a photographer. I’m afraid I can’t help you with that.” He stared at me, silent. My carefully constructed composure felt like it was about to shatter. After a long moment, he finally smiled. “You’re right. Just a photographer, after all.” 4 The rest of the shoot went smoothly, and we wrapped an hour ahead of schedule. After sending Barry off, I started packing up my gear. My assistant, Chloe, ran over and grabbed my arm, dragging me toward the door. “Linda, come on! It’s an emergency!” “What? What’s going—” The words died in my throat. The platform outside the studio was blanketed in roses. In the center, candles spelled out my name. It was… incredibly cheesy. I had already turned Ryan down three times. I couldn’t believe he was still trying, and this time, he’d opted for a public spectacle of cringe. No one knew that under my mask, my face was breaking out in an angry rash. I have a severe pollen allergy. Thank God for the mask. I tried to turn and leave, but Ryan blocked my path, holding a massive bouquet. “Linda, I really, really like you.” “I’ll be so good to you.” “Please, just say yes.” For a second, I was lost in a memory. I had said those exact words to Barry. 5 My thing for Barry was pure, unadulterated lust. Of all the men I had ever seen, he was the only one who was perfectly, flawlessly my type. He worked as a model at a high-end lounge, but he had this untouchable, almost severe air about him. The hearing aid only amplified his cool, fragile beauty. Later, I found out the Seret family owned that lounge. I was obsessed. I pulled out all the stops. I chased him, lied to him, scammed, conned, and clawed my way into his bed. That night, I leaned close to his ear and whispered a torrent of sweet nothings. “Barry, I like you so, so much.” “Barry, I’ll be so good to you, the best you’ve ever had.” “Barry, please, be with me.” He lifted his head from the crook of my neck, his dark eyes burning into mine. “You really… like me that much?” I was too far gone to analyze the storm of emotions in his eyes. “Yes, really.” His voice was a raw whisper. “Promise me you’ll only ever want me, for the rest of your life, and I’m yours.” At the time, I didn’t think twice about what “the rest of your life” meant. I just tilted my head up and bit his lip. “Okay. Only you.” It was only after we were together that I discovered his cool, restrained act was just that—an act. He was greedier than anyone I’d ever known. I loved to take off his hearing aid when we were lost in each other, whispering filthy things in his ear, screaming his name without abandon, just to watch the rigid control on his face crack, even though he supposedly couldn’t hear me. I was spoiled, with a notoriously short temper. But Barry was endlessly patient. He catered to my every whim, let me get away with everything. He made me believe that “forever” was a real thing. Until, one day, I saw a photo of him with his father. It was a lazy summer afternoon. Barry’s fingers were gently combing through my hair, the warm hum of the hairdryer a comforting buzz. And it hit me. Barry Seret. The Seret family. My world plunged into an icy abyss. 6 The sound of cheering pulled me back to the present. Sometime during my reverie, Ryan had dropped to one knee. “Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!” A crowd was gathering. The chanting grew louder. More and more people were pulling out their phones to record. My skin was crawling with secondhand embarrassment. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my temper in check. “Ryan, I—” A hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. The grip was so tight it hurt. I looked up. His eyes, dark as spilled ink, were a net, ready to swallow me whole. Barry’s voice was sharp, cold. “Linda. We’re going home.” 7 “What’s wrong? Afraid I poisoned it?” Every dish on the table, even the soup, was loaded with chili peppers. I was the one who loved spicy food; Barry’s palate was famously bland. I was stunned, unable to figure out what he was doing. And this apartment—the one we used to share—he’d actually bought it. I stood up. “Thank you for helping me out of that situation today, Mr. Seret. It’s getting late, I should be going.” He looked up at me, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Mr. Seret? You’re quick to draw the line, aren’t you, Linda?” “Now that you’re back, aren’t you going to stay and catch up?” I looked down. “There’s nothing for us to catch up on.” “Nothing?” His jaw tightened, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Right. After all, you could watch me die right in front of you and not even blink.” He stared at me, his face a mask of cold fury, but a vein pulsed in his neck. I met his gaze. “Barry,” I said softly, “we’re adults. Why are you still clinging to the past—” “The past? To you, I’m just the past?” he cut me off, his voice savage. “Linda, you never fucking loved me, did you?” “If you didn’t love me, why did you even bother coming after me in the first place?” He grabbed my wrist, his eyes dark and cold. “Linda, I told you.” “If I ever saw you again, I would kill you.” “You wouldn’t, Barry,” I said, looking up at him. “I know you.” “You know me? What do you know?” he sneered. “That I’m obedient? Innocent? That I’d do whatever you say, that I’m some kind of saint?” He laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “That was all an act, Linda.” “I was just pretending, trying to please you.” “Ruthless, selfish, vengeful—that’s the real me.” I took a deep breath. “Barry, it was my mistake to show up and disturb you,” I said, my voice low. “I’ll resign from the magazine tomorrow. I promise you’ll never—” “Linda.” His face was grim, his words ground out between clenched teeth. “I really want to cut you open and see if you even have a heart.” The pressure on my wrist tightened. He pulled me closer, his breath hot on my skin. His eyes were churning with a raw, desperate desire. I struggled against him. “Barry, let me go!” Everything was a bowstring pulled taut, ready to snap. The next second, his pupils contracted. He abruptly threw my hand away from him, his eyes a storm of emotions. After a long moment, a smirk twisted his lips, a look of pure self-loathing. “Fine. Good for you, Linda.”

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My sister ran a red light, and our car was T-boned by a cement mixer. My right leg, in the passenger seat, was crushed into a pulp. My sister, Jessica, emerged without a scratch. She left me trapped in the wreckage, scrambled out of the car, and immediately started posting on social media. In a car crash. My sister is seriously hurt. What do I do? Why am I so stupid? I wish I could take all her pain. Goodbye, cruel world. In the comments, my parents rushed to console her. Dad: What kind of sister is Vivian? Useless. Don’t be scared, sweetie. Dad is on his way. Mom: Jessie, baby, answer your phone! Don’t worry mommy! This is Vivian’s fate, it has nothing to do with my precious girl. Blood pooled around me, my heart growing as cold as my body. Just before I passed out, my fiancé, Ethan, called. His voice was terrifyingly grim. “Where is Jessica?” 1 “Jessie… help me…” I was pinned inside the mangled car, unable to move. I weakly reached a hand toward my sister, begging for help. But Jessica was standing in a safe spot a few feet away, her face a mask of remorse as she frantically typed on her phone. With every pint of blood I lost, I could feel my life slipping away. A heavy exhaustion washed over me, the crushing pain in my leg dulling into a distant throb. A phone rang from under the seat, jolting me back to consciousness. It was Ethan’s custom ringtone. A spark of hope ignited in my chest. Fighting the urge to sleep, I fumbled around until my fingers closed around my phone. “Ethan, help me… my leg…” “Tell me where you are!” he demanded, his voice strained with panic. I was touched by his urgency. But before I could answer, a wave of metallic-tasting blood surged up my throat. I didn’t want him to worry, so I covered the mouthpiece, forcing the blood back down. As I was about to speak, his voice came through again, laced with venom. “Vivian, now is not the time for your princess tantrums! If something happens to Jessie, I will make you pay with your life!” I froze. He wasn’t worried about me. He was worried about Jessica. I looked at my sister, unharmed and crying for her social media audience. Then I looked down at my own mangled, bloody leg. A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. The pain in my heart was worse than any physical agony. “Southbridge intersection,” I managed to say. On the other end, I heard the squeal of tires. “Vivian,” he threatened, just before hanging up, “you better pray Jessica doesn’t do something stupid.” Tears I didn’t know I had left streamed down my face, soaking my blood-stained clothes. The blood was hot, but my heart felt like it had been plunged into ice water, leaving me shivering. I heard the shouts of passersby. “There’s still someone in the car! Help her! Call 911!” Ethan was the first to arrive. He shoved aside the well-meaning people trying to pry open the crushed door. His eyes landed on my face, which was so caked in blood I was unrecognizable. He frantically pushed the matted hair from my eyes, his voice desperate. “Jessie, it’s okay, I’m here to save you.” I had never seen such raw fear and concern on his face before. I managed a weak, mocking smile as he finally recognized me. “Ethan, it’s just me. Disappointed?” Shock and embarrassment flashed across his face. He frowned, his eyes quickly scanning my broken body. “Vivian, are you okay?” I held back the lump in my throat and laughed. “I’m fine. Just dying.” His expression was complicated. “Don’t talk nonsense. I’ll get you out.” But before he could move, my sister ran over and threw herself into his arms. “Ethan! I was so scared! I almost died!” she wailed. He instantly forgot about me, his face softening with overwhelming concern for Jessica. He stroked her back, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “Shh, Jessie, it’s okay. I’m here now. I won’t let anything hurt you.” 2 Jessica, still sobbing, pulled a small, folded yellow paper charm from her pocket. “It was the protective charm you gave me, Ethan! It saved me! You’re my hero!” She pressed the charm into his hand. “You should keep it. Let it protect you forever.” Ethan smiled, his expression full of adoration. He tapped her nose playfully. “It’s just a worthless piece of junk. You have a good heart, Jessie. That’s why fate wouldn’t let you get hurt.” He casually tossed the charm to the ground. It landed in a puddle of my blood, the ink on the paper smudging and blurring instantly. I stared at that charm. The charm I had gotten for him by making a pilgrimage to a remote mountain monastery, my forehead bruised and raw from kowtowing every few steps, my legs black and blue. I remembered giving it to him, how he’d held me tight and sworn he would cherish it forever, that he would never betray me. But that was before my parents came back from their trip two months ago, bringing Jessica with them. After that, Ethan changed. The vows were forgotten. The charm became a “worthless piece of junk.” He wasn’t disgusted by the charm. He was disgusted by the genuine love I had offered him. Watching the two of them, completely lost in their own world, felt like my heart was being physically ripped in two. One was the sister I had always cherished. The other was the man I had just gotten engaged to. When had they gotten together behind my back? I didn’t know. And I didn’t want to know anymore. 3 “If you’re not going to help, then get out of the way! This isn’t the time or place for a soap opera!” A burly man shoved Ethan aside and started rallying others to help pull at the jammed car door. But they weren’t professionals, and they were afraid of hurting me further. They could only stand by, making frantic calls. Jessica finally seemed to remember me. She bit her lip, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. “Ethan, my sister’s hurt. It’s all my fault. Seeing her like this… my heart is breaking.” Ethan wrapped his arm around her shoulder, murmuring comforts. Even over the shouts of the crowd, I heard his words with perfect clarity. “Jessie, the only thing that matters is that you’re safe. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. As for Vivian… she brought this on herself. If it makes you feel better, I’ll save her. Then we can call it even.” “I’m so scared, Ethan,” Jessica sobbed, burying her face in his chest. He held her tighter, completely consumed with comforting her. “It’s over now, Jessie. Don’t dwell on it. Just be happy.” My heart, which I thought was already numb, gave a violent, agonizing twist that left me breathless. I couldn’t cry anymore. All my tears had turned to blood, pouring out of me. In the distance, my parents came running, shouting, “Baby! Our baby, Mom and Dad are here!” My vision was blurring, but seeing them gave me a flicker of warmth. At least I still had my parents. I tried to lift a trembling hand towards them, my voice a broken whisper. “Dad, Mom… it hurts so much…” 4 But their eyes scanned the scene and locked onto Ethan and Jessica. They immediately changed direction. “Jessie! You scared Mommy to death! Are you hurt anywhere?” my mother cried, frantically checking Jessica from head to toe. My father, seeing Jessica was unharmed, let his worry morph into rage. “Where is that useless Vivian? I want to know how she dares call herself a sister when she can’t even protect her own flesh and blood!” Jessica’s eyes welled up. “Dad, it wasn’t her fault, it was me…” “Stop covering for her, Jessie! You’ve been doing it your whole life. Every time she messes up, you’re the one apologizing for her. This time she almost got you killed! She has the heart of a snake!” my mother spat, her voice dripping with venom when she spoke of me. My father snorted. “I’m calling a press conference. That thing doesn’t deserve to be my daughter. I’m disowning her. From now on, the Jiang family has only one daughter, and her name is Jessica.” He clapped Ethan on the shoulder. “Ethan, you’re a good kid. Vivian doesn’t deserve you. I’ll make a statement clarifying that your engagement to her was a misunderstanding. Your real fiancée is my darling Jessie.” Ethan hesitated, glancing in my direction, as if about to speak up for me. A flash of triumph appeared in Jessica’s eyes before she hid it behind a mask of anguish. She cut Ethan off, grabbing my father’s sleeve. “Dad, sister is still in the car! I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault!” My father’s gaze finally shifted to the wrecked car. He strode over, his face livid. “Vivian! We have a crisis here and you’re just sitting in the car waiting to die? Get the hell out here!” His words died in his throat when he saw my bloody, swollen face. My mother stared, frozen in shock. I had no strength left to speak. I could only look at them, hoping for a single word of comfort. Jessica rushed over, and after a quick, triumphant glance at me, burst into tears for our parents. “Dad, Mom, her leg is trapped! I’m sorry, it was my careless driving that did this to her! I’m so useless! It should have been me!” My mother, whose face had softened for a moment, immediately wrapped her arms around Jessica. “Don’t you dare say that, Jessie! This is Vivian’s fate! If anything happened to you, Mommy couldn’t live anymore!” “She’s right,” my father added. “You’ve taken the blame for your sister for years. This is karma. I know you’re upset, Jessie, but don’t say such things again.” Jessica just sobbed hysterically. The three of them panicked, trying to console her. My father shot me a dismissive look. “Jessie didn’t do it on purpose. You’re the older sister, you should be more forgiving. Don’t hold a grudge.”

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1 To settle a bet, I went undercover as an intern at my husband Vincent’s company. On the first day, a woman waved a marriage certificate at the front desk, sneering, “I’m the real Mrs. Aronsohn! Why are you slouching? Keep your head down till Vincent gets here!” She even insulted the cafeteria food and threatened to replace it with a Michelin chef. A scared colleague pulled me back. “That’s Isabelle Ferrari—Vincent’s idol. He proposed 99 times before she said yes. Cross her, and you’ll disappear.” I almost laughed. I called my brother: “Bring Vincent down here with divorce papers. In five minutes, I want him on his knees begging me.” It was my first day as an intern. I was standing by the reception desk, about to head to HR to report for duty, when a woman in a designer power suit stormed in. She slammed a crimson document folder onto the marble countertop. “New intern? No wonder you have no manners!” she snapped, her eyes locking onto me. “Are you trying to hide your face behind that stack of files, or do you just find me offensive to look at? Put them down! Stand up straight, hands by your sides!” Following the intern handbook to the letter, I lowered my head slightly. “Good morning. How may I help you?” I asked, my voice flat. That simple greeting was like a spark to a fuse. She stalked over to me, her voice shrilling. “What is wrong with this place? Does HR hire blind people now?” She tapped my intern ID badge. “Look at this certificate. Now look at your pathetic little badge. What part of that equation makes you think you have the right to speak to me? Address me as Mrs. Aronsohn!” The girl interning with me went pale. She tugged frantically at my sleeve and rushed to bow her head. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Aronsohn! She’s new, she doesn’t know the rules. Please, don’t be angry!” Isabelle let out a contemptuous snort, rolled her eyes, and strode directly into Vincent’s private office. The other intern hurried to my side, whispering, “Her name is Isabelle Ferrari. She’s Vincent’s old flame, the one he cherishes most. Don’t ever cross her. All she has to do is whisper in his ear at night, and we won’t even make it past our probation period.” I was taken aback. There was only one copy of Vincent Aronsohn’s marriage certificate. And it was supposed to be resting quietly in the safe in our apartment. Why would he allow this woman, this Isabelle, to parade a fake certificate around his company and act like she owned the place? I pushed the question down. For now, my priority was to complete my internship and observe Vincent’s management skills. This was also the perfect opportunity to see just how far he would let this self-proclaimed Mrs. Aronsohn go. The moment the lunch break began, Isabelle buzzed the administrative department’s internal line. I picked it up. Her piercing voice crackled through the receiver. “I need a hand-ground coffee. Jamaican Blue Mountain. Water at exactly 185 degrees. Bring it to my office. Now.” I went to the break room immediately, but hand-grinding the company’s premium beans took time. I was delayed by five minutes. Just five minutes. It was enough for her to fly into a rage. When I rushed to her with the coffee, she swatted it out of my hand. “Is everyone in your department dead? Look at the clock! You are five minutes past the optimal drinking window! Do you have any idea how much the flavor profile degrades with that temperature drop?” The hot liquid splashed across the back of my hand, a searing wave of heat. “If my mood is ruined because of this, can you bear the responsibility?” she shrieked. Every head in the administrative office turned to stare at me. Isabelle might have been dressed impeccably, her makeup flawless, but her vicious, cutting tone made everyone in the room flinch. I struggled to maintain my composure. “Ms. Ferrari, I apologize. Hand-grinding coffee takes time.” She snatched the cup from my other hand and, without a flicker of hesitation, flung the rest of the scorching coffee at me. “With your clumsy, fumbling hands, I have no idea how you even got a job at the Aronsohn Corporation,” she spat. “I bet you pulled some rather unsavory favors, didn’t you?” Her voice dripped with venom. “You disgusting thing. Pack your bags. You’re fired.” My nails dug into my palms, the sting of the burn mixing with a surge of white-hot anger. Just as I was about to retaliate, the department head rushed over, physically shielding me. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Ferrari! She’s new, I apologize on her behalf! Please, don’t upset yourself. It’s not worth risking your health over such a trivial matter!” As she spoke, she gripped my arm, her voice a desperate hiss in my ear. “Bite your tongue! Don’t do anything rash! Think about who she is! Our entire department’s year-end bonuses will be gone! She’s not worth it! Let me handle this!” Seeing the supervisor grovel, Isabelle’s twisted features finally relaxed into a smug satisfaction. She languidly pulled a wet wipe from her purse to clean her fingers. “Hmph. At least the supervisor has some sense.” Her tone was dripping with arrogance. “Come on. I’m taking you all to inspect the cafeteria.” Inspect the cafeteria? What right did an outsider have to inspect the company’s internal facilities? “Ms. Ferrari, the company has strict regulations for the cafeteria. Non-employees are not permitted entry…” I began, unable to stop myself. Before I could finish, my supervisor yanked my arm again. “Don’t you get it? She’s the apple of his eye,” she whispered fiercely. “You can cross Mr. Aronsohn and maybe survive, but if you cross her, you won’t even know what hit you.” “He spoils her rotten! The rumor around the company is that she is the true mistress of the Aronsohn Corporation! Our jobs are in her hands. You’re still an intern, don’t throw your career away!” The mistress of the Aronsohn Corporation? As the actual wife, this was news to me. Seeing me frozen in place, Isabelle assumed I was terrified and let out a derisive laugh. “Oh? What’s this? You hear Mr. Aronsohn’s name and you’re too scared to move?” “Let me tell you something. A man like Vincent Aronsohn is completely out of your league. You’re a bottom-feeder intern. One word from him, and you’ll be blacklisted from this entire industry. Understand?” In the brief moment of my silence, Isabelle had already swaggered into the employee cafeteria. “My God, what is this garbage you people eat?” she exclaimed, pinching a piece of braised pork from a tray with two fingers before dropping it in disgust. Then, she pulled a thermal lunch box from her Hermès bag and slammed it on the serving counter. “Seeing as you poor things have probably never eaten anything decent, I’ll be generous. Today’s my treat. A taste of a world-class truffle and lobster bisque to spice up your lunch!” She opened the container and was about to pour its contents into the communal food vat. “Ms. Ferrari! Absolutely not!” The cafeteria manager, finally having seen enough, rushed to block the vat. “Ma’am, we have strict food safety protocols. No outside food can be mixed with employee meals. This is for everyone’s health and safety! Please cooperate!” “Protocols? Safety?” Isabelle laughed as if it were the funniest joke she’d ever heard. “You think my food is less safe than this swill you cook in recycled grease? Do you know this container of bisque costs more than your entire year’s salary?” “Now get out of my way!” The manager stood his ground. “Ms. Ferrari, this is a matter of principle! If there’s any kind of food safety incident, we can’t bear that responsibility! Please don’t make this difficult for us!” Seeing the manager dare to defy her again, Isabelle’s face clouded over with fury. She whipped out her phone and started a video call. “Vincent, you have to see this! Your employees are out of control! I just wanted to do something nice for everyone, and they’re shouting at me!” From the other end of the line, Vincent’s gentle voice emerged. “Isabelle, sweetheart, don’t be angry. Pass the phone to the cafeteria manager.” Isabelle smugly shoved the phone screen in the manager’s face. Vincent’s voice instantly turned to ice. “Everyone involved is to apologize to Ms. Ferrari immediately. Otherwise, every single one of you will be disciplined for gross misconduct. I’m docking this month’s pay and bonuses for all of you! And I mean it!” The manager’s lips trembled. The supervisor and a few other colleagues went pale, exchanging helpless glances. Vincent seemed displeased with the silence. His voice grew colder. “What? Do I need to repeat myself?” The video feed jostled. Isabelle had turned the camera to show Vincent’s surroundings, wanting us to see exactly where he was. He was in the private room of an exclusive club, surrounded by several older men. It was clearly a critical business dinner. Vincent was at the head of the table. Seeing Isabelle’s pouting face, he shook his head with a resigned fondness, not a trace of annoyance at being interrupted, only indulgent affection. “Vincent…” Isabelle whined, completely ignoring the fact that he was in a meeting, and began to cry for the camera. “Look at them, they’re all ganging up on me. I was just trying to be kind, and they were so rude. They’ve trampled all over my good intentions! Vincent, you have to stand up for me!” She squeezed out a few crocodile tears, a complete transformation from the arrogant tyrant of a moment ago. Vincent’s expression hardened instantly. He didn’t even bother to ask for context; his entire focus was on Isabelle. “There, there, don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup. It’s such a small thing, is it worth getting so upset? Hmm? I’m here. No one gets to bully you.” He soothed her gently before his eyes lifted to look at us, his tone dropping to absolute zero. “Are you all deaf?” “I am ordering you to do as Isabelle says! Apologize! Now!” “If I don’t see you complying in three seconds…” Before he could finish his threat, I walked directly in front of the phone. My face, along with the red, scalded skin on the back of my hand, appeared sharp and clear on the screen. “Vincent Aronsohn,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Are you sure you want me to be the one to apologize?”

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I was saving a patient’s life when I cut through her bra with a pair of trauma shears. My fiancée, Monica, posted a video of me performing chest compressions online. “I know you’re saving a life,” she wrote, “but doesn’t the patient’s privacy matter? And your hands were all over her… As your fiancée, that makes me really uncomfortable.” The story blew up online. The hospital, wanting to avoid a PR nightmare, chose the path of least resistance. I was demoted, my entire annual bonus was docked, and a formal reprimand was placed in my file. After years of dedicating my life to saving people, I was being branded a pervert. So I gave up. I wouldn’t save another soul. And that’s when the whole hospital started to panic. 1 “George, this is a lesson for you,” Monica said, her arms crossed. “We’re getting married soon. Even if you’re a doctor, you need to show some respect for our relationship!” I just stared at her, at this woman I was about to marry. “Are you done?” Monica froze. “What kind of attitude is that? You still don’t think you did anything wrong?” “Whatever you say.” As the words left my mouth, I felt something essential between us shatter into a million pieces. Her face flushed crimson, as if I’d just slapped her. “Fine! ‘Whatever I say’? George, we’re through! This wedding is off!” She snatched her phone from the table, spun around, and stormed out. Dr. Matthews, the department head, scowled and tapped his pen on the desk. “Look at this mess you’ve made! Do you see how upset Monica is?” He slid a piece of paper toward me. “To contain the fallout, you’ll write a formal, detailed apology. You will read it aloud at the next hospital-wide assembly and admit to your inappropriate conduct.” I looked at him, saying nothing. His eyes darted away for a second before he regained his authoritative glare. “That’s an order, George. And it’s your only chance.” The next day, a notice of my disciplinary action was posted on the hospital’s internal network and on every bulletin board. The wording was severe. “Improper medical procedure.” “Lack of sufficient humanistic care for the patient.” “Dr. George Cole is hereby demoted, with forfeiture of his full annual performance bonus. This is to serve as a warning to all staff.” Every word felt like a public execution. Kevin, one of the interns, sent me a discreet text. “George, we all have your back. We know you were just trying to save her. But… you should probably lay low for a while. Dr. Matthews is on the warpath.” I switched off my phone. I could have guessed. Dr. Matthews’ nephew, Ryan, had just returned with a fancy fellowship degree from overseas and started at the hospital last week. The old man had been itching to promote him, to give him my position as an attending physician. Monica’s little drama had handed him the perfect excuse. I walked back to my desk and silently booted up my computer. I meticulously organized, printed, and compiled all the case files, surgical records, and post-op follow-up plans for every critical patient under my care. Then, I formatted the personal drive on my work computer, erasing years of my research data and draft papers. A week later, at the hospital-wide assembly, Dr. Matthews stood at the podium, his voice booming. “…and in light of Dr. Cole’s unprofessional conduct, the board has decided to revoke his status as an attending physician.” The auditorium was dead silent. “Now, please join me in giving a warm welcome to the newest member of our cardiothoracic surgery team, a brilliant mind joining us from his fellowship abroad, Dr. Ryan Matthews!” A young man in a crisp new lab coat, his hair slicked back with gel, stood up and gave the crowd a condescending nod. Dr. Matthews beamed at him. “Effective today, Dr. Ryan Matthews will be officially taking over all of Dr. Cole’s former duties.” I sat in the back corner, my face a mask of stone. Ryan sauntered over to my desk and rapped his knuckles on it. “Hey. Time to clear out your stuff.” His chin was tilted up, his expression a perfect blend of arrogance and disdain. “Your new spot is over there in the corner. Where the residents belong.” He leaned in. “Also, your work computer stays. I need to inspect it to make sure you’re not taking any sensitive department data with you.” I glanced up at him, didn’t say a word, and began packing the few personal items I kept at my desk. That didn’t seem to be enough for him. “Oh, and one more thing,” he added. “From now on, let’s try to maintain a certain level of professionalism in this department. A little less… back-alley medic, you know?” I paused and looked him straight in the eye. “In that case, perhaps you can enlighten me. What are the diagnostic criteria and differential points for Takotsubo cardiomyopathy?” Ryan’s smug expression faltered. He sputtered, “Well, that’s… obviously based on the specific EKG and echocardiogram findings… it’s a type of…” I’d already turned away. Realizing he’d made a fool of himself, he scoffed and stalked off. I thought back to three years ago, when the old hospital director had personally come to recruit me from the ICU at St. Jude’s Regional. He had gripped my hand and said, “George, come work with us. I’ll give you full autonomy. Your world-class CPR skills could save so many more lives here.” What a joke it all seemed now. As a resident, my workload was significantly lighter. I no longer participated in any emergency surgeries. I followed the resident’s protocol to the letter: rounds, charts, orders. I handed off my cases on time and clocked out the second my shift was over. Yesterday, a critical patient from a car wreck was brought in. A nurse, out of habit, yelled for me. I took one look at the monitor and told her calmly, “Find Dr. Ryan. He’s the attending on call.” “Dr. Ryan is in his office!” she said, her voice frantic. “He said he’s compiling important academic data!” I didn’t reply. I just walked out of the room. I no longer spent an extra minute on any critical patient. After work, for the first time in years, I didn’t go to the hospital library to review medical journals. I went to a fencing club. I suited up in the heavy protective gear, pulled on the helmet, and gripped the cold steel of the épée. I channeled all my rage and suffocating frustration into the sharp, clean lines of the duel. The next day, a file appeared in the department’s group chat, posted by Ryan. The title was: A Trial Initiative for the Optimization of Departmental Charting Standards in Alignment with Advanced International Medical Documentation Systems. It was a dozen-page PDF filled with convoluted charts and jargon, outlining a brand-new template for patient notes. It demanded that all medical terms be written out in their full, official names—no common abbreviations allowed—and added numerous new sections for data analysis and literature citations. The group chat went silent. A few seconds later, my phone exploded with private messages. “George, what the hell is this guy’s problem? He wants us to write a Ph.D. thesis for every patient chart?” “Is he insane? We’re treating people in America, not writing for some European journal. What’s with all this pretentious crap?” “During rounds today, he insisted a nurse say ‘cardiac pulsation frequency’ instead of ‘heart rate.’ It’s just making things more complicated for no reason!” “This isn’t about international standards; it’s about creating pointless busy work! By the time we finish one of his charts, the patient in the ER will be long dead!” “He’s a textbook doctor. All theory, no practice.” I saw Ryan’s condescending announcement in the chat and said nothing. An older colleague messaged me, asking what a few of the “standardized terminologies” even meant. I quietly explained them to him. Then I shut off my phone. My complete detachment and Ryan’s clueless micromanagement created a stark contrast in the department. I used to be the anchor. No matter how chaotic the emergency, everyone felt grounded when I was there. Now, every time a critical case came in, the ward devolved into panic and confusion. Ryan would just stand on the sidelines, barking orders using his new “standardized terms,” never getting his own hands dirty. The resentment among my colleagues was growing thicker by the day. People started whispering about how much they missed my efficiency and decisiveness. I knew what they were waiting for. They were waiting for a real crisis to erupt. I submitted my request for annual leave to Dr. Matthews. Thirty days. The full amount of vacation time I’d accrued over the past five years. His face darkened the moment he saw the form. “George, what is the meaning of this?” He crumpled the paper and threw it at me. “The department is short-staffed as it is. Are you taking this much time off just to spite me?” He lowered his voice, his tone laced with menace. “Don’t think you’re untouchable just because you’re a resident now. You have a long career ahead of you. Piss me off, and I have plenty of ways to make sure you never practice in this state again. You think a demotion is bad? Believe me, I can have you fired.” I said nothing. I just reached into my pocket, pulled out the report from my recent physical, and placed it on his desk. “Dr. Matthews, I’ve been experiencing cardiac arrhythmias. My doctor has advised complete rest.” My voice was calm, almost serene. “Long-term, high-stress work isn’t good for the heart. As a senior physician, you understand that better than anyone.” He snatched the report, his face shifting from red to pale as he scanned it. He couldn’t find a single thing to argue against. “Hmph!” he grunted, grabbing a pen and angrily scrawling his signature on my leave request. As I turned to leave, Monica appeared, clinging to Ryan’s arm. “Well, well, if it isn’t Dr. Cole,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Couldn’t handle a little setback, so you’re running away?” Ryan puffed out his chest. “Some people just don’t have the mental fortitude. Back where I trained, people like him would have washed out on day one.” “Don’t think the department can’t function without you,” Monica added, her eyes flashing. “Ryan is ten times the doctor you’ll ever be. He’s a true professional.” I didn’t even bother to look at them as I walked out of the office. Sarah, the head nurse, caught me at the end of the hall. “George.” She pressed an apple into my hand. “You remember that woman you saved the other day? The one from the video?” I nodded. “She’s the only daughter of the CEO of Orion Corporation. He sent someone to ask about you. He wanted to thank you personally.” Sarah sighed. “But Dr. Matthews intercepted them. He said it was a departmental success, all thanks to Dr. Ryan’s brilliant leadership.” She shook her head. “You’re just too damn honest, George. You never fight for yourself.” I just nodded, thinking, You have no idea what kind of trouble you’ve invited. I settled into my seat on the train back to my hometown. Just as it pulled out of the station, my phone rang. It was Kevin, the intern, and he sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “George! It’s bad! Something terrible has happened!” “The CEO of Orion Corporation—he had a massive heart attack! He’s here, in our ICU!” My stomach dropped. “Ryan’s the attending. He saw the EKG, knows it’s a major MI, but the CEO has a rare drug allergy, and Ryan’s too scared to use the standard thrombolytics!” “He’s just been staring at his tablet, looking up research papers, mumbling about ‘evidence-based medicine,’ but he won’t make a decision! He’s afraid to risk an emergency angioplasty, so now he’s trying to get the family to sign transfer papers!” Kevin’s voice cracked. “George, it’s a STEMI! Every minute counts! How can he even think about transferring him?” Before I could answer, another call came in. Dr. Matthews. I hung up on Kevin and answered. Matthews’ voice was a raw, unfiltered roar. “George! You get your ass back here right now! If anything happens to the CEO of Orion, I’ll make sure you regret it for the rest of your life!” I held the phone away from my ear until he was done screaming. Then, I replied calmly. “Dr. Matthews, first, I am currently on approved medical leave. Second, I am only a resident. I have neither the qualifications nor the authority to handle a patient of this magnitude. Isn’t your esteemed, foreign-trained Dr. Ryan the expert you have on hand for precisely these kinds of complex cases?” Then I hung up. A new text from Kevin popped up, laced with pure panic. “George, the CEO’s condition worsened in the ambulance! His heart stopped for a minute! The family is losing their minds. They called the hospital president directly, threatening to sue us into oblivion!” “The whole hospital is in lockdown! The president, the VPs, they’re all down in our department!” Another message followed. “Dr. Matthews is spreading a rumor that you intentionally hid the CEO’s allergy records to make Ryan look bad. He’s telling everyone you knew about the special case and kept it secret to sabotage him!” I stared at the screen and let out a cold laugh. The man was a master of shifting blame. As if that wasn’t enough, things got worse. Another critical patient in the ICU, one who’d just had bypass surgery, suddenly went into ventricular fibrillation. The monitors shrieked. Kevin’s live commentary continued via text. “Ryan is fumbling with the defibrillator! He’s shocked the patient multiple times, but there’s no response! He even set the energy levels wrong! A nurse tried to correct him, and he screamed at her!” “Sarah is saying they need to put the patient on ECMO immediately! It’s the last hope!” ECMO. Extracorporeal membrane oxygenation. The multi-million dollar, state-of-the-art machine our department imported from Germany. The ultimate lifeline. “Ryan is trying to start the ECMO, but it’s failing! The alarm keeps going off!” Sarah was shouting, “The startup sequence and calibration parameters for this machine are specific! Only Dr. Cole knows them inside and out! He’s the only one who ever operates it! Don’t touch it!” Ryan shoved her aside. “I’ve used these machines all over Europe! The principles are the same! What does a nurse know?” “The previous parameters must have been set wrong! They don’t meet the latest international standards!” He forced a system reboot and tried to directly modify the core operating parameters. “George, oh my God! The ECMO is smoking!” Following Ryan’s ham-fisted attempt, the main console let out a piercing screech. The screen flashed violently and went black. A foul smell of burnt plastic filled the ICU. The multi-million dollar lifeline was dead. Two critical patients: one’s golden hour for treatment squandered, leaving him knocking on death’s door. The other’s last chance for survival gone, his EKG about to flatline. The sounds of families crying and screaming, mixed with the piercing wail of the monitors, turned the entire cardiothoracic unit into a scene from a nightmare. The hospital president’s face went white. He looked like he was about to faint. With a trembling hand, he called the ECMO manufacturer’s technical support line in Germany. The German engineer on the other end, in heavily accented English, regretfully informed him that their nearest technician was in Europe. It would take at least two days for them to fly over. A suffocating despair settled over the room. Just as the president was about to hang up, the engineer added one more thing. “Perhaps you could contact the team of Professor Langdon, who helped us with the initial on-site calibration. I recall he had a brilliant protégé… a young doctor with the last name Cole. I believe he works at your hospital.” The president’s hand froze in mid-air. He whipped his head around, his eyes locking onto Dr. Matthews. The color drained from Matthews’ face, leaving it a ghastly, corpselike white. He knew better than anyone. The brilliant protégé of Dr. Langdon, the nation’s foremost authority in cardiopulmonary medicine… That doctor named Cole… Was me. The man he had personally destroyed, now sitting on a train, on vacation.

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Now that I’m older, I’ve left the company in my son’s hands. But today, I decided to pay a surprise visit, disguised as a member of the janitorial staff. I hadn’t been there an hour before a young intern spilled coffee all over me. Before I could even speak, she rolled her eyes. “Hey, janitor! Are you blind or just old? How could you not see me and walk right into me?” I frowned but held my tongue. She was the one who had bumped into me, but for the sake of my undercover inspection, I didn’t want to blow my cover. I offered a polite apology and turned to leave, but she grabbed my arm, her voice sharp with anger. “Hey! Old man! You’d better clean this coffee off the floor, right now!” “And if you can’t get it spotless, you can just clear out. I’ll have you fired in a heartbeat!” I had to smile at that. She was going to fire me, the Chairman of the board? 1 I kept my temper in check. “Young lady, you were the one staring at your phone while you walked. You ran into me. Why are you the one threatening to have me fired?” A flicker of surprise crossed the intern’s face, as if she couldn’t believe a janitor would dare to talk back. She scowled, her voice rising. “So what if I wasn’t looking? Couldn’t you have looked where you were going? If you had just gotten out of my way, I wouldn’t have spilled my coffee!” “Besides,” she added with a sneer, “you’re a janitor. Cleaning up coffee is your job. What’s the problem?” “Whatever, I can’t be bothered arguing with you. Just clean it up, or you can start packing your things!” Her words made me frown. I glanced at the intern badge clipped to her blazer and felt a pang of confusion. How could a mere intern speak with such authority, threatening to fire people on a whim? She noticed my hesitation and let out a cold laugh. “Oh, what’s that? You think because I’m just an intern, I can’t get you canned?” “My father is a senior executive here. Getting rid of a bottom-feeder like you? It would take him one phone call.” So that was it. She wasn’t just arrogant; she had connections. The company had a program that offered internship spots to the families of certain high-level employees, intended as a perk to attract top talent. It seemed someone was abusing that privilege, letting their child run wild through the halls. Seeing that I was silent, a smug smirk played on her lips. “Scared now, aren’t you? So what are you waiting for? Get on your knees and wipe this floor clean!” “And another thing,” she added, her tone turning vicious. “You dared to talk back to me! You can forget about this month’s paycheck. I’ll have the finance department transfer your salary to my account as compensation for my trouble.” My jaw nearly hit the floor. Maliciously docking an employee’s wages and pocketing the cash herself? What kind of operation was this? I frowned. “The payroll is automated. How could they just divert someone’s salary to your account?” The intern laughed again. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. My mother works in the finance department. It’s none of your business!” I had only been away from the company for a year. I never imagined so many parasites could infest it in such a short time. “What are your parents’ names?” I asked, my voice cold. She crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “What? Thinking of reporting them? Don’t waste your time. My parents have powerful people watching their backs. Anyone who dares to take a complaint from you will be packing their own desk by the end of the day!” I was stunned. The rot within the company was far deeper than I had imagined. Just as the intern was preening, a middle-aged man rushed over, his forehead beaded with sweat. The intern’s expression immediately crumpled into a mask of pitiful victimhood. “Dad! This man knocked my coffee over, and now he’s refusing to clean it up! You have to do something!” I recognized the man: Scott Miller, the head of the tech department. I smiled to myself. I was very interested to see how this was going to play out. 2 Scott Miller barely glanced at me. I remembered then that I rarely made public appearances at the company; only the old guard, the veteran executives, would recognize my face. It was for the best. Anonymity would give me a clearer view of the company’s true state. Ignoring me, Scott took his daughter’s hand. “Jessica, it’s a special situation today. You need to come with me now.” Jessica yanked her hand away, looking baffled. “Dad! This old creep bullied me! Aren’t you going to stand up for me?” I was about to speak up and set the record straight before she could twist the story any further. But to my astonishment, Scott fixed me with a cold glare. “I don’t care what you did. Apologize to my daughter. Now.” I was dumbfounded. He didn’t even know what had happened, and he was demanding an apology? When I didn’t respond, Scott sneered. “On any other day, I’d have had you fired on the spot. But it’s your lucky day. Get on your knees, apologize to my daughter, and I’ll let this go.” A humorless laugh escaped my lips. I looked at him calmly. “That’s quite the power trip. Does everyone at Lee Corp throw their weight around like you?” Scott’s face darkened. “A janitor has no right to question me. Let me tell you something: in this company, I call the shots. Even the Chairman himself would have to show me some respect!” I nearly laughed out loud. Who did he think he was? Just a department head, and he was talking like this? Show him respect? The audacity was staggering. But I still didn’t want to reveal my identity. “That’s some big talk,” I said with a cold smile. “Aren’t you afraid of biting your tongue? Your daughter was the one who ran into me. If anyone should be apologizing, it’s her.” Fury flashed in Scott’s eyes. He opened his mouth to curse at me, but his phone rang. His arrogant demeanor vanished instantly, replaced by a fawning obsequiousness. “Yes, I understand.” So, that must be his backer on the other end of the line. I was curious to see who would support this kind of behavior. Scott hung up and shot me a triumphant sneer. “Today’s your lucky day, old man. The Chairman is doing a surprise inspection today. I’ll deal with you tomorrow!” My brow furrowed. I hadn’t told a soul I was coming. How did the person on the phone know? Ignoring me, Scott grabbed his daughter’s arm to lead her away. Jessica wasn’t having it. Her eyes welled up with tears. “Dad! He hasn’t apologized yet! And I want his salary transferred to my account! There’s a new handbag I want to buy this month!” Scott sighed heavily. “Sweetheart, today is different. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. The Chairman is definitely here, undercover. He could be watching us from any corner right now!” I couldn’t help but smile. No corner at all. The Chairman was standing right in front of them. Jessica glared at me. “What are you smiling at? Hmph! I’ll let you off the hook for today! If it wasn’t for that idiot Chairman showing up, I’d have you on your knees begging!” “Aren’t you worried,” I said softly, “that I might be that Chairman?” Jessica and Scott both froze. For a moment, I regretted letting my identity slip. But then, they both burst out laughing. Jessica looked me up and down with utter contempt. “Old man, have you been watching too many of those silly web dramas? You, a janitor, the Chairman? Let me guess, now you’re imagining how I’ll cry and beg for your forgiveness when I find out who you are?” “Hahaha, that’s hilarious! If you’re the Chairman, I’ll personally get on my knees and kowtow to you a hundred times!” I was taken aback. A hundred times? Her forehead would be mush. Scott pulled his daughter away. “Jessica, ignore this lunatic. We need to be careful while the Chairman’s here. If he sees us making a scene, we’ll be in big trouble.” I smiled to myself. Trouble? Oh, it was going to be much more than just trouble. 3 After Scott and his daughter left, I took a walk around the building. I wanted to check in on a few promising young employees I had personally mentored. But after searching for a while, I didn’t see a single familiar face. I asked around and learned they had all been laid off. I was stunned. I knew the company’s growth had slowed since I handed the reins to my son, but these were talented individuals I had handpicked for development. There was no way they should have been on any layoff list. An engineer I spoke to sighed. “After they were let go, our manager hired a whole new batch of people out of nowhere.” “This new group doesn’t know the first thing about the work,” he continued, his voice heavy with frustration. “All the pressure has fallen on us senior employees. If this keeps up, I’m afraid I’ll have to quit too.” The picture became crystal clear. Someone was using their authority to push out competent staff and fill the vacancies with their own friends and family, who were collecting paychecks for doing nothing. They were parasites, bleeding the company dry. What in God’s name had my good-for-nothing son been doing this past year? How could he let his people treat loyal, hardworking employees this way? Didn’t he care about morale at all? I pulled out my phone, my face grim, and dialed my son’s number. I was going to find out just what the hell he thought he was doing. The phone had barely started ringing when a hand snatched it away from me. I looked up. It was Jessica again. She threw my phone to the ground, stomped on it a few times for good measure, and glared at me. “Are you trying to cause trouble? You know the Chairman is here for an inspection, and you’re making personal calls on company time?” Swallowing my rage, I picked up my shattered phone. “What company rule says you can’t make a phone call during work hours?” Jessica crossed her arms and sneered. “Our Chairman said so! Anyone caught using their phone during work gets docked a day’s pay!” I saw red. When had I ever made such a ridiculous rule? Seeing my fury, Jessica’s smugness grew. “Oh? You have a problem with that? Take it up with the Chairman!” “And by the way,” she added, “you’ve already lost this month’s salary, so you’ll have to pay that fine out of your own pocket. Give me the cash now, and I’ll take it to finance for you.” Take it to finance? More like take it to her own wallet. I let out a cold laugh. “There’s also a rule against drinking coffee on the job. You were just doing that, weren’t you? You should be docked a day’s pay too!” She was still just a kid, and my taunt hit its mark. She exploded. “You old liar! Who said you can’t drink coffee at work?!” Mimicking her earlier tone, I replied, “Our Chairman said so. If you don’t like it, take it up with him.” “You—!” Before I could enjoy my small victory, Jessica lunged at me. “Don’t you mock me, you disgusting old man!” She shoved me hard. At my age, a fall is no small thing. A sharp pain shot through my back, and I couldn’t get up. Jessica stood over me, snarling. “Just die, old man!” “Just wait until the Chairman leaves. I don’t care who you are! You’re finished!” I gritted my teeth as I looked up at her. Finished? We’ll see about that. 4 I tried to push myself up, but a searing pain in my lower back stopped me. I was stuck until a young woman passed by and helped me to my feet. “Sir, are you alright?” I managed to stand and nodded, about to thank her. But then I heard Jessica’s mocking laugh from the side. “Well, well, if it isn’t little Miss Innocent, Chloe from the countryside. Can’t get any of the guys in the office to fall for your act, so now you’re hitting on the janitors?” Chloe immediately lowered her head, not daring to say a word. I frowned. “We’re all colleagues here. How can you speak to someone like that?” Jessica rolled her eyes at me again. “Do you own this company? What business is it of yours?” I nodded calmly. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. Is that a problem?” My answer clearly infuriated her. She sneered. “Fine. If we can’t speak to colleagues that way, I’ll handle this differently.” A cruel smile touched her lips as she turned to Chloe. “Chloe, I’m officially informing you that you’ve failed your probationary period. You can pack your things and go home now.” Chloe’s head snapped up, her eyes instantly filling with tears. “Jessica, I…” Jessica cut her off impatiently. “Save it. If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for getting friendly with the janitor! It’s bad for the company’s image!” Chloe was openly crying now. Suddenly, she dropped to her knees. “Jessica, please, I’m begging you, don’t make me leave. If I don’t pass my probation…” Jessica crossed her arms, looking down at her imperiously. “You’ll have to go back to your village and get married, right?” Chloe froze. Jessica’s eyes narrowed in a wicked grin. “That’s exactly why I have to get rid of you. All the men in the office are always buzzing around you. Now I’m just helping you along. You get to go get married right away. Shouldn’t you be thanking me?” Chloe’s face was ashen, her eyes filled with utter despair. I snorted and helped her to her feet. “Don’t be afraid, Chloe.” “She’s just an intern. She has absolutely no authority to fire you.” Hearing my words, a little color returned to Chloe’s cheeks. Jessica, however, was livid. She pointed a finger at me, her voice shrill. “You’re just a damn janitor! Why do you keep getting in my way? I have connections! I can fire whoever I want!” “Who the hell do you think you are? The Chairman? What I, Jessica Miller, decide to do is none of your damn business!” I stared at her, my voice level and calm. “I’m nobody special. Just the Chairman of Lee Corporation.” “That’s it!” Jessica shrieked, losing control, and lunged at me again.

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My husband was dying of cancer. To set me free, he decided to become a monster. He started cheating, openly and frequently. He’d humiliate me with cruel words, then freeze me out with cold silence. I finally broke and agreed to a divorce. That’s when his friends, perched on their moral high ground, told me the “truth”—about his noble intentions, about the cancer. My world shattered. I threw myself from a rooftop, a final, desperate act of love. But after I died, Julian was saved. A medical miracle, they called it. He found the strength to weep at my grave, and then, with his friends’ encouragement, he pulled himself together and married Lana, the girl who had always been waiting in the wings. …But now, I’m back at that party. The night it all began. Julian is laughing, a playful glint in his eye. “Let’s get a divorce,” he says. I don’t get angry. I just look at him calmly and say, “Okay.” 1 After I spoke, a strange, heavy silence fell over the room. In the sprawling, opulent VIP lounge, I was the only one who seemed oblivious, my head bowed as my spoon traced patterns in a crystal bowl of some lavish dessert. The hand Julian had been holding—Lana’s hand—slowly slipped from his grasp. His handsome face, which had just been joking about falling for someone else, about wanting a divorce, was twisting into a rigid, ugly mask. He clearly never expected me to say that. He knew. He knew the depths of my love for him, knew that even a joke like this should have sent me into a spiral of tears and accusations. He expected a scene. How could I possibly have said “Okay” with such unnerving calm? Around us, his friends—all of them with their own hidden agendas—exchanged uneasy glances. The little drama they had orchestrated, the one where they got to watch me break down in a storm of angry, pathetic tears, had just crumbled to dust. The script had been thrown completely off the rails, leaving them all scrambling. But I felt no triumph. My gaze drifted slowly across their faces, one by one. Finally, it settled on Lana’s striking, vividly beautiful face. In my last life, I considered her my best friend. I’d forgotten that she and Julian had grown up together. They were practically family. The fiercer she was in my defense, the more loyal she seemed, the deeper and more agonizing was the knife she eventually twisted in my back. My stare made her visibly uncomfortable. She glanced instinctively at Julian, only to find him glaring at me, his face a thundercloud, his jaw clenched tight. A shadow passed over her eyes for a split second. Then, just as quickly, she plastered on a bright, breezy smile and came over to grab my arm. “Hey, don’t be mad, don’t be mad! It was Zack’s stupid idea. We were just messing with you.” I took a step back, letting her hand fall into empty space. My expression remained flat, my eyes fixed on Julian. “But I’m not messing with you,” I said. “I’m serious, Jules. Let’s get a divorce.” 2 Lana stood frozen between us, her head darting back and forth from me to Julian, the very picture of helpless confusion. She was always a brilliant actress. If I hadn’t died once, if my wandering soul hadn’t witnessed her kicking over my headstone with a look of pure disgust, I never would have known what a twisted, jealous heart beat beneath that cool, confident facade. This look of genuine shock on her face was a rare sight. It wasn’t my doing, but because of her, the entire room was now turning against me. Zack shoved his chair back with a loud scrape and stormed over. “Monica, don’t take it too far!” he snarled, his voice rough with impatience. “We already said it was a joke! Do you have to make everything so damn awkward? What, you can’t take a joke?!” How ironic. They were the ones who made the “joke,” I was the victim, and now I was the one being blamed for not playing along. Zack had always had a sharp tongue, his words dripping with sarcasm. I used to think that was just his personality, that he was like that with everyone, so I learned to ignore it. Only later did I realize he was only ever like that with me. As Julian’s wife, I had never truly been accepted by his friends. Not once. I ignored Zack’s barking as if he were just a dog in the distance. My eyes remained locked on Julian. Seeing my unyielding expression, Julian finally understood that I was, for the most part, serious. A bitter laugh escaped his lips, cold and mocking. He reached out, grabbed Lana’s arm, and yanked her into his embrace. Staring daggers at me, he spat out, “Fine. You said it. Don’t you dare regret it.” “Pack your things. We’ll be at City Hall tomorrow to sign the papers.” Then, in front of everyone, he lowered his head and crushed his lips against Lana’s. It was a possessive, punishing kiss, fueled by anger. It started with the press of lips and deepened until the intimate sounds of their mouths tangling together filled the air. The soft, ambient light from above cast them in a dramatic glow, like a scene from a movie—the woman’s pliant waist arching back, the man’s large, long-fingered hand cupping the back of her slender neck. I saw Lana push against his chest in a half-hearted protest, a classic show of feigned resistance. When she couldn’t move him, her hands slid upwards, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. I heard someone suck in a sharp breath, followed by the excited clicks of phones being raised to capture the moment. I was the closest to them, a front-row spectator to every unspeakable detail. My lips, pale and trembling, parted as if to say something, but no words came out. What was there to say? A soft place deep inside me had been struck a fatal blow. It felt as if something precious, something I had hidden in the deepest part of my heart, had just… quietly, silently shattered. I squeezed my eyes shut, my face a numb mask, and turned to walk away. 3 A light, drizzly rain had started to fall outside. The world was a wash of gray, the streetlights casting a sickly yellow haze. Along the road, the dark, skeletal branches of trees clawed at the air in the cold wind. A couple stood beside me, whispering for a moment. Then the boy took off his jacket, draped it over the girl, and they huddled together, making a dash for the rain-soaked street. I watched them disappear into a car parked by the curb, a strange fog settling over my mind. I felt like I’d forgotten something important, but I couldn’t grasp what it was. It wasn’t until I got home and started packing my things that I found it. At the very bottom of a storage box was an old umbrella. The moment I saw it, the dam of my composure broke, and tears streamed down my face. It was a clear, foldable umbrella. The inside was covered in black marker doodles of my favorite cartoon characters. One day after school, the sky had opened up in a downpour. I was supposed to walk home with a friend, but then I saw him—my desk-mate, Julian. He was standing under the eaves, staring at the bruised-gray sky with a look of distant loneliness. He must have forgotten his umbrella. And at home, there was no one left to bring one for him. A wave of sympathy washed over me. After a moment of hesitation, I shoved my umbrella into his hands. “You don’t have to give it back! Just think of it as a thank you for helping me with my homework!” I said, my feigned nonchalance a thin veil for my fluttering teenage heart. I didn’t even dare to look at his reaction before I turned and ran, huddling under my friend’s umbrella and urging her to hurry. My friend teased me about my beet-red cheeks. I playfully swatted at her, but my eyes couldn’t help but dart back through the curtain of rain. He was still there. A tall, slender figure in his blue and white school uniform, standing out from the crowd. He was holding my umbrella tightly in his hand. The world was a cascade of falling rain, but the only thing I could hear was the frantic, deafening roar of my own heartbeat. The next day, the rain continued. I don’t remember exactly what I was feeling when I saw him again, but I remember every single detail of him walking through the back door of the classroom. My clear cartoon umbrella wasn’t propped up with the other colorful, forgotten ones in the hallway corner. It was clutched in his long, pale fingers. He carefully wiped the raindrops from its surface with a soft handkerchief, smoothed out its creases, folded it neatly, and placed it reverently inside his desk, right next to his textbooks. Eighteen-year-old Julian looked up then and met my gaze before I had a chance to look away. He smiled, his eyes curving into crescents. He said he would treasure it for a lifetime. We hadn’t confessed our feelings for each other yet, not in words. But in the silent, thunderous space between our two young, restrained hearts, we both knew. He was saying he would treasure me for a lifetime. The rain has stopped. I wiped my tears, forcing my emotions back into their cage. I picked up the umbrella, long forgotten by its owner. Its plastic skin was yellowed and old, the cartoon drawings faded and blurred. Its frame was rusted and rotten, reeking of decay. I stared at it, sitting by my bed as night fell, and didn’t sleep a wink. I don’t know how much time passed before the darkness began to recede. A sliver of dawn broke through the clouds, splitting my silhouette into stark black and white. My limbs were cold and stiff as I moved, standing up to take the old umbrella and toss it into the trash can. Then, I dialed Julian’s number. That summer rain from our youth… It was time for it to end. 4 The phone rang and rang before someone finally picked up. But the voice that drifted into my ear was a woman’s, lazy and thick with sleep. “…Hello? Who is this?” She followed it with a yawn that sounded a little too deliberate in the face of my dead silence. After a moment, Lana’s voice came again, now laced with a hint of apology and embarrassment. “Oh, sorry, I grabbed the wrong phone. Hold on, I’ll wake Jules up…” “Don’t bother,” I cut her off. My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “Just do me a favor and tell him I have all the paperwork ready. Three o’clock this afternoon. City Hall.” I hung up before she could respond. I hadn’t eaten since last night, but a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach. I felt like I was going to be sick. I love you. My love is unwavering. What a joke. He could say those words and then immediately fall into bed with someone else. A cheater is a cheater, no matter what excuse they hide behind. I remembered my last life, when I “accidentally” walked in on them. The pain was so sharp I almost fainted. I lost all reason, screaming and demanding answers like a madwoman. Lana, with an apologetic look on her face, insisted it was all a misunderstanding, an accident, and begged me not to blame Julian. And Julian? He didn’t say a word in his own defense. He just stood there silently, letting me scream and cry and rave, letting me throw his past promises back in his face. He looked like he was harboring some terrible secret, burdened by a sorrow he couldn’t speak. By the end of it all, everyone had taken his side. They said he had his reasons, that he didn’t mean for it to happen, that I shouldn’t be so hard on him. They were the ones who had done it. And somehow, I was the one who was wrong. His chilling calm made me look like a lunatic. I started to doubt myself. Was I overreacting? Was I the one who had pushed him away with my suspicions, tarnishing his “pure friendship” with Lana and driving him to make their ambiguous relationship a reality out of spite? Lost in a fog of confusion, I finally agreed to the divorce. But after Julian handed me the papers, his condition took a turn for the worse. Zack and the others, unable to watch it happen any longer, cornered me. They blamed me, screamed that I had pushed him over the edge. Did I have any idea, Zack demanded, that Julian had done all of this—the cheating, the cruelty—as a twisted act of love, to push me away so he wouldn’t be a burden? We were high school sweethearts. We’d gone from sharing a desk to sharing a life. Julian’s parents were gone; I was his only family. He knew I would never, ever leave him, no matter what. So he chose the most extreme method to force me away. I had just started to accept the reality that he had cheated and no longer loved me. And now they were telling me he did it because he loved me too much. They told me he should have had two more years, but because of my hysterics, his condition had suddenly worsened. It was all my fault. It was my one voice against all of theirs. In the end, my mind simply broke. After one last look at Julian, lying unconscious in the ICU, I ran to the hospital rooftop and jumped. Thinking back on it now, I was such a fool. This time, I chose to let myself go, to let go of everything. But I waited at City Hall for hours. The staff was already packing up to leave for the day when Julian finally arrived. 5 “I wasn’t feeling well. I only woke up half an hour ago,” Julian explained before I could even open my mouth. He was breathing heavily, his long trench coat open to reveal a slightly rumpled shirt collar. His hair was a mess, sticking up in all directions as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He glanced at the closed doors of the municipal office and let out a breath. I couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of frustration or relief. He turned to me, his voice cool. “We’ll have to reschedule.” There was nothing else to be done. I told him to contact me when he was free and turned to leave, not wanting to exchange another word. But Julian’s voice stopped me. “When you called this morning, Lana answered. What did she say to you?” His probing tone sparked a fire in my chest. The resentment that had been simmering for so long suddenly boiled over. I spun around, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Weren’t you two in the same bed? Don’t you know what she said?” Julian paused. To my surprise, the tension in his face melted away, replaced by a soft, gentle expression. It was as if my words had confirmed something for him. He breathed a genuine sigh of relief. For the first time, his tone was mild as he explained, “You misunderstood. I drank too much last night, and she brought me home. I started feeling sick, so she stayed to look after me. That’s all.” Putting aside how utterly absurd his explanation sounded, I couldn’t understand why he felt the need to explain anything to me at all, given our current situation. But I quickly understood. Right in front of me, Julian coughed, and the color instantly drained from his face. He pressed a hand to his chest, his handsome brows knitting together in apparent pain as he coughed again, more violently this time. I couldn’t tell if he was acting or if it was real. Either way, it had nothing to do with me. I turned and walked away. I heard hurried footsteps behind me, and then Julian’s hand clamped down on my arm. His face was pale and drawn, his jaw tight. He spoke through gritted teeth. “I told you I’m sick. Don’t you care at all?” I knew he was sick. Gravely ill, in fact. So what? I tried to pull my arm free. “Let go,” I said, frowning. He didn’t let go. His grip tightened, his expression darkening. He was the one who wanted the divorce. Now that I’d agreed so readily, he was the one who was unhappy. His eyes burned into mine for a long moment before he abruptly shoved my arm away. He let out another wracking cough, his voice heavy. “…Fine. I’ll let you go.” He was suppressing a volcano of anger, his voice thick with a strange, unspoken heartache. I didn’t hesitate. I turned on my heel and left. Suddenly, a loud thud echoed from behind me. Julian had collapsed. I frantically called for an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital. After a moment’s hesitation, I called Lana. After we divorced, Julian would be marrying her sooner or later anyway. It wasn’t my place as the soon-to-be-ex-wife to stand vigil. When Lana heard the news, she didn’t say a word and raced to the hospital. Zack was with her. I stood up from the bench in the hallway, about to tell them Julian had been taken into the emergency room. But Lana stormed up to me, her face a cold mask. She raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. I stood there, stunned, as Lana’s voice, colder and sharper than I had ever heard it, cut through the air. “You’re a walking disaster! Are you happy now? Are you going to be satisfied when you’ve finally killed him?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384743”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My best friend, Jessica, and I were given a choice between two “Systems.” One was a “Spend & Earn” system, the other, a “Frugal Living” system. In my last life, she chose spending, and I chose saving. She was consumed by an endless cycle of purchases and died from exhaustion. I became a secret millionaire. At my wedding, her parents stormed in, screaming and attacking me. “You venomous witch! You murdered our daughter!” Then I opened my eyes, and I was back on the day of the choice. Jessica spoke first, her voice thick with a venomous exhaustion I knew all too well. “I choose… the Frugal Living system.” 1. A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind. [Host Jessica has selected the “Frugal Living” system. Binding in progress…] [Remaining system: “Spend & Earn.” Bind to Host Carol?] I looked at Jessica across from me. She was skeletal, her eyes sunken deep into their sockets as if she’d just crawled out of hell itself. But those eyes burned with a frightening intensity, a twisted, vengeful glee. She thought she had just passed her death sentence on to me. She thought she had stolen my golden ticket to a perfect life. “Bind it,” I said, my voice even. The triumphant smirk on Jessica’s face froze before it could fully bloom. The panic, the fear, the breakdown she had been anticipating—none of it came. I was as calm as a placid lake. [“Spend & Earn” system successfully bound. Issuing Novice Mission: Host must spend $10,000 within 24 hours. Mission success: receive a $10,000 rebate. Mission failure: instant death.] Almost simultaneously, Jessica’s own system pinged in her head. She flinched, her hands flying to her ears as a flash of pain crossed her face. I knew her novice mission. [Novice Mission: Earn one dollar through acts of saving within 24 hours. Mission success: receive a two-dollar reward. Mission failure: The system will confiscate the host’s most cherished possession.] Last time, that mission had driven me to the brink of madness. But now, a confident, predatory smile spread across Jessica’s lips. She rose from her chair, walked to the window, and flicked off the unnecessary lights in the room. [Ding! Saved $0.02 on electricity.] Next, she moved to the water cooler and yanked the plug from the wall. [Ding! Saved $0.05 on electricity.] She looked at me as if I were already a corpse. “Good luck, Carol.” I ignored her. I pulled out my phone, opened a food delivery app, and found the most expensive sushi restaurant in the city. Sashimi platters, sea urchin, Wagyu beef… I tapped my screen relentlessly, filling my cart until the subtotal was a breathtaking $9,888. Then, I navigated to the tip section and entered $112. Total: $10,000. Jessica watched me, a sneer twisting her lips. “A desperate last struggle. Carol, don’t you get it? The rebate has to be spent in the next 24 hours. You spend ten thousand today, you’ll have to spend twenty tomorrow, then forty the day after! Let’s see how long you last!” I said nothing, just waited quietly for my delivery. Half an hour later, a breathless delivery driver arrived, hauling several large insulated containers. I took them and met his tired eyes. “Thank you for your hard work,” I said. “This… it’s all for you.” The driver stared, convinced he’d misheard. “Huh? Ma’am, what did you say?” “It’s for you,” I repeated gently. “Consider it a small thank you to everyone working late tonight.” With that, I closed the door. From outside, I could hear the driver’s stunned, grateful thanks. From inside, I heard Jessica’s disbelieving shriek. “Are you insane?! You just gave away ten thousand dollars’ worth of food!” I turned to her and smiled. She didn’t understand. This system was never designed to kill the spenders. It was designed to kill the selfish. 2. The color drained from Jessica’s face. She couldn’t comprehend how I could give away something worth $10,000 so easily. In her eyes, it was the same as throwing my own life away. I had no intention of explaining it to her. [Ding! Novice Mission complete. Reward of $10,000 has been deposited into the system account.] [New Mission Issued: Spend $20,000 within 24 hours. Mission success: receive a $20,000 rebate. Mission failure: instant death.] I opened my system interface, my balance a perfect $10,000. Meanwhile, Jessica’s system chimed as well. [Ding! Novice Mission complete. Reward of two dollars has been deposited.] I saw the muscles in her jaw twitch. Two dollars. After all her fussing—turning off lights, unplugging appliances, denying herself water just to save a few more cents—her grand reward was two dollars. I had earned ten thousand with a few taps on my phone. Her eyes bored into me, the jealousy so palpable it was practically a physical force. “Don’t get cocky, Carol! This is just the beginning!” she hissed through gritted teeth. “The more you spend, the faster you’ll die!” I shrugged, picking up my phone and starting to browse online. This time, I didn’t order food. I found a local, no-kill animal shelter on a charity app. They were on the verge of closing down. Their page listed hundreds of cats and dogs, along with a long, heartbreaking list of outstanding debts. Rent for their facility, food costs, veterinary bills… the total came to just over $20,000. I contacted the director, verified the information, and transferred the full amount. The woman on the other end of the line broke down, sobbing with relief. She kept asking for my name, wanting to put up a plaque in my honor. “There’s no need,” I told her. “Just make sure they all get a good meal.” When I hung up, Jessica was staring at me as if I’d grown a second head. “You… you donated it? Again?” “I did.” “What are you playing at?” Her voice rose, sharp and shrill. “You know something, don’t you? You came back, too! You were reborn!” I met her gaze, my expression unreadable. Her face went deathly pale. A profound, soul-deep terror seized her. If I was also reborn, then her act of “stealing” the Frugal Living system was nothing but a cosmic joke. She hadn’t just picked the short straw; she’d thrown away a lifeline and grabbed a noose. In my last life, I had used the saving system to build a fortune, compounding my earnings until I was a millionaire. She thought that was the easy path. But she’d forgotten what that path entailed. She’d forgotten how I walked three miles under a blazing sun to save two dollars on bus fare; how I lived on plain instant ramen to shave a few dollars off my food budget; how I lowered my standard of living again and again, pushing myself into misery just to get the system’s doubled rewards. That path was its own kind of hell. And Jessica? A spoiled princess, coddled since birth. Could she really endure it? 3. Jessica left in a daze, utterly shattered. She needed time to process the terrifying reality that I, too, had a second chance. I, on the other hand, began planning my grand “spending” strategy. The reason the “Spend & Earn” system killed Jessica in our last life was because of how she spent. Handbags, sports cars, luxury goods. All those things did was feed her vanity. They had no real value. Besides, there’s a limit to what one person can consume. When the spending requirement skyrockets from tens of thousands to millions, you can’t possibly eat ten million dollars’ worth of food or wear ten million dollars’ worth of clothes in 24 hours. She literally worked herself to death trying to keep up. But the definition of “spending” is broad. Purchasing services, technology, talent—that’s also spending. After my $20,000 mission, the system gave me another $20,000. The next mission: spend $40,000 in 24 hours. I opened my laptop and searched for a name: James Hayes. In my past life, I met him at a tech investment summit after I’d made my fortune. He became my husband. A man who loved me more than money. By then, he was already a successful entrepreneur, sophisticated and charming. But in this timeline, at this moment, he would be a brilliant but broke student hitting one wall after another. I found his information easily. A prodigy from Kingston University’s Computer Science department, a junior, working with a few classmates to develop a revolutionary social media app. The project had incredible potential, but a lack of funding had brought them to the brink of collapse. I looked at the photo on the screen, his face still holding the soft edges of youth, and my heart warmed. That was him. I found his contact information and sent a short text. “Mr. Hayes, my name is Carol. I’m an angel investor, and I’m very interested in your project. Are you available to talk?” The message went out into the void. I wasn’t worried. I closed my laptop and prepared to head out. I had a more direct way of completing my $40,000 mission. I took a cab to the city’s largest bullion exchange. In her past life, Jessica had tried buying gold. But she went to luxury jewelry stores, paying exorbitant, fixed prices for pieces with massive markups. I walked straight to the counter that dealt only in raw materials. “Hello, I’d like to buy gold bars. What’s the spot price today?” “Good afternoon, ma’am. The raw price is $2,000 an ounce.” “Perfect. I’ll take twenty ounces.” Exactly $40,000. I swiped my card, signed the papers, and the heavy gold bars were in my hand, their cold, metallic weight a solid promise. [Ding! Spending mission complete. Reward of $40,000 has been deposited.] [New Mission Issued: Spend $80,000 within 24 hours.] Just as I slipped the gold into my purse, my phone rang. An unknown number. I answered. A cool, clear male voice, laced with a hint of caution, came through the line. “Hello, is this Ms. Carol? This is James Hayes.” 4. I met James at a coffee shop near the Kingston University campus. He was already there when I arrived, sitting by the window in a worn-out white button-down, the cheapest Americano on the menu before him. Sunlight streamed through the glass, casting him in a clean, almost aloof aura. He was so much younger and thinner than the man I remembered. He stood up when he saw me, a little awkwardly. “Ms. Carol, hello.” “Just Carol is fine,” I said with a smile, taking the seat across from him. He seemed surprised by my age, hesitating for a second before sitting back down. “Carol… hi. You said you were interested in my project?” he asked, getting straight to the point, his tone laced with disbelief. I nodded. “I am. I read your project proposal. It’s incredibly innovative. I’m especially bullish on your concept of ‘interest-based social circles.’” A flicker of light sparked in his eyes, but it died just as quickly. “Thank you. But we’re… we’re out of money.” “How much do you need?” He held up five fingers, the words catching in his throat. “Five hundred thousand. That’s the bare minimum for seed funding.” Five hundred thousand dollars. To me, that was just a spending mission a few days from now. But I couldn’t just hand it to him. “I can invest,” I said. James’s head shot up, his eyes shining with a joy he couldn’t contain. “Really?!” “On one condition,” I added, my tone shifting. His expression hardened again. “What condition?” “I want to use that half a million to buy the exclusive first rights to all research, development, and patents your team produces for the next year.” It was an aggressive, almost predatory offer. I was essentially buying a year of a genius team’s future for a fraction of its potential worth. If they created something world-changing, I would be the primary beneficiary. James fell silent. He looked down, his fingers tracing the rim of his coffee cup. I was making a bet. A bet on his confidence in his own talent, and a bet on how desperate his situation was. Finally, he looked up, his gaze sharp enough to pierce through my skin. “Why?” he asked, his voice low. “Why what?” “Why do this? You don’t exactly seem like the charitable type.” His eyes searched mine, trying to unravel the mystery. I laughed. “Because I need a way to spend money.” I wasn’t lying. The amounts required by my system would only grow larger. Shopping and donations would eventually hit a ceiling. But investing in a tech company—buying their technology, their equipment, their patents, even paying their salaries—was the perfect, legitimate channel for “spending.” I was building the road for my own future. James clearly didn’t understand. He frowned, looking like he thought I was mocking him. Just then, the coffee shop door swung open and a young woman, dressed head-to-toe in designer brands, strode in. She marched directly to our table, looking down her nose at James with pure derision. “James, are you still at it? Scrounging for investors again? Who in their right mind would fund that dead-end project of yours?” Her gaze then shifted to me, sizing me up with a dismissive sneer. “Oh, and you found a young, pretty one this time. Honey, a word of advice: stay away from this broke loser. All he’s good for is selling empty promises.” It was Brittany, James’s ex-girlfriend. The same woman who, in our last life, had looked down on him, only to be consumed by regret later. James’s face flushed a deep crimson. He clenched his fists. “Brittany, this is my business. It has nothing to do with you!” “How does it not?” Brittany scoffed. “I’m just trying to keep this poor girl from being scammed by you!” She pulled a card from her purse and slapped it on the table. “See this, honey? This is what a real man gives a woman. Not a cheap cup of coffee and a pile of fantasies.” I glanced at the black card but said nothing. Brittany, thinking she’d stunned me into silence, grew even more smug. “I came here to tell you, James, that I’m getting engaged to Preston Vance next week. You know the Vances, right? Their family is worth hundreds of millions. You’ll never be in my league.” The blood drained from James’s face, leaving him pale and shaken. I sighed and took out my wallet. Then, right in front of them, I fanned out a whole stack of cards. Black cards, platinum cards, unlimited cards… an arsenal of elite credit, gleaming under the cafe lights. I spread them on the table like a winning poker hand. Then I looked up at the dumbfounded Brittany and asked with a sweet smile, “Which of these did you say a man is supposed to give a woman?” “Are these enough?” 5. Brittany’s face cycled through shades of red and white, a kaleidoscope of humiliation. She stared at the blinding array of cards on the table, utterly speechless. James was just as stunned, his gaze fixed on me, a complex mix of emotions swirling in his eyes. Ignoring Brittany, I gathered my cards and turned back to James. “I accept your terms,” he said abruptly, his voice hoarse but firm. “Five hundred thousand, for one year of first rights to our work. You draw up the contract.” “Done,” I nodded. With my goal accomplished, I stood to leave. As I passed Brittany, I paused and leaned in. “Not everything can be measured in money,” I murmured. “Like a man’s potential. Or his heart.” Without a backward glance, I walked out of the coffee shop. I still had an $80,000 spending mission to complete. I went to the most exclusive mall in the city, bypassing the women’s boutiques and heading straight for the high-end menswear department on the top floor. I bought James several proper outfits: crisp shirts, tailored suits, silk ties, cufflinks. I chose them all based on my memory of his sizes from our previous life. The total came to just over $70,000. With the remaining few thousand, I bought my parents each a new state-of-the-art massage chair. The moment the last transaction went through: [Ding! Spending mission complete. Reward of $80,000 has been deposited.] [New Mission Issued: Spend $160,000 within 24 hours.] When I arrived home, laden with shopping bags, Jessica was sitting in the living room. On the coffee table in front of her was a bowl of plain, watery noodles. Not even a single piece of vegetable. She was wasting away, her cheekbones jutting out sharply, a deathly aura clinging to her. Her eyes, however, lit up with a familiar spark of jealousy when she saw my bags, which quickly morphed into schadenfreude. “On another shopping spree? I’ve got to hand it to you, Carol. Staring death in the face, and you still have the energy to dress up your new boy toy.” She’d already found out about James. I set my things down, ignoring her. “You know,” she said, talking to herself as much as to me, her voice like poison. “I haven’t left the house in two days. Not a single step. Because going out costs money. I eat this every day. Plain boiled noodles. One meal a day. That way, I save fifty dollars on food and at least ten on transportation. The system rewards me with one hundred and twenty dollars!” She looked up at me, a grotesque grin spreading across her face. “See? I’m clearing a hundred and twenty dollars a day. That’s thirty-six hundred a month. Over forty thousand a year! It won’t be long before I’m richer than you, Carol!” I looked at her like she was a lunatic. She had turned herself into a prisoner for a measly $120 a day. This was her “golden ticket”? “Guess what my mission is for today,” I asked her suddenly. She blinked. I opened my phone, pulled up the system interface, and held the screen out for her to see. [New Mission: Spend $160,000 within 24 hours.] Jessica’s pupils constricted into pinpricks. One hundred and sixty thousand dollars. An amount that would take her three and a half years to save, even if she starved herself to death. And all I had to do was spend it in 24 hours. The chasm between our realities hit her like a physical blow. She shot up from the couch, knocking over the bowl of noodles. Broth and limp pasta splattered across the floor. “Impossible! That’s impossible!” she screamed, her voice cracking with hysteria. “The system is broken! It has to be!” I watched her meltdown with cold calm. “It’s not broken, Jessica,” I said. “You are. From the very beginning, you made the wrong choice.”

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My best friend Claire constantly uses me to test her boyfriend’s loyalty. She sends him suggestive messages from my account, orders lingerie in my name, then gets a thrill watching him shut me down and declare devotion to her. This time, she invited me to dinner and had her boyfriend Julian serve me food while she watched with a sly smile. I was mortified—until comments flickered in my vision: [Here we go again. The rich protagonist uses our girl because she’s insecure the male lead actually loves the side character.] [She even sabotaged her scholarship and ‘sponsored’ her to stay close.] [Sienna, just eat the food. Use this guy to climb up. Let’s see who laughs last.] 1 It took me a long moment to process what I’d just read. I had never, not for a second, imagined that the anonymous tip that cost me my scholarship all those years ago had come from my best friend. For years, I had been profoundly grateful to Claire. When I had nowhere else to turn, she paid for my education. I considered her my truest friend. Even after I paid back every cent, I continued to do everything in my power to repay her kindness. No matter how absurd her schemes to test Julian were, I would grit my teeth through his condescending glares and humiliating remarks, sending those degrading messages for her. I told her again and again that she and Julian were childhood sweethearts, that he was with her because he loved her. But she refused to believe it. She would move heaven and earth to test him, needing to see that cold rejection in his eyes before she could be satisfied. Before coming here tonight, I had been so excited. I thought that since it was my birthday, Claire’s dinner invitation was a surprise party. Turns out, she’d just found another online trick to test her boyfriend, and I was the sacrificial lamb yet again. 2 Seeing my stunned silence, a flicker of triumph danced in Claire’s eyes. She leaned against Julian, her voice a casual, airy purr. “Sienna, sweetie, go ahead and eat. Julian already put it on your plate. I don’t mind.” She said she didn’t mind, but her eyes were glued to my chopsticks, terrified I might actually take a bite. The comments scrolling past my eyes were furious. [Look at her pretending. Her eyes are practically burning a hole in that plate. I’d love to see her keep smiling if our girl actually eats it.] [Sienna, baby, let’s be brave. Can we please stop being her free pawn?] [Eat it! Eat it all! Shovel it in right in front of him! Our girl needs to piss this pampered princess off for good!] I looked at Claire’s innocent, doll-like face, then thought of the scholarship she’d stolen from me, of all the times she’d played me like a fool. My grip on my chopsticks tightened. She loves testing Julian’s feelings for her, doesn’t she? She loves testing to see if I have any designs on her boyfriend, right? Fine. I’ll help her out. Snapping back to the present, I deliberately picked up the piece of asparagus he had placed on my plate. I covered my mouth with one hand, my voice a breath of feigned surprise. “Oh, sweetie, how did Julian know asparagus is my absolute favorite? You must have told him. You’re the best, Claire.” With that, I turned to Julian and gave him a brilliant smile. “Well, in that case, I won’t be shy. Thank you, Julian.” 3 The effect was instantaneous. The smile froze on Claire’s lips. I had just made up the asparagus thing, but she bought it completely, believing Julian had ordered it specifically for me. Her lips thinned into a pale line, and her fingers dug into his shoulder, knuckles white. After all these years, I knew that look. It was the quiet simmering of rage. After finishing the bite, I turned to her with deliberate concern. “Honey, are you feeling alright? You look so pale. Should we get you to a doctor?” Her expression flickered through a storm of emotions. She was seething but couldn’t show it, forced to swallow her anger and maintain her magnanimous facade. “No, I’m fine, Sienna. If you like it, have more,” she said, her voice tight. “My hands were just full a second ago, that’s why I asked him to help. Julian is always so thoughtful, looking out for my friends and me. Don’t get the wrong idea, though.” The ghostly comments were rolling their eyes so hard they could have powered a generator, repeating that last phrase: Don’t get the wrong idea, though. [YES! This is what I’m talking about! Sienna should have been calling her out like this from the start!] [That two-faced little princess. Weren’t you the one who just told her to eat it?] [Oh dear, why isn’t the little princess smiling anymore? I thought you didn’t mind? What happened to that happy face?] [She only ever pulls these petty tricks on people who care about her. If Sienna ever decided to actually fight back, Claire wouldn’t stand a chance.] [Look, look! The male lead’s expression shifted! I think his opinion of our girl is changing. He used to think her hesitation was a ploy to seduce him, but now that she’s being so open and direct, he’s the one who’s flustered.] Following the comments’ cue, I glanced at Julian. The face that had always been a mask of icy disdain toward me now showed the faintest crack. For years, he had never given me a single pleasant look. After every one of Claire’s tests, he would flash his girlfriend a weary but indulgent smile, then turn to me with a cold warning. “Sienna, whatever your goal is, I suggest you stop. Claire is sensitive. As her friend, you should know where the line is.” His words were always blunt, painfully clear. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a manipulative social climber. But faced with Claire’s silent, pleading eyes, I had swallowed my pride time and time again. I even lost a promotion I had earned because Vice President Julian was prejudiced against me. That being the case, there’s nothing wrong with me taking back what’s mine, right? 4 I offered a soft smile, ready to rip away Claire’s paper-thin veil of innocence. “Of course not. What else would you want me to think, Claire? I know Julian is a master of boundaries. You’re the one who shouldn’t overthink things.” Claire looked as if she had just swallowed a fly. Julian, finally catching on, realized Claire’s sweet request for him to serve me was just another one of her games. He was already swamped with a new project, and the little time he’d managed to carve out for dinner was being wasted on yet another one of her loyalty tests. He slammed his palm on the table. “That’s enough, Claire,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “How many times are we going to do this? When is this ridiculous charade going to end?” He rarely got this angry, especially not in front of others. Seeing his thunderous expression, Claire knew she’d gone too far. She grabbed his arm, her voice laced with panic. “Julian, it’s not like that! My hands were just… my new manicure… I just couldn’t serve her myself. I thought… you’re my boyfriend, and she’s my best friend. I didn’t think either of you would mind.” [Right. That fresh manicure is so inconvenient.] [The nerve of her, calling Sienna her ‘best friend.’ You don’t even remember your ‘best friend’s’ birthday.] [Some best friend. Sabotaging her scholarship, hiring someone to do her makeup badly, spreading rumors to make yourself look better?] [Sienna, honey, her boyfriend is the most important thing to her, right? The thing she uses you to test day in and day out? Just take him. Let’s see how she keeps up her act then.] [Normally I’m against pitting women against each other, but with a ‘friend’ this toxic, I fully support Sienna using him to get that promotion and a raise! A true leading lady doesn’t avoid men; she steps on them to get to the top.] My gaze shifted from the floating comments back to the tense couple across from me. I had lit the fuse. Mistrust was already creeping in, and a full-blown argument was imminent. My work here was done. It was my birthday, after all. I wasn’t about to let someone so toxic ruin it. Grabbing my bag, I stood up, my voice dripping with faux apology. “I’m so sorry to cut this short. My colleagues are throwing me a small birthday celebration, so I should get going. I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it.” Claire’s eyes went wide with theatrical shock. She grabbed my arm, feigning a desperate apology, insisting she hadn’t forgotten on purpose. As if. A self-absorbed person like her had never remembered my birthday once. I gently pried her fingers off my arm. “It’s okay. No one’s ever really remembered my birthday, so I’m used to it. If my colleagues hadn’t insisted, I wouldn’t even be celebrating. My birthday isn’t important. Don’t feel bad. You two enjoy your evening.” My passive-aggressive performance left her speechless, her face paling. Julian’s brow furrowed, his grip tightening on his water glass. I knew my little sob story would work on a man like him, a wealthy scion raised on etiquette and propriety. He would feel a pang of guilt for ruining my birthday. Playing the victim, acting fragile? A girl who grew up in the system like me learns that from birth. Of course, the performance had to be complete. The moment I was outside, I called a few colleagues and invited them out for a drink at a nearby bar. 5 We were in the middle of our celebration when a familiar face appeared. I knew he would come. He’d show up, pay the bill, and express his apologies for the evening’s fiasco. My colleagues were surprised to see our Vice President. “Mr. Thorne? What are you doing here?” Julian was the picture of casual composure. “I was in the booth next door and saw you all. Just wanted to say hello.” He glanced at me, then at the small cake on our table. “Is it someone’s birthday tonight? Well, have a great time. Put everything on my tab.” My colleagues, seeing nothing amiss, erupted in cheers. “You’re the man, Mr. Thorne!” After he left, the comments went wild. [LMAO, the little princess couldn’t help herself. She and Julian had a massive fight.] [She’s actually insane. She asks her boyfriend to serve her friend, then screams at him for serving her friend. What’s next, demanding he personally feed her?] [She told him to go find Sienna, and this stubborn guy actually did it. Please, next time just tell him to go marry Sienna. Please and thank you.] [Rich boys have always had a soft spot for the damsel in distress. The only reason he disliked Sienna before was because of the princess’s games. Now he just feels sorry for her.] [Regardless, he’s going to be a huge asset to Sienna’s career. I hope she doesn’t let some misplaced sense of morality get in the way of this golden opportunity to leap up the social ladder.] I lingered in the shadows of the bar, a small smile playing on my lips. 6 After everyone had their fill of fun, they began catching cabs home. I saw the last of my colleagues off and was about to hail a ride myself when a car pulled up in front of me. A familiar sports car. The window rolled down to reveal a familiar face. Julian looked at me, his tone leaving no room for argument. “It’s late. It’ll be hard to get a cab. I’ll take you.” I took a deliberate step back, creating distance. “No, thank you. Given our… situation, it could be easily misunderstood.” The unspoken meaning hung in the air: Claire would lose her mind. His jaw tightened, his sharp gaze faltering for a second. “There’s nothing to misunderstand,” he said coolly. “Get in. I can’t park here.” A car behind him honked. I had no choice but to open the passenger door and slide in. As I reached for the seatbelt, I stopped. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice filled with apology. “I think I’m in Claire’s special seat. Could you pull over up ahead? I should probably sit in the back.” [Hah! Sienna knows exactly how to pour gasoline on a fire.] [Julian was probably starting to cool off, and now she’s reminded him of all of Claire’s drama.] Julian didn’t even look at me, his face an emotionless mask as he dismissed my suggestion. “It’s a seat. It’s meant to be sat in. Nothing special about it.” The rest of the drive was silent. When we arrived at my apartment building, I opened the door to get out, but he suddenly called my name. His dark eyes met mine. He hesitated for a moment before his lips parted. “I’m sorry. Claire was out of line tonight. I apologize on her behalf.” An apology from him was a rare thing indeed. “It’s fine,” I said. “She probably feels insecure. That’s why she’s always testing you. I understand.” He didn’t respond, clearly not agreeing with my assessment that he was the source of her insecurity. Then, he raised a hand, holding out a small, elegant gift box. “Happy birthday. Consider it compensation for a ruined evening. If you don’t want it, feel free to throw it away.” Before I could react, the car sped off into the night. The comments flared up, afraid I might actually toss it. [Sienna, baby, we can pretend to be above it all, but don’t you dare throw that gift away! It’s worth a fortune!] [I have to admit, for a guy born with a silver spoon, he has impeccable taste. Those earrings are perfect for you.] [You know, your other earring is missing. It’s a sign. Put the new ones on!] [Wait, did her old earring fall off in his car? Oh, when the little princess finds that, she is going to have a full-blown meltdown.] [I can’t wait for tomorrow. The princess is going to block him from going to a crucial meeting with a major partner, pushing him away for good and accidentally getting our girl a promotion in the process. This is going to be epic.] I looked down at the gift box in my hands and untied the silk ribbon. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was a pair of diamond earrings. They glittered brilliantly under the streetlights. So this is what real diamonds looked like. Suddenly, I wanted them. I took off my remaining old earring and put the new ones on.

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My best friend and I were trapped by a System, forced to seduce the cruel male leads of a novel. My target, Kevin Bright, was disgusted by my affection, calling me a “twisted freak” and an “unwanted stray.” Her target, Marcus Blackwood, used her as his emotional punching bag, refusing to even answer her final, desperate phone call. We hit our breaking point. A game of rock-paper-scissors and two faked deaths later, we were finally free, back in our own reality. But now, they’ve chased us here. They’re playing the part of heartbroken lovers, desperate for a second chance. And they think regret is a price high enough to buy back our hearts? … My best friend and I were shackled to the same System, forced to play a game of seduction inside a novel. Her target: Marcus Blackwood, the impenetrable stoic. Her mission: to conquer his body. My target: Kevin Bright, my cold, distant guardian. My mission: to shatter his heart. But Marcus was an ascetic who spent his days in quiet contemplation, utterly immune to the temptations of the flesh. And Kevin, still obsessed with an old flame, hadn’t seen me as anything more than a child in the three years we’d lived together. We were being crushed. I was done. “I’m exhausted,” I messaged her. “I’m tapping out. You?” “If you’re out, I’m out.” It was a deal. We immediately pulled out our phones, calculated our savings, and planned our escape. “But…” I hesitated. “Which one of us… dies first?” “First to die gets to go home. The other one has to clean up the mess—arrange the funeral, tie up loose ends.” Our eyes met across the screen. Stella’s message popped up first. “I’ve had it worse. I’ll go first.” “No way,” I typed back. “Rock-paper-scissors. I can’t stand another second in this godforsaken place.” “Fine. You’re on.” She chose scissors. I chose paper. She won. I stomped my foot in frustration. “Fine! You die, I’ll plan the funeral.” Stella went silent for the next two days. I was morbidly curious about what method she’d chosen to end it all. That evening, just as I was about to call her, my phone rang. It was her. “Alice…” Her voice was thick, the words slurred, nearly swallowed by a howling wind. “Are you drunk?” My heart clenched. “Just a little,” she said, letting out a small hiccup. “Liquid courage… I’m about to do something big.” I shot up from the sofa. “What happened to next Friday? That was the plan!” We had agreed she would go in seven days. I’d handle the aftermath, then follow. “I can’t wait anymore.” The wind tore at her words. “I think today is a good day. I want to die today.” Her voice cracked with a pain so raw it vibrated through the phone. “Alice, I just wanted to see Marcus one last time… I gave him three years of my life. I know him so well I can tell what he wants in bed from a single glance… and I get nothing? I can’t accept it…” “He’s having dinner with her… with Seraphina… He won’t even answer my calls…” “Three years… A dog would have learned to wag its tail for me by now…” “But he still doesn’t want me…” “That bastard, Marcus… he won’t even give me one damn phone call… Since today is Seraphina’s birthday, I’ll just make it my death day. A day he will never, ever forget.” She rambled on, a torrent of broken thoughts, but her intention was terrifyingly clear. She was leaving tonight, and she had wanted one last conversation, one last chance to hear Marcus’s voice. He had denied her even that. “No,” I said, my voice shaking as I scrambled for my keys and sprinted out the door. “You can’t. I’m not ready for you to go. You can’t do this.” “Stella, where are you? Wait for me, please! Let me be with you!” “Alice…” She wasn’t listening, lost in her own world of pain. “Jumping is… messy. You’ll have to find the best mortician to make me look beautiful again.” “And don’t bury me. I’m afraid of the dark. Have me cremated, and scatter my ashes in the Veridian River. Make sure Marcus can never find me.” Every word was a needle in my heart. I felt her agony as if it were my own; I had watched her suffer for three long years. A chill washed over me, but I forced my voice to stay calm. “Whatever you want, Stella. I’ll do it all. But you have to tell me where you are. I want to be with you.” “No… I don’t want you to see… It would scare you…” The line went quiet, filled only by the screaming wind. I ran through the streets like a madwoman, shouting her name until my legs gave out and I collapsed onto the cold pavement. A final, soft message came through the speaker. “Alice, I’ll be waiting for you at home.” CRACK. 2 At the foot of the Apex Tower, I saw her fall. Like a broken butterfly, she plummeted from the eighteenth floor. A spray of crimson stained the pristine concrete. Stella died right in front of me. I knelt beside her, my hand trembling as I reached out to touch her face, my body wracked with sobs. “You love being beautiful more than anything… how could you choose to go like this…?” I knew, logically, that she wasn’t truly dead. We would see each other again in our real world. But watching this, feeling the finality of it, shattered me. I had overestimated my own strength and underestimated how much of my soul was tied to hers. For three years, we had been each other’s only lifeline, the only reason we survived the endless nights of cruelty. At the crematorium, I was the one who pushed her body into the furnace. I watched the flames consume the face that had once been so full of life and laughter. When the attendant handed me the small, heavy box, the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. “Stella… how could you be so small now…?” Following her wishes, I went to the river and poured her ashes into the churning water. The current seized them instantly, washing away every last trace of her. Just like that, she was gone. “Wait for me,” I whispered to the water. “I’m coming soon.” Stella’s phone, which I’d kept in my bag, buzzed. I pulled it out. A message from Marcus. [The Grand Elysian Hotel. Eight o’clock tonight. Be there.] A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. He was always like this. Her feelings never mattered. She was a tool for his release, to be summoned and dismissed at his whim. When he didn’t need her, he vanished. When he did, she was expected to drop everything. And for what? Because she loved him? Did that give him the right to trample on her heart? I didn’t reply. I just turned off the phone. He had missed his chance to say goodbye. Now he could live with that regret forever. I sat by the river until dawn, then finally went home. The morning sun felt cold on my skin. I was tired, bone-deep tired. The System demanded I maintain my character’s persona: the hopelessly devoted girl. So, no matter how ugly our fights were, I always woke up at six a.m. to make breakfast for Kevin. The System always offered the same placating line: It’s bitter now, but it will be sweet in the end. Once you succeed, a man like Kevin will worship you. But in three years, all I had tasted was bitterness. Stella’s affairs were settled. It was my turn to leave. I picked up a knife from the kitchen block, holding the cool blade to my wrist. I hesitated. I made a few false starts, then put it back down with a sigh. Kevin despised me. If I died in his house, he would probably be disgusted. He always said I wasn’t worthy of the Bright name. That his brother and his wife never should have adopted me, raising a “perverse beast” who would fall for her own guardian. He said I deserved to be abandoned, that I was nothing but an unwanted stray. But it wasn’t my fault I was abandoned. If I’d had a choice, I would never have wanted to be a Bright. No one ever gave me a choice about anything. Not even being bound by the System. I collapsed onto my bed and, against all odds, fell asleep. In the hazy twilight of my dreams, the System’s cold, mechanical voice echoed. “Alice Hayes. You have accumulated enough points. The exit portal is now open. Please be prepared to depart by tomorrow night.” Good, I thought. I’m going home. I woke with a start and spent the rest of the night purging the villa of every single thing that belonged to me. 3 I dragged everything out into the torrential rain, dumping it all by the curb for the trash collectors. The downpour washed away everything, including the last vestiges of my obsession with Kevin Bright. From now on, not a single trace of me would remain in this house. Once I was finished, I called a cab to the Veridian River. I took out Stella’s phone and powered it on. A flood of missed calls and messages poured in, all from Marcus. [Stella, you’re late.] [Answer your phone. What game are you playing now?] [Get to the hotel. Don’t make me repeat myself.] Each message was colder than the last. No concern, only commands. I stared at them blankly, then found the audio file of Stella’s final, desperate phone call with me. I sent it to Marcus. After the “message sent” notification appeared, I threw the phone as hard as I could into the dark water. I wondered what his face would look like when he heard it. Would he feel a pang of sadness? A sliver of regret for the way he had hurt her? It didn’t matter. Stella would never see it, and I wouldn’t be around long enough to find out. This was just a game, after all. Who cares what an NPC thinks after you’ve cleared the level? The wind off the river was biting. I pulled my coat tighter and took out my own phone, posting one last message to the world. “The world is beautiful, but I won’t be back for a second life. I don’t regret being a Bright, but in death, let me be free. Do not place me in the family crypt. Grant me this one freedom. —Alice Hayes, farewell.” After posting, I dialed Kevin’s number. In my final moments, I wanted to say goodbye to the person who had been the center of my world for so long. But just like Stella, no matter how many times I called, the line just rang and rang. A bitter laugh escaped me. I pushed down the last flicker of hope. I switched to video mode and aimed the camera at myself. On the screen, my hair was a tangled mess in the wind, my face pale but resolute. “Kevin, it’s been fifteen years since the Brights adopted me at six. You told me you would always protect me, that you would be my hero…” “When I was in middle school and those boys cornered me after class, you fought them off. You said no one was allowed to bully your family.” “You took me to the amusement park, on the Ferris wheel… you sang to me at the very top… Every moment of joy, every flutter in my heart during my youth… it all came from you…” My voice started to break. “Kevin, you were the one who came to me first. You gave me every reason to dream, only to turn on me, to change completely the moment you realized I loved you.” “You were disgusted by me. You avoided me. You thought my love was repulsive and you stood by while others mocked me for it…” “You always said my love was twisted and sick, but… I just loved you. That’s all it was.” I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “Kevin, I couldn’t choose my family or where I came from. But I can choose to leave.” “From now on, there will be no Alice Hayes in this world… You’re free…” I pressed send, sending the 2-minute, 17-second video to Kevin. A wave of relief washed over me. I dropped my phone onto the sand. Facing the icy waves, I walked step by step into the deep. The water rose past my chest, then to my neck, until finally, it swallowed me whole. In the utter silence that followed, the abandoned phone on the beach lit up one last time. The caller ID read: Kevin. 4 Kevin watched the video again and again, his thumb compulsively hitting redial. “The number you have dialed is currently unavailable…” The cold, automated voice was a hammer blow with every syllable. He gripped the phone, his knuckles white. “Alice Hayes! Still playing these ridiculous suicide games! How absurd!” He called his assistant, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “Get a team to the coast. Find Alice Hayes and bring her back to me. Now.” The ferocity in his voice was a desperate attempt to crush the panic blooming in his chest. He tried to stand, but his legs felt weak, unsteady. “Sir, where are we going?” his driver asked, helping him into the car, his own face etched with worry. “Home.” She had finished her little drama. She would have to come home now. She was too tenacious, too full of life to do something so permanent. He just had to wait at home, and she would come back. She had to be bluffing. She had to be. At the villa, Seraphina Vance was watching TV in the living room. She looked up in surprise as he stormed in. “Kevin, you’re home early.” She moved to take his coat, but he grabbed her wrist, his grip like iron. His voice was a raw rasp. “Where is Alice?” Seraphina cried out in pain, tears welling in her eyes. “Kevin, you’re hurting me.” He snapped back to reality and let her go. “Sorry…” He didn’t have the patience for this. He turned and rushed upstairs. Alice’s room was pristine, sterile, and empty. All the gifts he’d ever bought her, all her belongings—gone. “Housekeeper! Where are all of Miss Hayes’s things?” The housekeeper flinched at his tone. She had never seen him so enraged. “Miss Hayes said she no longer liked them, sir. She had them all cleared out.” “When?” “She’s been clearing things out for a few days. The last of it was taken this morning.” The words stole the strength from his limbs. Kevin slumped against the wall. Every excuse, every bit of denial he had clung to, crumbled to dust. A terrifying dread grew inside him, a black hole threatening to swallow him whole. He frantically called his assistant again. “Have you found her?” “Not yet, sir…” The sound of the howling wind came through the phone, a phantom chill that seeped into his bones. Why does my chest ache like this? The video wasn’t real, right? She just went out with her friend, right? Her friend! Of course! She and Stella Gordon were inseparable. She had to be with Stella. Kevin shot upright, his fingers fumbling as he found Marcus Blackwood’s number. “Marcus, where is Stella? Is she with Alice?” Marcus’s hand trembled around his own phone. At the question, a shimmer of moisture glossed his eyes. Where was Stella? He didn’t know. He was sitting in a reception room at the city police department. On the table in front of him was Stella Gordon’s death certificate. She had died on Seraphina’s birthday, on the very night he had deliberately ignored her endless stream of calls. When he first received the audio recording, he’d dismissed it as another one of her desperate ploys for attention. But when she never answered his return calls, a cold panic had set in, driving him here to file a missing person’s report. Only to be told the person he was looking for was already gone. Officially. Permanently. He couldn’t name the emotion that gripped him. He just knew that the recording of her last words had become a scythe, each word carving a fresh wound into his heart. “She’s… gone,” Marcus said, the two words costing him all his strength. He sat frozen, unaware that tears were streaming down his face. The news struck Kevin like a bolt of lightning. The word gone echoed in his mind like a nightmare. How could this be?

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The day my wife gave birth was the day I learned the child wasn’t mine. I overheard her and her mother talking in the hospital room. Her mother hissed, “I told you to get rid of it. What will you do when Steven finds out?” My wife replied weakly, “What his father did doesn’t matter. I married into the Smiths. Let me keep this one piece of Evan. Once the baby is born, I’ll give Steven a true heir. He’ll forgive me.” Each word felt like ice. I stood frozen outside, then walked away silently. I waited until she delivered healthy twins. As congratulations filled the room, my grandfather’s assistant, Mr. Carter, arrived sternly. “The Smith family has a tradition,” he announced. “All newborns must take a paternity test immediately.” Amanda’s face went pale. 1 “That… is that really necessary? They’re so tiny, just born. A test would be so hard on them! Steven… tell them, wouldn’t it?” I stood at the back of the crowd, watching as she turned those familiar, heart-melting eyes on me. In the past, a single look like that could make me surrender any principle, cross any line. But the words I’d overheard—those gut-wrenching, treacherous words—were still ringing in my ears, making her current performance a bitter farce. “It’s tradition. No one is exempt,” I said, my voice perfectly calm, devoid of any ripple of emotion. My gaze swept coolly over the stunned faces in the room. “Mr. Carter, please arrange for the samples to be taken now. Deliver the results directly to this room as soon as they’re ready.” A dead silence fell over the room. Relatives exchanged uneasy glances, the air crackling with a tension so thick you could taste it. Everyone sensed something was terribly wrong, but no one dared to speak. Amanda’s fingers dug into the bedsheets, her knuckles turning white. She bit her lip, her voice trembling with disbelief as she challenged me. “Steven Smith, what is the meaning of this? Do you really trust me so little?!” Her eyes, rimmed with red, locked onto mine, a perfect portrait of a wounded heart. Even now, at the bitter end, she was still trying to play me. A ghost of a cold smile touched my lips. “I’m simply following the rules. Unless… unless you have a reason to be afraid, Amanda? Do you already know, deep down, that these children aren’t mine?” Before she could answer, her mother rushed forward, trying to smooth things over. “Steven, of course, the children are yours! But if it’s a Smith family rule, then let’s do it. It will put everyone’s mind at ease.” She shot Amanda a warning look, then carefully lifted the baby boy and handed him to a nurse. The wait for the results felt like an eternity. Time stretched and warped, each second a slow-motion torment. Amanda sat bolt upright in her bed, her eyes red-rimmed and restless. She stared at me, the tension building until she finally snapped. “I went through hell to give you these children, Steven, and this is how you treat me? Don’t you have a conscience?!” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “There’s another Smith family rule, isn’t there? The one that says if the father waives the test, no one can force it! Have you even thought about how this will make the children look? What will people say when they find out their own father suspected them from birth?! What are you turning them into?!” She was a master of turning the tables, of painting herself as the victim. Willing to deceive me, to pass off another man’s children as my own, all for him. Did she really think I was that much of a fool? The last embers of warmth in my heart turned to ash. “If they were my children,” I said, my voice dangerously low, “why would you be so hysterical?” “You dare talk to me about a conscience? Amanda, can you put your hand on your own heart and tell me you haven’t been living a lie?” “Don’t you forget,” I added, each word a deliberate blow, “when your reputation was in tatters and your family was on the brink of ruin, you were on your knees, begging me to marry you.” Amanda fell silent. The tears vanished as if they had never been there. Yes. It all came back to him. Her lover. Evan. She was still in college when she got tangled up with him—the “son of a murderer,” as the tabloids called him. She’d stood in his filthy, cramped apartment, holding his hand in front of the flashing cameras, and declared to the world: “Even if he’s a killer’s son, I love him.” The scandal rocked the city, from the tabloids to the highest circles of society. The Vance family heiress, hopelessly devoted to a convict’s son. Was it bravery or sheer stupidity? The fallout was immediate and catastrophic. Vance Industries’ stock plummeted. A nationwide boycott erupted against their products, the public furious that they’d raised a “murderer’s girlfriend.” In a week, the company was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. That was when she came to me. Her fiancé since childhood. I could have thrown the headlines in her face. Everyone in our circle knew that getting involved with her was social suicide, a public disgrace. But when I looked into her tear-filled eyes… I folded. Looking back now, it feels like I willingly drank the poison she offered. Just then, the door opened. Mr. Carter walked in, holding the freshly printed, expedited report. His eyes met mine for a split second before he handed me the folder. My face was a mask of indifference as I flipped it open, my eyes jumping straight to the conclusion. Analysis Conclusion: The paternal relationship between Steven Smith and the child is supported. Probability of Paternity: 99.9999%. 2 A poorly concealed smirk of triumph bloomed on my mother-in-law’s face. She bustled over to my side, her voice loud enough for the whole room to hear. “See? I told you! Our Amanda would never do such a thing! Now you can finally rest easy, Steven.” I understood immediately. My lips twisted into a silent, cold smile. They had come prepared. They were determined to play this game to the very end. Fine. If they wanted a performance, I would give them one. I let out a theatrical sigh of relief, forcing a warm smile as I looked at Amanda. “It seems I was overthinking things. I’m sorry to have put you through that. To make it up to you, I’ll book the best postpartum wellness retreat in the city. And for the twins’ one-month welcoming gala, I’ll have the papers drawn up to transfer 20% of Smith Corporation’s shares to them. A gift from their great-grandfather.” Amanda and her mother exchanged a flash of avarice. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. Amanda quickly composed herself, her voice soft and sweet again. “Steven… don’t you think you owe me a little something too? I’m craving that soup you make.” I paused, then nodded curtly before turning to leave without another word. It didn’t even take half an hour. Mr. Carter’s call came through, his voice a low, urgent murmur. “Mr. Smith, you’d just left when that man, Evan, slipped into the hospital room. They’ve… they’ve named the children. The girl is Anya, and the boy is Emrys.” “Mrs. Vance has also formally adopted Evan. He’s moving into the Vance estate. She said it would be… more convenient for him to see Amanda in the future.” Anya and Emrys. Graceful Gaze and Forever Looking Back. Even their names were a monument to their sordid love affair. And they planned to install him in her family home? To carry on right under my nose? Did they think I was a corpse? The Vance family… what audacious nerve. A cold, diamond-hard resolve settled over me, replacing the last vestiges of pain. I slowly twisted the wedding band on my finger, my voice devoid of all warmth. “Document everything. Get another, independent paternity test done. Then, call finance and terminate every single project we have with Vance Industries.” “I want the Vance family wiped off the map within a month.” I would make an example of them. I would show the world the price of betraying me. That evening, Amanda called, her voice syrupy with feigned happiness. “Steven, I’ve chosen names for the babies! Anya Smith and Emrys Smith.” “I was inspired by poetry. ‘Anya,’ for a graceful gaze, and ‘Emrys,’ for forever looking back at what’s beloved. Isn’t it beautiful?” She chattered on excitedly. “For the welcoming gala, let’s invite the press! A live broadcast! Let everyone see the new Smith heirs!” I let out a dry, mirthless laugh, tapping my fingers on my desk. I changed the subject abruptly. “I hear Evan paid you a visit. Amanda, do you remember the vows you took when you married me?” “This may have started as a business arrangement, but you know the Smith family code. The men in my family do not cheat. And any woman who marries into this family and proves unfaithful… is punished without mercy.” On the other end of the line, her cheerful facade shattered. “He just came to see me… My mother adopted him. There’s nothing between us anymore, I swear.” “Steven, I gave you children. Why are you still doubting me? You’re the only one in my heart.” “If it makes you unhappy, I’ll never see him again. Is that what you want?” Her frantic, clumsy lies were almost laughable. “Good,” I said flatly. “I hope you remember that. Because if I find out you’ve seen him again… you won’t like the consequences.” The very next day, Amanda checked out of the hospital and into the luxury postpartum retreat. As soon as she was settled, she turned to me, the picture of a concerned wife. “Steven, you look exhausted. You’ve been through so much. Go back to the office. They have nurses and staff here. I’ll be perfectly fine.” Her tone was gentle, dripping with fake sympathy. And she was right; I was emotionally and physically drained. But I didn’t leave. Instead, I went to the adjoining suite, wanting to see what game she would play next. I didn’t have to wait long. I heard the soft thud of someone landing on the balcony next door, having climbed in through the window. “Evan, you’re here! Quick, come see our children.” “Slow down! Your stitches haven’t fully healed. You’re a mother now, you can’t be so reckless!” She couldn’t even wait. She was meeting her lover at a wellness retreat, the day after promising me she’d never see him again. I heard Amanda’s voice, laced with irritation. “If it weren’t for Steven, you could be their father openly. Instead, you have to sneak in here like a thief.” “Amanda, it’s my fault. I don’t have the right background… What if Mr. Smith finds out…” “What is there to be afraid of? We fooled him with the paternity test. He runs this massive corporation, but he’s so easy to fool.” There was a pause, and I pictured Evan picking up one of the babies. His voice was hesitant. “But if you… if you really do have a child with him later, will you still love Anya and Emrys?” Amanda laughed, a sound that was light but suddenly turned venomous. “You believed that story I told my mother? Evan, you are the only one I have ever loved. I will never give Steven Smith a child. My plan is to wait until our children are old enough, and then they will inherit the Smith fortune as is their right!” She paused, and her next words were pure poison. “After the gala, I’ll start slowly drugging his food. Make him sterile. By the time he figures it out, it will be too late.” “The Smith corporation, the children, and me… it will all be yours, Evan. We’ll crush every single person who ever looked down on us.” Boom. Her words exploded in my mind like a thunderclap. My blood ran cold, my very breath freezing in my lungs. It wasn’t just deceit. It wasn’t just betrayal. From the very beginning, her plan was to consume me whole. To leave me barren, to turn me into a stepping stone, a laughingstock for the entire world. From the next room, I could still hear their soft, conspiratorial laughter. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms. The urge to kick down the door and tear them apart was primal. But not yet. The time wasn’t right. I took a deep, shuddering breath. Amanda, I gave you a chance. You’re the one who chose this path to ruin. The last shred of warmth in my soul evaporated. I pulled out my phone and dialed Mr. Carter. “I want a complete investigation into Evan and the Vance family. Every financial transaction, every dirty secret you can dig up.” “She wants a live-broadcasted welcoming gala? Fine. We’ll give her one. A party she will remember for the rest of her miserable life.” 3 A month passed, and the day of the grand welcoming gala for the Smith heirs arrived. The ballroom glittered with the city’s elite, a sea of tuxedos and designer gowns. The air buzzed with camera flashes and whispered gossip. For the past month, I had been a ghost, using an “overseas business trip” as an excuse to stay away. Amanda, I heard, was thrilled to have the space. The moment she left the retreat, she’d taken the children to a villa she’d bought for Evan, playing house like a happy little family of four for two days. Inside the ballroom, the main topic of conversation was, of course, the promised 20% of Smith Corporation shares. “I heard Mr. Smith is signing the papers tonight, on stage! These kids were born with platinum spoons in their mouths.” “The Smiths are certainly generous with their heirs…” Amanda, dressed in a breathtaking couture gown, looked radiant. Motherhood had given her a new, softer beauty. The moment she saw me, she rushed over, reaching to take my arm with practiced intimacy, her voice sickeningly sweet. “Steven, you’re finally here! Come look at the babies, aren’t they even more adorable than a month ago? Everyone is calling them little angels… By the way, where is Grandpa? Hasn’t he arrived yet?” I sidestepped her touch, my face an impassive mask. I didn’t even glance at the twins. “It’s a small affair,” I said, my voice flat. “Not worth troubling him.” Her perfect smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “How could this be a small affair? It’s his great-grandchildren’s gala… Is he not feeling well?” Before I could answer, her mother swept in, laden with extravagant gifts. And trailing right behind her was Evan. Amanda immediately fell silent, retracting her hand. Evan, on the other hand, instinctively reached for one of the babies, a paternal gesture he couldn’t suppress. The baby even started to reach back. But his eyes met mine, and he recoiled as if burned, his face a canvas of guilt. I watched the awkward, tense dance between the three of them, a cold sneer forming deep in my soul. My nails were digging into my palms again. It wasn’t until Mr. Carter discreetly murmured that it was time that I took a deep breath, reined in the storm of rage inside me, and for the first time, took the two infants into my own arms. I walked toward the grand stage at the center of the ballroom. The babies felt so small and fragile in my arms. Their features, so much like Amanda’s, stirred a profound ache in my chest. If only… if only they were mine. I would have been a good father. I would have given them the world. But they weren’t. They were living, breathing monuments to my humiliation. The emcee’s booming voice filled the hall. “Distinguished guests, thank you all for joining us to celebrate the birth of Anya and Emrys Smith! As per the wishes of the patriarch, Mr. Smith Sr., the Smith Corporation will be gifting 10% of its shares to each of these beautiful children! Tonight, you will all bear witness to this historic moment!” From the stage, I saw Amanda sidle up to Evan in the crowd. They exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated triumph. “And now, for the official signing of the share transfer! If we could please have the official seal brought to the stage—” A waiter in white gloves approached, carrying a velvet pillow with the corporate seal. Every eye in the room was fixed on it. And then, I spoke. “Wait.” My single word, amplified by the microphone, silenced the entire hall. In the next instant, the lights of the grand ballroom suddenly died, plunging us into absolute darkness.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “384739”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel