Author: Momo Chan

After the first ten challengers failed, the System let me pick my own role. “Anything I want?” I asked. “Knock yourself out. The one that got away, the sweet underclassman, whatever you want.” The System’s voice was flat, bored. The previous challengers had already tried all the popular roles. Every single one of them had crashed and burned. “In that case, I’ll be the Dorm Mom.” The System’s only goal was to make the male leads’ affection for the heroine drop to zero. It never said I had to date them to do it. Plus, as the Dorm Mom, I had a legitimate reason to break up happy couples. The moment I made my choice, I materialized in the ground-floor office of a university dormitory. 【TARGET 1: VICTOR.】 【Victor and the heroine, Andrea, are returning from a late-night food run. Objective: Intercept and disrupt.】 I glanced at the clock on the wall. Holy crap, 11 PM. I knew the drill. I slipped out the main doors and circled around to the back of the building. Sure enough, there was Victor, cupping his hands to give Andrea a boost over the security wall. I clicked on my heavy-duty flashlight, bathing them in a sudden, harsh beam. “What do you think you’re doing out here in the middle of the night?” 1 They both jumped. He lost his grip, and her legs turned to jelly. Andrea tumbled right off the wall. She landed butt-first, right on Victor’s face. Yikes. Even from over here, the sheer awkwardness was radiating off them in waves. Two muffled groans echoed in the night—one of genuine pain, the other of pure humiliation. Andrea scrambled to her feet, her face as red as a baboon’s ass. “What are you two doing, skulking around back here?” I barked, striding closer. “Which dorms? Names. Now.” Victor stood up, clutching his nose. “Sorry, Ma’am. We’re in the dance club. Rehearsal ran late. Could you maybe let it slide this once?” Please. He could sell that story to someone who cared. All club activities wrapped up by nine, tops. God only knew what they’d been up to for the last two hours. “Curfew is curfew,” I stated flatly. “You’re late. No pass means you get written up and have to submit a formal apology.” The color drained from both their faces. “It was my fault, I lost track of time,” Victor said, stepping in front of Andrea like a knight in shining armor. “Just punish me.” I gave him a long look but didn’t answer, just jingled the keys in my hand and motioned for Andrea to follow me. She let out a quiet sigh of relief. The men’s and women’s dorms were in the same building, connected by a sealed-off corridor. Guys on the left, girls on the right. Just as she was about to head up the stairs, I spoke, my voice casual and slow. “Breaking the rules has consequences. It wouldn’t be fair to all the students who actually follow them, now would it?” Andrea’s face fell. “Of course,” I added, a sweet smile spreading across my face, “you could make up for it.” “Just tell me which of your roommates are using illegal appliances.” Back at the front gate, Victor was waiting for me like a good little boy. Freshmen, so pure and simple. They hadn’t learned how to be sneaky little shits yet. “I’ll have the written apology on your desk before my first class tomorrow,” he said dutifully. I chuckled. “No rush.” I repeated the same deal I’d offered Andrea. Just like hers, Victor’s expression soured instantly. The System pinged, informing me his affection for me had already plummeted into the negatives. “I made the mistake, I’ll take the fall,” he said, his jaw tight. “I’m not dragging anyone else down with me.” I clapped my hands together softly. “Now that’s what I like to see. Loyalty. You passed the test.” His face cycled through another emotion—confusion. “You were… testing me?” “Yep. If you’d been like that girl and thrown your friends under the bus, you’d really be writing that apology right now.” My tone was laced with meaning. Victor’s expression shifted a third time. “You’re saying… Andrea… she…?” I nodded grimly. “That’s right. Andrea sold out her roommates without a second thought.” “No way. She wouldn’t…” I patted his shoulder. “Pretty faces can hide ugly hearts, kid. Learn to look deeper.” “Sometimes, what’s on the outside doesn’t match the inside.” “Take me, for example.” I hooked a thumb at my chest. “Your Dorm Mom here might not be a supermodel, but on the inside? Pure gold.” Victor, who had been looking utterly devastated, actually cracked a smile. “You look really young, for a dorm mom.” “Duh. I’m literally Gen Z,” I deadpanned. He immediately started stammering an apology. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean—” “It’s fine. Go on, get to your room, kid.” I waved him off. Back in my office, the System was practically buzzing with excitement. Victor’s affection level for Andrea had nose-dived to 50%. I took a sip from my thermos. All in a day’s work. “Who’s next?” 【TARGET 2: ETHAN.】 【Ethan meets the heroine, Andrea, while working part-time at a local boba shop. Objective: Intercept and disrupt.】 The next day, I was up at the crack of dawn, lying in wait by the campus lake—a necessary shortcut to the boba shop. Besides a few students mumbling English vocabulary to themselves, the path was deserted. Soon, a lean, handsome guy with sharp features came into view. Ethan. Kingston University’s campus heartthrob. Gorgeous, but broke. As a sophomore, his life was a constant shuttle between classes and part-time jobs. Unfortunately, his last gig conflicted with his new class schedule, so he was on the hunt again. The boba shop was where he was supposed to meet Andrea, another part-timer, and begin a slow-burn romance that would land him squarely in her collection of admirers. As he got closer, I whipped out a homemade flyer. “Hey, student! Looking to make some real money? Three hundred a day, no joke.” My plan was simple: cut the problem off at the source. If he never met Andrea, he could never fall for her. Perfect. As expected, Ethan stopped. He took the flyer, his elegant brows furrowing slightly. “Three hundred dollars a day?” I flashed my official Dorm Supervisor ID badge. “One hundred percent legit. If I’m lying, you can report me to the university administration.” That erased the last of his skepticism. “Okay… what’s the job?” I gave him a mysterious smile. “Follow me.” The path I took grew more and more secluded, leading to a patch of overgrown, unused land behind the dorms. Ethan hesitated. “Where are you taking me?” I didn’t look back. Instead, I asked him a question. “Ever considered a… more personal line of work?” Ethan’s face flushed a deep crimson. He looked utterly scandalized. “Is that what this job is?” I nodded, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “What else?” He let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “I should have known. Three hundred a day… it was too good to be true.” “The work’s a little dirty, yeah, but you get used to it,” I said, unlatching the gate to a large pen. A flock of sleeping ducks, startled by the noise, woke up and started waddling towards me, quacking loudly. On my first day, I’d put in a request with the university to use this land for a small vegetable garden and a duck coop. A Dorm Mom’s salary wasn’t going to pay the bills, you know? Ethan, who had already turned to leave, froze in his tracks. He stared, utterly bewildered. “What are you waiting for? You in or out?” I snapped, glancing at him impatiently. After seeing the flock of free-range ducks, he was speechless. “When you said… personal work…” A smirk played on my lips. “Yeah? What did you think I meant, kid?” He looked mortified. “Nothing. Never mind.” I handed him a face mask and a wicker basket. “Good. Now get to work collecting eggs.” Ethan did as he was told, and I set up my phone on a small tripod and started a livestream. Title: Campus Cutie and his Quack Pack: Live at 6 AM! The viewer count skyrocketed. Donations and gifts flooded the screen. I grinned, satisfied. Sure, this was all for the mission, but I wasn’t about to pay him $300 out of my own pocket. The internet could foot the bill. And as for Andrea? She was about to find her pond was one fish short. With the second target handled, the System was practically purring with satisfaction. It immediately served up the third. 【TARGET 3: CALEB.】 【Caleb is Andrea’s childhood sweetheart. He has just transferred to Kingston to be with her. Objective: Intercept and disrupt.】 The System had barely finished speaking when a clean-cut, scholarly-looking guy appeared at the dorm entrance. He was holding a gift box, his eyes scanning the area with hopeful excitement. I stroked my chin. Now this was interesting. Unlike Victor and Ethan, Caleb was the deeply devoted, sentimental type. Disrupting this was going to be a tougher nut to crack. Wait a second. That name sounded familiar. I opened the bottom drawer of my desk. Inside was a neat stack of postcards and envelopes. The front desk was the unofficial mail drop. I pulled out a few slightly grubby letters. The sender was Caleb. The recipient was just listed as “Andrea,” with no room number. A slow grin spread across my face. Talk about a gift from the heavens. After lunch, just as Andrea was walking back into the dorm, Caleb rushed up to meet her. She looked at him, surprised. “Caleb? What are you doing here?” He beamed, handing her the gift. “I transferred! I’m doing my graduate studies here now. I told you in my last letter.” Andrea took the gift and started unwrapping it, answering distractedly. “Oh, right. Did you?” Caleb’s smile faded. “You… you didn’t read my letters?” “No, it’s not that, I just…” Andrea stammered, her eyes darting around until they landed on my office window. A flicker of inspiration lit up her face. “I mean, I never even got them.” “They were probably confiscated by the Dorm Mom,” she said, her voice dripping with pity. “I heard she’s a bit of a psycho. Likes to intercept people’s mail and read it herself.” I sneered internally but kept my expression neutral. Just as I predicted, after Andrea had made her excuses and left, Caleb came straight to my office. “Excuse me? Is the Dorm Mom here?” I smiled pleasantly. “That’s me.” Caleb blinked, a flash of disbelief on his face. “You’re… the ‘Mom’?” “Is there a problem?” I asked, feigning innocence. “What, you think someone born after 2000 can’t be a Dorm Mom?” “No, no, that’s not what I meant,” he stammered, the righteous anger he’d clearly been building up completely deflating. “Ma’am—I mean, Miss—did you by any chance confiscate some letters addressed to Andrea? They were from me. Just… normal letters.” I studied him closely. He had a handsome, earnest face, with clear eyes that held a stubborn sort of naivety. Slowly, I pulled out the grimy letters. “Are these what you’re talking about?” His face lit up. “Yes, those are them!” Then his brow furrowed. “Why are they so dirty?” “Because,” I said, my voice gentle, “I fished them out of the trash can.” I let out a soft sigh. “And this wasn’t the first time. I’ve seen letters just like these, sitting right on top of the garbage, several times now.” I pulled out my phone and opened the photo gallery, showing him several pictures. “I have to take pictures every day to document that the recycling is sorted properly. I just happened to catch these in the shot.” The color drained from Caleb’s face, bit by bit. Then, I pulled up the security footage. The video clearly showed Andrea opening a package, taking the gift, and casually tossing the accompanying letter into the trash without a second glance. When the video ended, the office was silent. Caleb just stood there, his lips pressed into a thin, white line. I softened my tone. “Look, kid, some things just aren’t meant to be. You should give your heart to someone who will actually treasure it.” I gently pushed the stack of letters across the desk toward him. “These belong to you. Whether you keep trying or decide to cut your losses… that’s your call.” Caleb was silent for a long time. Finally, he reached out and took the letters. “Thank you,” he whispered. As I watched his heartbroken figure walk away, I savored the moment. The System pinged. Caleb’s affection for Andrea had dropped to 40%. I clicked my tongue. Childhood sweethearts, man. The bond runs deep. Even after all that, he was still 40% in. No matter. I had time. With the first round of disruptions complete, I settled into the comfortable rhythm of my Dorm Mom life. Once the students were all in class, I’d kick back with some sunflower seeds and binge-watch short-form dramas on my phone. But my peaceful existence was soon interrupted. The System informed me that Andrea hadn’t been idle. While Ethan was still off her radar, she had managed to claw back some affection points from both Victor and Caleb. Well, I was the villain here. I wasn’t about to just sit back and let that happen. One evening, I set up a small charcoal grill in the open space behind the dorms. Next to it, I placed a hand-painted sign: Dorm Mom Cares! Free Roasted Sweet Potatoes! The sweet, smoky aroma drifted far, attracting a crowd of students. Andrea and a few of her friends were drawn in by the smell. Seeing that it was free, she didn’t hesitate to grab the largest one. Just then, Victor happened to be walking by behind her. I spoke up, as if making a general announcement. “Sweet potatoes warm the soul, but they can make you a little… gassy. Don’t be greedy now!” Andrea rolled her eyes. “Some ‘care event.’ The school is paying for it anyway. It’s a student benefit, so if you don’t take it, you’re an idiot.” “And I bet you just take all the leftovers for yourself,” she muttered, grabbing two more and stuffing them in her bag. I just smiled, not stopping her. I saw Victor’s eyes flash with a flicker of disgust as he watched her. Later that evening, I took a “stroll” that deliberately led me past the dance studio. The System had told me Andrea had proactively asked to be Victor’s partner for a duet. They were practicing a difficult lift, one that required Victor to hoist Andrea high into the air. Victor took a deep breath, bent his knees, and with a powerful thrust, lifted her towards the ceiling. And at that precise moment… PFFFTTT— A sharp, sudden, and unmistakable sound ripped through the studio.

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The night our company secured its new round of funding, my wife—the CEO—was supposed to finally announce our marriage to the world. But just as she was about to speak, the new hire she was so fond of, a kid fresh out of college, sauntered onto the stage. “Rebecca, announcing us so soon?” he preened, a smug grin on his face. “You spoil me.” My wife, Rebecca, didn’t correct him. Instead, a soft smile played on her lips as she promised to fast-track him onto our most critical project. The room erupted in applause. Whispers of “a match made in heaven” filled the air. A long-time colleague nudged me, his voice a low murmur. “Luke, you’re usually so good at playing the game. Now’s your chance to suck up.” I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t make a scene. I simply walked forward, slid my project lead ID badge across the table toward the kid, and said, loud enough for everyone to hear: “Why settle for just being on the team? Consider my position as project lead a gift to celebrate your… announcement.” 1 The conference room fell silent. Every eye was on me as I offered my badge to Rory, the new kid. The shock was palpable. After all, this project was my life’s work. I had poured years into it, skipping meals, pulling all-nighters, and collapsing from exhaustion more than once. The silence was broken by a single colleague who started clapping, and soon, the room was roaring with applause again. They praised my generosity, calling me a loyal old guard, the kind of right-hand man every boss dreamed of. Only Rebecca, standing on the stage, looked different. Her expression was a storm cloud, her lips a flat line, her eyes boring into me. Seeing the flicker of panic on her face felt almost funny. She’d always hated the idea of office romance. For seven years, our marriage had been a secret. I’d begged her, pleaded with her to go public, but she always refused. Tonight, she had finally agreed, only to let Rory hijack the moment so easily. Well, whether she wanted to announce us or not, I was done. “If that’s all, I’ll be heading out. Enjoy the party.” I didn’t wait for her reply. I just turned and walked away. The new funding was a direct result of my project’s potential. The core patents were mine. The progress was a product of my blood, sweat, and tears. And after this profound a betrayal, I was done being her fool. The elevator hummed, carrying me down to the underground garage. I slipped into my car, the passenger seat still holding a bouquet of ninety-nine red roses. I’d been so excited about tonight, I’d even booked a table for a candlelit dinner. What a joke. All my anticipation, only to watch her dote on Rory. My gaze hardened. I was about to start the engine when a figure stepped into the glare of my headlights. It was Rory. He leaned against the hood, dangling my ID badge from his finger. “She was this close to announcing you, Luke,” he crowed, his voice dripping with triumph. “Then I said one little thing, and just like that, she changed her mind. She told me after I spend some time on your project, I’m getting a promotion and a fat raise. I hear you haven’t had a promotion in what, three or four years? You’re not mad, are you?” His pale, thin face was a mask of pure malice. I used to find his taunts infuriating, letting them bait me into arguments that Rebecca always misinterpreted as me targeting him. But now? I couldn’t be bothered. As if on cue, I heard the sharp click-clack of high heels approaching. Rory’s demeanor shifted in an instant. He clutched the badge and scurried to my window, his voice laced with manufactured panic. “Luke, please don’t be mad! Rebecca putting me on your team wasn’t her idea, it was mine! I just wanted to learn from you. If you’re not happy, I’ll… I’ll pull out of the project.” He held the badge out meekly, his voice trembling. “A position as important as project lead… of course, it should only go to a veteran like you!” He looked for all the world like a puppy I’d just kicked. Rebecca rounded the corner and, without a word, slammed her designer handbag onto my windshield. BANG. “Luke, what is wrong with you?” she shrieked. “Rory is talking to you, get out of the car! You could have hit him! Is this how you treat your team now? Workplace harassment?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I rolled down the window, ready to tell them to keep the damned position. But Rory, mistaking my movement, thought I was reaching for the badge. A flash of panic crossed his eyes, and his fingers tightened on the lanyard. The next second, he doubled over, clutching his stomach. His face went ashen. “My stomach…” he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper. The acting was laughably bad, but of course, she bought it. Rebecca’s anger vanished, replaced by frantic concern. She rushed to his side, fumbling in her purse for antacids and helping him take them. Then, she spun on me, her voice a desperate roar. “Luke, are you just going to sit there? Get out and help me drive him to the hospital!” I rolled my eyes and revved the engine, ready to leave them there. But Rebecca planted herself directly in front of my car, her expression deadly serious. It was clear she’d rather be run over than let me leave. How utterly absurd. I remembered a time I’d been so sick from a work dinner that I was coughing up blood into the toilet from a stress-induced ulcer. She’d glanced in, told me to pop some Tums, and went back to bed. Now, for Rory’s little performance, the ever-composed Rebecca was losing her mind. With a heavy sigh, I relented and drove them to the emergency room. At the hospital, after a doctor confirmed Rory was perfectly fine, Rebecca let out a breath of relief, her eyes filled with gratitude. I couldn’t stand to watch another second of their melodrama and turned to leave. Rebecca chased me down the hall and grabbed my arm. I braced myself for another tirade. But instead, she draped the project lead badge back around my neck, carefully smoothing the lapels of my suit. “Luke,” she said softly. “You know how Rory likes to joke around. There will be other chances to make our announcement. Just be patient.” She paused, her voice firming. “And a position this important isn’t something you throw a tantrum over. I’ll let it slide this time.” I just grunted in response. She studied my face for a long moment, then seemed to sigh in resignation. She held out a crumpled, cheap-looking box. “And Luke… I saw the roses in the car. They’re beautiful. Will you put them in a vase when we get home? I, uh, I got you something too.” I knew this move. The classic Rebecca playbook: a slap, followed by a cheap piece of candy. The box looked familiar. I remembered a social media post from Rory a few weeks back, whining about staining a new tie Rebecca had bought him. He’d theatrically thrown the whole thing, box and all, in the trash. In the comments, Rebecca had promised to buy him ten more. I took the box and opened it. Inside was a knock-off. The fabric felt cheap, and a smudge of blue dye came off on my thumb when I touched the edge. The receipt was still tucked inside. She’d drop a fortune on a luxury brand for Rory without blinking, but for me, she couldn’t even be bothered to hide the price tag on a fake. I didn’t bother calling her out. I just nodded. “Got it. I’m heading out.” As I turned the corner of the hallway, I spotted a trash can. Without a moment’s hesitation, I tossed the box inside. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number of the tech giant that had been trying to recruit me for years. “The offer you made,” I said into the phone. “I’m accepting it.” 2 The company was a Fortune 500 titan. They’d been trying to poach me for years, but I’d always turned them down, committed to the dream Rebecca and I were supposed to be building together. On the other end of the line, the HR director gushed about salary, benefits, and how thrilled they were to have someone of my caliber joining their team. By the time the call ended an hour later, I was parked in my driveway. I gripped the phone, my knuckles white. All those years ago, I’d walked away from a guaranteed executive position to start from scratch with her. I’d poured my health, my mind, my entire being into our company. I’d run myself into the ground. And now, just as we’d finally made it, climbing from nothing to everything, her heart had flown elsewhere. From now on, I was living for myself. I typed out a quick message to our primary investor, informing them that the project lead for their investment was changing. They had backed us, pushed for this new round of funding, specifically because of their faith in me. They deserved to know I was out. Message sent, I booked a flight for the next morning and started to pack. From the bottom of the wardrobe, I pulled out a heavy winter coat. Tucked underneath was a photo album I hadn’t seen in years. It fell open, and a picture of Rebecca and me slid out. It was taken eight years ago, right after we got together. We looked so young, so shy, barely daring to touch. I picked up the album and began to flip through the pages. It had been her idea to document everything, to “remember all the hardships,” as she’d said, so she could make it up to me one day. And we had struggled together. We’d huddled in a tiny, cramped studio apartment watching pirated movies. We’d argued over who got the last piece of meat on New Year’s Eve. But even in those lean times, I’d been happy. Those memories were the fuel that drove me. As the years passed, the photos changed. Our clothes became more stylish, the backgrounds more luxurious. But the pictures themselves became rarer. From several a week, to one a month, to maybe one a year. Then Rory arrived, and the photos stopped altogether. Our interactions became little more than professional handoffs between a boss and her subordinate. At some point, she stopped noticing if I missed a meal. She didn’t care when I was hospitalized with a bleeding ulcer after a work event. She didn’t bat an eye when I injured myself in the lab. But she shielded Rory from everything. She’d cancel important meetings to make sure he, with his delicate stomach, ate on time. She spoiled him rotten, as if trying to compensate for some past injustice. I had asked her why once, my heart aching with a sense of betrayal. Her eyes had turned to ice. “We both came up the hard way, Luke. I can’t believe you’re still so needy. You’re less mature than Rory.” She’d told me she admired his “purity” and “kindness,” and that she didn’t want him to suffer the way we had. Staring at the album, once a testament to our love, I felt nothing but a hollow emptiness. I tossed it into the trash can without a second thought. I was folding a shirt when my phone rang. It was the manager from the Michelin-starred restaurant. “Mr. Hayes? Your reservation for the private table was half an hour ago. If you don’t arrive in the next ten minutes, we’ll have to release it to other guests.” I preferred simple food, but Rebecca loved the romance and prestige of fine dining. It was where I’d proposed. Tonight, for our big announcement, I’d wanted to celebrate with her. But she’d stood me up. “I won’t be coming,” I said, my voice flat. “Give the table to someone else.” Just as I hung up, a text from Rebecca came through. Have a work dinner tonight. Can’t make it. The brevity of it was almost novel. Usually, she didn’t even bother with an excuse. A moment later, I understood why. A new post popped up on my social media feed. It was from Rory. The photo showed Rebecca, her head bowed, carefully cutting a piece of steak for him. The background was unmistakable: the very same restaurant, the very same private dining room I had booked. The caption read: The boss is as kind as she is beautiful. The steak she cut for me tastes extra special. So those were the “other guests” the manager mentioned. I didn’t bother asking Rebecca why she’d lied. I didn’t feel a pang of sadness. My heart was a placid lake. All I wanted was to sleep. After a quick shower, I fell into a deep, dreamless slumber—the first truly restful night I’d had in years. But sometime in the dead of night, the bedroom lights snapped on, jolting me awake. I blinked against the glare, my eyes slowly adjusting to find Rebecca standing by my bed. She was staring at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Luke,” she gasped. “You were… asleep?” 3 Bleary-eyed, I glanced at my phone. It was 3 a.m. What was she even doing home? Usually, when Rory had one of his “episodes,” she’d stay with him all night, terrified of a relapse. She looked furious, her face a dark mask of resentment. “I come home this late, and you don’t even send a text to see if I’m okay? You don’t wait up for me? Luke, have you no decency?” Me? I almost laughed. The times I’d called to check on her, she’d accused me of being controlling. The nights I’d waited up with a late meal ready, she’d called me idle and threatened to give me more work. Now that I’d stopped, she was still mad. There was no winning. I grunted, a noncommittal sound, and reached to turn off the light. She shoved me lightly, then leaned against me, her body pliant. “Luke, I’m exhausted. Aren’t you going to run me a hot bath?” Then I smelled it. A whiff of Rory’s cologne—that cheap, cloying scent—hit me. It was disgusting. The old me would have been up in a second, catering to her every need. The new me just found her demanding. I pushed her away. The sudden movement, the firmness of it, took her by surprise. I frowned, my voice raspy with sleep and irritation. “I’m tired. Do it yourself.” Rebecca stared, her mouth slightly agape, as if she couldn’t process the fact I had just rejected her. After a long, tense moment, her hand tightened on her purse strap, her knuckles turning white. “So this is it?” she seethed. “I miss one dinner with you, and this is how you act? Unbelievable, Luke.” She spat the words out. “You think I even wanted to come home tonight?” With that, she stormed out, slamming the bedroom door so hard the walls shuddered. A moment later, I heard the front door open and close with the same violent force. In the past, I would have chased after her, begging her to stay. Tonight, I just turned off the light and went back to sleep. The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed and clear-headed for the first time in ages. I went to the kitchen to make breakfast and was surprised to find Rebecca sitting on the living room sofa. This was a new development. Without my groveling, she usually gave me the silent treatment for days, leaving for the office before I was even awake. A lavish gift box rested on her lap. She was meticulously tying a silk ribbon around it. Hearing me, she looked up. She stood and closed the distance between us, grabbing my wrist. She opened the box, took out a watch, and fastened it around my arm. The cold metal sent a shiver through me. She held my wrist, turning it this way and that, and nodded in satisfaction. “Perfect. The size is right. It’s got that understated, sophisticated look.” I’d seen the watch in a magazine. It was a new model, worth a small fortune. But before I could even pull my hand back, she unclasped it, wiped it down carefully with a silk handkerchief, and placed it back in the box. “Good,” she muttered, more to herself than to me. “You and Rory have similar wrist sizes. If it fits you, he’ll love it.” Staring down at the top of her head, all I felt was a cold, biting irony. Of course. Rory was the one who loved flashy watches. Why would I ever think she was turning a new leaf? Rebecca slipped on her coat, picked up the gift box, and headed for the door, a new bounce in her step. But I blocked her way. I held out a folder I’d printed out last night. “Rebecca. You need to sign this.” She frowned, not even looking at it. “Bring it to the office. I’ll sign it there.” “It’s not a company matter,” I said, pushing the folder closer. “It’s important. And it won’t take long.” She let out an exasperated sigh and snatched the papers from my hand. “Always something with you,” she grumbled. Her eyes scanned the top page. Her fingers, flipping through the document, froze. Because she was holding a copy of our divorce papers. 4 Rebecca stared at the papers for a beat, then slapped them down on the entryway table with a derisive laugh. “Is that the best you can do, Luke? Threatening me with a divorce?” She smirked. “What, you think landing one big project gives you the right to act tough? I’m a busy woman. I don’t have time for your little tantrums.” I calmly picked up the papers and held them out to her again. “This isn’t a tantrum, Rebecca. I’m setting you free. Now you can give Rory the title he really wants.”

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My job is… unusual. I break people up for a living. Not the legal kind—that’s what lawyers are for. I handle the messy, emotional fallout that comes before the paperwork is signed. They say love is priceless, but men and women who just whispered “I love you” to their partners can place a six-figure order with me seconds later. Take right now, for instance. A text from my husband, Andrew, just lit up my phone. He’s asking if I’d prefer Paris or Singapore for our wedding anniversary. And a second later, a young woman with a delicate, pretty face walked into my office. She was timid, gathering her courage before she finally spoke. “I’d… I’d like to place an order. For my boyfriend. He’s decided to divorce his wife.” I kept my face neutral and picked up the client intake form. And then I saw the name. Andrew Cole. My hand froze for a fraction of a second. The girl across from me, head bowed, continued in a small voice, “My boyfriend says his wife is a good person, so he doesn’t want to hurt her.” A dry smile touched my lips. I stared at the photo on the form—at Andrew’s face, a face so familiar it had somehow become a stranger’s. It was a bitter thought. In my third year as a breakup specialist, I’d finally received my own case. 1 I set the file down and took a proper look at the girl. Jenna. She wasn’t as beautiful as me, merely pretty in a fragile, unassuming way. Slender—she’d definitely never had a child. She carried an air of inexperience, but her clothes and speech suggested a good education. When she mentioned being the other woman, her eyes darted away, a flicker of what looked like shame. “Ms. Thorne,” she began, her voice gaining a little confidence, “what would you recommend for a situation like mine? My boyfriend said it would be best if… if the woman initiated the divorce herself. They’ve been together a long time, you see. It would be awkward.” She bit her lip, offering a shy, almost innocent smile. If I wasn’t absolutely certain she didn’t recognize me, I would have thought she was mocking me to my face. I stretched my lips into a professional smile. “Ms. Bird,” I said, using her last name from the form, “how long have you and he been together?” The question seemed to catch her off guard. “What?” I raised my voice slightly, keeping it steady. “Before I can propose a strategy, I need to understand every detail of your relationship.” Understanding dawned on her face. She nodded, her voice as bright and cheerful as a songbird’s. But with every word she spoke, another piece of my smile chipped away. “We’ve been together for three years. We met at the hospital.” She blushed, a soft pink dusting her cheeks. “His family member was having surgery, something serious, I think. He was so scared, just smoking in the hallway. I was passing by and… well, I said a few words to comfort him.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “We got to talking, and less than a week later, he asked me to be his girlfriend.” As I listened to her sweet recollection, a sharp, violent pain lanced through my chest. “Was the day you met… today?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Yes! How did you know?” I managed a faint smile, my eyelashes trembling as I looked down. Of course, I knew. Because three years ago today, I was at City General, giving birth to my first and only child with Andrew. Doing the math, while he was meeting her in a hospital hallway, I was on an operating table. A difficult labor that turned into an emergency C-section. I had passed out three times. The memory, once a testament to my strength, now felt like a dose of slow-acting poison, spreading through my veins. I took a silent, deep breath and forced myself to ask the next question. “Are you aware that he has a child? A daughter. She’s three, just started preschool.” “Of course,” she said, the timidity on her face replaced by a casual shrug. “What about it?” “He’s already promised me,” she continued, “that after the divorce, I’ll be her new mom. She’s just a little kid, you know? They don’t really know the difference. Over time, she’ll accept whoever is there. Don’t you think so, Ms. Thorne?” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the file. I nodded, my voice betraying nothing. “Yes. You’re right.” Too bad you’ll never get the chance. My agreement seemed to open the floodgates. She leaned forward, eager to share more, to brag. “He even showed me a picture of his wife. She has this long scar on her stomach… it’s hideous. He told me himself, every time he sees it, it makes him physically sick.” She paused, then looked at me conspiratorially. “Ms. Thorne, what do you think is wrong with that woman? With a scar that ugly, why would she cling to a man who doesn’t want her? Is she that desperate for love?” A small, cruel laugh escaped her lips. I laughed too, but my eyes were glacial. “Is it possible… that his wife never knew any of this?” Jenna raised an eyebrow, her tone absolute. “Impossible. He has a physical aversion to her. You’d have to be an idiot not to notice that. You have no idea, Ms. Thorne. With me, he’s so passionate, so alive. He says he’s been starving at home, completely uninterested in his frumpy wife. I mean, if it were you, wouldn’t you find it strange? Three years without being intimate with your husband?” “Strange,” I answered instantly. My gaze was numb, fixed on the platinum wedding band I hadn’t taken off in four years. Andrew and I came from different worlds. My family had money; his didn’t. Yet we’d made it, from college sweethearts to the wedding aisle, eight years of history between us. When I was sick, he’d literally jumped from a second-story dorm window to get me medicine in the middle of the night. When I was sad, he’d run across town to find the one bakery that made my favorite macarons, just to see me smile. He was there for every ultrasound, every doctor’s appointment. Every time he came home, the first thing he did was hug our daughter, Lily, and me, telling us we were his everything. Even his excuse for our separate beds these past two years had been wrapped in a blanket of care. “Leslie,” he’d said, stroking my hair, “you went through so much bringing Lily into the world. I could never put you through that again.” I thought it was just what happened to marriage. That the fire cools to a quiet, steady warmth. How could I have known? It wasn’t that he’d lost his appetite. It was that he was eating out. A chill crept up from the soles of my feet and settled deep in my bones. I asked my final question. “What are your exact requirements for the separation? Is it just that the wife has to be the one to file for divorce?” Jenna shook her head. “Of course not. And most importantly, you can’t let her find out he was cheating. I know people think he married into money, but he’s worked so hard to build his own career. He’s been through so much. If she finds out he had an affair, she’ll never let go. She’ll destroy him.” I flexed my fingers, saying nothing. She wasn’t reassured. She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, repeating her instructions. Finally, she sat back. “Ms. Thorne, I know you’re the best breakup specialist in the city. I’m counting on you and my boyfriend to handle this.” I nodded, a practiced smile fixed on my face. “Don’t worry.” The moment the door clicked shut behind her, I picked up my phone. I didn’t call Andrew. I called my oldest friend. “Get me the best PI and the best lawyer from your firm. I want a complete rundown of Andrew Cole’s life for the past three years. Everything.” I took a breath. “And while you’re at it, give my father a call. Tell him Andrew’s cheating. It’s time to pull our family’s investments.” I leaned back in my chair, the leather cool against my skin. “Let’s see what he has left when he’s standing on his own.” My friend, my most trusted partner, was ruthlessly efficient. Less than half a day later, a 128-gigabyte flash drive landed on my desk. “It’s all in there,” he said. “Brace yourself.” I slid the drive into my laptop. Click. The first video opened. A high-end restaurant, bathed in soft, golden light. Andrew, dapper in a black designer suit, presented a massive bouquet of 9,999 imported roses to the woman across from him. Jenna. Three months ago, for my birthday, Andrew claimed he was swamped at work. He came home with a single, sad-looking rose he’d bought from a street vendor for five bucks. The next file was security footage from a luxury department store. Andrew’s arm was wrapped possessively around Jenna’s waist as they shopped. Designer clothes, fine jewelry… shopping bags piled up at her feet like a monument to his affection. A small stuffed animal, a free gift from the cashier at checkout, was the same one he’d brought home for our daughter Lily’s birthday. Expressionless, I closed the file and opened the next. Three years of Andrew’s bank statements. Massive sums of money bounced between several accounts, the cumulative total so large it made my chest ache. The final destination for it all was a private account ending in 7761. The account holder: Jenna Bird. He’d been funneling money to her under the guise of “consulting fees,” quietly siphoning off our assets. Did he really think I was that stupid? That I wouldn’t notice? The cold in my heart felt like it was freezing me from the inside out. I clicked on the next file. It was a folder of screenshots. Text messages between Jenna and Lily’s preschool teacher. Posing as “Lily’s Mom,” Jenna had been relentlessly asking about my daughter’s daily life—what she ate, when she napped, who her friends were. She had even arranged with Andrew to attend the next parent-teacher conference together, as a couple. My hand clenched the mouse so tightly my knuckles cracked. It wasn’t just sadness anymore. It was a white-hot, protective rage. He had dragged our daughter into his sordid affair. I remembered when Lily was born, how he was the one who got up for every 2 a.m. feeding, rocking her back to sleep. He promised me that no matter what, she would always be our little princess, always loved, always protected. Even this morning, when Jenna had nonchalantly mentioned becoming Lily’s new mother, a small, foolish part of me had felt a flicker of relief. At least Andrew still cared about his child. At least he wouldn’t hurt her in a divorce. Now, I felt like a gaping wound had been torn open in my chest, with an icy wind howling through it. I couldn’t stop myself. I grabbed my phone, my fingers flying, ready to send him a furious message, to warn him to stay the hell away from my daughter. But before I could, a notification popped up. A message from Jenna. She’d sent me a selfie, a mirror shot of her in a new dress. The text read: Ms. Thorne, what do you think of this outfit? My boyfriend is taking me and his daughter to meet his parents tonight! I’m so nervous! At the exact same moment, a text from Andrew appeared. Hey honey, my parents are missing Lily. I’m going to take her over to their place for dinner tonight. It was followed by a second message. You’ve been working so hard. I bought you a movie ticket for tonight. Go relax and enjoy yourself. He’d even attached a picture of Lily smiling, taken just moments ago as she left preschool. Looking at my daughter’s innocent, trusting face, a slow, dangerous smile spread across my own. A movie? The family dinner sounds far more entertaining. If he’s introducing the new girlfriend to the family, then shouldn’t the wife be there to offer her opinion? I hung up and got in my car, heading straight for the family estate. On the way, Andrew’s texts kept coming. Honey, did you make it to the theater? Looks like there’s a big event at the mall today, did you see it? He was checking up on me. I wasn’t worried. I did a quick search for the mall’s events, took a screenshot, and sent it back. Yeah, saw it. It’s pretty crowded. My reply was curt, but it seemed to put him at ease. Okay, babe. Have fun. Love you. The same sweet words he always used. They turned to ash in my mouth. I put my phone away and didn’t reply. When I arrived, I slipped on a hat and a mask and entered the property quietly through a side gate. The party was already in full swing. Nearly all of Andrew’s relatives were there. His mother was beaming, flitting about like the perfect hostess. Her attentive, doting manner reminded me of how she’d been before Andrew and I were married. She used to treat me like her own daughter. When she knew my constitution was weak, she’d drive to a farm upstate to buy organic chickens for soup; when I was cold, she’d knit me scarves and slippers. She even remembered my father had a sensitive stomach and would brew special herbal remedies for him. Even my own father, a man who’d seen everything in the business world, was won over. “The Coles are good people,” he’d told me. “I can rest easy with you marrying into their family.” But now, as Andrew walked in with a radiant Jenna on his arm, his mother was the first to rush forward. “This must be Jenna! Oh, you’re just as lovely as Andrew said. You can tell you’re a good girl.” She turned to her son. “Andrew, you better treat her right. No bullying, you hear?” His father, usually so stern and reserved, put down his newspaper and clapped Andrew on the shoulder, a look of deep satisfaction on his face. “Good eye, son. She looks strong. Healthy. It’s about time the Cole family had a woman who can give us a son.” And just like that, I understood. All this time, they resented me for having a daughter. They wanted an heir to carry on the family name. Jenna seemed to bask in the approval. She subtly pushed her hips forward and said in a sweet, girlish voice, “Don’t you worry, Mr. and Mrs. Cole. Andrew took me to the doctor. Everything is in perfect working order. I can definitely give you a grandson.” “Wonderful! Just wonderful!” His parents were overjoyed, practically fighting over who could give Jenna a gift first. In their excitement, they pushed my daughter, Lily, aside like she was a piece of furniture. The other relatives swarmed them, showering Jenna with compliments. Amid the noise, I heard Andrew’s uncle—a man to whom I’d “loaned” over two hundred thousand dollars over the years—clap his hands and roar with laughter. “That’s my boy! Now that’s a true Cole man!” His aunt—the one for whom I’d pulled every string I had to get her daughter into a university abroad—was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “Oh, this is such a relief. I liked Jenna the moment I saw her. She has a good, solid feel about her.” And his younger brother—whose failed startups I had repeatedly bailed out with my family’s connections—stood up to raise a toast. “To my brother and my new sister-in-law! To a long and happy life, and may you have a son soon!” Every single one of them. Every person in that room had taken something from me—my help, my money, my kindness. And now, not one of them remembered my name. It was as if I had never existed. The aunt, after wiping her tears, grabbed my three-year-old daughter and pushed her in front of Jenna. “Well, what are you waiting for, sweetie?” she urged. “Say hi to your new mommy!” “Yes, yes,” his mother chimed in, suddenly remembering Lily. She took my daughter’s hand and tried to press it into Jenna’s. “Lily, go on. Call her ‘Mama’.” Lily looked at the circle of strange, eager faces, her own face filled with terror. She shook her head violently. “No! She’s not my mommy! My mommy’s name is Leslie! Grandma, I want my mommy.” Her small voice trembled. “Can you please call my mommy to come get me?” She thought her grandmother would save her. But the warmth vanished from her grandmother’s face, replaced by a cold fury. She grabbed Lily’s ear and twisted, hard. “You stupid girl, what nonsense are you spouting? She is your mother now. Say it!” Andrew’s father scowled at Lily, his disgust plain. “Andrew, is this how you’ve raised her? With no manners?” Jenna bit her lip, looking faint, and collapsed dramatically into Andrew’s arms. “Andrew,” she whimpered, “I don’t think Lily likes me.” He wrapped his arms around her, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “Don’t be silly. She’s just a kid, she doesn’t know any better. Once we’re married, she’ll do whatever you say. I won’t interfere.” Standing just outside the patio doors, I had seen enough. I pushed the doors open and stepped inside. The chatter died instantly. I looked at the stunned, guilty faces around the room, and let a slow, chilling smile spread across my face. “Isn’t this a family dinner? Why wasn’t I, the actual wife, invited?”

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After seven years together, my boyfriend handed me an invitation to his wedding. The bride wasn’t me. He said it was just a green card marriage for his one true love and told me to be understanding. So I smiled, wished him well, and made one phone call to his biggest rival. He was about to understand that the woman he betrayed was the same woman who could destroy him. 1 It was three in the morning when my boyfriend, Liam, started passing out wedding invitations in the VIP section of the club. When he slid one across the polished table to me, a sharp-eyed friend of ours immediately started laughing. “The bride gets an invitation too? You two are something else, keeping the joke going right to the end.” But the laughter died the second they opened the card and saw the photo inside. The smiles froze on their faces. Because everyone in that room knew, with a sudden, sickening clarity, that the woman getting married to my boyfriend wasn’t me. It was Claire. His Claire. The one that got away and then came back. I, however, wasn’t surprised at all. I smiled, pulled a crisp twenty-dollar bill from my purse, and tucked it into his hand. “I don’t think I can make the wedding, but this is for you. A little something for the happy couple.” I bit down on the word “happy,” letting it hang in the air. Then, under the stunned gazes of our friends, I turned and walked away. Liam scrambled after me, his explanation a weightless whisper in the hallway. “Ava, don’t overthink this. It’s just a piece of paper.” “It’s for Claire’s green card,” he continued, as if that explained everything. “It’s the fastest way for her to get her status sorted out. As soon as it’s approved, I’ll divorce her and we can get married. I promise.” He added, as a final, pathetic flourish, “And hey, to show you there are no hard feelings, Claire picked out a car for you herself!” When I just gave him a flat, emotionless nod, he seemed satisfied and headed back to his party. He didn’t know. He had no idea that I was done believing in his so-called promises. If his heart wasn’t with me, then I was done pouring mine out for him. I pulled out my phone, my fingers steady, and dialed the CEO of our industry’s leading competitor. My voice was firm. “I’m accepting your offer,” I said. “I’m ready to come aboard, and I’ll be bringing all of my proprietary research with me.” The first thing I saw when I walked into the office the next morning was the car from Claire. A pink beach cruiser bicycle was leaning against my desk, a ridiculous satin bow tied to its handlebars. A few colleagues were gathered around it, whispering. Their conversation stopped when they saw me, their faces a mixture of pity and poorly concealed amusement. “So that’s the gift from Claire? How… thoughtful.” “Shh, she’s here.” Expressionless, I walked over, pushed the bicycle into a corner, and didn’t give it a second glance. My phone rang. Liam. I answered to the immediate buzz of his irritation. “Why’d it take you so long to pick up? Are you still upset about the green card thing? God, Ava, can’t you be a little less small-minded and see the big picture for once?” “It’s a formality, a piece of paperwork so Claire can build a life here. Don’t we have enough trust between us for you to understand that?” I said nothing. He paused, then softened his tone, the way he always did when he was manipulating me. “Look, I know this is hard. But you know Claire is like a sister to me. I can’t just stand by and watch her struggle, can I?” “You’ve always been the one who gets me, Ava. You’ll understand this time, too. Right?” He was worried about her struggling, but not about my heart breaking? And besides, what kind of company needed its CEO to stage a sham marriage to retain a “talent” who barely had a high school diploma? It was just another excuse born from his blatant favoritism for Claire. I was too tired to argue. I just grunted an “Mm-hmm.” “One more thing,” he said, his voice all business now. “That project Claire’s been having trouble with? I need you to fix it. I want a solution on my desk by the end of the day. It’s your responsibility, so don’t disappoint me.” A cold, bitter laugh rose in my throat. So that was the real reason for this call. I was supposed to clean up Claire’s mess. Again. It was his pattern. He protected her at every turn, burying her mistakes. When she got drunk and started a fight with a client, he paid for the damages out of his own pocket to make sure she didn’t face any consequences. This particular project was my baby. I had spent a month flying back and forth, catering to the client’s every bizarre demand to land that contract. The moment the ink was dry, he’d said, “We’re all one team here,” and handed the lead position to Claire. Now she’d assaulted the client, and the punishment fell on me for “failing to protect her.” And he wanted me to go back and salvage it? The audacity was breathtaking. Everything was for Claire. Even the one time he finally, miraculously agreed to marry me was a lie, a means to get a green card for Claire. We had been together for seven years. Seven years of me asking, and him refusing. First, it was “we just graduated, we need to focus on our careers.” I understood. Then, we started the company together. It grew fast. “Let’s wait until after the IPO,” he’d said. I understood. Later, the company was a top-five player in the industry, the IPO was a roaring success, and our friends from college had kids in elementary school. I thought, this has to be it. When I brought it up, he accused me of being conventional, of not understanding him. “Aren’t we fine the way we are? Why do you need a piece of paper to tie me down?” An hour after that conversation, he sent me to the airport to pick up Claire, who had just moved to New York. In the two months since she arrived, he had held our relationship hostage, threatened me with its demise, exactly 76 times. And with each of those 76 threats, he made it painfully clear to everyone who his heart truly belonged to. The way my team looked at me shifted from respect to a kind of morbid curiosity. His parents’ warmth toward me chilled into indifference. My friends started dropping hints, gently nudging me to wake up. They were right. I needed to wake up. I was clinging to seven years of history, but he was only clinging to Claire. Hearing no argument from me on the phone, Liam assumed I’d caved, that the matter was settled. “Don’t worry,” he cooed, “as soon as Claire’s papers are finalized, I’ll take you straight to City Hall. We’ll have our wedding. Okay?” “By the way, you saw the bike Claire got you, right? Isn’t it great? She’s so thoughtful. You should try to be more accommodating to her, you know? Don’t let people think you’re petty.” A humorless smile touched my lips. He couldn’t go three sentences without mentioning his precious Claire. While I was pulling all-nighters for the company, he and Claire were having candlelit dinners at Michelin-star restaurants, with her posting on Instagram about his “romantic soul.” While I was taking care of his sick father, he and Claire were skiing in Aspen, captioning their photos with “the brave get to enjoy the world first.” He was enjoying it, alright, while I was the one carrying all the weight. And still, in his eyes, I could never measure up to her. Before I could reply, I heard her voice in the background, a sweet, cloying sound. “Liam, honey, come on! The clerk’s office closes for lunch soon!” “Gotta go,” Liam said hurriedly. “Don’t forget to handle that project.” Then he hung up. My hand tightened around my phone. He didn’t even have another second to spare for me. Two minutes later, an @everyone notification popped up in the company’s general Slack channel. I clicked on it. A message, in bold red font, filled my screen: 【HUGE NEWS!】A massive congratulations to our very own Claire Miller and CEO Liam Carter on tying the knot today! A match made in heaven! We wish the happy couple a lifetime of love and joy! Beneath it was a photo. Claire, dressed in a crisp white pantsuit, had Liam wrapped in her arms, her head tilted down to kiss him. He was leaning back, eyes closed, a blissful smile playing on his lips, holding up two bright red marriage certificates for the camera. The backdrop was unmistakably the vow stage at the City Clerk’s office. The channel exploded. Claire’s sycophants were the first to react: “Congrats, Claire! Congrats, Mr. Carter! This is the best news our company has ever had!” Claire herself quickly followed up with a voice memo, her tone thick with smug triumph. “Aw, you guys, thank you! Liam and I wanted to keep it low-key, but he insisted we share our joy with our corporate family. Dinner on us soon!” The head of HR chimed in instantly. “So generous, Claire! This finally puts all those nasty rumors about Mr. Carter’s relationship status to bed. I guess some people will have to learn their place now.” He punctuated the message with a winking-face emoji. I had no intention of engaging, but they weren’t about to let me off the hook. One of Claire’s assistants tagged me directly. “@Ava Chen, you agree, right? As a company veteran, shouldn’t you be the first to congratulate our CEO and his beautiful bride?” The moment that message appeared, I could feel the eyes of everyone in the open-plan office drift toward me, feigning nonchalance as they stared at their phones. Before I could even react, Claire replied to the thread. “Guys, don’t do that. Let’s not make this awkward for Ava. She’s probably not having a great day. We shouldn’t force her.” It was a masterful move, pretending to defend me while twisting the knife, confirming for everyone that I was the woman who had been dumped. And Liam? He posted a single, sterile sentence: “Thank you, everyone. Please return to your work. All project approvals will be handled by our new Chief Operating Officer, Claire Carter, for the time being.” His silence on the matter of me was the loudest confirmation of all. It was the most brutal kind of dismissal. I was just a tool. A useful, disposable tool. I calmly navigated away from the Slack channel, opened my HR portal, and digitally signed my own severance papers. 2 That evening, I took a cab to Liam’s parents’ house. My car, of course, had been driven off by Liam. The suburban house in front of me was one I knew well. I’d drained my savings to buy it outright years ago, dreaming it would be our marital home. Liam had complained it was too far from the office, so he moved his parents in from out of state and had me buy another condo downtown. The joke was on me. He still lived in this house with them. The downtown condo sat empty—he never let me move in—while I rented a small studio apartment near the office. For the convenience of working late, he’d said. Now that I was leaving him, I felt I owed his parents a face-to-face explanation. With that thought, I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. His mother opened the door. The smile on her face vanished when she saw me. “Ava. Isn’t it a busy time at the company? What brings you all the way out here?” Before I could answer, she turned and walked back inside, muttering just loud enough for me to hear, “You know, Claire is such a thoughtful girl. She just got here, and she brought us such expensive gifts. And you? You’ve been with Liam all these years and you show up empty-handed.” I froze. Just last week, I’d had a friend bring back a top-of-the-line set of golf clubs from Scotland for his father, and a custom-made silk scarf for his mother. How had those become Claire’s gifts? I stepped into the living room and saw his dad on the sofa, lovingly polishing one of the very golf clubs I’d given him. “Mrs. Carter,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “Those clubs, and the scarf… I had a friend bring them for you. Didn’t Liam tell you?” His father shot me a cold glare. “That’s enough. No more excuses. Claire already told us they were a special welcome gift from her.” “Ava,” he said, his voice dripping with disappointment. “How could you try to steal credit from a younger girl like that? Just to make yourself look good?” His mother, who had been about to get me a glass of water, set the pitcher down and walked back over, shaking her head at me. I looked at them, incredulous. In my own house, I was the unwelcome guest. Just then, the front door opened, and the sound of Liam and Claire’s laughter filled the entryway. “Mom, Dad, we’re home!” Liam had his arm around Claire’s waist. They walked in, beaming. When Claire saw me, her smile faltered for a second before her eyes welled up with tears. She shrank back, hiding behind Liam like a frightened child. The moment Liam’s parents saw her reaction, their faces hardened. His father slammed the golf club down on the coffee table with a loud crack. “Liam, have you been letting her bully Claire? I’m telling you, I watched that girl grow up. She’s like a daughter to me. Don’t you dare push her around!” He pointed the club at me. “You said you bought this? Fine, take it back. We don’t want it. And while you’re at it, get out of my house.” His mother quickly added, “Exactly! Claire is all alone in this big city. For her to think of buying us such lovely gifts… it shows her character. And you? You try to take the credit with a single sentence. How can we ever trust you to marry our son?” This was all the encouragement Claire needed. Her performance began. With tears streaming down her face, she choked out, “It’s all my fault. I never should have bought those things. Ava, please don’t be angry with them. It’s all my fault.” “I must be in your way, taking up a space that belongs to you. Maybe it’s best if I just leave New York tomorrow.” Liam instinctively pulled her into a protective embrace. “Claire, you don’t have to apologize to her. She’s just being petty and jealous. She can’t stand to see anyone else be happy.” My hands were shaking with rage. I stared at him. “Liam. Tell me the truth. Who bought those gifts?” He turned to me, his face a cold mask. “Ava, have you made enough of a scene? Claire bought them. End of story.” “I’m warning you,” he continued, his voice low and menacing, “my parents aren’t in good health. If you upset them, you’ll have me to answer to.” He shot me a desperate, frantic look, a silent plea for me to just drop it. In that moment, I finally understood. I was, and always had been, the outsider. His father grunted, getting to his feet and issuing the final verdict. “We’re having a family discussion. You should leave now.” So that was it. I was the only one here who wasn’t family. A flicker of triumph flashed in Claire’s eyes. She feigned reluctance. “Oh, we shouldn’t… Ava is a guest, after all…” Liam’s father waved a dismissive hand. “Ava, I’m going to be blunt. I don’t think you’re good enough for my son.” “Look at Claire—a degree from a prestigious overseas university. And you? What skills do you have? If Liam wasn’t the CEO, you wouldn’t even have a job at that company.” “You’re out of your league with our family. Do yourself a favor, keep a little dignity, and leave my house immediately.” A high school dropout with a degree he bought for her online. The irony was suffocating. Without me, that company would have failed three times over. I laughed, a raw, bitter sound. “Your house? I bought this house. You’ve been living here, rent-free, for years, and now you have the nerve to tell me I’m not good enough for your son?” That struck a nerve. His father snatched a teacup from the table and hurled it to the floor. It shattered, sending sharp fragments flying. One piece sliced my arm, and I felt a warm trickle of blood. “The deed is in my son’s name!” he roared, his face purple with rage. “First the gifts, now the house! Is there anything you won’t claim is yours?” “Get out! Get out now or I’m calling the police!” I looked at the twisted faces of this family and knew there was no point in arguing further. I locked eyes with Liam, one last, long look. Then I turned and walked out. He frowned, a flicker of something—guilt? annoyance?—crossing his face. But he said nothing. He let me go. 3 Outside the house, the night air was cold against my face. I walked aimlessly down the quiet suburban street, realizing I had nowhere to go. Liam had the keys to the new condo, and I wasn’t about to go back and ask for them. After quitting my job, I’d already terminated the lease on my studio. It looked like I’d be sleeping in my car tonight. I walked to the spot where I always parked, but it was empty. My Range Rover was gone. Frowning, I pulled out my phone and dialed Liam. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up, his voice slurring slightly with irritation. “Ava, what do you want now? I thought you left.” I swallowed my anger. “Where is my car?” I asked, my voice cold. There was a pause. Then, in a tone of utter entitlement, he said, “Oh, the Range Rover? I gave it to Claire.” I fought the urge to throw my phone into the street. “On what authority did you give her my car?” “What do you mean, your car?” Liam’s voice rose, indignant. “Ava, can you stop being so possessive for one second? Claire is new to the city. She can’t be taking Ubers everywhere, can she? She needs it to meet with clients, to generate revenue for the company!” He wasn’t done. “Besides, didn’t she get you a new one?” “So what if she drives your fancy car for a while?!” A broken-down bicycle, in his mind, was a fair trade for my Range Rover. He continued, his words a cascade of casual cruelty. “Oh, and by the way, that downtown condo was just sitting empty, so I let Claire move in. It’s much more convenient than a hotel.” I finally snapped. “You wouldn’t dare! I bought that condo!” A sneer came through the phone. “You bought it? Ava, have you forgotten whose name is on the deed?” “I can let whoever I want live there. What are you going to do about it?” “I’ll tell you what,” he said, his voice turning hard. “My dad is furious right now. He was so angry he smashed that old tea set you kept in the cabinet. If you want to salvage this relationship, you’ll come back tomorrow with an identical one and apologize.” “Otherwise, we really are done.” He thought I’d come crawling back, just like all the other times. Not this time. My blood ran cold. “Liam,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Confirm something for me. The tea set. Was it in a black lacquered box?” “Yeah, that’s the one. Your precious little treasure. Now you’re worried? Maybe you should have thought about that before you started a fight.” “Liam… that was my father’s. It was his heirloom. You knew that, didn’t you?” For a brief second, his voice faltered. “I… I forgot. It’s just a tea set. Your dad’s been gone for years, Ava. It’s not important anymore.” “Stop trying to change the subject. Be here by noon tomorrow with an apology. Do you hear me?” I rubbed my temples, feeling something inside me shatter into a million irreparable pieces. “You want an identical one? That’s impossible.” “And you know what? Thank your idiot father for me. He finally made me see your whole family for what you truly are.” He exploded. “What did you just say? How dare you! After all the years I’ve given you, the sacrifices I’ve made, you have the audacity to talk to me like that?” “That’s it, we are done! And don’t bother coming to work tomorrow. You’re fired!” “Who do you think you are? Do you honestly believe anyone else would want you after me?” “You won’t get a single brick from those properties, or a single bolt from that car! You’ll leave with nothing!” He slammed the phone down. I stood on the silent street, taking a moment to let the calm wash over the rage. Seven years of my life. Two properties. All of my savings. I had given him everything, and he was leaving me with nothing. He had even let them destroy my father’s memory. But the game wasn’t over. I had prepared for this.

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My father sent me to my husband’s company to test him. A surprise inspection, he’d called it. I thought it would be a formality. I wasn’t even five steps inside the office when I saw her: a woman dressed in a look of curated innocence, staring at an industrial shredder as if it were magic. “Wow, this thing is so cool,” she breathed, and then, without a second thought, she picked up a contract from a nearby desk and started to feed it in. A colleague next to her went pale. “Lexi, for God’s sake, stop!” he yelped, diving to snatch it back. “Weren’t you in Carter’s office playing video games? Why are you out here?” She just giggled. “Hehe, I got thirsty.” As if on cue, her hand, holding a full cup of water, jerked. The entire contents splashed directly onto the main power switch on the wall. The office went dark, followed by a collective cry of despair from every cubicle. I grabbed the arm of a young intern. “Who in the hell hired that woman?” He immediately put a finger to his lips. “Keep your voice down,” he whispered, his eyes wide with fear. “That’s our boss’s wife. Mr. Hayes’s wife. I heard this whole division is technically hers.” He gave me a weary look. “Are you new? You get used to it. She usually just stays in his office and doesn’t bother anyone.” A sharp, pulsing pain started in my temples. If she was Carter’s wife… then what was I? I pulled out my phone and dialed my father. “Dad,” I said, my voice cold and clear. “Cancel the evaluation. Just tell Carter to bring the divorce papers to the office.” 1 The official story was a routine divisional review. A surprise audit, my father had called it, telling me not to feel any pressure, to just consider it a chance to get familiar with the assets. The real story? He was sending me to test my husband. I figured it would be a simple in-and-out. A formality. I badged in with the credentials the front desk provided, the frosted glass doors to the main office floor hissing open before me. The first thing I saw was a woman. She was dressed in a white sundress that screamed calculated innocence, crouched in front of a heavy-duty office shredder, her expression one of childlike wonder. “Wow, this machine is so cool,” she murmured, her voice a breathy whisper. “Does it just… eat anything?” Before anyone could answer, she reached over to a nearby desk and picked up a thick, bound document. From my angle, I could clearly see the cover sheet, stamped in bold red letters: ACQUISITION AGREEMENT. Without a moment’s hesitation, she started feeding it into the machine’s hungry maw. A man in glasses nearby went white as a sheet. “Lexi, no!” He launched himself across the short distance between them, a desperate dive that was more of a controlled fall, snatching the contract from the shredder’s teeth just in time. He collided with her, but she barely seemed to notice. “My God, Lexi, what are you doing?” he gasped, his voice thin with terror. “I thought you were in Carter’s office playing on your Switch. This contract has to be signed this afternoon!” The woman—Lexi—didn’t seem the least bit offended by the collision. She just giggled, a light, airy sound, and held up an empty tumbler. “Got bored. And thirsty.” The man with the glasses clutched the rescued document to his chest like it was a newborn baby. He let out a shaky breath, forcing a pained smile onto his face. “Right. Thirsty,” he said, his voice dropping to a near-beg. “Please, can you just… go back to his office to get a drink? He has that filtered water cooler in there, remember?” She pouted. “The water in there tastes weird. I like the water out here better.” Ignoring the man’s look of pure, unadulterated despair, she skipped off toward the break room. I watched the whole insane spectacle, a sharp, pulsing pain starting in my right temple. I caught the sleeve of a young guy who looked like an intern, his ID badge still shiny and new. “Who is she?” I asked, keeping my voice low. The intern’s eyes flickered from me to the woman’s retreating back, a flicker of raw fear in them. He brought a finger to his lips in a universal sign to be quiet. “Keep it down, ma’am.” He leaned in, his voice barely a whisper. “That’s Lexi. She’s… she’s Mr. Hayes’s wife. Carter’s wife.” The floor seemed to tilt beneath my feet. In that single moment, all of Carter’s recent strangeness—the late nights he claimed were spent at the office, the way his phone was always face down on the nightstand, the vague, distant look in his eyes—it all clicked into place with a sickening finality. The intern, oblivious, kept whispering. “The rumor is, this whole division is technically hers, so she’s the real boss, you know? You must be new. You’ll get used to it.” He sighed, a sound of weary resignation that didn’t belong on someone so young. “She usually just stays in his office, watches Netflix or whatever. Doesn’t bother us. Carter must be out for that summit today, so there’s no one to babysit her. That’s when she… explores.” His words faded into a dull roar in my ears. She’s Carter’s wife. Then what in God’s name was I? “Ma’am? Are you okay?” the intern asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “You look really pale.” I forced a smile that felt like cracking glass. “Fine. Just… surprised.” I looked out at the open-plan office. “I’m just surprised a place like this would have someone like that on staff. It’s… an eye-opener.” The intern gave a bitter little shrug. “Like I said, you get used to it. As long as she doesn’t actually break anything, we just try to survive until she gets bored and goes back in his office.” I didn’t say anything else. Doesn’t actually break anything? If that contract had been shredded, a multi-million-dollar acquisition would have imploded. The fallout, the financial loss… who would have answered for that? I watched Lexi’s silhouette in the break room. She was humming to herself, her body swaying to a rhythm only she could hear. My hand went to my phone, my thumb hovering over my father’s contact. But then I stopped. Just leaving now would be letting Carter off too easy. My father sent me here to evaluate his performance. And from what I’d just seen, it wasn’t just his performance that was in question. It was his judgment. His character. His integrity. I needed to see just how deep the rot went. I smoothed down the front of my blazer and walked back to the reception desk. “Hi, my name is Audrey Sterling. I’m from the corporate headquarters, here for the divisional review.” My voice was calm, even. “I’ll need a temporary workstation, preferably somewhere quiet. And one more thing—this is an internal audit. I don’t want Mr. Hayes to be aware of my presence.” The receptionist nodded, her professional smile unwavering. I found a quiet desk in a far corner of the office, settling in behind the monitor. My eyes, however, were fixed on Lexi. She had emerged from the break room and was now staring intently at the fire alarm pull station on the wall, a dangerous curiosity gleaming in her eyes. 2 With Carter out for the day, Lexi’s boredom quickly reached its peak. She drifted out of the general manager’s office again, a ghost of chaos haunting the cubicles. She floated through the office, a walking, talking disruption. One moment she was poking at a designer’s freshly rendered graphic, leaving a smudge on the monitor. The next, she was leaning on a programmer’s keyboard, inserting a string of gibberish into a line of code. You could feel the collective tension rise wherever she went. People held their breath as she approached, only to exhale in a rush of relief and frantic damage control after she’d passed. Her tour eventually led her back to the break room kitchenette. She was apparently thirsty again. She picked up a disposable cup and held it under the water cooler spigot. I don’t know if her hand slipped or if it was intentional. But she jerked. A full cup of water flew sideways, arcing through the air in a perfect, shimmering wave. It crashed directly against the wall beside the cooler. Right where the main circuit breaker for the entire floor was housed. There was a loud, wet CRACKLE, a flash of angry blue sparks, and then… nothing. The overhead lights died. Every computer monitor went black. For a few seconds, there was absolute silence. Then, the silence was shattered by a tidal wave of anguish and despair. “MY CODE! I’ve been working on that script all morning! I hadn’t saved!” “The pitch deck! The client presentation is in two hours! It’s gone!” “The quarterly reports… they’re due at two… Oh my God, it’s all gone!” The head of IT, a perpetually stressed man named David, was the first one out of his office. He saw Lexi standing there, a look of pure, unblemished innocence on her face, and his own face turned a shade of mottled purple. His lips moved, but no sound came out. He clenched and unclenched his fists, a silent, internal battle against screaming. Lexi, of course, spoke first, her voice dripping with wronged fragility. “What happened? Is the power out?” She gestured at the smoking, blackened panel. “That switch must be really cheap. It shouldn’t break just from a little water, right? Why is our equipment so terrible?” The sheer audacity of it, the masterful way she shifted blame, was almost breathtaking. The office manager, a man named Paul, came scurrying over. He took one look at the smoldering breaker, one look at Lexi, and immediately pasted a sycophantic smile on his face. “Lexi, are you hurt? Did it scare you?” he asked, his voice oozing false concern. “Don’t you worry about a thing. It’s not your fault. It was probably just some old wiring. We’ll get it fixed right away. I’ll call maintenance, have them put in a new one, a waterproof one! You just go back to the office and relax. We’ll handle this.” Lexi pouted, clearly not entirely satisfied, but she turned and sauntered back toward Carter’s office without another word. As soon as she was gone, Paul wiped a sleeve across his sweating forehead and started barking orders at the IT department. As he passed my desk, I stopped him. “Excuse me,” I said quietly. “Does this kind of thing happen often?” He looked at me, recognized the visitor’s badge, and a look of profound bitterness crossed his face. He motioned for me to follow him into the fire-exit stairwell. The heavy door clicked shut behind us. “You’re from corporate, right? The auditor?” he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Look, I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but after today…” He sighed, the sound echoing in the concrete well. “She’s Carter’s… well, you know. She’s his whole world. We can’t touch her.” “Carter’s out of town today, so the queen has the run of the castle,” he continued, his face a mask of helpless frustration. “When he’s here, at least he keeps her contained in his office…” He leaned against the railing. “Last month? She ‘accidentally’ spilled a Venti latte. A very large, very hot latte. Right on top of our primary server rack.” My stomach clenched. “The entire company’s data was corrupted. It took the IT guys a week of working around the clock just to restore it from backups. An entire week of productivity for the whole division, just… gone.” “And the consequences?” I asked. A humorless laugh escaped his lips. “The consequences? Carter said our IT department was negligent. That the servers were in an unsecured location. He docked the entire department’s quarterly bonus. Said it was an ‘object lesson’ in data security.” My heart, which had been sinking all morning, finally hit the floor. This was Carter’s management style. Let a walking disaster area run wild, and then punish the hardworking employees who had to clean up her mess. Bravo, Carter. Just bravo. Just then, the door to the GM’s office opened again, and Lexi poked her head out. “Ugh, it’s so boring in here! Is the power back on yet? My phone is about to die! Are there any good snacks in the break room?” No one answered. The only response was the deep, oppressive silence of a hundred people pushed beyond their breaking point. 3 Just as the engineering team finally restored power, my phone rang. It was my father. He needed a hard copy of the latest core data from the marketing department. It was for the main board meeting that afternoon, he said, and it was critical. He told me to handle it personally and ensure there were no mistakes. I got the data on a flash drive from the head of marketing and went to the copy room. I had just finished printing the last page, compiling the thick stack of paper and clamping it neatly in a binder clip, when the door swung open. It was Lexi, holding a large bubble tea. Her eyes immediately landed on the heavy-duty stapler on the counter beside me. “Ooh, can I borrow that? My bag of chips opened up in my purse.” Without waiting for an answer, she reached for it, her movements careless and entitled. Instinctively, I shifted the stack of documents and the stapler away from her grasp. These papers were confidential. Her hand closed on empty air. Thrown off balance, her foot caught on a power cord snaking across the floor. She stumbled forward, and the bubble tea flew from her hand. The milky brown liquid sailed through the air in a perfect, tragic arc, landing squarely on my freshly printed, absolutely critical, confidential report. The thick stack of A4 paper absorbed the sugary drink instantly, the dark stain spreading through the pages, warping them into a useless, sticky brick. For a moment, I just stared at the ruined report. The calm, detached observer I had been all morning finally evaporated. I lifted my head and met Lexi’s eyes. There was no apology in them. Not a shred of remorse. Just a flash of annoyance that I hadn’t given her the stapler. My voice, when it came out, was dangerously quiet. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? Can you possibly afford to take responsibility for this?” Lexi was clearly unaccustomed to being addressed with anything other than deference. She blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, her shock curdled into indignation. “How dare you talk to me like that?” she snapped. “Do you have any idea who I am?” She drew herself up, her chest puffing out. “I am Mr. Hayes’s wife!” I looked at her, my expression flat. A small, cold laugh almost escaped my lips. “Oh?” I asked, my voice still level. “And does being Mr. Hayes’s wife give you the right to destroy company property? Does it exempt you from every rule of professional conduct?” My challenge seemed to ignite a fuse. Her face flushed with rage. She jabbed a finger at my nose. “Of course it does! This company belongs to Carter, which means it belongs to me! I can do whatever I want!” Her voice rose, becoming shrill. “Who the hell do you think you are, anyway? Some new girl, trying to lecture me?” A few people had drifted over, drawn by the noise. They saw the scene—the ruined documents, my cold fury, Lexi’s tantrum—and froze, their eyes wide with fear. A couple of women from the admin team tugged gently at my sleeve, their expressions pleading with me to just apologize and de-escalate. I didn’t move. I just held her gaze. Seeing my refusal to back down, Lexi’s rage morphed into a smug, triumphant cruelty. She pulled out her phone. “Okay. You want to be tough?” she sneered. “You think I can’t handle you?” A malicious smile spread across her face. “I’m going to let Carter tell you exactly who I am. And who you are.” She stabbed at the screen and initiated a video call.

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I’m supposed to be the school’s designated bad girl, the one with the big boobs and the empty head. The boy I’ve been chasing since kindergarten, Caleb, just slipped me a box of ultra-thin Trojans and told me to use them on the school’s untouchable golden boy. That’s when the comments started scrolling across my vision, like a spectral social media feed only I could see. [This dumbass side character has no idea, does she? The male lead, Caleb, just wants to get with the main girl, Ava, who’s crushing on the golden boy.] [So if the side character seduces the golden boy, the male lead gets his shot.] [Thing is, this girl’s a total siren. Liam, the golden boy, is a virgin. He might not stand a chance.] [Stand a chance? If she whispered his name just right, he’d probably hand over his soul.] I looked over at the boy sitting stiffly on the edge of the cheap motel bed, our school’s resident genius, Liam Carter. I decided to test the theory. “Hey, Liam,” I murmured, my voice a little shaky. 1 From the moment Liam Carter walked into this seedy motel room, he’d been a statue carved from ice. Cool, distant, unreadable. But when I called his name like that… His eyes, hidden behind a fringe of dark hair, widened almost imperceptibly. The comments flared to life. [I think I just heard the sound of a zipper straining.] [The idiot side character is about to get railed into another dimension and she doesn’t even know why.] [He thinks she lured him to this motel because she actually likes him. He has no idea she’s just doing it for Caleb, the guy she’s been obsessed with forever.] Before school let out, Caleb had cornered me in the stairwell. For the first time since I’d known him, the lazy, arrogant smirk was gone. He looked serious. “Listen, Chloe,” he’d said, his voice low. “You want me? Prove it. Take down Liam Carter. Wreck that perfect, straight-A reputation of his. If you can drag our golden boy into the mud, I’m all yours.” Liam Carter was a campus legend. Girls left notes in his locker, tried to catch his eye in the halls. He never gave any of them a second glance. Until I slipped him a note. Room 207, Sunset Motel, after school. And the boy who was out of everyone’s league showed up on time. I quickly pieced together the information from the phantom feed. This wasn’t my life; it was a cliché young adult novel, dripping with angst. I was the “dumb blonde” side character, the bad-girl trope. Caleb, my childhood crush, was the male lead, but he was in love with the main female character, Ava. And Ava? She only had eyes for Liam. So, Caleb’s plan was to use me to ruin Liam. Turn him into a burnout, a failure. That way, the sweet and innocent Ava would lose interest, and Caleb could swoop in. And me? The story had a different ending for the bad girl. An accidental pregnancy, a terrified teenager bleeding out alone in a bathroom stall. That was my final scene. I rested my forehead in my hand, a bitter laugh catching in my throat. A devoted male lead. A naive, girl-next-door heroine. And me, the girl who was going to die for their love story. 2 Liam had clearly never been in a situation like this before. Just hearing his name on my lips had sent a flush of crimson creeping up his neck. “…We don’t really know each other,” he said, his voice tight. The comments were merciless. [Oh, really? Who spent ten minutes fixing his hair in the reflection of the vending machine before knocking on the door?] [Who’s the star of his dreams every single night? It ain’t Ava.] [Who uses Chloe’s sophomore year picture for his, uh… ‘private study sessions’?] [Liam, my man, you are down BAD.] I leaned in closer, my body brushing against his. The keys in his pocket dug sharply into my thigh. My fingers, nails painted a dark, glossy red, traced a line up his chest. My hand found his phone. I slipped it from his pocket. The lock screen lit up. It was a photo of me from the first week of school, a candid shot of me taking cover from a sudden downpour under the school’s front awning. “So,” I purred, feeling a real, unfamiliar thrill. “It was love at first sight.” In the reflection of his dark eyes, I looked like a fox, sly and victorious. He quickly looked away. “You’re mistaken. It’s just a random picture I found online. I didn’t know it was you.” [You stare at her every single day in calculus, and you’re gonna say you didn’t recognize her? Please.] [Captain of the debate team, my ass. The lies!] [Can we get a wellness check on his pants right now? Things look critical.] Liam’s gaze accidentally flickered down to the V-neck of my shirt. He froze, his breath catching in his throat before he squeezed his eyes shut. His eyelashes, long and dark, rested against his cheekbones like tiny, sleeping wings. “…You should fix your shirt.” I glanced down and felt a hot blush of my own. The collar had fallen open, and from his angle… well, he was getting quite a show. I pulled the fabric together, then a wicked little idea popped into my head. “You saw way more than you were supposed to. You owe me.” In the halls of Northwood High, he was the Ice King, cool and unapproachable. But here, with me, he was surprisingly patient. “What kind of compensation did you have in mind?” I reached into my backpack, pulled out a mountain of homework, and dumped it all onto his lap. “This is all you, genius.” 3 I left Liam sitting amidst the chaos on the bed and slipped into the bathroom, planning to just wash my face and get out of there. But the reflection in the grimy mirror made me stop dead. My eyeliner had smudged into two black rings, giving me a distinct raccoon-chic vibe. My cream blush had melted in the humidity, leaving two clownish red circles on my cheeks. It was all thanks to that damned rainstorm I’d gotten caught in on the way here. This was the face I had been trying to seduce Liam Carter with. The horror was too much. A small shriek escaped my lips. Liam burst into the bathroom a second later, his eyes wide with panic. “What’s wrong? What happened?” I pointed a trembling finger at my reflection, my voice cracking. “My makeup! It’s a disaster! Why didn’t you tell me? I look hideous!” He stared at the tear welling in the corner of my eye. He hesitated for a long moment, then slowly, he raised his hand. His fingertips, cool against my skin, gently wiped the tear away. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s… not that bad.” Tch. So the Ice King could tell lies after all. The next morning, for the first time since freshman year, I walked into school without a stitch of makeup on. Caleb, my deskmate, didn’t even look up when I sat down. “So? Did you do it? Is Liam Carter officially corrupted?” Across the aisle, Liam was already at his desk, meticulously wiping it down. I saw his shoulders tense at the sound of his name. I ignored Caleb and started unpacking my bag. He wasn’t used to being ignored. He kicked the leg of my chair, hard. “Hey. Are you deaf?” The sudden jolt startled me. I clutched my books to my chest and glared at him, pure disgust on my face. Our eyes met, and for a second, the usual swagger in his expression faltered. “You, uh… you look good today.” The comments flickered. [Turns out Chloe’s actual face was trapped under six layers of Sephora.] [If you saw this face, could you really still call her a villain?] [She’s still a trashy burnout. Don’t let a pretty face fool you.] Seeing he wasn’t getting the reaction he wanted, Caleb sighed in frustration, grabbed my wrist, and started pulling me out of the classroom. This was his move. He’d drag his flavor-of-the-week to a stairwell or an empty hallway for a make-out session. He just assumed I’d be thrilled. I twisted my arm, trying to pull away, but he just tightened his grip, taking it as a game. Until a tall figure stepped between us, blocking his path. The clean, cool scent of pine filled the air. Liam stood with his back to me, shielding me. His voice was ice. “Let her go.” Caleb jutted his chin out. “And who’s gonna make me?” Liam didn’t move an inch. Caleb was about to shove him when a girl in a pristine white dress walked into the classroom. Ava. [The main girl has entered the chat! She’s the real deal.] [Have you guys noticed Chloe’s always trying to copy her? Ava does the sweet, innocent thing, so Chloe tries to act all pure too.] I rolled my eyes. What? I wasn’t allowed to be naturally gorgeous? 4 The moment Caleb saw Ava, his aggressive posture melted away. He shot me a dirty look and let go of my wrist, turning to go talk to her. But Liam’s voice stopped him, cold and hard. “You haven’t apologized to Chloe.” Ava, who had a well-known crush on Liam, saw him defending me and her brow furrowed. “Chloe, are you really making them fight over you? That’s so manipulative.” She turned her big, innocent eyes on Liam. “Don’t let her drag you down, Liam. She’s a bad influence. Tattoos, parties… she’s just… not our kind of person.” An idea sparked. I let my body go limp and sagged against Liam’s back, pitching my voice to be as sweet and fragile as possible. “Oh, I feel so weak… I think I’m going to faint…” Liam froze, his entire body rigid as I clung to him. As he helped me stumble away, I shot a triumphant smirk over my shoulder at Ava. Her face turned a shade of pale green. 5 I moved my stuff to the empty desk next to Liam. “Hi, neighbor,” I said with a sunny smile. Liam kept his eyes downcast, his long lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. He gave a quiet “Mm,” and then started arranging my textbooks for me. First period was Advanced Algebra. Aka, nap time. I laid my head on my desk and was out like a light. But my dreams were strange; I felt like someone was watching me. I slowly blinked my eyes open and found myself staring directly into a pair of intense, dark eyes. Liam was leaning on his desk too, just inches away, watching me sleep. When he saw I was awake, his gaze darted away. He quickly started doodling in his notebook, pretending he’d been doing it all along. I rubbed my eyes and, while the teacher’s back was turned, I whispered, “You’re supposed to be the good student. Why aren’t you paying attention?” Liam Carter was Northwood’s academic god. Three years straight at number one, no exceptions. [In the book, he starts skipping class and getting into fights to be with her. His grades completely tank.] [It’s so tragic. This genius kid throws away a full scholarship and doesn’t even go to college, all for her.] [She’s a C-student, so he decides to become one too. Love makes you dumb.] Reading those comments, my voice took on a serious edge. “Liam, if you stop being the good student, I won’t like you anymore.” A flicker of genuine panic crossed his face before he quickly masked it. He looked away, giving a stiff little nod. “I understand.” 6 As I was leaving school, my phone buzzed with a text. [We’re about to go mess with Ava. You owe us a carton of Marlboros after.] It was from the leader of a group of townies from the vocational school across town. I used to hang out with them. Then I remembered. A few days ago, Ava had been running her mouth, telling everyone Caleb would rather date a literal piece of garbage than me. In a fit of rage, I’d called my old friends and told them to rough her up a bit. [See? Chloe’s a total bully. Ava says a few words and she calls in her gang.] [That’s just how girls like her are. Born rotten. They hold a grudge over everything.] On pure instinct, I grabbed Liam’s arm and dragged him toward the alley behind the gym where they always hung out. My friends were there, a menacing circle around Ava. My heart pounded. I pulled Liam behind a dumpster to watch. But the scene I was expecting never happened. Ava was leaning against the brick wall, casually taking a hit from a vape and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. My so-called “friends” were laughing with her, one of them with an arm slung casually over her shoulder. Then I heard Ava’s voice, clear as day. “Liam walks this way home every day. The second you see him, you pin me against the wall. Got it?” “You got it, boss,” one of them replied. “We’ll tell him Chloe sent us. He’ll think she’s a psycho bitch…” Liam and I just stared at each other. She was playing us both for fools. When I got home, the comments about my grim fate echoed in my mind. I decided then and there to stay as far away from Caleb and Ava as possible. I gathered up all my lighters, vapes, and cheap makeup and threw them into the pond in my backyard. I was done with that life, done with those people. Only then could I finally fall asleep. 7 The next morning, my homeroom teacher called me to her office. Liam waited for me just outside the door. The atmosphere inside was heavy. Several other teachers were in the office, all trying not to stare. Ava was standing next to the teacher, her eyes red and puffy. A bright red handprint was stark against her pale cheek. My teacher’s voice was stern. “Chloe, did you ask your friends from off-campus to assault Ava?” I was completely baffled. I looked at Ava, and she gave me a tiny, secretive wink. This was all her own doing. Before I could even figure out how to respond, Caleb burst into the office. He must have heard the news. Seeing Ava in tears, he charged at me without a second thought, grabbing the collar of my shirt. “Is it because I like her and not you? Are you that pathologically jealous?” The comments popped up. [So romantic! The male lead always protects the main girl, no matter what!] [You just can’t get this kind of love with anyone else!] Right. Totally. Liam, who had been waiting patiently outside, saw Caleb put his hands on me. In a flash, he was inside, driving a knee hard into Caleb’s stomach. Caleb crumpled to the floor, gasping. I gently tugged on Liam’s sleeve, trying to calm him down. Then I turned to the teacher. “If Ava is accusing me of arranging an attack, she needs to provide proof, not just force me to defend myself against rumors.” A smug smile played on Ava’s lips. She pulled out her phone and called the townie from last night, putting him on speaker. “Tell them,” she said sweetly. “Was it Chloe who told you to corner me?” “…Yeah, yeah, it was Chloe,” the guy’s voice crackled through the phone. “She promised us smokes to do it.” Ava hung up and looked at me, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “There’s your proof. What do you have to say for yourself now?” [Wait… isn’t Ava supposed to be a sweet, innocent girl? This feels a little… calculated.] [And why is she pulling out her phone in front of a teacher like it’s nothing?] [Plus, she sounds awfully familiar with that townie on the phone…] The truth was obvious, but the outcome was a joke. The teacher, not wanting to deal with it, just told us all to drop it and stay away from each other. I sighed. What else could I expect? I was the bottom-ranked screw-up. Ava was a top student. 8 Back in class, Ava was still putting on a show, her eyes red and teary. Classmates gathered around her, asking what was wrong. She wouldn’t say a word, just kept shooting me wounded, tearful glances. A little while later, members of the student council came in to do a random contraband check. I emptied my backpack onto my desk. It was filled with review books Liam had bought for me. He’d made me a whole study plan. When the student council president got to my desk, he reached inside and pulled out a vape. But I’d thrown all that stuff away. My eyes met Ava’s. She gave me another one of her innocent little blinks. I finally got it. It was her again. Within the span of a single morning, I was being dragged back to the office. Liam followed me in. Before the teacher could even start yelling, Liam spoke, his voice flat and calm. “It’s mine. It has nothing to do with Chloe.” I stared at him in disbelief, trying to understand why he would do that. [He’s so in love. He’s taking the blame for her now, and later, he’d literally kill for her.] [After Chloe dies in the bathroom, her own family is too ashamed to claim her body. Liam is the only one who arranges a funeral for her.] [In the original book, Liam is basically the villain. To get revenge for Chloe, he tries to run Caleb over with his car.] [But he doesn’t have the main character’s plot armor. Caleb just ends up with a broken leg. Liam is burned alive in the crash.] … Reading those comments, tears started streaming down my face, hot and unstoppable. The teacher hadn’t believed the vape belonged to Liam, but seeing me cry so pitifully, she must have thought she’d made a mistake. Liam was a model student. She gave him a short lecture about curiosity and let us go. In an empty stairwell, I threw myself into his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck and sobbing. “Why are you so stupid?” Liam stood there, stiff and awkward. His voice was hoarse. “…Don’t cry.” I was about to answer when the flash of a camera phone blinded me. It was Caleb. He’d heard that Liam took the fall for me and had come looking for drama. He found it. Me, wrapped around Liam. He’d taken the picture to show Ava, to prove Liam wasn’t worth her time. He sauntered over, pinching my cheek with a smirk. “Nice work, Chloe. You’ve got this idiot wrapped around your little finger. As a reward, how about I take you to that motel tonight?” He turned to Liam, his voice dripping with venom. “You still don’t get it, do you, genius? I sent her to seduce you. All she had to do was crook her finger, and you came running. Pathetic, isn’t it?” I looked at Liam frantically, wanting to explain, to deny it. But everything Caleb said was true. Liam’s gaze shifted between me and Caleb. Finally, there was only silence. [The villain was just quietly crushing on her from afar. When she suddenly approached him, he thought it was a gift from the heavens. He never imagined it was all a game.] [I think he’s going to cry. My poor boy.] Liam turned and walked away. Seeing his lonely, retreating back, I yelled, “Liam! You can’t just leave without letting me explain!” He paused for a heartbeat, then kept walking without a backward glance.

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It was a week after graduation, and I was killing time scrolling through the Northwood University accepted students’ forum when a title snagged my attention. [My boyfriend got into Northwood, and his personal doormat is buying him a condo.] I frowned, clicking the link. The poster was in our graduating class, same as me and Leo Sterling. I hoped this wasn’t going to be about someone we knew. The post continued: [My BF grew up in his doormat’s house, and he’s so sick of her. Getting into Northwood was his ticket out.] [But she’s insisting he’s ‘used to living in a big house’ and that the dorms are too cramped, so she’s buying him a place near campus.] [Question for upperclassmen: is the new development by the East Gate or the one by the West Gate more convenient for freshmen?] [Because this is going to be our little love nest, obviously. 😉 ] The sheer, shameless audacity of it all made me laugh. I tapped out a quick reply. [Why not both? I hear freshman year is split pretty evenly between the two sides of campus.] I was about to screenshot it and send it to Leo with a caption like, Get a load of this, when my phone buzzed with a message from him. [Chloe, I was just thinking. I hear the freshman classes are on both sides of campus. Maybe we should just get one place at the East Gate and one at the West.] I stared at my phone. The words blurred. Wait a second. Was I… was I the doormat? 1 Leo Sterling and I grew up in the same house. His parents died in a car crash when he was five, and my father, unable to bear the thought of his best friend’s son going into the system, brought him home to live with us. For more than a decade, I believed we were the most important people in each other’s lives. My own parents had even hinted, more than once, that if we ended up together, the Sanford family fortune would one day be ours to share. But the Leo I knew was cautious and reserved, so mindful of his position that he’d never even dare to reach for a serving dish at the far end of the dinner table. Could that boy be the same person who was letting some girl call me his “doormat” on a public forum? My hand trembled as I clicked back to the thread. The user ID was RainyDaysJess. The profile picture was a selfie of a girl with huge eyes and a pointy chin, the classic Instagram-influencer face. I racked my brain, trying to place her among Leo’s friends. Nothing. The replies were already piling up. [Who’s your boyfriend? Sounds like a big deal!] RainyDaysJess replied: [He’s only the top scorer on the SATs in the entire state! We’ve been together for a month now! <3] A cold fist clenched around my heart. A month? That was right after graduation. For the six months leading up to it, I had been away at a training camp at Northwood, selected as a candidate for the International Math Olympiad team. I had been completely buried in work, and I’d let my check-ins with Leo slide. But would he really do this? It didn’t feel real. I’m not sure, I told myself. Let’s see what else they say. It could be a crazy coincidence. I kept scrolling. [Wait, so your BF lives in the doormat’s house? Isn’t that like, his foster family? Why would you call her that?] RainyDaysJess: [OMG you guys have no idea. His foster sister is SO annoying. She’s obsessed with him and smothers him constantly.] [But her family’s loaded, so my boyfriend says to just let her buy him whatever she wants. It’s not like it’s his money, right? Use it or lose it.] My fingers flew across the keyboard, testing a theory. [If she’s such a good little doormat, why hasn’t she bought him that Patek Philippe watch all the celebrities are wearing? If she hasn’t even done that, she’s not trying very hard.] My phone buzzed again. A new message from Leo. [Chloe? You there? Dad said the condos near Northwood are a great investment. And once you retake your SATs, if you can get into Northwood too, we could even live together.] A second message appeared. [Oh, by the way, my birthday’s coming up, and I saw this watch…] My reply was terse. [What watch?] He sent a picture of a Patek Philippe. The price tag read $28,000. It was the exact one I’d mentioned in the forum. I stared at the message, a bitter, metallic taste flooding my mouth. There was no more uncertainty. The “Dad” he was referring to was my father, Robert Sanford. For eighteen years, my father had treated Leo like his own son. He’d been so careful with Leo’s fragile pride, so conscious of his loss, that he often favored him over me in front of friends and family. I had been admitted to Northwood months ago, a guaranteed spot secured by my gold medal win at the Olympiad. But to keep Leo from feeling pressured or stressed, I’d let my parents tell him I was just taking a six-month "gap semester" to travel. When I won the medal, I asked the school not to publicize it. We wanted to surprise him. So, when I didn't show up for the SATs, Leo naturally assumed I'd slacked off for half a year and given up on college. And now? Now he was planning to move in with another girl while casually asking me for a luxury watch and two condos? Did he really see me as his personal ATM? I took a deep, steadying breath and typed my reply. [Okay.] Then I screenshotted the entire conversation and sent it to my best friend, Maya. Her reply was instantaneous: [HOLY SHIT! That bastard! Leo is really like this?] I typed back, my hands still shaking. [I wish I knew.] Maya: [Hang on. I’m going to find out who this ‘RainyDaysJess’ is.] Ten minutes later, a dossier of information landed in my inbox. [Jessica Raines. Goes to Westwood High, the school across town. Got into Northwood on an arts scholarship. Her parents own a small convenience store. Her Instagram is full of her flexing, but it’s all stolen pictures.] I clicked the link Maya sent. Jessica’s Instagram was a curated fantasy of designer bags, five-star restaurant meals, and exotic vacations. I recognized a few of the photos immediately as generic images from luxury brand websites. And then my stomach turned. She had the audacity to steal one of my photos—a shot I took from my family’s suite at The Empyrean Hotel last Christmas. But the post that made me physically ill was from the day before. It was a picture of her and Leo, their reflections caught in a storefront window. He had his arm around her waist, their hands joined to form a heart. The caption read: [Just a normal day with my genius boyfriend! He spoils me so much!~] Yesterday. The day Leo told me he was out playing basketball with friends and didn't reply to my texts for hours. The trust of eighteen years crumbled into dust. Maya’s text came through again: [Chloe, what are you going to do?] I was silent for a long time. Finally, I replied. [Don’t tip them off. I want to see how far they’re willing to take this.] I deliberately avoided Leo for the next few days. As expected, he got antsy. After three days, he texted me. [Chloe, did you talk to Dad about the condos?] I smirked. [He said it’s a great idea, but we should wait until you’re enrolled and have your class schedule before picking a location.] Leo: [Awesome! I knew I could count on you! By the way, my birthday party is next week. You should come.] For years, I had planned every single one of Leo’s birthday parties. I’d book a private room at his favorite restaurant, invite all his friends, and order his favorite kind of cake. This year, he was inviting me himself. But the phrasing—you should come—felt less like an invitation and more like a handout. Me: [Of course. Where is it?] Leo: [The Empyrean Hotel. I booked a private suite.] The Empyrean? That was one of the most exclusive hotels in the city. A suite there started at five thousand dollars a night. Where did Leo get that kind of money? I feigned surprise. [Wow, that’s fancy!] Leo: [Well, it’s my 18th birthday. A milestone. So, did you get the watch?] I fought back a wave of nausea. [I’m thinking about it.] Leo: [Thanks, Chloe! You’re the best!] As soon as I put my phone down, I called my father. “Dad, Leo asked me for a twenty-eight-thousand-dollar watch.” There was a pause on the other end. “Buy it for him, honey. It’s his eighteenth birthday, after all.” My voice rose, sharp with disbelief. “Dad! You know exactly how much is in my allowance account. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?” My dad sounded genuinely confused. “What are you talking about? I transferred sixty-six thousand dollars into your account last month. Did you already blow through all of it?” My bank card had always been managed by him. He said it was to help me learn financial responsibility, and I never thought to question it. Sixty-six thousand dollars? Leo had never mentioned a word of it to me. Suddenly, I knew exactly how he’d paid for the suite at The Empyrean. But I couldn't let my father know. Not yet. Not until I had undeniable proof that the boy he’d raised with such care was a complete viper. “Oh,” I said, forcing a ditzy tone. “Right, I forgot. Leo’s holding onto it for me. Hey, speaking of which, could you send me a list of all the money you’ve put away for me over the years? I want to see how much I have. It’ll be fun to feel like a rich heiress for a day.” My dad chuckled, the sound warm and indulgent. “Alright, you little tycoon. I’ll have my assistant email you the statements in a bit.” I hung up, my hand shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. A few minutes later, an email arrived from my father’s assistant. I opened the attached spreadsheet, and my breath caught in my throat. February 2018, Chinese New Year gifts: $12,800 2019 Birthday Gift, wire transfer from Father: $20,000 2020, Competition winnings and allowance: $55,000 2021, High School Graduation Bonus: $88,000… I had never seen a cent of this money. Every time I asked, Leo would just smile and say, “I’m saving it for you. It’ll be a surprise one day.” Apparently, the surprise was that he was pocketing all of it. With trembling fingers, I dialed my bank’s customer service line and gave them my social security number to check my balance. “Ms. Sanford, the current balance on your account ending in 8866 is five hundred seventy-two dollars and thirty cents.” I nearly crushed my phone in my hand. $572? The absolute nerve of him. “Can you… can you tell me if there have been any large withdrawals recently?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. “Yes, ma’am. In the last three months, there have been three transfers out: one for $15,000, one for $28,000, and one for $10,000. All three were sent to the same account, registered under the name Leo Sterling.” The world tilted on its axis. He hadn’t just stolen my money; he had brazenly transferred it directly into his own account. Where did he get the audacity? Two hours later, Maya arrived at my house with her cousin, a private investigator. After I explained the situation, her cousin pushed his glasses up his nose. “This is grand larceny. With these amounts, you could press charges right now.” “No,” I said, shaking my head. “Jail is too easy. I want to ruin him.” The report the PI delivered the next day was even more shocking. It turned out my father hadn’t just been giving me cash; he’d also established an educational trust fund in my name. The current balance was over two hundred thousand dollars. And Leo, acting as my self-appointed “financial advisor,” had managed to get access to it. “This is a federal crime,” the PI said grimly. “But I found something else you might find interesting.” He handed me a file containing transcripts of text messages between Leo and Jessica Raines. It turned out Jessica wasn’t some rich girl at all; she was just a random student Leo had met on the Northwood forum. “Oh, and one more thing,” the PI added. “The suite at The Empyrean? It was charged to your debit card. The total was $5,888.88.” I burst out laughing, a cold, sharp sound that held no humor. “Leo, Leo, Leo. You really are one for the books.” He steals all that money from me and he can't even splurge on the party with his own stolen funds? With all the evidence I needed, I called my father. “Dad, did you know Leo has a girlfriend? He’s been pushing me really hard to buy him those condos. Says he wants to build a ‘love nest’.” My father’s voice sharpened instantly. “What?” I emailed him everything. The forum posts, the texts, the bank statements, the PI’s report. Thirty minutes later, he replied. “Go to the party as planned. I’ll handle things.” On the night of the party, I chose a simple white dress and light makeup. As I was leaving, my father handed me a beautifully wrapped gift box. “Just what you asked for,” he said with a grim smile. The suite at The Empyrean was opulent, already filled with a dozen of Leo’s classmates and a few girls I didn’t recognize. One of them, I presumed, was Jessica. Leo’s face lit up when he saw me. “Chloe!” He hurried over, his eyes immediately fixing on the gift box in my hands. His smile widened. “Happy birthday,” I said, holding it out to him. He reached for it eagerly, but I pulled it back slightly. “Leo, why don’t you wait until everyone is here to open your gifts?” His smile faltered for a fraction of a second before returning, even brighter than before. “You’re right, Chloe. A gift this special deserves an audience.” He ran his hand over the box, a greedy light shining in his eyes. I noticed a girl in a pink dress in the corner, staring daggers at me. She pushed herself to her feet and walked toward us. Her makeup was flawless, but it couldn’t hide the raw jealousy in her eyes. This had to be Jessica. “Leo, aren’t you going to introduce me?” I asked sweetly. He flinched. “Ah, this is… this is my…” Jessica didn’t wait for him to finish. She strode forward and looped her arm through his. “I’m his girlfriend, Jessica Raines. Freshman at Northwood.” I widened my eyes in mock surprise. “Girlfriend? Leo, when did this happen?” She glared at me, her voice dripping with venom. “You must be the clingy foster sister he’s always complaining about.” The room went silent. Every eye was on us. I laughed. “Clingy foster sister? Leo, is that how you describe me?” A sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. “Chloe, I can explain—” Jessica cut him off. “Leo said you were annoying and that you smother him. Now that he’s gotten into Northwood and you couldn’t even pass your SATs, can’t you just leave us alone?” She was on a roll now, her voice rising. “Don’t think your family’s charity gives you any right to him. Everything Leo has, he earned himself. It has nothing to do with you. He can be with whoever he wants. Just because you have some pathetic childhood crush doesn’t mean you stand a chance against me.” It was so cliché it was almost funny. Jessica really needed to stop reading so many Wattpad novels. I took a moment to compose myself, then looked directly at Leo. “Is this really how you feel?” He avoided my gaze. “Chloe, you didn’t even get into college… we’re not on the same path anymore.” I stared at the boy I had once considered my closest family, my other half. My voice was ice. “If we’re not on the same path, then why are you shamelessly asking me to buy you a condo?” A murmur rippled through the room. The other students were now looking at Leo and Jessica with open contempt. “Asking his foster family for a condo to live in with his girlfriend? Does this guy have any shame?” Jessica’s face flushed. She pointed a finger at me. “Don’t you dare make things up to slander my Leo! He’s the top scorer in the state! Who the hell are you to talk to him like that?” I didn’t even bother looking at her. I pulled my phone from my clutch. “Would you all mind if I connected to the TV for a second?” Before anyone could answer, I had mirrored my screen to the massive flat panel on the wall. A video started playing—security footage from a coffee shop. The audio was crystal clear. “Once I get the condo, we’ll move in together,” Leo’s voice filled the room. “What about Chloe?” Jessica asked. “Doesn’t she have a thing for you?” Leo scoffed. “That idiot? You think she can compare to you? She’s just my personal ATM.” Leo lunged, trying to grab my phone. “Chloe! Let me explain!” I sidestepped him easily. “Explain what? How you spend my family’s money while calling me an idiot behind my back? How you were planning to use a condo bought with our money to build a love nest with your new girlfriend?” His face was ashen. “I… I wasn’t…” Just then, the suite doors swung open. My father walked in, flanked by several men in sharp suits. “Leo Sterling,” my father’s voice was like a chip of ice. “As of today, you are no longer a part of the Sanford family.”

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I’ve never been one for beating around the bush. So when I found the string of fiery texts between my firefighter fiancé, Nate, and some girl I’d never heard of, I didn’t fall apart. I didn’t scream. I just handed him his phone and waited, my face perfectly calm, for an answer. The silence in our apartment stretched until it was thin enough to snap. Finally, he spoke, his voice raspy. “She’s a girl I rescued from a fire. She’s… going through some things. I’ll admit, for a second, I felt something.” “But Ava,” he pleaded, “we’re high school sweethearts. We made it this far. I swear to you, I’ll cut it off. Clean break.” I stared into Nate’s eyes, so full of earnest desperation, and pushed down the sharp, twisting pain in my chest. I nodded. The wedding was still on. I had no idea how quickly that promise would turn to ash. On our wedding day, one of his fellow firefighters, Ben, burst through the chapel doors like a human cannonball. “Nate! It’s Maya! She found out you’re getting married! She’s on a roof downtown, says she’s gonna jump!” The diamond ring, the one he was about to slip onto my finger, hovered in the space between us. Then it fell. The clink it made against the polished floor was the loudest sound I’d ever heard. Nate was a blur, a lightning strike bolting for the door. I stared at his back, my eyes burning so hot I thought they might bleed. I pulled every ounce of air into my lungs and screamed. “Nate, if you walk out that door right now, we are done! Do you hear me? We are over!” He paused for a fraction of a second—a flicker of hesitation. He didn’t even turn around. And then, he was gone. The vow he’d made to me had become a joke, and I was the punchline. … The wedding devolved into a grotesque circus. The whispers of our guests were a thousand tiny needles in my ears, a high-pitched hum of pity and speculation. Our parents rushed to my side, their faces masks of confusion and panic. Nate’s teammate, Ben, just stood there, his face the color of raw liver, wringing his hands. “Ava… I’m so sorry. It’s just… Maya, she has severe depression. Nate saved her life before… and she’s latched onto him. She says he’s the only one who can talk her down. It’s a life-or-death thing, he didn’t have a choice. Please don’t be mad at him…” Ben had been Nate’s shadow for three years. He used to greet me with a wide, easy grin, calling me “sis” like we were already family. Now, he couldn’t even meet my eyes. I wondered how many of Nate’s dirty little secrets Ben had helped him hide. How many late-night calls from Maya had he helped cover up? A suffocating pain bloomed in my chest, and for the first time, I truly understood the taste of betrayal. My parents gripped my hands, their own voices tight with unshed tears. “What is going on? He’s on leave for his own wedding! Who in God’s name needs to be rescued by him right now?” Nate’s parents stood nearby, his mother frantically dialing his phone over and over, muttering through gritted teeth, “You just wait, Ava, honey. I’m going to make that son of mine crawl back here. If he doesn’t, I swear I’ll have his hide!” The fallen diamond ring was kicked around by shuffling feet on the red aisle runner, rolling further and further away, just like my heart, which had been stomped into the ground. I stood frozen in my white dress, the train pooling around my feet like a heavy, rain-soaked cloud. I had imagined my wedding day a million times. Not once did I imagine this: a pathetic one-act play where the groom abandons his bride at the altar for another woman. For five agonizing hours, I called Nate 108 times. He didn’t answer once. I watched my phone screen light up and go dark, light up and go dark, until the battery finally died, leaving me with a silent, black rectangle. The late afternoon sun streamed through the stained-glass windows of the church, casting a mottled patch of light on my empty ring finger. The light should have been warm, but it felt colder than ice. The guests trickled away, leaving behind a battlefield of wilting flowers and half-eaten cake. Suddenly, the world began to spin, the church dissolving into a massive vortex. The last thing I heard before the blackness swallowed me was my mother’s ragged, terrified scream. 1 I woke up in a hospital. The sterile, cold scent of antiseptic filled my nose. A nurse was changing my IV bag. Seeing my eyes open, she spoke in a soft voice. “You need to take it easy now. You’re watching out for two people. No more stress. You have to take care of yourself.” Two people? I stared at the stark white ceiling as a single, silent tear escaped and traced a cold path into my hair. I was seventeen when Nate stuffed a crumpled love note into my locker, so nervous he practically tripped over his own feet. In college, we were long-distance. He once drove his clunker of a car for twenty hours straight through three states, just to surprise me for my birthday. The day he graduated from the fire academy, he held me tight, his eyes red with emotion. “My job is to run into fires for strangers,” he’d said. “Imagine what I’d do for you.” Seven years. The memories flashed through my mind like a movie on fast-forward. I looked at the barely concealed joy on my parents’ faces, and on Nate’s parents’ faces, and forced a smile that felt more painful than crying. How could I tell them? I was pregnant with the child of the man I’d loved for seven years, but our story was over. At seven o’clock that evening, after being gone for six hours, Nate finally showed up. He was pale, and he looked at me with just the right amount of guilt in his eyes. “Ava, I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice like sandpaper. “Maya… I couldn’t just let her die. It’s my duty.” My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I swallowed the bitterness and asked, my voice cold, “Are you the only firefighter in the entire city? Did they all die today?” “She doesn’t jump yesterday, she doesn’t jump tomorrow. She picks our wedding day, and you’re the only one who can save her. What kind of game do you think she’s playing, Nate? Do you really think I’m that stupid?” He fell silent. After a long moment, he took my hand. It was freezing. His voice was tight. “Ava, in seven years, I have never asked you for anything. Not really. But I’m asking you now. Please, don’t make a big deal out of this. Don’t let it get back to Maya. With her condition… she can’t handle that kind of stress.” I stared at the plea in his eyes, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible fist, the pain so sharp I couldn’t breathe. He should be apologizing to me, not asking for favors. A person’s first instinct doesn’t lie. He never once thought about how humiliated I was, left alone at our wedding. He never considered why I would have collapsed, why I was in a hospital. The first words out of his mouth, the first thoughts in his head, were all for another woman. Tears fell like broken pearls, hitting the white hospital blanket and blooming into small, dark stains. It took all the strength I had to force out a single word. “Fine.” He let out a breath, the relief on his face so obvious it was like a slap. Then, he delivered an even crueler blow. “Maya’s really unstable because of the wedding. I think… I think we should postpone it for a little while.” “I need to be there for her, through her treatment. Once she’s in a better place… maybe three months. Just three months, and we’ll have the ceremony then, okay?” His voice was a careful, gentle probe. I’d waited seven years. What was three more months? But looking into his eyes, so full of worry for someone else, I suddenly knew. I couldn’t wait another day, let alone three months. The tiny life inside me seemed to sense my despair, giving a faint, fluttery twitch. I placed a hand on my stomach. A six-week-old life. It was once the product of our love. Now, it felt like it was mine alone. I slowly pulled my hand from his grip. My voice was as still and dead as a stagnant pond. “Nate.” “My memory isn’t what it used to be. But I remember being seventeen, and you being too nervous to walk straight after you gave me that note.” “I remember the first time you held my hand, your palm was sweating so much. We walked for three blocks and you never let go.” “I remember when we graduated college, you held me and promised you’d take care of me forever, that you’d make me the happiest bride in the world.” “All these years… you remembered I hate onions, that I need hot tea during my period, all my little quirks… I really thought you loved me more than life itself.” I lifted my head and looked him straight in the eye, the dam finally breaking. “But today, Nate. Today, I can’t feel your love at all. Not a single drop.” The weight of seven years washed over us. Nate’s eyes reddened, his throat worked, and a single tear fell from his eye. “But Ava,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Right now… Maya can’t be without me.” She can’t be without me. The words were a sledgehammer, shattering the last fragile piece of hope in my heart. I looked at him and suddenly, I laughed. And as I laughed, the tears flowed even faster. “Then go be with her.” He froze, as if he couldn’t believe I’d let him go so easily. But in the end, he didn’t say another word. He just turned, and walked out of my life without a backward glance. 2 The next day, I checked myself out of the hospital. As I rounded a corner in the hallway, I ran right into Nate. He didn’t even see me at first. All his attention, all his tenderness, was focused on the girl at his side. She wore an oversized hospital gown, her face a ghostly white. He was holding her up, half-supporting, half-embracing her, like she was a porcelain doll that might shatter at any moment. So this was Maya. This was the woman who could make him abandon me at the altar. Perhaps my stare was too cold, because she saw me first. She flinched like a startled rabbit, instinctively hiding behind Nate and clutching at the fabric of his jacket. Only then did Nate look up. His brow furrowed instantly, his tone dripping with unconcealed annoyance. “Ava, what are you doing here? Maya’s just starting to stabilize. Whatever it is, we can talk about it at home. Don’t make a scene at the hospital, you’ll scare her.” Maya peeked out from behind him, her voice as thin as a mosquito’s buzz. “Ava… it’s really not like that between Nate and me… Please don’t misunderstand.” I clutched the ultrasound report in my hand, my knuckles turning white. But I managed a faint, cool smile. “You’re overthinking it. I’m just here to sign my discharge papers.” Without another glance at them, I turned and walked away. A strange look flickered across Nate’s face, as if my calmness had unsettled him, leaving an unexpected void in his chest. He reflexively reached out to grab my arm. I stopped and my gaze landed on a smudge on his coat—it looked like makeup. His eyes followed mine. He glanced down at the stain, then started to take off his coat to offer it to me. I sidestepped him. He stood there, stunned for a moment, then hurried after me, reaching for the coat I was now holding. “Let me take that. It’s your favorite, isn’t it? I’ll get it cleaned for you.” I shook my head, not even looking at him. I walked over to the nearby trash can and dropped the coat inside. My voice was as bland as if I were commenting on the weather. “I don’t want it anymore. It’s stained. You know how I am about stains. I have a thing about cleanliness.” The expression on Nate’s face froze. He knew I wasn’t just talking about the coat. I was talking about us. He opened his mouth to say something else, but I was already gone. As I walked out of the hospital, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Nate. [Don’t be mad. I ordered that Napoleon cake you love from the bakery downtown. It’s on its way.] When the delivery arrived at my apartment, I stared at the familiar pink box and felt a bitter laugh rise in my throat. This was his go-to move. Every time he screwed up, he’d use this cake to smooth things over. It always worked. I mechanically scooped a bite into my mouth. The cake that used to be a decadent, sugary treat now tasted of nothing but ash. Nate didn’t come home that night. Tearing a seven-year relationship out of my life was more painful than I ever could have imagined. I didn’t sleep a wink. In the pre-dawn hours, I got up and started packing. The matching hoodies hanging side-by-side in the closet. The framed photos of us on the bookshelf. The little notes he left on the fridge. Every object was a knife, twisted with memories, stabbing me in the heart. I remembered the year we graduated. Nate had just joined the fire department and was working insane hours. But he’d used his first precious day off to see me, his eyes shining like they held constellations. “Ava,” he’d said, “as soon as I save up for a down payment, we’re getting married.” Three years later, he was on one knee, holding out a deed and a diamond ring, his voice trembling. “I did it. I promised you a home, and I keep my promises.” The sun was bright that day. I cried in his arms for what felt like hours, feeling like the luckiest person on earth. We painted the walls ourselves, struggled to assemble IKEA furniture, and filled the balcony with sunflowers, my favorite. He said he wanted to make sure the sun would always shine in our home. But now, there was no longer a place for me in this home. As I taped up the last box, the sun was rising. The moving truck I’d called had just pulled up downstairs when both sets of our parents arrived. I didn’t say anything. They still couldn’t understand how two people who were about to get married two days ago were now tearing their lives apart. My mom and dad just sighed, telling me, “If you want to come home, just come home.” But Nate’s mom grabbed my hand, refusing to let go. “Ava, please, just give him one more chance. What happened at the wedding… he was just confused for a moment. He loves you, I know he does…” I remained silent, simply motioning for the movers to continue. Just as his mom’s voice was growing hoarse from pleading, the front door opened. Nate was back. And he wasn’t alone. He had brought Maya into our home. She was wearing his jacket, clinging to his arm like a timid kitten. The air in the room instantly turned to ice. Every pair of eyes was fixed on them. Nate’s mother’s voice trembled. “Nate… did you… did you really do something to hurt Ava?” His father was shaking with rage. “Who is this girl?!” Nate didn’t answer. His eyes swept over the nearly empty living room, finally landing on me. “You’re moving out?” “Yeah,” I said calmly. “Back to my parents’.” He seemed to relax a little. “That’s probably for the best. I’ll come get you before the new wedding date.” He said it so casually. Then he stepped aside, pulling Maya in front of him. “This is Maya. She’s a patient with depression I rescued on a call. The department asked me to look after her for a while to help her stabilize.” His explanation was so matter-of-fact, it made all of our outrage seem petty and small-minded. Maya immediately offered a sweet smile and reached out to take his mother’s arm. “It’s so nice to meet you. Nate takes such good care of me. He even said he’d bring me home for dinner tonight. Since everyone’s here, why don’t I cook? You can all taste my cooking.” Nate’s mom looked at me, her expression pained. “Ava, maybe… maybe we should all just sit down and talk this through?” I was about to refuse when Maya turned to me, a glint of something sharp and provocative in her eyes. “You should stay too, Ava. The more the merrier, right?” CRACK. The sharp, clean sound of a slap echoed through the silent room. My eyes flew open in shock. It was my mother. She had slapped Maya across the face. “Mom!” I cried out instinctively. My mom turned to me, her eyes red, her voice shaking violently. “You are my daughter. Do you think I don’t know you?” “You’ve been with him since you were seventeen. You’re twenty-four now. Seven whole years! You quit that amazing job at the design firm for him, stayed home to play house for him, learned to cook his favorite meals, you even know which damn drawer he keeps his stinking socks in! Do you think you would be walking out today if your heart wasn’t completely shattered?” “I don’t need my daughter to marry a rich man, but I will not stand by while he brings another woman into your home to humiliate you. I will not tolerate it!” “If you won’t stand up for yourself, then I’ll do it for you!” My mother’s words hit me like a bolt of lightning, and my eyes instantly burned with hot tears. Maya clutched her cheek, tears welling in her eyes, but she didn’t dare make a sound. Nate immediately shielded her, his face dark enough to storm. “Ava! How old are you? Still running home to mommy and tattling…” I didn’t let him finish. I lunged forward and, with all the strength I had, I slapped him too. “Nate, you’re the one who deserves to be hit!” After I hit him, I grabbed the piece of paper from the coffee table drawer and threw it in his face—the still-warm ultrasound report.

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I was the girl next door. Chloe Reed was the girl who fell from the sky. They say the girl next door never stands a chance against the one who comes out of nowhere. Not long after she transferred, someone saw them in the empty stairwell after school. They said that Jackson King—my Jax, the boy who bowed to no one—was standing there with his head down like a chastened puppy, listening to her lecture him. Later, when Chloe and I had a falling out, all it took was a quiet word from him: “I don’t want to see Aubrey Hale at this school again.” My parents, terrified of jeopardizing their business with the King family, had me transferred by the end of the week. After that, I vanished from his world. I didn’t dare even show my face where he might see it. But then, on his birthday, he showed up at my door, drenched by the rain, his face a wreck of misery and hurt. “Did you forget?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Did you forget it was my birthday?” 01 They say the girl who’s been there forever can’t compete with the girl who shows up out of the blue. I used to scoff at that. But then I sat in the school auditorium, watching Jackson’s eyes follow Chloe Reed as she danced across the stage, and I saw it. The unfiltered adoration. The love he couldn’t hide. In that moment, I believed it. And I finally believed the rumors, the ones about the untouchable Jax King, the king of Crestwood High, letting this new girl put him in his place in a deserted stairwell. The confession I’d held in my heart, the one I was always waiting for the right moment to share, would have to stay buried there forever. When the music ended, I applauded with the rest of the crowd, my hands moving mechanically as the girl on stage took a glittering bow. Jax stood up and headed for the wings, undoubtedly to find her. I stood up, too, and walked out of the auditorium. Outside, the evening air was cool. I raised my hand, letting the little wooden star charm he gave me years ago dance in the breeze. “Aubrey… for you.” I looked at the crudely carved star in his palm. “What is it?” Seven-year-old Jax had been watching some soap opera with his aunt and had learned a new phrase. “It’s a promise,” he’d said, his cheeks pink. “You have to wear it. It means you have to like me best, forever.” “And I’ll always protect you, Aubrey.” My eyes stung with the memory. I closed my fist around the charm. A kid’s promise. It’s not supposed to mean anything. But I’d let it mean everything. Jax King, the boy who broke rules and hearts with equal impunity, was the secret joy and the central truth of my entire youth. … Chloe Reed had transferred in at the start of the semester. She was beautiful, a trained dancer, and her arrival was an event. The girls in my class immediately cast her in their imaginary high school drama. She was the perfect transfer student protagonist—the quiet, talented girl who catches the eye of the school’s resident bad boy. The bad boy who would, inevitably, tame himself for her. A lot of guys tried to ask Chloe out. Someone even joked that the only one left was Jax. Jax, lounging at his desk, had stretched languidly and shot the guy a look of pure disdain. “Her? Is that a joke?” See? That’s how untouchable he’d seemed. I never really believed the rumors about them, because I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Because he’d never said the words to me, never told me he was with someone else. But now I knew. It was time to pull back, to put a real, measurable distance between us. For years, I’d always walked home with Jax. I can’t remember exactly when it started, but recently he always had some excuse for me to go on ahead. He could have just told me the truth. I wouldn’t have made a scene. I wouldn’t have clung to him. After all, we were never really together in the first place. 02 On Sunday evening, we had study hall, and homework was due. Jax was the kind of student who, when asked for his assignment, would just give the TA a blank look and say, “Didn’t do it.” He used to listen to me, though. Everyone knew it. So whenever he’d pull that stunt, they’d come and complain to me. That’s what happened tonight, except no one could even find him. He’d slipped out after the last bell, probably to find Chloe. “Aubrey, Jax didn’t turn in his homework again, and he’s not in his seat. Can you…” “Just hand in what you have,” I said, offering a small, tight smile. “From now on, you don’t need to tell me about his homework.” My classmate just nodded, his expression confirmation that the rumors about Jax having a girlfriend must be true. My detached tone was all the proof he needed. When class resumed, I bent over my test prep book. Before Chloe, my plan was for Jax and me to go to Northwood University together. Now, the plan was just for me to work my ass off and get into Northwood. For my own dream. Jax didn’t come back for the entire period. The teacher on duty frowned from her desk at the front of the room and asked where he was. Every head in the classroom turned to look at me. I kept my eyes on my paper, refusing to acknowledge them. He finally reappeared during the second period, sliding into his seat without a word. A moment later, a classmate leaned over and told him the principal wanted to see him in his office. Jax seemed to snap out of a daze. As he walked past my desk, he paused for a fraction of a second. I didn’t look up. I was wrestling with the final problem on a math worksheet, the kind where I could solve the first part but my brain would freeze on the second. After I finally figured it out, my deskmate, Maya, leaned over. “Hey, is everything okay with you and Jax?” she whispered. “Everything’s fine.” “Really? Because you used to get more worked up than anyone when he skipped class or blew off his homework.” I flinched. She was right. “That was then,” I said, my voice flatter than I intended. “I’m not going to bother with his stuff anymore.” “Oh,” she said, her eyes wide as she put the pieces together. “So it’s true… about him and Chloe Reed?” I looked down, saying nothing. The final bell rang, and a few minutes later, Jax ambled back into the room. A folded piece of paper landed on my desk. I opened it. Go home without me. I stared at the familiar scrawl, then calmly folded the note and tucked it away before returning to my work. The classroom was a chaotic swirl of noise and motion as everyone packed up. I took my time, organizing my binder. Suddenly, a hush fell over the room. Maya gasped, and I followed her gaze to the doorway. Chloe Reed was standing there. She tilted her head, gave Jax a little come-hither crook of her finger, and then turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop myself from looking at Jax. A helpless, almost tender smile spread across his face as he grabbed his backpack and followed her out. The second he was gone, the classroom erupted. “Holy crap, so it’s real.” “Wow. I always thought he and Aubrey were endgame. You know, the bad boy and the good girl. But I guess the bad boy and the dancer… that kind of fits better, you know?” “Don’t be an ass. Does anyone else feel kind of bad for Aubrey?” “They’ve known each other their whole lives.” “See? The girl next door never wins.” … Maya was looking at me, her expression full of pity she was trying to hide. I slung my backpack over my shoulder. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, but I forced a smile. I would not cry. Not here. I couldn’t let them see how much it hurt. If I did, I’d be the butt of their jokes for the rest of the year. “I’m fine,” I told Maya, meeting her worried eyes. “Jax and I have only ever been friends. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Okay… See you tomorrow. Get home safe.” Once I was out of the noisy school building, I gripped the straps of my backpack, my knuckles white. I bit down on my lip, hard. But the tears came anyway, hot and silent, blurring the streetlights. A heavy, aching pressure built in my chest. How could he just… start liking someone else? Out of nowhere? My vision swam. In my ears, I could hear a boy’s voice, clear and cocky, from a lifetime ago. “Don’t worry, Aubrey. I can do anything. And I’ve got you. For life.” 03 “Aubrey, why didn’t you wait for me this morning?” Jax had been late to school. He cornered me after first period, his tone laced with a playful grievance as he placed a carton of milk on my desk. My hand, busy scribbling vocabulary words, paused. I glanced at the milk. “I already had breakfast,” I said. “And I’m not going to walk with you anymore. I’m getting to school earlier from now on.” He slid into the empty seat beside me, looking genuinely confused. He propped his chin on his hand. “Did I do something to piss you off? We’ve always walked together.” “It’s different now.” I set down my pen and took a deep breath, forcing a small smile. “You have a girlfriend, Jax. We need some distance.” His expression froze for a second before realization dawned. “She won’t care. She knows about you…” “I care.” I enunciated each word clearly. “I don’t want to be the target when you two eventually have a fight about something. I don’t want to be the problem.” “Aubrey…” Jax King was not known for his patience. The fact that he’d even let the conversation go this long was a minor miracle. I could see his was running out. His face hardened. He shot up from the chair, the legs screeching against the linoleum, a sound that grated on my already raw nerves. “Fine,” he bit out. “Whatever you want.” Then he was gone. I lowered my head, closing my eyes against the sudden burn. I’d spent all of last night on my balcony, letting the cold air whip at me, debating what to do. Should I keep playing the fool, pretending I was just his friend while hiding this suffocating crush? Or was it time to let our lifelong connection finally fracture? They say you can’t hide the way you look at someone you love. If I kept following him around, it wouldn’t be fair to me, and it wouldn’t be fair to Chloe. No girlfriend on earth wants her boyfriend’s overly close “girl-best-friend” hanging around. From that day on, Jax didn’t speak to me. If we passed in the hall, his eyes slid right over me as if I were a stranger. The girl by his side was no longer me; it was Chloe. He introduced her to his entire circle of friends, the world that had once been ours. She was his first love. The girl he was crazy about. I focused on my studies. Like everyone else, I heard the stories of their epic romance through the grapevine. Chloe was starving herself for a dance competition, and Jax had his family’s personal chef make her low-fat, high-protein meals to bring to school. A jock from a rival school wouldn’t stop harassing Chloe, cornering her in an alley after school. Rumor was, Jax beat him so badly he ended up in the hospital. On the next monthly exams, I reclaimed my spot as first in our class. My guidance counselor once told me to stop worrying so much about Jax, that he was dragging down my academic potential. The Kings had more money than God; it didn’t matter if Jax graduated or not. That afternoon, I stared out the window at the spectacular sunset. “Aubrey, where do you want to go for college?” It was a hot evening last summer. Jax was sitting next to me, idly twirling a strand of my hair around his long finger. “Northwood University,” I’d said without hesitation. “That’s so far.” I never told him the real reason. It wasn’t just because Northwood was a top-tier school. It was because I had to get away from here. Away from that house. My father was a cliché. The second he made money, he found a new woman. My mother refused to divorce him, convinced it was her fault for not giving him a son. In the dead of night, she would sometimes break down, pointing a shaking finger at me and screaming, asking why I couldn’t have been a boy, then her husband would have stayed faithful. She finally did have a son. My father’s return to the family was brief. And once my little brother was born, my mother poured every ounce of herself into him. She had her son now, her security for old age. “Okay… then I’ll go to Northwood too,” the boy beside me had boasted. “You’re such a klutz, you’ll be a mess without me there to look out for you.” That cocky, grinning boy was the only light in my broken world. I was desperate to hold onto him. I was willing to waste all my time on him, to sacrifice my own ambitions. Even if I didn’t get into Northwood, as long as I got into whatever school he did, that would be enough. 04 A rumor started spreading that Chloe was a homewrecker who had stolen Jax from me. Coming back from the restroom with Maya, I saw Chloe run past me down the stairs, her face buried in her hands, sobbing. A second later, Jax came storming up the steps. He saw me, and his face contorted with rage. He lunged forward and slammed me against the wall, his hand closing around my throat. “I thought you wanted to stay away from me, Aubrey,” he snarled, his face inches from mine. “What the hell is this?” I clawed at his hand, my lungs burning. Maya rushed forward, trying to push him off. “Are you insane? We were just in the bathroom! Let her go, you’re choking her!” Jax flinched back as if he’d been burned, snatching his hand away. I slid down the wall, gasping, sucking in ragged breaths of air. “You’re pathetic, Aubrey,” he spat down at me. “Aubrey, are you okay?” I stayed crouched on the floor, coughing, tears streaming down my face. Maya wrapped an arm around me, rubbing my back. “It’s okay, Aubrey. I don’t know what’s wrong with him and his crazy girlfriend.” I wiped my eyes, biting my lip to keep from sobbing aloud. The look on his face… it was pure hatred. For a second, I thought he was actually going to kill me. The boy I knew was gone. Completely and utterly gone. Later, a classmate cautiously slid a phone under my desk. Someone had posted an anonymous message on the Crestwood Confessions page, accusing Chloe of being the “other woman” who broke up Jax and me. Everyone believed it. The comment section was a cesspool of slut-shaming, each insult more vicious than the last. When I got home that evening, I planned to immediately send a message to the page administrator to clear Chloe’s name. The red marks on my neck were already bruising. But I never got the chance. I walked into my house to find my parents sitting on the living room sofa, their faces like thunder. They were waiting for me. My stomach dropped. I knew this wasn’t good. A glass flew past my head and shattered against the wall behind me. “What did you do to piss off Jackson King?” my father roared, slamming his fist on the coffee table. “Do you have any idea how much of our business depends on the Kings? Are you trying to ruin me?” I just stood there as my mother’s shrill voice joined in, calling me a useless, money-draining curse. My father told me I was going to go over there and apologize to Jax. Right now. The house was cold, but I was shivering from a chill that came from deep inside. I don’t remember how the screaming match ended, only that I was bundled out the door and marched to the Kings’ front porch. I had a speech prepared. I was going to tell him I didn’t write the post, but that I would get it taken down. But the door swung open, and he was standing there, looking down at me from the top of the steps, his eyes like chips of ice. The words died in my throat. I lowered my head. I bowed. And I apologized. He just stared at me blankly, leaning against the doorframe. “I don’t want to see you at school anymore, Aubrey.”

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1 A searing pain tore through my gut, and everything went black. I checked my phone, then the fruit stand ahead. After a split-second hesitation, I rushed over, started a livestream, and began frantically shoving mangoes into my mouth. The chat exploded: Is this guy insane? Look at the owner’s face! What a way to go viral! Viewers spiked. Someone called the police as I counted down. Ten minutes later, I collapsed on cue, foaming at the mouth. In my past life, I was framed for raping and murdering a student. My girlfriend Mia gave police a video of me dragging the girl inside. My own parents testified they heard screams from my room. That sealed it. Twenty years in prison, I never understood why. They welcomed me home with a feast—then I woke as a ghost, reading the headline: Evan Cross, Guilty, Commits Suicide. When I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the night of the frame-up. Fine. If they wanted a criminal, they’d get one—with an ironclad alibi. I’d eat my way into the ER. Let’s see them frame me now. The moment I lost consciousness, the live chat went from mockery to alarm. Is he allergic? This isn’t a joke! Swollen lips, trouble breathing, hives breaking out all over… that’s anaphylactic shock! Somebody call 911! The fruit stand owner’s anger had morphed into stunned horror. He took a step back, holding his hands up as if to ward off a ghost. Sticky, yellow juice covered my hands, the taste in my mouth a cloying mix of sweet and bitter. Only one thought burned in my mind. Even if I die, I’m dragging every last person who wronged me down to hell with me. The wail of the ambulance siren was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. As the paramedics rushed toward me, the fruit stand owner grabbed my hand, his voice trembling. “Kid, whatever it is, it ain’t worth this. If you die, I’ll never sell another mango in my life!” His words were a punch to the gut. It was a complete stranger, a man I’d met only moments ago, who showed me this kindness. The irony was suffocating. I gripped his hand back, my voice a desperate rasp. “Sir, please… can you keep the stream running? All the way to the hospital?” In the chaos, unnoticed, I slipped a small paring knife from his stand into my pocket. The chat was a mix of advice and scorn. Don’t get stuck with his medical bills, old man! It’s not worth it! That owner has the worst luck in the world. Wait… isn’t that my coworker? Evan? He’s the quietest guy I know. What the hell is going on? Seeing that comment, a sharp pang shot through my chest. It was tragically funny. In my last life, the only people who ever believed in my innocence were my colleagues. I’d been arrested right after work that day, expecting to be released quickly. But then my father came to visit me in the holding cell. His first words were, “Just confess, Evan.” “Son, don’t be stubborn,” he’d said, his face a mask of weary disappointment. “As your father, I can’t cover for you any longer.” I had stared at him, completely bewildered. The lead detective on the case, a man named Miller, was a pillar of righteousness. He’d grabbed me by the collar, his eyes bloodshot with rage. “You animal. Do you have any idea she was just eighteen? She had just gotten into college.” The evidence against me was impossibly perfect. Mia had even provided a video she claimed showed me kidnapping the victim. The fruit stand owner hesitated now, looking at the phone in his hand. I clutched it tighter, turning my frantic gaze on the approaching paramedics. “If you don’t let me keep streaming, I’m not going to the hospital!” I screamed. Two of them moved to restrain me, but I didn’t hesitate. I pulled the paring knife from my pocket, my eyes wild with resolve. “You come any closer, and I’ll kill myself right here!” The live chat erupted. WHOA! What the hell happened to this guy? He looks… desperate. That look in his eyes isn’t an act! He’s completely lost it. My coworker Evan is about to get married, he has a house, a car… why would he be doing this? Fruit Stand Owner’s internal monologue: Oh god, that’s my knife! A police car screeched to a halt. The man who stepped out made my blood run cold. Detective Miller. He strode forward, his brow furrowed with a mixture of concern and authority. “Son,” he said, his voice firm but patient. “Whatever’s going on, we can solve it. Don’t do something you can’t take back.” The familiar words sent a shiver down my spine. The live chat fell silent. In my past life, this was the man who had personally locked me away. The fruit stand owner rushed forward. “Kid, I’ll do it! I’ll stream for you! Just please, put the knife down!” Every eye was on me. Clutching the phone in one hand and the knife in the other, I spoke, my voice shaking. “I don’t trust anyone. Stream this. All the way to the hospital.” The viewership had swelled to twenty million people. The owner nodded, taking the phone. I finally let them help me onto the stretcher and into the ambulance. The chat was already buzzing with conspiracy theories. On the way to the hospital, the police identified me and contacted my parents. My phone rang. It was my father. The fruit stand owner held the phone up for me, and I nodded. “Evan, you are a complete disappointment,” my father’s voice boomed, cold and hard. “You might as well just die in that hospital. Making a scene like this… do you have any respect for me at all?” He didn’t wait for a response. “I’m telling you right now, you get online and you apologize to everyone, or you’re not welcome in this house ever again.” He hung up. The chat was divided. Some praised my father for his strict morals; others called him heartless. Detective Miller, riding with us in the ambulance, muttered under his breath, “That’s one hell of a father.” His words reached me. I turned to look at him, the truth a burning coal in my throat. But who would believe me? The man in that video looked exactly like me. The police themselves had verified it wasn’t a fake. And my own parents had corroborated the story. What kind of parents would frame their own son? Miller caught my gaze, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. I thought of the girl, the one who had just started college. I dredged up the hazy memories of that night and beckoned him closer with a finger. I leaned in and whispered a few words in his ear. Miller shot up so fast his head hit the roof of the ambulance. His face was a mask of grim seriousness. “Are you telling me the truth?” I nodded. This time, let’s see how they frame me now. I lay in a hospital bed, the steady drip of the IV a metronome marking the time. The chat was filled with comments of “Boring,” “Just another clout-chaser,” “Epic fail.” But I had what I needed: twenty million witnesses. Then, I saw the time on my phone’s lock screen. 8:31 PM. The time was a recurring nightmare. In the video, that’s when it all began. “I” dragged the girl through the door, started tearing at her clothes, spewing vile obscenities. If I’d had more time after being reborn, I wouldn’t have resorted to such a desperate measure. My parents never came. Mia never came. The fruit stand owner, who had stayed with me, looked increasingly grim. “Kid,” he said, trying to comfort me, “maybe they’re just caught up with something. Don’t overthink it. What do you want to eat?” Yeah, right. Right up until the moment they poisoned me, I had foolishly believed they were being threatened, that it was all some grand conspiracy to protect them. But after they fed me the poison, they had my body cremated immediately and fed the media a story about my suicide. “You can turn off the stream now,” I told him. As he fumbled with the phone, it rang. He answered, and a sharp voice cut through the speaker. “This is Detective Miller. Is Evan Cross awake? Put him on.” He knew. He must have been watching the stream. I ignored the phone and looked directly into the camera lens, a small, cryptic smile on my face. “Detective Miller, I think you’re wondering how I knew what I told you. You’ll have your answer in a few days.” I ended the livestream, leaving a torrent of questions and accusations in the chat. The phone call was still connected. Miller’s voice was tight with suppressed fury. “If you knew this was going to happen, why didn’t you stop it? She was only eighteen—” “Her whole life was just beginning,” I finished for him, my voice eerily calm. It was the exact phrase he’d used on me, over and over, during my interrogation. My life had just been beginning too. I’d just paid off my mortgage and car loans. I was about to propose to Mia. And then they all betrayed me and threw me in a cage for twenty years. Even then, I never blamed them. I came out wanting nothing more than to live a quiet life with my family. I never imagined they wanted me dead. “Detective,” I said softly, my eyes starting to burn, “today is my birthday.” I hung up and looked at the fruit stand owner. “Sir, I’d really like a bowl of noodles.” He jumped to his feet, ready to run out and buy them, but then he sat back down, pulled out his phone, and handed it to me. “Here. Order whatever you want. It’s on me. I hope from now on, you don’t face any more hurdles you can’t overcome.” Last time, I was so busy with work that I didn’t even remember my birthday until the next day. Four days later, I was arrested. The light in the hospital room was dim, but for the first time, it felt like a light was finally dawning on my own life. The fruit stand owner watched me eat, his eyes glistening. “My daughter,” he said, his voice thick with pride and sorrow, “she just got into college this year. She’s out there delivering for DoorDash to save me some money.” The girl who died… she had been delivering food to earn money too. It couldn’t be a coincidence. “She’s a better person than me,” I said, my voice gentle. “Brave and thoughtful.” Late that night, after the IV was finished, I went home. The fruit stand owner had left in a hurry after a phone call, but not before I managed to stuff all the cash I had on me into his pocket. I opened the door. The apartment was clean and tidy, just like last time. Mia was in bed, stirring as I entered. “What took you so long?” she murmured sleepily. “You must be exhausted.” She wrapped her arms around me. My body went rigid. I couldn’t close my eyes. This was the woman whose video had cost me twenty years of my life. I leaned down and kissed her forehead, just like I always did, then went to the bathroom to shower. What now? Later, as her steady breathing filled the room, I took her phone. Under the cover of darkness, I slipped out and went to my best friend Leo’s house. I burst in and handed him the phone. “I need you to back up everything on this to my cloud drive,” I said, my words tumbling out in a rush. “Then install a tracker on it for me.” Leo rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Evan? What’s the rush? Did Mia cheat on you or something?” I ignored the question. “Five thousand dollars. If you can’t do it, I’ll find someone who can.” “I’m on it, I’m on it!” He got to work while I crashed on his couch. Around five in the morning, I took the phone and headed back, picking up breakfast for Mia on the way. Leo’s words echoed in my head. “Dude, I checked everything. There’s nothing weird on there. Don’t be paranoid.” The next few days passed in a tense, quiet haze. I lived in a state of constant dread, but I also wrote a will and had it notarized. Upon my death, all my assets are to be donated to charity. On the fifth day, I was at work when he arrived. Detective Miller, in full uniform, approached my desk, his expression conflicted. “Evan Cross, you’re a suspect in a rape and murder investigation. You need to come with us.” I calmly held out my hands to be cuffed. My coworkers stared, a few of them shrinking back in fear. After the mango incident, I was lucky my boss hadn’t fired me on the spot. Miller seemed to notice their reactions. He glanced at my manager’s name tag. “Mr. Davis, just so you know, we’re bringing him in for questioning. It doesn’t mean he’s guilty.” It was something he never said in my past life. The city blurred past the windows of the police car. I calmly recounted to Miller everything my parents and Mia would say, every piece of “evidence” they would provide. “Detective,” I said, “I have an idea. We can’t figure out why they’re framing me, right? So why don’t we put on a show? Livestream the whole interrogation. Maybe the real killer is watching.” They all knew I had an ironclad alibi for that night. And they knew Mia’s video was also considered solid evidence. It was a paradox. Miller agreed. As soon as I stepped out of the car at the station, a hand cracked across my face. It was my father, his voice trembling with rage. “You animal! I raised you to be a man, not this!” He grabbed my ear, forcing me to look away from him. “Confess right now and beg for the victim’s forgiveness!” I followed his gaze, and my blood ran cold. The man standing there… it was the fruit stand owner. But in my last life, I never once met the victim’s family. He looked at me, his expression unreadable. The fists clenched at his sides slowly relaxed. He stepped forward, placing himself between me and my father. The official police department livestream had just gone live, and the chat was already a chaotic mess. The Mango Man saga continues? Why are they at a police station? HOLY SHIT, this stream is from an official government account! Is it just me or does the fruit stand owner look like he’s been crying for days? Did the kid trash his stand again? The moment my parents saw the cameras, they instinctively flinched away. “This case is full of contradictions,” Detective Miller announced, his voice carrying an official weight. “I do not believe Evan Cross is the killer. I can’t disclose the details at this time.” My mother pushed forward, her voice a dramatic wail. “Oh, the sin of it all! I heard the poor girl screaming that night! But I was a coward! I didn’t say anything, to protect my son!” Mia stepped up next to her, her face a mask of righteous fury. “Detective, are you really going to cover for this monster? You saw the video! He raped and killed that girl! He doesn’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness!” They were strangers to me. After living through it once, I was able to remain calm. I asked the question I never got to ask last time. “Mom, Dad, Mia… why are you framing me?” The live chat, swayed by their performance, turned on me. The screen filled with insults: “Maniac,” “Murderer,” “Sicko.” Miller cleared his throat. “The forensic analysis of the video is not yet complete. Furthermore…” I tugged on his sleeve, a small gesture that the viewers immediately misinterpreted as me having bribed him. The chat turned on him, too. They were even more confused when the fruit stand owner spoke up, his voice firm. “I believe Mr. Cross. There’s something else going on here.” The chat spiraled. Why were the detective and the victim’s father on my side? Just then, a man in a lab coat hurried out. “Detective Miller, the preliminary analysis is complete. The video is authentic.” The chat exploded with rage, demanding my immediate execution. But I only asked one question. “Mr. Technician, the video timestamp is 8:31 PM, five days ago, correct?” The technician, caught off guard, nodded. A connection sparked across the millions of viewers watching. The chat froze, then erupted. Five days ago? NO WAY! A person can’t be in two places at once! 8:30 PM? Mango Man was in the ER! I WATCHED THE WHOLE THING LIVE! I let a smirk touch my lips and turned to my family. “On the night in question, I was in the hospital having my stomach pumped for a severe allergic reaction to mangoes. So tell me, how could I have also been at home, raping and killing someone?” Panic flashed across their faces. It was fleeting, but the cameras caught it. My mother quickly recovered. “I heard my son’s voice with my own ears!” she insisted. “There’s no mistake! Do you think I would condemn my only son if I wasn’t sure?” My father snorted. “You probably went to the fruit stand a day later and staged the whole thing to create a fake alibi. Stop the act, Evan.” He turned to the police. “Officer, I’m telling you, the man I saw that night was him. I’ll swear to it.” Their words were designed to bury me. I glanced at my father. “Dad,” I said softly, “why don’t you check your call history? See what time you called me while I was in the hospital?” “You’ve been a liar your whole life! I don’t believe a word you say!” he shot back, turning away without even reaching for his phone. Mia stepped forward again. “Detective, the man in that video is absolutely him. Even the way he… moves… it’s exactly the same!” My breath hitched. To protect someone I didn’t even know, she would say something so intimate, so damning? Who the hell were they protecting? The chat was hooked, but some were starting to think critically. Could this guy have known this was coming? Is that why he staged that whole scene on that specific day? To create an alibi for a crime he knew he was going to be framed for? Holy crap, I think you’re right. But a person can’t be in two places at once. Someone is lying. Three possibilities: 1. The video is fake. 2. The parents and girlfriend are lying. 3. Aliens messed with the detective’s and the fruit stand owner’s memories. When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth! Detective Miller looked past the young technician. “Dr. Albright,” he called out to an older man who had just arrived. “We need your expertise on this video.” He turned back to my family, his voice cold. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but a young woman is dead. I suggest you start telling the truth.” They knew we had no other evidence. They were confident. “Interfering with a judicial investigation and providing false testimony are serious crimes,” Miller added. I saw Mia flinch, but my mother grabbed her arm, her expression defiant. “I’m just an ordinary citizen doing my duty, providing evidence. What are you going to do to us?” She raised her voice, a ringing declaration of false piety. “If I’m lying, may I never rest in peace!” Her oath was like a knife in my back. Why would my own mother go this far? The chat was just as baffled. This is too weird. Are there two identical Evans? I started to wonder myself. But I was an only child. I always had been. In my past life, the one thing I could never understand was why, even after I’d served my time, they still felt the need to poison me. The key to this mystery had to be me. Dr. Albright, the senior forensic expert, emerged with his findings. He looked at Detective Miller and shook his head slightly. “The video is authentic, timestamped five days ago at 8:31 PM. No signs of digital manipulation or AI synthesis. Unless…” The entire chat, the room, the world, held its breath.

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