Author: Momo Chan

I was transported into a horror game with my best friend. She became the final BOSS, and I became a player. When my teammates shoved me forward as a human shield, I threw myself into the BOSS’s arms and whined. “Babe, they’re all bullying me.” The BOSS’s pale fingers paused at my neck for a fraction of a second before lashing out, striking my teammates with brutal force. With him on my side, I was unstoppable, raking in points like it was nothing. Then one day, the game glitched, and two instances merged. The BOSS from the other instance saw me and let out a triumphant shriek, tackling me in a hug. “My darling bestie, I finally found you!” Wait. If she’s my best friend… then who is the BOSS holding me right now? 1. [Welcome to the instance: The Lost Woods.] [Instance Difficulty: SSS-Rank] [Objective: Survive for one month.] [Commencing rules announcement:] [Rule 1: Do not act alone at night.] [Rule 2…] It took until the second rule for the reality to sink in: I was in a horror game. As the cold, mechanical voice droned on, a live-stream chat feed exploded in my vision. [WTF, a whole month? No wonder this is the hardest instance. Most are just a week.] [Well, this is the instance the elite squad chose. It’s gotta be different.] Reading that made my eye twitch. Forcing myself to stay calm, I scanned the five people around me, drawing on years of playing horror games. A good team was half the battle. There were three men—one average-looking, one with glasses, and one heavy-set guy—and two women, one with fiery red hair and another with a dark, brooding look in her eyes. None of them showed a hint of panic. The red-haired woman’s gaze met mine, and she shot me a look of pure venom. My heart sank. She didn’t seem very approachable. I ignored it for now and focused back on the chat, trying to glean any useful information. [I remember this instance has a hidden rule… something about sacrificing one person to the BOSS every three days…] [Hey, is that a noob?] [Poor girl. First time in and she lands in a hell-tier instance.] [And she’s with Carter’s squad… yikes. She won’t last three days.] Before I could process that, the average-looking man, Carter, walked over to me and extended his hand. “Hey, newbie. I’m Carter, this squad’s leader. We’ll need your full cooperation if you want to survive.” I reached out to shake his hand, but he pulled his back at the last second, leaving me hanging awkwardly. The red-haired woman let out a derisive snort. “He was just being polite. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” I pressed my lips together. Fine. If that’s how they wanted to play it, I wouldn’t be telling them that my best friend was the BOSS of this instance. The man with the glasses, Dexter, tried to smooth things over, but his eyes, magnified behind his lenses, were fixed on me with a cold, reptilian focus that made my skin crawl. The sky was darkening, and the woods around us began to rustle, as if something was waking up. I remembered the first rule. As much as they creeped me out, I couldn’t risk being alone. 2. Carter and his team operated with a chilling efficiency. A single glance was all they needed to communicate. As the temperature in the forest plummeted, they expertly started a fire and began roasting their rations. I was completely out of the loop, so I huddled to the side, trying to start my own small fire. Now I understood why the chat was so ominous about Carter’s squad. Every new player unfortunate enough to be matched with them probably got the same treatment. This was their first time in this instance too, so on the first night, they stuck to the rules, unwilling to make any reckless moves. After eating, they prepared to sleep. The heavy-set one, Gus, grinned at me. “Hey, newbie. You’re on watch tonight.” It took me a second to register. “Huh?” His smile didn’t waver as he pointed to the fire he’d built a dozen feet away. “You warmed yourself by our fire. It’s only fair you pay us back now.” The red-haired woman, Ruby, shot me a disdainful look. “You should be grateful. We’re giving you a chance to gain some experience.” The other two said nothing, simply closing their eyes. I was trapped. I couldn’t risk being ambushed by some monster while I slept. I still had to find my best friend and get her protection; I couldn’t die here. So, I kept watch all night, my heart pounding with every snap of a twig. The next morning, Carter’s team woke up refreshed and full of energy, ready to tackle the instance objectives. My eyelids felt like lead weights, but I forced myself to trail behind them, terrified of being left alone. After last night, they seemed to have decided I was a total pushover. Under the guise of “training me,” they ordered me around constantly. And when it came time to collect rewards, they snatched all the credit, having the points transferred to their accounts. The chat was full of pity. [They’re really walking all over this noob.] [The three-day sacrifice is coming up. Guess we know who they’re picking.] Someone argued back. [It’s survival of the fittest. This is a horror game, not a charity.] Carter’s team saw the comments, of course. The cold cruelty in their eyes was unmistakable. They might as well have said it out loud. But I wasn’t upset. In fact, I kept pushing the boundaries of the rules, doing little things to attract attention. I couldn’t wait for the BOSS to show up. 3. The day passed without incident. Carter’s team, now familiar with the immediate surroundings, decided it was time to test the rules. That night, they used me as bait, hoping to lure out whatever monster lurked in the darkness. My struggles and protests earned me a sharp slap from the brooding woman, Mara. My cheek stung, swelling instantly, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. They dragged me away from the fire and left me in the open. Seconds later, a sinister wind tore through the trees. Countless glowing red eyes blinked open in the shadows. A black mist rolled in, and from it emerged a man, the lower half of his face wrapped in bandages. Behind him, a mass of inky black tentacles writhed and clawed at the air. Everywhere he walked, the trees in his path were pulverized into dust. The chat erupted. [HOLY SHIT, they actually did it! They baited out the final BOSS!] [Are they crazy? I thought they were here for points, not to get themselves killed!] [Carter’s team is ranked in the top ten! I thought they might actually be the first to clear this instance. Looks like they’re here to set the record for the fastest team wipe instead.] Seeing the BOSS, the calm, collected masks on Carter’s team finally shattered. “Run!” Carter shrieked, his voice raw with terror. But the BOSS was too fast. It would be on them in seconds. Running was pointless. Desperate for more time, they exchanged a look, then used an item to launch me through the air, directly at the BOSS. The chat began mourning my terrible luck. But I didn’t fight it. Instead, I threw myself right into the BOSS’s arms, sobbing and whining. “Babe, they’re all bullying me.” The tentacles that were about to crush me… paused. The BOSS’s pale fingers, hovering over my neck, hesitated. The chat went into a frenzy. [WTF, did the noob snap from fear?] [Does she have a death wish?!] [DO YOU SEE WHO THAT IS? THAT’S THE FINAL BOSS!] [I guarantee you, in the next second, those tentacles are gonna rip her in two.] In the next instant, the flood of comments came to a dead halt. Because the BOSS lifted his gaze, looked at the five people scrambling for their lives, and his tentacles shot out, impaling their legs. [HUH???] [NO WAY. AM I SEEING THIS RIGHT?] [This is… I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.] I snuggled deeper into the BOSS’s chest. It was surprisingly firm, yet yielding. “I knew you were the best to me, babe!” I chirped. “Hehe, and this body is a masked type? That’s totally my thing.” The BOSS’s body went rigid. 4. Carter’s team was elite for a reason. They had extensive experience dealing with life-or-death situations, or they wouldn’t have survived this long. Seizing the BOSS’s momentary hesitation, they gritted their teeth, ripped the tentacles from their thighs, and bolted. But the BOSS was faster. They’d barely taken a step before slender, impossibly strong tentacles wrapped around them, binding them tight and squeezing, inch by inch. As the tentacles began to bite into their flesh, a look of agony crossed Gus’s face. In a flash, he used an item. A blinding golden light erupted. The light was so intense it stung my eyes. When my vision cleared, Carter and his team were gone. The tentacles in the air still held the shape of their bodies, grasping at nothing. The chat was on fire. [An SSS-Rank escape item! No wonder!] [I knew they had to have an ace up their sleeve to take on a hell-tier instance.] [Wait, didn’t this squad just grind SS-Rank instances to get elite status? Where did they get a 3S item?] [Yeah, you can’t even buy those in the point shop. You have to clear a 3S instance.] [Speaking of which… don’t you guys remember that elite player who teamed up with them and then disappeared…?] With Carter’s team gone, the BOSS retracted his tentacles. The forest fell silent, except for the red eyes still glinting from the shadows. The wind rustled the leaves with a chilling sound. But wrapped in the BOSS’s embrace, I felt completely safe. I was so relaxed I even started reading the gossip in the chat. As I was getting to the good part, the comments suddenly stopped and were replaced by a collective scream. [Is this noob for real? The BOSS is standing right there and she’s reading the chat?] [BOSS: Ahem. I’m still here.] [OMG, is there something wrong with her?] [She must have been scared senseless. Did she really just call the BOSS ‘babe’?!] [DUMMY! STOP READING THE CHAT! THE BOSS’S TENTACLE IS ON YOUR LEG!] I instinctively slapped downwards. “Babe, don’t interrupt my gossip,” I mumbled. 5. The BOSS seemed displeased by my neglect. Instead of retracting, the tentacle coiled even tighter around my leg. The sensation was cold and slick against my palm. A novel experience. Since the gossip train had stopped, I turned my attention to the BOSS holding me. He had striking features, a high-bridged nose, and messy bangs that, combined with the bandages, gave him an aura of mystery. His black clothing clung to his body like a second skin, outlining every muscle. His powerful chest and lean, defined abs were clearly visible. The only skin exposed was on his hands and face, creating a very ascetic vibe. Damn. My bestie really scored with this avatar. It was hitting every single one of my preferences. The strange thing was, there was a distance in his eyes when he looked at me. And he hadn’t said a single word. That wasn’t like my bubbly, chatty best friend at all. It must be because she saw me get thrown to her as a human shield. She must have been terrified. She attacked those people to save me. That was so bloody. My bestie, who’s normally too scared to even kill a chicken! She must be in shock. And after they ran away, I was too busy reading the chat to comfort her. Thinking about it, I felt terrible. I hadn’t considered her feelings at all. The more I thought, the more I regretted it. I wrapped my arms around him and started stroking his hair soothingly. “Babe, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking about how you must have felt.” His entire body tensed. Even the tentacle around my leg went rigid. 6. I figured she was just getting used to this new body and wasn’t comfortable with our usual physical affection yet, so I didn’t overthink it. I launched into a stream of heartfelt apologies. “Those people were horrible! They bullied me, they wouldn’t let me sleep, and they kept taking advantage of me and stealing my points.” “The only reason I didn’t comfort you right away was because I was trying to learn more about them so they couldn’t get away next time! It wasn’t because I don’t care about you!” He remained silent, his long lashes hiding the expression in his eyes. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. I looked up at him pitifully. “Babe, why aren’t you talking to me? Are you still mad?” He didn’t move. I tried again, nuzzling against his chest. “You really can’t forgive me?” [What is this newbie doing???] [Does she think sweet-talking the BOSS will save her? How naive can you be in a horror game!] [OMG, does she think this is a dating sim?] [Just because the BOSS is hot and she’s kinda cute, she thinks she can romance him? Get a grip!] [Doesn’t she know what a ‘hell-tier instance’ means? NO ONE has ever cleared it!] [Yeah, the BOSS is devastatingly handsome, but he’s also devastatingly lethal!] [Okay, but quietly… the BOSS really does seem to be treating her differently. He protected her right away.] [Even X, the strongest player in the guild, only lasted five minutes against this BOSS, and that was with spamming god-tier items. This newbie has been alive for over ten…] [What are you thinking? She’s openly a player. What monster doesn’t kill players? Maybe the BOSS is just saving her for a slow, torturous death?] The chat was a chaotic mess. It was making my head spin. Just then, the BOSS awkwardly lifted a cold, pale hand and gently covered my eyes. His voice was a low rasp. “Sleep.” 7. I peeked through a tiny gap between his fingers, confirming that the BOSS really wasn’t angry. My eyes met his dark, intense pupils. He spoke again, his tone a little unnatural, as if he hadn’t spoken in a very long time. He was trying to soothe me. “Don’t… be afraid.” So, I obediently closed my eyes and went to sleep. In a corner I couldn’t see, the chat collectively lost its mind. [WTF??? THE BOSS CAN TALK!] [AND THE NEWBIE ISN’T DEAD!] [Could she be some kind of hidden master player?] [This is getting interesting. I’m following this newbie’s stream for sure!] [Heh. I, for one, can’t wait to see how this arrogant newbie finally dies.] [OMG, I can’t believe I’m shipping this.] [^^ Same.] The BOSS supported me with his tentacles. Each one was carefully controlled, moving with a delicate precision, as if afraid of hurting me. He carried me back to his lair, where I slept soundly and safely. The next morning, the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the BOSS. He had even thoughtfully prepared breakfast for me. I launched myself at him, hugging him tightly. “Babe, you’re too good to me!” My bestie was clearly still not used to being so close in this body. She immediately handed me a piece of bread. “Eat,” she said, ever so concise. The chat was flabbergasted. [??? This world is getting weirder and weirder.] [Am I hallucinating from watching this newbie’s stream all night?] [^^^ Nope, you’re not. I watched all night too. The BOSS guarded her while she slept, never tried to kill her, and then left for a bit just before dawn and came back with bread.] [Wait a minute. The BOSS from this instance went for a stroll through X’s instance? The alarms were blaring, X and his team were freaking out thinking it was a once-in-a-century bug, and it turns out the BOSS just stole a loaf of bread… for a player???] I munched on my bread while reading the comments. Honestly, these people. A best friend grabbing a snack for her bestie—is that really so shocking? Besides, she knows me so well. The bread she stole was delicious. I was only halfway through it when a bright white light flashed before my eyes. Huh? The chat never mentioned that the bread in this game came with special effects. When my vision cleared, I was face-to-face with a haggard-looking Carter and his team. The BOSS, who had been right beside me, was gone. 8. This time, there was none of the arrogant disdain I’d seen when we first met. Carter and his team were in tatters, their clothes ripped and their ration packs gone. Their eyes immediately locked onto the half-eaten bread in my hand. Gus, in particular, swallowed hard, looking like he was about to snatch it from me. But he forced a smile. “Newbie, you’re okay! We were so worried…” Before he could finish, I shoved the rest of the bread into my mouth in three quick bites. Revealing food in front of a starving group was just asking to be robbed. I’m not an idiot. Better in my stomach than in their hands. Gus’s smile froze on his lips. The others looked livid. The chat exploded with laughter. [This is the first time I’ve ever seen Carter’s team get owned by a newbie.] [Why is this so satisfying LOLOLOL.] [Shhh, don’t say that too loud, their fanboys will come for you.] [This newbie has zero empathy. Her teammates are starving, what’s wrong with sharing half a piece of bread?] [Hey, who are you to lecture her? Where was your ’empathy’ when the newbie was starving on the first night while they ate their rations in front of her?] The debate was cut short by a system announcement. [Warning! Player has intentionally violated the rules. Punishment is imminent!] [Repeating.] [Warning! Player has intentionally violated the rules. Punishment is imminent!] The moment the mechanical voice faded, six identical doors materialized in front of us. Carter and his team knew what this was. Their faces paled. They had no intention of explaining it to me, and I had no intention of asking. I just waited for the system to announce the new rules. This time, it was simple. [Five doors of life, one door of death. Players may choose freely.] [Enter a door and clear the challenge within to complete the punishment.] As if to warn us against any further violations, the system added a final note. [Warning: Only one player may enter each door. Violators will bear the consequences.] Then the system went silent. Carter’s team didn’t move. I copied them, studying the identical doors with no clue what to do. After a moment, they exchanged a knowing glance. Carter slowly approached me, extending his hand again. I eyed him suspiciously, wondering what he was plotting this time. I didn’t take it. He wasn’t fazed. “Newbie, we were out of line before.” “But it was all just a test. We’ve now confirmed that you have what it takes to join our elite squad. I’m officially inviting you to join us. Let’s face this challenge and clear the instance together.” 9. I didn’t say a word. [Is this the first time Carter’s squad has ever invited a newbie to join?] [This girl is so lucky. She gets to join an elite team right off the bat.] [What is she waiting for? A top player like Carter invited her, she should be on her knees thanking him.] The chat was swarming with Carter’s fan club. Any dissenting comments were quickly buried. Seeing my lack of reaction, Carter rubbed his nose and chuckled. “Our team is focused on absolute strength, so public opinion on us is a bit… polarized.” “But don’t worry. If you join us, we will absolutely take care of you…” I cut him off. “What are the benefits?” [There’s a new weirdo every year, but this year is special. The BOSS in the other instance won’t kill anyone, and this newbie player is negotiating terms with an elite team.] [She’s so full of herself. If it were me, I’d pay to get into Carter’s squad, and she has the nerve to ask for benefits!] [Yeah, if I got into an elite team, I’d be smiling in my sleep!] [Seriously, does she have any idea what being on an elite team means?] I ignored the chat. After just two days, it was obvious that Carter and his crew were purely self-serving. They wouldn’t be inviting me to join unless they thought I was useful. And what use did I have? It had to be because I’d returned unharmed from an encounter with the BOSS. Of course, the only reason I was still alive was because the BOSS was my best friend. But they didn’t know that. From their perspective, I was incredibly powerful. If I agreed to join too easily, that would be suspicious. My interruption didn’t seem to annoy Carter. Even Ruby, who had always despised me, was holding her tongue. “One hundred thousand points,” Carter offered, “and one SS-Rank item. How does that sound?” Before I could answer, the chat blew up. [WTF, that’s what they pay 3S-cleared guild members for help!] [What’s so special about this newbie that they’re willing to pay so much?] [Heh, you all have no idea how powerful our Newbie Queen is.] [She had the hell-tier BOSS watch over her while she slept and make her breakfast. How about that?] Carter and his team saw those comments, and the last shred of doubt in their eyes vanished. Ruby even came over to apologize. “Hey, girl, I have a bad temper. A newbie got me in trouble once, almost cost me a hand—” She paused, showing me a faint scar on her wrist. “I guess I was just paranoid after that.” I smiled at her. “Alright. Since we’ve cleared the air, it’s better to have a friend than an enemy.” 10. Carter moved quickly, transferring 100,000 points to my account and sending over an SS-Rank item. I clicked [Accept]. After a few pleasantries, it was time to face the punishment. They said that to make up for their previous behavior, I could choose a door first. I picked one at random and walked toward it. Immediately, Dexter sidled up to me, his voice a sinister rasp. “What a coincidence. I was going to pick this one too.” He stared at me, his gaze slimy and repulsive. Not wanting to deal with him, I stepped back and moved toward another door. But it happened again. Every time I chose a door, someone else would immediately claim it with some flimsy excuse. Mara didn’t even bother with an excuse; she just walked into the one I was approaching before I could. Finally, there was only one door left. I had no choice but to go in. As soon as I stepped through, a flurry of black tentacles shot toward me. They moved so fast I couldn’t even see the afterimage, only the sound of them slicing through the air filling my ears. [HOLY SHIT, IT’S THE DEATH DOOR!] [Heh, no wonder they invited her. If she survived the BOSS, she’s either skilled or super lucky. They took all the other doors, leaving her with the most dangerous one. If she dies, her points and items drop, and they can just loot her corpse. What a perfect plan, zero losses!] [Classic Carter move. How else do you think their points grew so fast?] [I knew they couldn’t be that generous.] [Finally an interesting newbie, but she’s so clueless. What a shame.] The chat was already preparing my eulogy. But in the next second, the razor-sharp tentacles screeched to a halt just inches from my face. They softened, gently brushing against my cheek as if trying to confirm something.

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After I started dating Alexander Malon, I overheard his twin brother say: “Come on, bro. Let me pretend to be you and mess with Mia for a bit.” Alexander’s voice was casual. “Fine.” I pretended not to know and dated the fake Alexander. But when the real Alexander saw the marks on my neck, he went ballistic. He grabbed his own brother by the throat and snarled: “Who the hell gave you permission to touch her?!” 1. It was late. I had just stepped out of the shower when a message from Alexander Malon lit up my phone. It was the address of an exclusive private club. My grip on the phone tightened. When I didn’t reply immediately, another message came through: “Don’t keep me waiting, Mia.” I sighed and typed back, “On my way.” I quickly threw on some clothes. As I left the bathroom, my stepfather was standing right outside the door, his cloudy eyes filled with a nauseating desire. “All showered and still dressed so buttoned-up? Going out?” He took a drag from his cigarette and moved closer. I took two steps back, putting distance between us. “Alexander is waiting for me.” At the mention of his name, my stepfather froze, a flicker of fear in his eyes. I used the opening to slip past him and grab the doorknob. “Shameless little tramp,” he spat from behind me. “Think you can use him to threaten me just because you found your golden ticket? You think I’m scared to touch you now?” I glanced back at him, my voice cold. “Are you?” Then I slammed the door shut, the sound echoing along with his curses. 2. The club was dripping with luxury, its patrons all dressed in designer clothes that screamed wealth and privilege. In my simple hoodie, I stuck out like a sore thumb. A hostess led me to a private suite on the top floor. As we approached, I could hear voices from inside. “So, Alex, I hear this Mia girl is really good to you, huh?” “Let me pretend to be you and have some fun with her.” The suggestion was met with a chorus of whoops and jeers. “Damn, Matt, you’re not even trying to be subtle about poaching your brother’s girl.” “You don’t get it. That Mia is the real deal. Makes him soup, reminds him to take his medicine… Who could resist that level of devotion?” “You think the great Alexander Malon would share?” “Are you kidding? Alex and Matt are two peas in a pod. This isn’t the first time they’ve played a game like this.” … After the noise died down, Alexander’s deep voice finally cut through, laced with an indifferent amusement. “Fine. Consider it my welcome-home gift to you.” The hooting and hollering grew louder. The hostess stood frozen, looking at me with an awkward pity. As the subject of their little game, I felt nothing. I just smiled at her and pushed the door open. My reasons for getting close to Alexander Malon were simple: I needed the Malon family’s protection. Protection from the bullies at school, and from my stepfather’s predatory gaze at home. When a person’s life is hanging by a thread, all they want is a way to climb out. It doesn’t matter who is holding the rope. In the end, all ropes are cast aside. 3. The rich kids in the suite whistled when they saw me, their expressions a mixture of arrogance and lazy amusement. I kept a gentle smile on my face as I walked toward the main sofa. Alexander and his brother, Matt, sat side by side, watching me with unreadable expressions. Like predators waiting for their prey to walk into the cage. They had the exact same face. The same cool, pale skin, the same devastating good looks. “Mia, you’re here.” A hand reached out and pulled me down beside him. I looked at that face and sneered internally. Matt and Alexander may have looked identical, but their auras were completely different. Alexander was a storm cloud of dark, oppressive energy. Matt was a wildfire of wild, rebellious charm. It didn’t matter to me. I didn’t care if he was Alexander or Matt. As long as he could get me through my final exams and out of that rotten house, he could be anyone. I took Matt’s hand naturally, as if I truly believed he was Alexander. He seemed pleased, lacing his fingers through mine before gesturing to the man beside him. “This is my brother, Matt.” I saw Alexander’s brow twitch at the title, but his expression quickly smoothed over. He gave me a small nod, as if we were meeting for the very first time. I returned the polite greeting, then turned to Matt, my eyes full of affection. “Alexander, I bought you some sobriety pills on the way here. You should take one.” I had said this to the real Alexander many times. I always had something ready for him when he was drinking. After taking him home, I would even make him a warm, stomach-settling soup. Matt looked at the pill in my hand, an eyebrow raised. “Alright,” he said with a grin. “But you have to feed it to me.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alexander, a cigarette held between his fingers, unlit. He was lost in thought. I brought the pill to Matt’s lips and watched him take it. 4. After a few rounds of drinks, someone suggested a game. “King says the Three and Six of Clubs have to kiss for thirty seconds,” one of the guys announced, waving the King card. Matt and I revealed our cards at the same time. “Well, look at that. A perfect match,” the guy said with a wink. He was a friend of the brothers and knew about the switch, playing along smoothly. Matt cupped my chin, his face leaning in. Just as his lips were about to touch mine, there was a loud thud. The coffee table in front of Alexander had been violently kicked aside. He stood up, looming over us. “I’m done. Party’s over.” Matt paused, inches from my mouth, the playfulness in his eyes turning cold. After a long moment, he let go of me and pulled me to my feet. “Right. I forgot you just got back today, Matt. Guess we’ll call it a night.” He was still playing his part, looking at his brother’s thunderous expression. As we were about to leave, I reached over and gently zipped up Matt’s open jacket. “It’s cold out. You just got over your fever, don’t catch another chill.” As I said this, the real Alexander was standing right behind his brother, his eyes burning into me. He had been sick just a few days ago. I was the one who went to his house to take care of him, coaxing him to take his medicine and making him soup and porridge. “Mia, let’s go home.” Matt froze for a second before wrapping an arm around me, pulling me into a light embrace. As we walked away, Alexander, who had been silent, finally spoke. “Mia.” I stopped and looked back at him as if he were a complete stranger. His brow furrowed, his voice deepening. “Who is it that you love?” I lowered my eyes to hide the flash of scorn, then looked up at the man whose arm was around me. “It’s Alexander,” I said, my voice clear. “The man I love is Alexander Malon.” I felt Matt’s expression harden at my words, but he forced himself to keep up the act. 5. Alexander Malon thought I was deeply in love with him. Everyone around him thought so. What they didn’t know was that it was all an elaborate lie, a performance designed just for him. A performance for survival, to crawl out of that sewer of a home. If sickness hadn’t taken my father, I would have grown up surrounded by wealth and love. My mother passed away when I was very young, but my stepmother had always been kind to me. She would bake me sweet cookies, tell me stories, and cover for me when my father scolded me for being lazy. I thought I would grow up happy. But on my twelfth birthday, my father collapsed. He was diagnosed with late-stage cancer. A year later, he was gone. I remember him in the hospital, holding my hand and wiping away my tears. “It’s my fault, Mia. I couldn’t even get you your twelfth birthday cake.” “I won’t be here for your thirteenth. You won’t be angry with me, will you?” I was crying too hard to speak, only able to shake my head through my sobs. I didn’t want a cake. I just wanted my father. If I could, I would have traded every birthday cake for the rest of my life to have him healthy and safe. But the gods didn’t hear my prayers. The final bell tolled. His last words to me were, “You have to live well, Mia. Promise me.” From that moment on, a storm cloud seemed to settle permanently over my life. My stepmother tried to invest what little money my father left, but she was scammed out of everything. Suddenly, I became her biggest burden. My patriarchal grandfather wanted nothing to do with me. My maternal grandparents had passed away long ago. The only person I had left was the stepmother who no longer loved me. 6. “What are you looking at? I’m not raising you. It’s your father’s fault for dying so young!” she screamed, shoving me aside before getting into a taxi without a backward glance. Ignoring my scraped knees, I scrambled to my feet and ran after the car, crying. “Mom, please don’t leave me! I’ll be good, I won’t eat much!” I don’t know how long I ran, but eventually, the car stopped. I saw my stepmother’s eyes, red-rimmed with a mixture of hatred and helpless resignation. And so, we stayed together. Later, she remarried. The man was ten years older than her. That marriage became my personal hell. The very first night we moved in, the man used a key to open my locked bedroom door. When I ran to tell my stepmother, she slapped me. “Don’t you dare spread rumors in this house! He was just worried you’d kick off your blankets. If you try to ruin my marriage, you can get out!” After that, I barricaded my door with my desk every night. I’d stand by my bed, scissors in hand, staring at the doorknob as it turned, again and again. I’d wait for him to give up, for the sounds to fade. School became my only sanctuary. No lecherous stepfather, no indifferent mother who let it all happen. But that sanctuary became another form of hell after a mock exam. I had just been celebrating my first-place rank when I was dragged into the girls’ bathroom and doused with a bucket of cold water. They held me down. I couldn’t fight back. The ringleader was a beautiful transfer student. Her name was Isabelle Cavendish. “It’s your fault, Mia,” she hissed, pinching my chin and looking at me like I was vermin. “Because of you, I came in second. Do you have any idea how badly I was beaten at home?” A slap landed on my cheek. One of her friends started counting, each number a tick of a clock in an execution chamber. It was a long, agonizing wait. When I told the teacher, all I got was, “Isabelle is an excellent student. She wouldn’t do something like that. When classmates have disagreements, you should try to be more understanding.” That’s when I knew. It wasn’t that Isabelle wouldn’t do it. It was that the Cavendish family was too powerful for the school to dare to intervene. As I left the office, I saw a boy walking down the hall, surrounded by a crowd of admirers. From the way everyone reacted, I could tell they were all afraid of him. 7. When I got home, still in my wet clothes, I found the man who was supposed to be on vacation with my stepmother. His eyes slithered over me like a snake’s tongue, making my skin crawl. “Mia, what happened to you?” he said with a sickening smile. “Don’t call me that!” I snapped, desperately searching for my stepmother. “Looking for someone? She’s not here. She’s on vacation,” he said, rising to his feet. “I told her I had some business to take care of and that I’d meet her there.” He walked toward me, step by step. I fumbled in my school bag for the new craft knife I’d bought. “You’re getting more beautiful every day, Mia.” His gaze darkened, and as if he could no longer control himself, he lunged. I slashed the knife across his forearm. Blood welled up instantly. “You little bitch!” he roared in pain. “Touch me again, and I’ll kill you,” I hissed. “I have nothing to lose.” I shoved the knife back in my bag and ran. I had lied. I had everything to lose. I had my life. I had promised my father I would live. Suddenly, I thought of the boy I had passed in the hallway. I thought I heard someone call him Alexander Malon. An idea began to form. I started watching Alexander, gathering every scrap of information I could find. I waited outside the bar he frequented for several nights until I finally saw him, drunk and alone, sitting on a bench outside. He was smoking, lost in thought. I adjusted my school uniform’s name tag, making sure it was visible, then bought a piece of hard candy meant to sober you up. “You look like you’re not feeling well,” I said, approaching him. “This is for hangovers. Do you want one?” Alexander looked up, his dark eyes heavy. When he didn’t answer, I smiled, took his hand, and placed the candy in his palm. “Don’t worry, it’s sweet.” He looked me up and down, then took a drag from his cigarette. “In a school uniform at a bar?” My cheeks flushed. “No, I just… I was worried about you, so I came.” He leaned back, a smirk playing on his lips. “Following me?” I feigned embarrassment and nodded. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to be sick from drinking.” His smile was unreadable. “You like me?” I bit my lip and nodded again. “Yes. I like you. And I’ll be good to you.” His hand, holding the cigarette, paused. He stood up, closing the distance between us, and his fingers brushed against my name tag. “Mia Jiang. Class Three.” “I’ll give you a chance,” he said, his voice casual. Before I could react, he kissed me. Just as my lungs were about to burst, he pulled away. “Remember to breathe next time. Go home. And don’t come back here.” Then he turned and walked back into the bar. The shy, joyful expression on my face slowly faded. I wiped my mouth. Then, a satisfied smile spread across my lips. The plan was a success. 9. The next time Isabelle Cavendish and her friends cornered me, Alexander appeared. The door to the abandoned storage room was kicked open. He stood behind his bodyguards, his eyes radiating a glacial cold. It was the first time I had ever seen Isabelle look so panicked and pathetic. She was forced to her knees and slapped, over and over. “You don’t touch what’s mine, Isabelle,” Alexander said, pulling me into his side and looking down at her with contempt. Yes. What was his. To Alexander, I was nothing more than a pet—an obedient creature who would be good to him. When he dropped me off at home, we ran into my stepfather, who was just returning from the hospital. Seeing me step out of a luxury car, he grabbed a handful of my hair. “You shameless whore! Acting all high and mighty with me, and this is what you are?” “Today, I’m going to—” The rest of his words were choked off as one of Alexander’s bodyguards seized his wrist. He cried out in pain, his grip on my hair loosening. A second later, a kick sent him sprawling to the ground. He was beaten until he was screaming for mercy. He spent the next month in the hospital. I counted the days until my exams, playing the part of the devoted, loving girlfriend. I ignored Alexander’s flirtations and affairs with other women. I didn’t want his love. Slowly, I became the person who had stayed by his side the longest. There were even rumors that he had developed real feelings for me. Until today. Today, they all realized that Alexander Malon was incapable of real feelings. In his eyes, I was still just a pet, something to be given away at a whim. But I didn’t care. Because soon, I would be free of them all. 10. “Mia, you’ve been spacing out this whole time.” Matt’s voice snapped me back to the present. I looked at the upscale apartment building in front of us and feigned confusion. “Alexander, did you move?” Matt seemed annoyed by the name, his grip on my hand tightening. “Yeah. I have a lot of places.” The moment we were inside, he pushed me down onto the sofa. “What were you thinking about just now, Mia?” “I was thinking about what kind of soup to make for you tonight,” I replied sweetly. A flicker of something soft appeared in his dark eyes. “Such a good girl, Mia.” He took my hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “Mia, who am I?” he whispered, his voice husky. “Alexander. You’re Alexander.” “Ow! Why did you bite me?” I suppressed a sneer and feigned pain. His fingers traced the bite mark he’d left on my skin. “Mia, who am I?” he repeated. I bit my lip. “You’re Alexander.” “Ah! You bit me again!” This time, he bit my neck, like a predator marking his prey. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. The doorbell rang insistently, urgently. Matt gritted his teeth and got up to answer it. “What are you doing here?” Alexander brushed past him without a word and strode directly toward me. “The game is over,” he said coldly, stopping in front of me and looking at his brother. “This is no fun,” Matt said with a twisted smile. Alexander didn’t waste any more words. He pulled me up from the sofa. The bite mark on my neck was in plain view. He froze. A storm gathered in his eyes, a terrifying, eerie calm before the tempest. Before I could react, there was a deafening bang. Alexander had slammed Matt against the wall, his hand wrapped around his brother’s throat. “You forgot the rules while you were gone, didn’t you?” he snarled. “Who the hell gave you permission to touch her?!” 11. This was an Alexander I had never seen before—out of control, radiating pure, unadulterated rage. Matt seemed surprised too. After a stunned second, a wicked grin spread across his face. “What’s got you so worked up, big brother? Weren’t you the one who sent her to me?” “Don’t play the good guy now.” The veins on Alexander’s arm bulged. After a tense moment, he silently released his grip. Matt rubbed the red marks on his neck and waved at me. “Hello, Mia. Let’s reintroduce ourselves. I’m Matt Malon.” There was no panic at being caught, no embarrassment for his deception. Just a casual, indifferent smile. Alexander stepped in front of me, blocking my view, his eyes dark and unreadable. I couldn’t decipher his emotions, but I knew exactly what part I needed to play. I looked up at him, tears welling in my eyes. My voice wasn’t accusatory, just a soft, wounded whisper. “Did I do something wrong? Are you throwing me away?” I saw his shoulders tense, his Adam’s apple bob. A moment later, I was pulled into a warm embrace. “I’ll take you home,” he said, his voice low and surprisingly gentle. I’m through this round, I thought with relief. Over Alexander’s shoulder, I saw the smile fade from Matt’s face, his dark eyes becoming bottomless pits as he stared at me. As Alexander led me out, he glanced back at his brother. “I told you. The game is over.” “Stay away from her.” Matt leaned back against a table, his hands in his pockets, that rebellious smirk returning. “Can’t promise that.” A corner of Alexander’s mouth lifted in a look of pure disdain. “You can try.” Matt laughed, a picture of innocence. “Don’t be like that, bro. We’ve played this game before. You never cared.” “Shut your mouth,” Alexander warned. Matt raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Game over. It’s no fun once the secret’s out anyway.” He snapped his fingers in my direction. “Remember the name, Mia. Matt Malon. Don’t get it wrong next time.” Alexander’s patience had run out. He pulled me into the elevator, done wasting his breath on his psycho brother. 12. As we exited the elevator, a car pulled up. Once inside, Alexander immediately raised the privacy divider, sealing us in the back. A sense of unease washed over me. When his hand reached for me, I reacted on instinct, grabbing his wrist with a strength that surprised us both. My eyes were cold, my disgust for his touch unconcealed. It was a self-preservation instinct, honed from years of living in danger. In that silent moment, I realized my mask had slipped. As I scrambled for a plausible explanation, Alexander spoke. “What, are you afraid I’m going to hit you?” His voice wasn’t angry or suspicious. It was laced with a tired, helpless smile. “Have I ever hit you?” I stared at him for a second, then shook my head and let go. He pulled me closer, tilting my head to get a better look at my neck. “Let me see if he broke the skin. I might have to take you for a rabies shot.” Hearing him call his own brother a dog, I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. I felt his hand freeze. I looked up. His gaze had shifted from my neck to my face. He was just watching me. I fluttered my eyelashes, feigning confusion. After a few seconds, I heard him sigh, his fingers gently stroking my hair. “Mia, this won’t happen again.” I put my mask back on, rubbing my head against his palm like the docile creature he knew. After what had just happened, I decided it was safer to stick with Alexander as my rope. Matt and his brand of crazy were far too unpredictable. 13. Alexander dropped me off at home that night. The next day, a diamond necklace was delivered to my door as compensation. Then, silence. I knew the drill. Whenever I caught him with another girl, he would send an expensive gift. Like tossing a treat to a pet, a simple offering to smooth things over. I hid the jewelry away with the rest, planning to sell it all for a nest egg before I left. My thoughts were on my future as I handed in my school transfer application. “Mia, the college entrance exams are next semester. Are you sure you want to transfer after this term?” my homeroom teacher asked, her brow furrowed with concern. I nodded. “My uncle has already spoken with you about it. The school I’m transferring to is excellent. They’ve reviewed my grades and competition scores and have already accepted me.” “My uncle feels that as my only remaining relative, he can take better care of me if I’m closer.” “And as you know, my stepmother and her husband… they don’t really look after me.” The teacher didn’t argue. She knew no one had ever come to my parent-teacher conferences. My step-parents’ numbers were always unreachable. After leaving her office, I ducked into a restroom and called back the number that had been trying to reach me. After a short ringtone, a sleazy male voice answered. “Hey, Mia, I got that transfer sorted for you. When are you sending the money?” A cold smile touched my lips. This was my uncle. When my father was alive, he was always sucking up to him. The moment my father got sick, he cut all ties. When I had nowhere to go, he told me to get lost. “You’re not trying to back out, are you? Do you know how many strings I had to pull for you?” “If Kevin wasn’t in such a hurry for the money, I wouldn’t have bothered with your mess.” Kevin, my uncle’s useless son, had gotten into a fight and needed money to pay for damages. “If you hadn’t bothered,” I said with a sneer, “your son would be in jail. Don’t try to act high and mighty with me. I’ll send the rest of the payment when I feel like it.” I hung up, cutting off his string of curses. Sunlight streamed into the quiet restroom. Dust motes danced in the light, spiraling upwards, as if chasing freedom. Just like me.

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I am the other woman’s daughter. For my first ten years, I was my mother’s cherished darling—the apple of her eye. Then the truth crashed down: my biological mother wasn’t the one who raised me, but my father’s mistress. The day I was born, they conspired to swap me with the true Hawthorne heiress. After raising her enemy’s child for a decade, the only mother I knew wished she could cast me into hell. She found her real daughter. They clung to each other, tears mingling. My voice trembled. “Mom…” Her eyes met mine, filled with pure hatred. “Don’t touch me. Don’t call me Mom. Your mother is that woman in prison!” Even my grandparents, who once doted on me, glared with fury. “You stole our granddaughter’s life! Why don’t you just drop dead?” 1 Inside the grand mansion, the strange, cold stares from the butler and the maids were like needles against my skin. My mother’s daughter, the true heiress to the Hawthorne Corporation fortune… had been found. Her life had been a nightmare. She was covered in filth, her small body a canvas of bruises, purple and blue. She was nine, the same age as me, but so gaunt she looked no older than four. My grandparents held her, their bodies shaking with sobs. No one looked at me. I was forgotten, a ghost in the corner. A policewoman spoke with a voice full of pity. “Your daughter was adopted from an orphanage at age five. Tragically, her adoptive parents had a biological child of their own the following year. After that, they neglected her completely.” “They would ‘lose’ her on purpose and never report her missing. She survived by begging on the streets, just to get enough to eat.” “Whenever she managed to find her way back, they would abuse her. It was a vicious cycle…” The more the officer spoke, the more my mother’s face crumbled. “How could they do that to my Gemma?” she shrieked, her voice cracking. “They adopted her, didn’t they? If they wouldn’t feed her, fine, but why… why did they have to hurt her?” “Why?” Amidst the hushed whispers of the adults, I pieced together the horrifying truth. My mother wasn’t my mother. I was the cuckoo in the nest. My real mother was the woman they called the mistress, the homewrecker, the seductress. She had destroyed my parents’ marriage. Then, she had stolen my mother’s real baby and replaced her with her own—with me. My father had taken my mother’s child and dumped her in a trash can, where a kind passerby found her and took her to an orphanage. I had never seen such agony on my mother’s face. She looked as if she were shattering from the inside out. She dropped to her knees, slapping her own face, the sounds echoing in the silent room. “It’s all my fault… I didn’t protect my Gemma!” She looked like a broken doll I once had. Carefully, I crept forward and took her hand, wanting to comfort her as I always did. I couldn’t bear to see her cry. “Mom, please don’t cry,” I whispered. “It hurts me to see you sad…” The familiar touch of my small hand seemed to jolt her. She whipped her head around to look at me. It was the first time her gaze had truly landed on me since the world had fallen apart. Her eyes blazed with a terrifying, absolute hatred. “Don’t touch me! And don’t call me Mom!” she screamed. “Your real mother is that monster who’s going to prison! Do you understand? Go find her in a cell!” “You are not my mother! I have my own daughter!” “You should be in jail with your baby-snatching parents! You should all just die!” She ripped her hand away from mine and, clutching her head, let out a piercing scream. I stumbled backward, my head cracking hard against the sharp corner of a mahogany table. “Mommy—” Her face was a mask of rage. “Get out! Are you deaf? Stop putting on an act!” she snarled. “I am not your mother! Don’t call me that! It makes me sick!” The blood rushed to her head, her body overwhelmed by the violent emotions. She collapsed onto the floor. My grandparents rushed to her side, catching her before she hit the ground. The family doctor was there in an instant, and they all crowded around her, a protective wall I could not breach. I lay on the floor, pain radiating from my head, but no one paid me any mind. Mr. Henderson, the butler, and Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper, looked at me as if I were a maggot squirming in the gutter. I remembered how they used to adore me. Before, the slightest scrape or bump would have sent them into a flurry of concern. “Miss Adeline, please slow down…” “Oh, my dear, let Mrs. Gable kiss it and make it better!” Now, I just curled into a ball on the floor, too afraid to move. The servants’ eyes were on me—some filled with disgust, some with hatred, and some with a cruel, satisfied glee. 2 That frail, skeletal girl was my mother’s real daughter. Gemma. She pointed a trembling finger at me and shrieked, “Don’t you hurt my mommy! You made her faint!” She charged at me, ramming her head into my chest. I had just managed to push myself up, but her impact sent me flying backward, tumbling down the grand staircase. I cried out as I rolled, the world a blur of pain and polished wood, from the second floor all the way down to the first. The policewoman quickly stepped in, holding Gemma back. “Sweetheart, calm down. She didn’t touch your mother. She was… she was your mother’s former daughter. She’s only a child; she didn’t mean any harm.” Those words—former daughter—ignited my mother’s rage anew. “She is not my daughter!” she screamed, her voice raw. “Never! Never! NEVER!” My grandmother turned on the policewoman, her voice dripping with venom. “How dare you? What if it was your child who was stolen? Would you be so understanding then? What if you raised your husband’s bastard child with his mistress? Would you be happy about it?” The officer hung her head in shame, mumbling an apology. My cry of pain as I landed at the bottom of the stairs finally drew their attention. My grandmother stood at the top of the landing, looking down at me. The face that had once smiled at me with such love was now twisted into an ugly, cruel mask. “Just the bastard child of a whore,” she spat. “You stole my granddaughter’s life and left her to suffer like this. Why don’t you do us all a favor and die?” The servants’ whispers filled the air. “Poor Mrs. Hawthorne. To pour all her love and hope into raising a child, only to find out she belongs to that… that woman.” “Exactly. The Madam gave her everything, and she wasn’t even her own blood. That’s a pain worse than death.” “Deceived by her own husband, forced to raise his love child while her own daughter was being tortured… who could possibly endure that?” “Do you think they’ll throw her out?” Hearing their words, my mind went blank. Thrown out? A jolt of pure terror shot through me. Ignoring the throbbing in my head and the ache in my limbs, I scrambled on all fours back to my mother’s side. But before I could reach her, a wall of bodies blocked my path. I stared, my expression frozen in a mask of numb fear. My thoughts were a chaotic mess; I didn’t know what to say. Finally, I did the only thing I could think of. I knelt before my mother. “Please… can you not… throw me away?” 3 I didn’t dare call her Mom. I was too afraid it would make her angrier. So I just kept knocking my forehead against the cold marble floor, over and over. I was nine years old. I understood right from wrong, mostly. I’d seen it on TV shows. Everyone always hated the other woman. Everyone always hated the other woman’s child. I was that child. I needed to apologize to my mother. But she took a step back, turning her head away, refusing to even look at me. “I don’t want to see her,” she said, her voice ice. “Get her out of this house.” My head was spinning from the repeated impacts. Through the haze of pain and confusion, someone kicked me hard, sending me rolling into a corner. My head buzzed. My stomach hurt, my arms hurt, my legs hurt. “It hurts…” I whimpered, tears streaming from my eyes. But I couldn’t bring myself to cry out for my mother. I didn’t even dare to look up. I was terrified of meeting her eyes and seeing the hatred burning there. 4 My father and his mistress—my biological mother—had been exposed. My mother had already sent them to prison. My father was left with nothing and wouldn’t be out for ten years. I had nowhere to go. The police were discussing my future with my grandparents. I don’t know what they said, only that they talked for a very, very long time. In the end, though no one wanted it, custody of me remained with the Hawthornes. My father’s parents were long dead, and my biological mother was an orphan with no relatives. My grandparents didn’t show me to a room. No one told me where to go. The princess bedroom that had been mine was being dismantled by a demolition crew my mother had called. She said she never wanted to see that room again. My mother carried my new sister, Gemma, upstairs without a single glance in my direction. My grandparents hurried after them, eager to tend to their newly returned granddaughter. I trailed shakily behind my grandmother, wanting to ask where I was supposed to stay. SLAM. The bedroom door was shut in my face. On the other side of the door, I could hear their voices—a mixture of joyful laughter and comforting sobs. I bit my lip, my heart pounding with fear, and gave a soft, tentative knock. No response. Ten minutes later, I knocked again, even more gently this time. The door flew open. I flinched. It was my grandfather. He looked down at me, his eyes cold. A storm of rage brewed beneath his calm exterior. “Grandpa…” I whispered. “Where… where do I sleep tonight?” “Don’t knock on this door. And don’t you dare disturb my daughter,” he said flatly. “And another thing. Don’t call me Grandpa anymore. We are not related.” I lowered my gaze, staring at the tips of my shoes. He waited until I nodded before shutting the door again. I heard Gemma’s voice from inside. “Who was that, Grandpa?” His voice was instantly warm and kind. “I was just telling a servant to bring you up some warm milk, sweetheart. Drink up, and you’ll grow up big and strong.” I still didn’t know where to go. I just curled up in a ball by the door. I don’t know how much time passed. In a hazy state between waking and sleep, I felt a rough hand grab me and start dragging me across the floor. I blinked my eyes open, disoriented. It was Mr. Henderson, the butler. “Mr. Henderson…” He sneered, the anger in his eyes still burning bright. “Sleep outside. Don’t be an eyesore for the Madam.” I thought he was throwing me out for good. I began to tremble and struggle wildly. But he only dragged me to the back door of the mansion. A wave of relief washed over me. I cautiously curled up behind the large trash bins. “Thank you, Mr. Henderson,” I whispered. He acted as if he hadn’t heard me. With a sharp click, he locked the back door and walked away. Whether it was behind a trash can or on the street, as long as I could be near my mother, I would take it. Goodnight, Mom. Goodnight, Grandma, Grandpa. Goodnight, Mrs. Gable, Mr. Henderson. Goodnight, Gemma. 5 The late autumn air was turning colder by the day. Hugging my small frame, I curled up behind the trash cans and drifted off to sleep. In my dream, my mother was holding me gently in her arms. The sunlight fell on her face, making her look so soft and beautiful. “Addie, my sweet, sweet Addie,” she whispered. “Mommy loves you more than anything.” The next second, her face twisted into a snarl. “You’re not my Addie! Give me back my daughter!” She shoved me hard. I fell backward into a bottomless pond. The water closed over my head, filling my nose, my mouth. An icy chill pierced me to the bone. I thrashed underwater, trying to scream for help. Mommy, save me… But the moment I opened my mouth, water rushed in, choking me. The weight of the lake pressed down, paralyzing me. I snapped my eyes open. It was pitch black all around me. It was just a nightmare. No. I shook my head. Mom was in it, so it was a good dream. The lights in the backyard were off; there wasn’t a single sliver of light. My head felt like it was full of sludge, thick and foggy. My body felt like it was melting. “So hot…” My hand trembled as I reached up to touch my forehead. I think I had a fever. “Mommy, I don’t feel good…” I whispered, not daring to speak too loud, terrified she might actually hear me. I said it softly, just for myself. “Addie’s only a little bit sick. Just a little bit.” When I lowered my hand, my palm felt sticky. I held it up to the moonlight. It was crusted with dried blood. I couldn’t remember when I’d hit my head. The pale light also illuminated the dark bruises that had blossomed on my skin from my fall down the stairs. A cold wind swept through the yard. My body was a war of fire and ice. My vision blurred, and my consciousness began to fade. Maybe today is just a dream, too. Just go to sleep, Adeline. When you wake up, you’ll be home. 6 I don’t know how long I floated in that darkness, but a shrill scream pierced the veil and ripped through my eardrums. The sound shocked me awake. At the same instant, a bucket of sloshing, mixed leftovers was dumped over my head. “Ah! There’s someone here!” “Is that… the young miss?” I was drenched in a foul-smelling concoction of table scraps. The stench was so overwhelming I couldn’t help but vomit, adding the sharp, sour smell of bile to the air. A maid moved to help me up, but recoiled when she saw the filth clinging to me. She didn’t want to get her hands dirty. Hearing the commotion, my new sister, Gemma, poked her head out the back door. She let out a scream of her own. “Ugh, you stink!” I looked down at the gooey mess on my clothes and felt a hot wave of shame. It was my fault. I had scared her. I forced a placating smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I desperately tried to wipe the muck off myself, but the more I rubbed, the stickier and more disgusting it became, smearing into a foul paste. I saw Gemma’s expression curdle with even more revulsion. A new fear gripped me. If Gemma was disgusted by me, I might not even be allowed to stay by the trash cans anymore. I tore off my jacket and threw it as far away as I could, trying to lessen the smell. Suddenly, my mother’s voice came from behind me. “Gemma, honey, come inside for breakfast. Mommy made you your favorite oatmeal. Come see if you like it.” I froze, my head bowed, not daring to look up. Mom had given her a new middle name: Jewel. Gemma Jewel Hawthorne. Gemma bounced into our mother’s arms. “I love anything Mommy makes!” My grandmother gathered Gemma into a loving hug. “Oh, our little Jewel is so sweet with her words! Just like your mother when she was a little girl.” Through the corner of my eye, I snuck a glance at them. Gemma’s features were a perfect mirror of our mother’s, like she was a miniature version. My gaze shifted to my own reflection in the nearby glass window. No resemblance. Mom had double eyelids; I had monolids. Not even close. My single eyelids were ugly. In that moment, I hated my eyes. Gemma’s voice was sugary sweet. “Of course I’m like Mommy. I’m her daughter!” My grandparents and the maids all laughed, their joy echoing through the morning air. “The young miss is so charming!” “That she is!” The family went back inside, supporting each other, their path filled with laughter. I stared, transfixed, at the window, greedily watching my mother’s reflection until it disappeared from view. My grandmother shot one last look of disgust over her shoulder at me before shutting the door completely. Her final words drifted into my ears. “This is not where you belong. We have no obligation to raise you.” “Go find your father in prison.” “Stop leeching off the Hawthornes.” I lowered my eyes, staring at the ground. In the morning sun, the trash can and I cast two shadows. Long was its shadow, and short were my days.

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At a party with friends, my boyfriend’s “best friend,” a girl named Tia, slung an arm around my shoulders with a theatrical swagger. “So, Ava,” she began, her voice dripping with condescension, “I hear you’re mixed-race. What kind of mutt are we talking about here?” The whole room erupted in laughter, praising her for her “humor.” She brandished her beer bottle, swaying with mock gravity. “You know, these days, when you mix the breeds, the mutts aren’t worth much.” My expression didn’t flicker. I simply raised my hand and sent it cracking across her face. Then, with a sweet smile, I asked her, “So, you purebred bitch, what’s your going rate for a night?” 1 It wasn’t until I moved back to the States that I first heard about her—the girl my boyfriend of three years, Andrew, had grown up with. Her name was Tia. Apparently, she was the pampered princess of their tight-knit circle of friends. At first, I didn’t think much of it. A group of seven or eight guys growing up with one girl? Of course they’d be a little overprotective. It seemed normal enough. So when I was preparing to move back, I even bought a special gift for Tia. After all, if I was going to marry Andrew, I needed to fit into his world, to get to know his friends. People run in packs, right? Everyone has their crew. But I never could have imagined that the very first night Andrew took me out for drinks with his posse would be the night everything shattered. In my mind, the “best friend” Andrew and his buddies described was probably a bit of a tomboy—casually dressed, energetic, with a kind of handsome, girl-next-door charm. The reality, when I finally met her, was a jarring dissonance that nearly broke my brain. First off, this “best friend” was wearing a white button-down, but the top two buttons were undone, revealing a vast expanse of skin. A tantalizing glimpse of a round, full breast was framed by the delicate, suggestive pattern of black lace. And the skirt she wore—a tiny, skintight piece of fabric that barely covered the essentials—was shockingly short. She moved with a bold, uninhibited carelessness, and with every casual swing of her leg, I caught an almost unobstructed view of what lay beneath. Honestly, most women wearing a skirt that short would have the decency to wear a pair of safety shorts underneath to avoid any embarrassing slips. But not Tia. Not only were there no safety shorts, but all she had on was a sheer, black thong. They started a game of Truth or Dare. I’d never played and didn’t know the rules, so I just sat quietly on the side, watching them descend into chaos. Tia lost several rounds in a row and had to take the dare. The penalty was a choice between taking a shot or taking off an item of clothing. Without a moment’s hesitation, she chose the latter. The next thing I knew, her white shirt was sailing through the air, landing directly on my boyfriend Andrew’s head. And that son of a bitch… he instinctively brought the fabric to his nose and took a deep sniff. Only then, like an obedient puppy, did he neatly fold it and set it aside. Now, Tia was left in nothing but a semi-sheer black lace bra, the dark aureoles of her nipples playing a game of peek-a-boo through the fabric. The sight was enough to make several of the men in the room swallow hard. I stood up, poured myself a soda, and pulled out my phone to text Andrew. “Andrew, I’m getting tired. Can we go soon?” I couldn’t stomach the scene any longer. A part of me was already planning a future conversation, a gentle reminder to Andrew that his childhood friend was a grown woman now. There were lines that shouldn’t be crossed, boundaries to respect. After all, Tia would want to get married someday too. I chose to text him instead of making a scene—I always made a point of protecting his image, especially in front of his oldest friends. But what happened next left me frozen, the air sucked from my lungs. 2 The next round, Andrew was the loser. The dare he drew was… to choose a girl in the room and give her a hickey on her chest. A nauseating feeling washed over me. There was something deeply sordid and grimy about this whole night. He had seen my text. I knew he had. But he ignored it, pretending he hadn’t noticed. Now, he picked up his glass, seemingly ready to drink his way out of the dare. But Tia was faster. She plopped herself right into his lap, throwing her arms around his neck and shouting, “What’s the matter with you? Got a girlfriend and suddenly you’ve forgotten your old friends?” “It’s just a hickey!” “Here, let me help you out!” The room exploded into another round of raucous laughter. Andrew’s friends chimed in, their words a mix of mock protest and encouragement. “Come on, Tia, give Andrew a break. His girlfriend’s right here.” “Yeah, stop messing around,” another friend said, reaching out to pull her away. But Tia’s eyes welled up, her lip jutting out in a pout as she yelled, “It’s just for fun! What’s the big deal?” She turned to Andrew, puffing out her chest. “Well, Andrew? You want to do this or not?” And just like that, her D-cup breasts were right in his face. No, not just in his face—they were pressed firmly against it. The tips of Andrew’s ears flushed a deep red. Then, he lowered his head and latched onto that soft, supple flesh. Tia arched her neck back in satisfaction, a series of soft moans escaping her lips as if she was in pure ecstasy. When Andrew finally pulled away, a stark, angry red mark bloomed on her once-pale skin. Everyone chuckled, the air thick with a suggestive, awkward tension, made all the more uncomfortable by my presence. A tidal wave of fury was building inside me, a suffocating pressure in my chest. Stay calm, I told myself. Just hold on until you leave, then you can talk this out with Andrew. But Tia’s next move was something I never could have anticipated. She reached down and gave Andrew a casual, deliberate squeeze right between his legs. “You little devil,” she giggled. “Looks like someone’s grown up.” Instantly, Andrew’s face turned crimson. He shot a panicked, evasive glance in my direction. Tia, however, acted as if nothing had happened. She spun around and sauntered over to me. “Hey, sis,” she cooed, leaning in close. “You’re not mad, are you?” I was already planning my escape, needing to get out and breathe. This whole spectacle was just too much, too grotesque. And a serious question was beginning to form in my mind: were Andrew and I really right for each other? My parents had always had their reservations about him. The Collins family had been on a downward slide for years; their family business was bleeding out, desperate for a fresh infusion of capital. My mother had mentioned it to me in private more than once. But I’d brushed it off for a few reasons. First, our families had been close for generations, and our parents used to joke about us being destined for each other. Second, Andrew was undeniably handsome, exactly my type. And third, I had always stubbornly believed he was a fundamentally decent, gentle, and kind-hearted man. But tonight, he was shattering that illusion into a million pieces. “Listen, sis,” Tia said with a laugh, “Andrew and I go way back. I’m talking ‘since we were in diapers’ back.” “Back then, he’d let me check him out all the time, asking me if he was getting bigger yet.” I remained stone-faced, impassive, and simply pushed her hand off my shoulder. She seemed annoyed by my silence. “What was your name again? Ava?” she asked, her tone sharpening. “Heard you’re mixed-race. So, what kind of mutt are you?” A roar of laughter filled the room. “See? I told you Tia was hilarious! A half-breed… she’s not wrong, that’s a mutt, isn’t it?” My eyes shot to Andrew, my gaze as cold as ice. He was smiling. He actually found this funny. Emboldened by her audience, Tia became even more smug. She propped one hand on her hip, holding her beer bottle in the other, and declared, “You know, these days, when you mix the breeds, the mutts aren’t worth much at all!” Another wave of jeering laughter echoed around us. CRACK! My hand flew, the sound of my palm connecting with her cheek sharp and absolute. Tia stumbled back, clutching her instantly reddening face. “You… you hit me?!” she shrieked. “That’s right, I hit a purebred bitch,” I shot back. “Are you valuable? What’s your going rate for a night?” Before the words had even fully left my mouth, I lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of her hair and swinging my other hand to slap her again, hard, across the other side of her face. In my entire life, I had never been so humiliated. 3 Whatever twisted history Tia, Andrew, and their friends shared from their childhood—the kissing games, the groping, the crude explorations—that was their business. I didn’t understand it, but I could choose to respect their past. After all, I was the one who had been blind enough to choose him. But for them to insult me, right to my face? I couldn’t tolerate that for a single second. It was time to roll up my sleeves and have a “conversation.” I had her pinned, raining down a dozen more slaps, before the guys finally scrambled to pull me off her. But then, that bastard Andrew raised his own hand, and a sharp, stinging pain exploded on my cheek as he slapped me. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth, sharp and sweet. My ears rang with a dull hum, and through the haze, I could barely make out his furious barking. “Ava, are you insane? You can’t even take a joke?” “And you’re supposed to be from a good family!” “You resort to violence at the drop of a hat? What makes you any different from gutter trash?!” “Apologize! Now!” he roared, all while tenderly checking the marks on Tia’s face. The other guys in the room just stood there, their faces plastered with smug, voyeuristic grins, enjoying the show. This worthless piece of trash… he actually hit a woman? The thought was shocking, but then again, maybe it shouldn’t have been. It seemed the gentle, polite man I thought I knew was nothing more than a carefully constructed facade. I’m the kind of person who can stomach a lot of things, but I absolutely refuse to be wronged. I snatched a beer bottle from the table beside me and, without a second thought, smashed it over Andrew’s head. With a deafening crash, the bottle shattered. A thin trickle of blood snaked its way down his cheek. After a moment of stunned silence, he pointed a trembling finger at me, his voice cracking with rage. “Ava, you… you’ve completely lost your mind!” “We’re over! I’m breaking up with you!” I touched my own burning cheek and suddenly, a laugh escaped my lips. “Fine by me,” I said. I turned to leave. Their filthy little circle was a place I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, want to belong. And as for Andrew, I was done with him. All I wanted was to get home, tell my mother everything, and have her immediately halt all partnership talks and prenuptial agreements with the Collins family. But just as I reached the door, Tia’s shrill, piercing voice cut through the air from behind me. “Don’t let her leave!” “Vince, lock the door! Lock it now!” The words were barely out of her mouth before she lunged for my phone on the coffee table and slammed it onto the floor with all her might. It skittered across the room, shattering into pieces. “Andrew, you can’t let her go, and you can’t break up with her!” Tia was screaming now, completely hysterical. “Your families are in the middle of a crucial deal! You can’t let some stupid girl ruin everything!” “Whatever happened here tonight, you can’t let her go out and spread it around!” “Andrew, if a woman doesn’t know her place, you beat her! You beat her until she learns!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Could these words really be coming from an educated, modern woman? Before I could even process that thought, Tia’s voice, now laced with a venomous poison, hissed again. “You’re pathetic, Andrew! You let a woman get the best of you?” “She dared to hit me. Tonight, I’m going to make her pay.” I was almost curious to hear what form this “payment” would take. “You five,” Tia commanded, her eyes glinting with a serpentine hatred, her voice a low, vicious snarl. “You’re all going to have a turn with her. And I’m going to film every second of it. Let’s see how high and mighty she acts after that.” “Besides,” she added, a cruel smile twisting her lips, “with a video like that, the Collins’ family business deal will go exactly how you want it to, won’t it?” “You think she’ll call the cops?” “She’s a darling of the high-society Sutton family. If something like this got out, how could she ever show her face again?” “The best way to deal with a bitch who doesn’t know her place is to shame her, ruin her reputation so completely that she can never hold her head up again!” 4 An unspeakable terror, cold and venomous like a snake, began to uncoil from the deepest pit of my stomach. What kind of monsters were these people to even think, let alone say, such things? The man she’d called Vince was already blocking the door to the private room. We were in a karaoke bar, and like any other, the music in the hallway outside was deafening. Once that door was shut, all hell could break loose in here and no one would hear a thing. You could scream until your throat was raw, and people would just assume you were singing your heart out, never imagining a crime was being committed inside. Tia’s words hung in the air, followed by a greasy voice, slick with amusement. “I don’t know, man. Pretty sure Andrew’s gonna be a little possessive.” “Then again,” the voice continued, “I’ve never had a taste of a ‘mutt’ before.” “You go first, Andrew. Your boys have got your back!” Andrew’s eyes were locked on me as he advanced, step by deliberate step. Then, he started to unbuckle his belt. “Don’t blame me for this, Ava.” His gaze turned dark, his voice chillingly cold. “You should only blame yourself for not knowing your place.” “Tia was just joking with you, and you had to go and make a scene, hitting people.” “If we don’t teach you a lesson tonight, you’ll think you can walk all over us forever.” “Heh…” A low, guttural growl, like that of a starving wolf, rumbled in his throat. There were five of them, plus the maniacal Tia. Six against one. And I was alone, unarmed. But— I have never been one to simply accept my fate. As Andrew’s face twisted into a predatory sneer and he closed the distance between us, my hand shot out, grabbing another beer bottle from the table. CRASH! The bottle shattered in my grip. Without a sliver of hesitation, I lunged, plunging the jagged neck of the broken bottle deep into his abdomen. During my time abroad, the city I lived in wasn’t the safest, so I’d taken a few self-defense classes. My instructor always said that women are at a natural disadvantage when it comes to physical strength. It’s a biological fact. The only way to win is to be unpredictable, to strike when they least expect it. In any fight, speed is everything. Andrew never saw it coming. The strike was faster than lightning. He staggered backward, clutching his stomach with a muffled groan of agony. Blood began to seep through his fingers, dark and thick. The sight of it seemed to stun everyone in the room. For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of fear in their eyes. But Tia, she just got crazier. “What are you all waiting for?!” she shrieked. “Get her! Pin her down! Strip her!” “Who dares?!” I roared back, my voice raw. “Right now, this is just a drunken brawl! But if you lay another hand on me, it becomes a felony!” “This is between me and Andrew!” “It has nothing to do with any of you!” “You all have families, careers! Think about it! Is it really worth throwing your lives away for someone else’s mess?” Doubt flickered across the faces of the remaining four men. I knew if I were some powerless girl with no connections, they wouldn’t have hesitated. They would have done what they wanted and faced no consequences. But I wasn’t. Behind me stood the entire Sutton family. And hurting me meant inviting their full, unbridled wrath. Tia, however, was relentless. “What are you afraid of?!” she screamed. “Once we have a video of her acting like a slut, she’ll have to do whatever we say! We’ll own her!” With every ounce of strength I had left, I hurled the remaining piece of the broken bottle straight at her head. She shrieked and ducked, covering her head with her hands. I seized the opportunity, grabbing every bottle on the table and launching them, one after another, at the men. The room descended into chaos. Glass exploded, spraying shards everywhere. Curses and screams filled the air. “Shut up! All of you!” In the middle of the mayhem, I lunged, grabbing Tia by the hair and yanking her in front of me. I pressed a sharp piece of broken glass to her neck, its edge digging into her skin. By the time Andrew managed to recover from the initial shock of his wound, I had a hostage. “Open the door!” My voice was hoarse, but it was filled with a primal, bloody rage. “Or we all die here tonight!” As I spoke, the glass shard in my hand bit deeper, drawing a thin line of blood on Tia’s throat. 5 But just then, a wave of weakness washed over me. An uncontrollable heat surged from deep within my body, and a primal, unwanted desire began to rise. Tia, though I had her in my grasp, seemed to have lost her mind completely. She was still screaming, “Andrew! I drugged her drink! She won’t last much longer!” My mind was a whirlwind of panic. There was only one thought left: They’re all insane. These people are complete psychopaths! The heat inside me intensified, and the hand holding the glass shard began to tremble. Andrew stared at me, his face a mask of terrifying darkness. The blood on his head had started to clot, but the wound in his stomach was still weeping. The slightest movement sent a fresh wave of red soaking through his shirt. He pressed a hand against the wound, gritting his teeth against the pain. “Ava,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Drop the glass. Get on your knees and apologize to Tia, and we can let this go.” “Otherwise—” His eyes were venomous, his words laced with ice. “You’ll only have yourself to blame for not knowing your place. Tia was just joking with you.” I summoned every last bit of my strength and pressed the shard harder against Tia’s carotid artery. “Go to hell!” I rasped back. “You want me to apologize? In your dreams!” “Andrew! If you love this purebred bitch so much, why don’t you just keep her? Why did you have to drag me into this?!” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. “Andrew, what are you waiting for?! You coward! You can’t even handle one woman?!” Tia shrieked, fanning the flames. “Are you going to let her walk all over you for the rest of your life?!” Her words seemed to strike a nerve. He actually reached for me, his hand clawing towards my head. I shoved Tia straight at him. Already injured, he stumbled as he tried to catch her. The movement tore at his wound, and a fresh gush of blood poured out as a searing pain ripped through him. “Hey, boss, you gonna handle this or what? Want me to take over?” It was the same greasy voice from before, belonging to a guy named Mark. “Haha, this little ‘mutt’ is feisty. I like it!” he sneered, and then he made his move, lunging to grab my hair. Without hesitation, I swung my fist, smashing it directly into his eye socket. One punch. Two. Three. My instructor was right. Speed is everything. But the damn drug was making me dizzy, my limbs heavy and uncoordinated. If I stayed here any longer, I was done for. The scuffle had brought me closer to the door. I gathered the last of my energy and made a desperate dash for it. Tia’s shrill voice screamed behind me, “Vince! Stop her! Don’t let her get away!” Vince was the one with the wire-rimmed glasses, the one who looked like a quiet intellectual. As I swung a punch at him, he suddenly sidestepped, and in one swift motion, he reached out and threw the door open. “Miss Sutton, go! Now!” The moment I stumbled out into the hallway, my legs gave out from under me, and I nearly collapsed. The door slammed shut behind me with a loud bang. I could hear Tia’s furious, hysterical shrieks from inside. “Vince, are you crazy?! Why did you let her go! Don’t you know—” “Know what? That things couldn’t possibly get any worse?” Vince’s voice, in stark contrast, was eerily calm. “Andrew, you’re a spineless coward! The future of your family rests on your shoulders, don’t you get that?!” “That Sutton girl isn’t just some random nobody. You think she’s going to let you get away with pulling this kind of cheap trick on her?” “Andrew! He’s just trying to screw you over!” Vince’s laughter echoed from behind the door, tinged with a strange mix of despair and resignation. My heart was pounding, a raging fire consuming me from the inside out. I clenched the broken glass in my hand, letting the sharp edges dig deep into my palm. The searing pain was the only thing keeping me conscious. I staggered towards the exit. Thankfully, a line of waiting rideshares was parked right outside the bar.

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The night before our engagement, I found transaction records on Eason’s phone — monthly transfers of half his salary to his fallen squadmate’s widow. Her messages were delicately sorrowful. I showed him the phone and demanded an explanation. He stayed on the balcony all night. At dawn, he came in and said: “I feel a sense of duty toward her. That’s all.” I had waited eight years for him. I wasn’t giving him up over money. So I put on the dress and let the party continue. But during the ceremony, his childhood friend rushed in, yelling: “Eason! Julia — Alex’s wife — she tried to kill herself!” The engagement ring fell and clattered to the floor. Eason bolted out like lightning. Tears burning, I screamed after him: “If you leave today, I’ll consider you married to her in your friend’s place!” He paused for one heart-stopping moment — then left. I stood frozen, the champagne flute still in my hand, ready for a toast that would never happen. The joyful noise of the party faded into a dull roar in my ears. The emcee stood awkwardly with his microphone, utterly lost for words. Eason’s parents, their faces pale with fury, rushed to my side. “Nina, that bastard! I’ll drag him back here right now!” his father seethed, grabbing my arm. I shook my head, setting the glass down on a table. “Mr. and Mrs. Hayes, just let him go.” My own parents looked even more devastated. My mother burst into tears. “What is this? An engagement party! How could he humiliate our family like this?” I stepped off the small stage. “Mom, Dad, I’ll take you home.” The room was a swirling chaos of confused guests. Leo, Eason’s friend who’d delivered the news, stood wringing his hands, his face a mask of guilt. “Nina… I’m so sorry. It was an emergency with Julia.” I just looked at him, saying nothing. Leo had grown up with Eason. He knew the fallen squadmate, Alex, too. They all treated Alex’s widow, Julia, like family. But family doesn’t try to kill themselves on the day you’re getting engaged. I picked up my purse and walked out of the farcical reception hall. My phone vibrated in my bag, again and again. I didn’t answer. I knew it was Eason. He would explain, apologize, tell me how critical Julia’s condition was, how he had no choice but to go. After eight years together, I knew him too well. He was a man of deep loyalties, and his bond with his fellow soldiers was sacred. Alex had died shielding him. The guilt from that day had been crushing him for three long years. I used to think it was right for him to take care of Julia. It wasn’t until today that I realized some duties cross a line. Back home, I peeled off the elaborate gown and changed into my everyday clothes. I’m a nurse at the Main Military Medical Center. If Julia had tried to kill herself, that’s where she would have been taken. I grabbed my keys and drove to the hospital. In the emergency room, Eason was sitting vigil by a hospital bed. Julia lay there, her wrist wrapped in thick gauze, her face a ghostly white. Her eyes were closed, her lashes still wet with tears. Eason was holding her uninjured hand, his brow furrowed in a tight knot. I walked in. He saw me and shot to his feet, his eyes filled with apology. “Nina, you’re here. I’m so sorry, about today…” “How is she?” I cut him off, my gaze fixed on Julia. “The doctor said the cut isn’t deep. She’s not in any danger, just very… emotional.” I nodded. “Good.” With that, I turned to leave. Eason grabbed my arm. “Nina, don’t be angry. Alex died because of me. I can’t just abandon Julia. She’s all alone, she’s so fragile.” I yanked my hand away. “Eason, I’m not angry. I just find it interesting that our engagement party is apparently less important than a woman you’ve known for three years.” “That’s not it! Nina, you’re the most important person in the world to me! But she was dying!” “The doctor said she wasn’t,” I stated, my voice flat as I met his gaze. Eason’s lips parted, but no words came out. Just then, Julia stirred on the bed. When she saw me, her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Nina… I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault. I didn’t mean to… I just… I just miss Alex so much.” She started sobbing, her body trembling. “When I saw you two getting engaged, all I could think about was me and Alex… I couldn’t control myself. I’m sorry, I ruined your special day.” Eason immediately sat back down, murmuring soothing words to her. “It’s okay, it’s over now. Don’t think about it. Just rest.” He looked up at me, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “See? Look how broken she is. Can’t you have a little compassion?” I didn’t say another word. I just turned and walked away. As the cold night air hit my face outside the hospital doors, I finally noticed that my hands had been shaking the entire time. The next morning, Eason showed up at my apartment with breakfast. I opened the door but didn’t let him in. He held out the bag. “Nina, I’m here to apologize on Julia’s behalf. She had an emotional breakdown yesterday, she didn’t mean any harm.” “Can’t she apologize for herself?” Eason flinched. “She’s still very weak.” “Eason, let’s not talk about her for a minute. Let’s talk about us. What happens now? What do we tell our friends and family?” He was silent for a moment. “We’ll wait a while, let things blow over, and then we’ll have another party.” “Another party?” I looked at him incredulously. “You think this is something you can just… redo?” “What else can we do? It’s already happened. Nina, I know you’re hurt, but Julia just lost her husband, and she almost lost her own life. Can’t we just be a little more understanding?” There was that word again. Understanding. I took the breakfast bag and set it on the shoe cabinet by the door. “Fine. I get it. You should go back. She’s alone at the hospital, she needs you.” Eason let out a sigh of relief, thinking I had given in. “You’ve always had a soft heart. Don’t worry, as soon as she’s discharged, I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He left. I picked up the breakfast and threw the entire bag into the trash. Then I went to work. On my way through the inpatient wing, I stopped by Julia’s room. She was propped up in bed, peeling an apple and chatting with the woman in the next bed. She was laughing, her color was good. The moment she saw me, her smile froze, then instantly morphed into a look of fragile vulnerability. “Nina, you came.” I nodded. “Just checking in.” I picked up her chart and flipped through it. “Wound’s healing nicely. You should be able to go home tomorrow.” “Yes,” she said, looking down. “Thank you for visiting.” “Don’t mention it. Just don’t do anything foolish again. Your health is your own responsibility.” She bit her lip, her eyes reddening again. “I know, but sometimes I just… I can’t take it anymore.” I didn’t respond. I put the chart back and left the room. That afternoon, I found my friend who works in the ER. “Hey, Sarah, do you remember that patient who came in for a suicide attempt yesterday? Julia Hayes?” Sarah thought for a second. “Oh, yeah, her. I remember. The pilot who brought her in was frantic.” “How were the wounds?” “Please,” she scoffed. “It was a scratch. Seriously, I’ve gotten worse cuts chopping onions. She lost less blood than a heavy period. It was all for show. We see it all the time.” My heart sank like a stone. That evening, Eason picked me up from work. He was in a great mood, telling me Julia had been discharged and he had gotten her settled. “I booked a table at our favorite place. We’re going to have a nice dinner.” In the car, he held my hand tightly. “Nina, I know this has been hard on you. I know I owe you a perfect engagement party. Just wait, I will make it up to you.” I stared out the window. “Eason, how much money do you give Julia every month?” He stiffened. “Not much. Just… half of my salary.” Eason was an ace pilot in the Air Force. His pay was substantial. Half was not a small amount. “Does she not have a job?” “She used to be a clerk at some company. After Alex died, she quit. Her health hasn’t been good, and she can’t find anything suitable.” “So you’ve just been supporting her?” Eason’s brow furrowed. “Nina, what kind of question is that? I’m not ‘supporting’ her. I’m fulfilling my duty to Alex!” His voice rose. “He gave his life for me! Is it wrong for me to make sure his widow is taken care of for the rest of her life?” I said nothing. The air in the car turned frigid. We ate our dinner in absolute silence. On the way home, Eason’s phone rang. It was Julia. His tone instantly softened. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?” “A lightbulb burned out? Don’t you move, I’m on my way over right now!” He hung up and forced a smile at me. “Nina, I’ll drop you at home, then I have to run over to Julia’s. She’s all alone, and she’s scared.” I just looked at him. “Eason, what is she to you?” The smile on his face froze. “She’s Alex’s widow. She’s my squadmate’s family.” “So you’re responsible for her every need for the rest of her life, including changing her lightbulbs?” “Nina!” He was getting angry now. “Why are you being so unreasonable? She’s a single woman, she just got out of the hospital, and her apartment is dark. I can’t just ignore that, can I?” “You could call building management for her. Or have a handyman service deliver a bulb.” “It’s not the same! She doesn’t trust strangers!” I laughed, a short, bitter sound. “Right. She only trusts you.” I opened the car door. “You don’t have to take me home. I can get back myself. You should go. Your duty is waiting.” I got out and slammed the door. Eason’s car idled behind me for a moment, and then, it drove off. In the direction of Julia’s house. After that, we entered a cold war. Eason didn’t contact me. I didn’t contact him. The new house the military had allocated for us was already furnished, just waiting for us to move in after the engagement. I went there alone. The space was huge, and empty. Every piece of furniture was something we had picked out together. I sat on the sofa for a long, long time. A week later, Eason called. His voice was thick with exhaustion. “Nina, we need to talk.” We met at the new house. He looked thinner, with dark circles under his eyes. “Nina, I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair to you lately,” he began. “Julia’s been really unstable. I’ve had to spend more time with her.” I waited for him to continue. “I know you’re upset. But Nina, we’ve been together for eight years. You know me better than anyone. I only feel responsibility and guilt for Julia. Nothing else.” “I know,” I said. He breathed a sigh of relief. “I knew you’d understand.” He moved to embrace me. I stepped away. “Eason, I came here today to tell you… I don’t want this house.” He froze. “What do you mean?” “It’s a military allocation, but the title is in your name until we’re married. I don’t want it anymore.” “Why? This is our home!” “Because I’m afraid that one day, when Miss Julia’s lightbulb burns out again, or her drain gets clogged, you’ll decide that she needs a home more than I do.” Eason’s face changed. “Nina, do you have to talk like that? Do you have to twist the knife?” “Am I not telling the truth?” “That was just a small favor!” “Was running out of our engagement party a small favor? Giving her half your salary, is that a small favor? Eason, you do a lot of ‘small favors.’” He was speechless. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Fine, Nina. If that’s what you think, then I’ll prove you wrong.” He looked me straight in the eye, his words sharp and deliberate. “In a few days, I’m moving Julia in here. She can have the guest room.” For a moment, my mind went completely blank. “What did you say?” “I said, I’m moving Julia in here!” he repeated, his voice rising as if trying to convince both me and himself. “I can’t trust her living alone! She’s always having some kind of crisis! If she’s under our roof, I can keep an eye on her, and you won’t have to worry! See? It solves everything!” I stared at him as if he were a complete stranger. “Eason, you’re insane!” “I’m not insane! I’m thinking clearly! I will not let Alex’s widow be abandoned!” Each word was heavy, deliberate. A profound weariness settled into my bones. “Fine,” I said. “Move her in.” Eason seemed stunned that I’d agreed so easily. I took my key from my purse and placed it on the coffee table. “Here’s your key back.” “From now on, this is the home you share with your squadmate’s widow.” “I hope you’ll be very happy together.” I stood up and walked out of the house that I had once filled with so many dreams. As the door clicked shut behind me, I thought I heard the sound of something shattering inside. My tears finally fell. Eight years. It was over. Just like that.

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It was the year the golden boy heir and his one true love were at their most idyllic. Even after marrying me, he remained celibate, saving himself for her. On our third wedding anniversary, he brought a child home from an orphanage. Before I could speak, a stream of live comments flickered across my vision. “OMG I’m crying, the male lead actually brought home the son he had with the female lead.” “Yep, now the villainess will raise the kid, and the main couple can fake their deaths and escape to live their perfect life together.” “The villainess will definitely raise the boy as her own, give him the best education, and when he’s old enough to inherit the company, the main couple can return for their happy family reunion. It’s perfect!” Just as the comments predicted, the news of the heir’s “death” broke the very next day. I didn’t cry. I didn’t throw a fit. I simply rested a hand on my seven-week-pregnant belly and quietly returned the child to the orphanage. I have my own child to think about. Why would I raise someone else’s? 1 “Sienna, I’ve adopted this boy from the orphanage. He’ll take my last name, Rothschild. His name is Michael. You can call him Michael.” Peter Rothschild finished speaking and nudged the small, two-year-old boy toward me. “Michael, say hello to your aunt.” The boy, Michael, bowed obediently, his voice soft and high. “Hello, Auntie!” I was about to respond when the world shimmered, and lines of text began scrolling through the air in front of me. 【OMG I’m crying, the male lead actually brought home the son he had with the female lead.】 【Yep, now the villainess will raise the kid, and the main couple can fake their deaths and escape to live their perfect life together.】 【The villainess will definitely raise the boy as her own, give him the best education, and when he’s old enough to inherit the company, the main couple can return for their happy family reunion. It’s perfect!】 And just like that, I understood. I was nothing more than a side character—the villainess—in a trashy romance novel. Peter and his one true love were the main characters. And their son, this little boy Peter claimed to have adopted, was the story’s young hero. The live feed also told me that tomorrow, Peter would fake his death to run off with his beloved, leaving their son in my care. Well, we’d just have to see about that. The next morning, I was jolted awake by my phone ringing. The moment I answered, Peter’s mother, Eleanor, was on the line, her voice choked with hysterical sobs. “Sienna! Peter is dead!” The comments exploded again. 【Here we go! The main couple is finally together!】 【What are we waiting for? Show us the bed scene!】 【Don’t you dare censor it! I’m a premium member, there’s nothing I can’t see.】 So, it was all true. A small, humorless smile touched my lips. I hung up the phone. It didn’t take long for the comments to confirm that Peter and his sweetheart were already tangled in the sheets, wasting no time at all. Fine. Let them have their fun. I knocked on Michael’s door. “Michael, sweetie, wake up and get dressed. Auntie is taking you somewhere wonderful.” 2 To make it look authentic, Peter had actually gone through the official adoption process with the orphanage. It was easy for me to find the right one. The director looked troubled. “This is…” It was obvious Michael had never lived here before. The place was completely foreign to him. I pushed him gently toward the director. “Peter Rothschild is dead. The adoption is void. I’m bringing him back.” The director hesitated. I pressed, my voice intentionally sharp. “Ma’am, is this not the boy from your records? The paperwork is all in order. Or… should I perhaps take this child to the police instead?” That did the trick. The director scooped Michael into her arms. I patted Michael’s head. “You be a good boy and have fun here, okay?” Michael, who knew neither me nor the director, suddenly burst into tears. “Mommy! I want my mommy!” he wailed. The director quickly signaled for a staff member to take him away, then turned back to me. “Is Mr. Rothschild really… gone?” “He is. An accident. I’m on my way to arrange his funeral now. You should come, Director.” Her face went pale. Before leaving, I handed her a thick envelope of cash. It wasn’t for Michael. It was to ensure she stopped asking questions about whether Peter Rothschild was really dead. On the drive back, my phone was ringing off the hook. Everyone was telling me to come and take charge. Peter’s parents, Eleanor and Richard, had both been hospitalized from the shock. The doctors said his father had nearly had a stroke. It was clear they knew nothing about Peter’s plan. To deceive his own parents just to be with the woman he loved… I wasn’t sure if I should applaud his epic romance or pity his parents for raising such a son. At the hospital, I took Eleanor’s hand. “Mom, I don’t know what to say to ease your pain, but I want you to know you still have me. I’ll take care of you and Dad.” “And,” I added, gently placing a hand on my stomach, “I’m pregnant. Seven weeks.” The news was a powerful balm, easing the sharpest edges of their grief. They wanted to check out immediately, but I insisted they stay. “The baby in your belly is the only heir to the Rothschild family,” they said, their voices firm. “We have to protect you, make sure the baby is born safe and sound.” Naturally, they wouldn’t let me handle the funeral arrangements alone. And naturally, I wasn’t going to tell them that the child in my belly wasn’t Peter’s. In our three years of marriage, Peter had been so devoted to his one true love that we slept in separate rooms. He never laid a finger on me. Choosing another man wasn’t about revenge; it was about fairness. He had his woman, so I would have my man. More importantly, I desperately needed an heir. In truth, I had been planning to ask Peter for a divorce right before this whole charade began. Our marriage was a corporate merger of families, devoid of affection. I had endured it for three years to satisfy my parents. Divorcing after three years was for me, for my future. I just never imagined Peter would fake his own death, abandoning not only his parents but also his son to my care. What did he take me for? A free nanny and a living ATM? If that was how he wanted to play, then he couldn’t blame me for using my new status as the grieving Rothschild widow to take everything that was once his. He drew first blood. I was more than ready to finish the war. 3 After the funeral, Richard and Eleanor immediately transferred a significant portion of the company’s shares to me, along with a handsome sum in cash. It wasn’t so much a reward as it was a way to tie me to them. For some wealthy families, a child is the ultimate bargaining chip. “And when the baby is born,” they promised, “boy or girl, there will be another billion waiting for you.” “Next Monday, Sienna, you will officially take over as CEO. Prepare yourself.” I accepted it all with a gracious smile. The live comments went wild. 【Are these two old fools blind?! The male lead never touched her! She’s carrying some bastard’s child! BASTARD!】 【This villainess is pure evil. A viper. I can’t watch her deceive these poor old people anymore.】 【AAGH, I’m so pissed!】 【The one I feel worst for is Michael! That evil bitch just dumped a two-year-old back in an orphanage!】 【I hope her baby miscarries!】 【Can anyone warn the main couple?!】 I paid them no mind. I turned to Richard and Eleanor. “I’m not yet three months along. Let’s keep the pregnancy quiet for now.” They were even more cautious about this baby than I was, terrified of losing the sole heir to the Rothschild dynasty. Of course, that was assuming Richard didn’t have a secret love child tucked away somewhere, something Eleanor would never, ever allow. Once my belly began to show, I disappeared from public life. I didn’t even go to the office, choosing instead to spend my pregnancy at a private, high-security wellness retreat. During that time, the live comments were obsessed with the main couple’s budding romance. While Peter and his true love were living out their sweet, romantic fantasy, I gave birth to a son. Richard and Eleanor were overjoyed and made good on their promise immediately. To secure my hold on the entire Rothschild legacy, I temporarily gave my son their last name. We called him Noah. To this day, Richard and Eleanor believe Noah is their only grandchild. Along with my own parents, the four of them have smothered him with a grandparent’s affection, spoiling him to the point of absurdity. That’s why, once Noah turned three, I began to step back from work to oversee his education personally. A comment drifted by: 【That kid hit the jackpot. Doting grandparents, and a strict mother paving his entire future for him. Meanwhile, Michael has turned into a total brat.】 【I’m just now realizing something serious… I think the villainess is the real main character of this story!】 【Honestly, I’ve been thinking this for a while. Are the main couple idiots? Forgetting their parents is one thing, but abandoning their own child to the villainess?】 【If they don’t come back soon, Michael’s life is completely ruined.】 【That’s on them. If you don’t want to raise a kid, don’t have one.】 【They probably didn’t want the kid, just the process of making him.】 【They’ve been erased from official records, their fortune has been stolen from under their noses, and they’re still off playing house somewhere.】 Reading these comments, I felt a sense of relief. I truly hoped the so-called main characters would stay lost in their bubble of sweet, sweet love forever. 4 The year Noah turned eighteen, he officially took over the Rothschild empire. By that point, he had already earned every academic degree he could possibly acquire. I’ll admit, it wasn’t just my upbringing. Noah is a genius in his own right. It was also due to the quality of the genetic material I selected—the absolute best of the best. The live comments had become less frequent over the years, but the same people who once cursed me as a villainess were now firmly on my side. Whenever I faced a major decision or someone plotted against me, they would give me a heads-up. Over time, they realized I could see them. Now, we’re more like friends. After eighteen years, the readers have grown tired of the whole “protagonist halo” trope. If the main characters only want to focus on romance, if they won’t work hard or raise their own child, then losing everything is the only logical conclusion. A comment popped up: 【The main couple is coming back.】 【What main couple? They’re nobodies.】 【Peter and Sophie are coming back to reap the rewards. It’s disgusting.】 【Forget the rewards. They should go check on their precious son. He’s a full-blown delinquent.】 I only knew about Michael from the comments. He dropped out of middle school to “make it big” down south, but he found real work too tiring. He bounced between dead-end jobs, never making any money, but he picked up every vice: drinking, gambling, and whoring around. He reveled in the shallow pleasures of his own decay. The Michael of today was nothing but a low-life hoodlum. A few comments still condemned me. 【I still think the villainess went too far. Even if she didn’t want to raise Michael, she should have taken him to his grandparents. He turned out this way because of her. She’s fully responsible.】 I didn’t have to say a word. Others immediately jumped to my defense. 【Shouldn’t his parents be the ones responsible for him?】 【If Peter had taken Michael to his parents in the first place, I’d have nothing to say. But he wanted the villainess to raise his heir for him, then waltz back in and reclaim him? He was just using her!】 I ignored the debate and called for Noah. He sat down in front of me. “Mom, what is it?” I hesitated. “Noah, I need to tell you…” That your last name isn’t Rothschild. That your grandparents have no blood relation to you. My own parents knew, of course. For eighteen years, the three of us have carried this secret. I know how much Noah loves his grandparents, and I didn’t know how to tell him the truth. Noah moved from his chair to sit beside me on the sofa. “Mom, what’s wrong?” I couldn’t find the words. Facing him, I knew I couldn’t just state with conviction that I had done nothing wrong. I… Eleanor swept into the room. “Can’t you two talk later? We need to go.” Noah looked at me, concerned. “Mom…” I let out a long breath. “Let’s go.” Tonight was the grand gala celebrating Noah’s official takeover of the Rothschild corporation. I could tell him after the party. But shortly after the evening began, just as Richard and Eleanor finished their announcement, Peter and Sophie appeared.

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The year my social anxiety was at its peak, I played mute in the bed of this city’s most notorious billionaire, Julian Forrester. No matter how hard he worked, I would bite my lip and refuse to make a sound. This arrangement worked perfectly until his long-lost love returned to the country and I was handed a severance check for thirty million dollars. In a moment of pure, unadulterated joy, the words just slipped out: “Thank you, boss! You’re too generous!” I slapped a hand over my mouth, but it was too late. A slow, dangerous smile spread across Julian’s face. “My little mute,” he purred, his voice a low threat. “Don’t tell me this is some kind of medical miracle?” … Being a mute canary had its perks. Downstairs, I was exempt from the tedious flattery required of a kept woman. Upstairs, I never had to praise my sugar daddy’s performance. The only real downside? I couldn’t curse him out when he was being a real bastard. Like right now. Julian noticed my mind had drifted. His hand tightened on my waist, and with a single, powerful movement, he flipped me over. He was all teeth and heat, nipping and biting at my skin with a savage intensity, as if he meant to tear the flesh from my bones and devour it whole. Son of a bitch! I screamed internally. On the outside, however, I was the picture of pathetic submission. My eyes welled up, tears tracing hot paths down my cheeks. As the world rocked around me, I found my anchor, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my face against his in a silent plea for mercy. From experience, I knew this look was usually his breaking point. A few more minutes, and he’d be done. But tonight, some demon had possessed him. One after another, he tore open the foil packets. From the bed to the shower, from the shower to the sofa, he ravaged me until the moon was high in the sky. It was only then, finally sated, that he carried me back to bed. My body was a dead weight, every muscle screaming in protest. But just as sleep was about to claim me, a memory of something I’d overheard earlier that day jolted me awake. One of Julian’s friends had stopped by. The study door was ajar, and their voices drifted out. “Gigi lands tomorrow. Are you sending a car, or are you picking her up yourself?” “‘Gigi’ is not a name you get to use,” Julian’s voice was ice. The friend backpedaled instantly. “Right, right, my mistake. Your special name for your special girl…” Though he sounded apologetic, the teasing note was unmistakable. Everyone in their circle knew Julian Forrester had one that got away—a ‘white moonlight’ he could never forget. He’d protected her identity so fiercely that all anyone knew was that she existed. No name, no face, no reason why they weren’t together. Once, while tidying his study out of sheer boredom, I’d found a faded old photograph. In it, a girl in a wide-brimmed hat was turned away from the camera, only half of her face visible. That half-face was an eighty percent match for my own. Suddenly, I was thrown back to the day I first met Julian. I was standing on a street corner, glued to my phone, when a black sedan pulled up. Assuming it was the Uber I’d called, I opened the door and slid in without a second thought. As a person with crippling social anxiety, I had a system to avoid small talk with drivers. I pulled out my phone, which had a message scrolling across the screen in huge letters: [I AM MUTE. PLEASE DO NOT SPEAK TO ME.] It was only as I held the phone up that I realized the man in the driver’s seat was no Uber driver. He was impossibly handsome, with a cool, aristocratic air that made the luxury car he was driving feel like it was miles out of my price range. He stared at my phone screen, his eyes wide, for a long, silent moment before he finally found his voice, asking me where I was going in a rough, hoarse whisper. Seeing that photograph, it all clicked into place. The stunned expression on his face that day wasn’t because I’d gotten into the wrong car, or because of my fake disability. It was because I looked just like her. Back in the study, the conversation resumed. “So, what about the one at home?” his friend asked. “She’s a timid little thing, and a mute. Not exactly someone you can take out in public…” I didn’t listen to the rest. I turned and walked away before the giddy, triumphant laughter bubbling up inside me could escape. Three years. For three whole years, I had played the part. And now, my contract was finally coming to an end. Freedom was so close I could taste it. Sleep was impossible. I turned my back to Julian, unlocked my phone, and opened up the group chat: The Canary Support Group. I’d been added by a friendly girl I’d met at one of Julian’s stuffy business dinners. The ultimate goal for every member was the same: secure a massive payout, achieve financial independence, and retire early. I couldn’t resist sharing my news. Celeste: Julian’s white moonlight is coming home! The night owls in the group exploded. Skye: OMG CONGRATS CELESTE! Bella: Manifesting this! My guy’s first love is supposedly studying in Germany… Amber: I’m so jealous. My guy doesn’t even have a white moonlight (my life is a tragedy). After a flurry of congratulations, Skye tagged me. Skye: @Celeste Julian’s loaded, and he’s always been generous with you. The severance is gonna be huge, right?! She was right. Julian had always been generous. Half a million a month for pocket money. A constant stream of designer bags and jewelry. He’d even tried to give me luxury cars and mansions, but I’d turned them down. A poor girl like me couldn’t possibly afford the upkeep on a supercar or the property taxes on a penthouse. Besides, selling them would involve realtors and paperwork… the thought alone made my anxiety spike. My only hope for a comfortable future was his severance pay. A few million? Or maybe… tens of millions? The thought made me squirm with excitement, twisting myself into a pretzel under the sheets. A moment later, a strong arm pulled me back against a familiar, hard body. “Can’t sleep?” His voice was a low growl, and his hot breath ghosted over my neck. I felt his body stir against me and panicked, pushing him away with all my might. I clasped my hands together under my chin and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to convey with every fiber of my being that I was going to sleep. Right now. “I have to go to the airport tomorrow,” he murmured, his voice surprisingly soft. “To pick up someone… very important to me.” My eyes flew open. “Do you… want to come with me?” I blinked. Him. Me. Going with him? The replacement, going to pick up the original? Was he trying to give her a heart attack on the spot? I shook my head violently. He studied my face for a moment. “Probably for the best. You’re shy. You can meet her when you’re ready.” He’d always been accommodating. When we first got together, he offered to find me a job. I refused, and he never brought it up again. For a homebody with extreme social anxiety, this life of catered meals and zero responsibilities was something I would actually miss. A wave of melancholy washed over me. Just then, my phone buzzed. A text notification from my bank. “I probably won’t be back tomorrow night,” he said. “I’ll be busy for the next couple of days. Take this, buy yourself something nice.” I ignored him, my eyes glued to the screen. I counted the zeroes. Once, twice, three times. One, ten, hundred, thousand, ten thousand, hundred thousand, million, ten million… It was an eight-figure number. He had given me thirty million dollars. Thirty. Million. Dollars. The sudden wealth went straight to my head. All my carefully constructed pretenses shattered. “Thank you, boss! You’re too generous!” The words were out before I could stop them. Silence crashed down around us. Our eyes met. Oh, crap. In my excitement, I’d forgotten I was supposed to be mute. Realizing my catastrophic mistake, I clapped a hand over my mouth and tried to melt into the mattress, pulling the covers over my head. But it was no use. A hand clamped around the back of my neck, and he hauled me out of my cocoon. “My little mute.” Julian’s voice was dangerously calm, but his eyes were blazing. He looked like he was seconds away from laughing, or maybe strangling me. “Don’t tell me this is some kind of medical miracle?” That was, without a doubt, the least funny joke I had ever heard. There was nowhere to hide. To escape his searing gaze, I covered my face with my hands. “Talk to me, little mute.” I shook my head, my voice muffled. “Mutes can’t talk.” “…” Julian pinched the bridge of his nose, a flicker of exasperation crossing his face as he looked at me, flushed red and trying to disappear into myself. “Is there anything you want to say to me?” I bit my lip, confused. Yes, I had lied to him. I wasn’t going to deny it. But the money was already in my account. What else was there to say? I had nothing. But clearly, he expected something. I shifted gears. What did Julian want to hear? What did he like to hear? An idea sparked. “Baby…” I whispered. His breath hitched. I dredged my memory, recalling every trashy romance novel I’d ever read, searching for a line that wouldn’t make me spontaneously combust. “You’re… so big,” I stammered. “So amazing. I like it so much…” I peeked through my fingers. His eyebrows were raised, the hard line of his mouth softened. He didn’t look angry anymore. So, this was the price of my freedom. Fine. It was my last night as a canary anyway. I dug deep, pulling out all the stops. “You were incredible tonight. It was like you were on something… so wild.” His face instantly darkened. “What did you just say? Say it again.” I swallowed hard. What was wrong with that? Did he not like being called ‘baby’? Maybe it was a generational thing. My heart pounded against my ribs. I summoned my courage and tried again. “Daddy was so incredible tonight…” The rest of the sentence was swallowed by his kiss. He captured my flailing hands, guiding them lower, and lower still. In the dim glow of the bedside lamp, his dark eyes seemed to flash green. “Little mute,” he rasped against my lips. “Say it again.” … By the time the sun began to rise, he was still going, energized as if he’d discovered a whole new world. I buried my face in the pillow, my head spinning. Thank God I’d pretended to be mute for three years. If I hadn’t, I would have been dead in this bed long ago. I woke up in the afternoon. My entire body ached, and my throat was so raw from a night of unaccustomed use that I couldn’t speak. The irony was not lost on me. Now I really was mute. I dragged my leaden legs downstairs. Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, saw me, nodded a silent greeting, and disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with a bowl of warm porridge. Then, just as she always did, she vanished. Julian knew I hated interacting with strangers, so he’d instructed all the staff to make themselves invisible. It was a dream setup for someone with social anxiety. The more I thought about it, the more I realized Julian was actually… a pretty good guy. He was rich, handsome, and considerate when it counted. His only flaw was that he was in love with another woman. “Sigh…” I felt a pang of melancholy that lasted for a whole three seconds. Then my eyes fell on my phone, and I opened my banking app to gaze at the glorious thirty-million-dollar balance. Yeah… maybe I wasn’t so heartbroken after all. My heart was too small; it only had room for money. As for Julian? Well, seeing as he was such a good guy, I decided to help him out. With my conscience clear, I snuggled back into bed and pulled a book off the nightstand. Chapter One: The Return of the White Moonlight. Perfect. Just what I needed. Half an hour later, I was so infuriated by the brainless main characters that I slammed the book shut. I opened my messaging app and sent Julian a single emoji: a kitten peeking over a wall. He replied instantly. Julian: You’re awake? Mrs. Gable has porridge for you. Don’t fill up, I’ll have something nice sent for dinner. Julian: Does it still hurt? Are you okay? My heart did a little flip. A good man asks if you’re tired. A great man asks if you’re in pain. I buried my face in the covers and kicked my feet like a teenager. After composing myself, I sent back a cool, detached reply. Celeste: Mm. He didn’t reply right away, probably busy. I took the opportunity to forward him a series of articles I’d found. Don’t Let the One Who’s Right in Front of You Get Away. Actions Speak Louder Than Words: How to Show a Woman You Care. 30 Ways to Win Her Heart: A Guide to Thoughtful Gifts. After sending about ten of these, I felt I’d done my good deed for the day and settled in for a long gaming session. It was two hours later when I checked my phone again and saw he had replied long ago. Julian: Received. Received? What did that mean? Did he think it was a work email? A moment later, a call came through from Julian’s assistant, Mr. Harrison. Confused, I went downstairs to answer the door. He held out a sleek, black credit card. “Ms. Windsor, Mr. Forrester asked me to bring you this. It’s a supplementary card.” My eyes widened. “For… for me?” Harrison’s usually stoic, robotic expression cracked. “Ms. Windsor… you… you’re not mute?”

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I woke up in a world of interstellar beastmen and immediately adopted two un-shifted cubs I found in the wilderness. After a month of careful nurturing, a rancher came looking for slave labor and set his sights on the beautiful little fox. Just as I was about to hand him over, a series of glowing text boxes materialized in front of my eyes. [DON’T DO IT! DON’T DO IT! THAT’S THE YOUNG MASTER OF THE HOLT FAMILY!] [Side character, keep him! When the Holts come looking for him, you’ll be set for life!] I considered this for a moment, then offered the rancher the other cub—a scruffy, injured puppy. The text boxes went wild. [YES! IT’S THE DEMON KING! THE SIDE CHARACTER IS DOOMED!] [You are looking at the apex predator of the entire Valerius Galaxy, the undefeated champion of 37 consecutive mech league tournaments!] [Enjoy your three square meals a day in prison, side character. At least your future is stable!] Me: …? 1 I froze, my hand hovering in mid-air. The rancher grunted, impatient. “Well, miss? Are you selling or not?” I looked down at Lucky, the little pup in my arms. He was tense, his back arched, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. I’d found Lucky and an elegant little fox, whom I’d named Foxy, on the same day. In this world, un-shifted cubs were still in their infancy. Lucky was a terror. A month in, and he still wouldn’t let me near him. The toys I’d scrimped and saved to buy him were torn to shreds. The food I offered was unceremoniously kicked across the room. Foxy, on the other hand, was a dream. He was soft and sweet, and he’d curl up with me every night, whining affectionately. After a long day of back-breaking labor, coming home to that beautiful little creature was the only thing that made it all bearable. The rancher had offered me ten Alliance Credits a day to work on his farm. As a poor, displaced human, it was an offer I couldn’t refuse. As if reading my mind, the text boxes flared to life again. [You’re the ditzy, sweet side character, not the villainess! Don’t do something stupid!] [The real villainess hasn’t even shown up yet! Don’t steal her lines!] [This rancher is a cruel bastard! The hero will be beaten, and he’ll blame you for it. He’ll have you tortured!] My hand trembled. I quickly pulled Lucky behind me and offered the rancher a strained, apologetic smile. “Sorry, he’s not for sale anymore.” I didn’t know if the text was real, but I only had one life to lose. After the rancher stormed off in a huff, I looked at the two cubs. Foxy’s fur was sleek and glossy; he practically radiated privilege. It was easy to believe he was some rich kid. But Lucky… He was still filthy from refusing every attempt I made to bathe him, his fur matted with dried blood and dirt. His grey eyes were so cloudy they looked like they had cataracts. The galaxy’s top warrior? This had to be a joke. Some kind of cosmic prank. “Alright, time for dinner.” The fridge was nearly empty. I scraped together a “salad” of nutrient paste and canned meat. Foxy took one look at it, let out a pathetic whimper, and buried his face in my lap. I knew he found it disgusting. “Sorry, little guy,” I said with a wry smile. “We’ll have something better tomorrow, I promise.” This planet was ruled by beastmen. Mechs and starships crisscrossed the sky. I didn’t understand their technology, their culture, their anything. My only option was manual labor. It seemed that even in another universe, I couldn’t escape a life of grunt work. Foxy finally relented, taking a few grudging bites before retreating to the sofa to sulk. The text boxes reappeared. [Such a little manipulator! I’m melting, and I’m not even the one he’s working on!] [Send him to my house! Immediately!] [Say goodbye to your old mommy, Foxy!] [Where’d the Demon King go?] That last one caught my attention. Right. Where was Lucky? 2 I found him in a dark corner of my bedroom, licking a wound on his paw. I approached slowly, holding out his bowl of food. He looked up, saw it was me, and immediately turned his back. The text boxes were practically screaming at me. [THE HERO IS ANGRY! COMFORT HIM, YOU FOOL!] [He’s mad you were going to sell him!] [I’ve never seen the hero look like that! The side character is TOAST!] I swallowed hard and pushed the bowl closer. “Eat up…” He glanced at it, unimpressed. “There’s nothing else in the fridge,” I mumbled, suddenly feeling pathetic. “I just had a tube of nutrient paste. You and Foxy are still growing, so I saved the canned stuff for you.” The words tumbled out, a wave of self-pity washing over me. “I worked all day yesterday, and my boss refused to pay me. Said the design sketches I did weren’t what he wanted.” Humans were a rare species here, and it was a miracle I wasn’t locked away in some preserve. A long-dead Empress had passed a human protection act, allowing us some measure of freedom. But we were far from equal. Lucky was silent for a moment, then he lowered his head and started to eat. Seeing him so focused, I brought over Foxy’s uneaten portion. “There’s more here if you’re still hungry,” I said. “Sorry for… earlier. I know I’ve been giving Foxy the better treatment, but I’ve just been so broke…” He froze, looking up at me. It was true. I had always favored the sweet, affectionate fox over the grumpy, standoffish pup. He let out a soft snort and turned away again. Such a moody little dog. That night, I tossed and turned. Something had been bothering me, a detail I’d overlooked. The text boxes called me the “side character,” and they called Lucky the “hero.” Didn’t that mean… I should be trying to get on his good side? The text boxes obligingly provided a highlight reel of my past month’s interactions with Lucky. [The side character has seen the light, but it’s too late.] [She only ever gave the hero half a bowl of food.] [The hero’s bed is a pile of old rags.] [She makes the hero take out the trash for her.] [She wipes her greasy hands on the hero’s fur after eating snacks.] Me: “…” Yeah, I was probably screwed. 3 With that grim thought, I tiptoed out to the living room. Foxy was fast asleep. Lucky was not. He stood by the window, staring out into the night. I’d found him in a junkyard, buried under a pile of scrap metal. He’d been near death, and I had the distinct impression he’d been left there to die. He’d been wary at first, but when he realized I meant him no harm, he’d finally passed out in my arms. I’d named him Lucky, but he remained hostile, refusing to eat the food I made, refusing to let me near him. I’d asked around if any of the canine families were missing a son, but no one claimed him. This was a remote, border planet. No one important ever came here. When he saw me, he turned away, trotted over to Foxy’s plush bed, nudged the sleeping fox out of the way, and curled up on the soft blanket himself. The two of them had never gotten along. I’d rescued Foxy from the black market. On a trip to buy medicine for Lucky’s wounds, I’d seen him in a cage, a merchant loudly praising the quality of his fur. He’d been drugged, completely limp. I’d picked the lock when the merchant wasn’t looking, and the little fox had followed me home. Now, as the freshly-evicted Foxy woke up and whimpered, crawling into my lap for comfort, I cooed, “There, there, it’s okay. You can sleep with me tonight.” Lucky was the hero, after all. Foxy couldn’t compete with that. What was a lost bed in the grand scheme of things? We were just the supporting cast. At my words, Lucky, who had been settling down to sleep, shot up. Foxy, nestled in my arms, gave him a smug look and yawned. Lucky’s eyes narrowed. With a growl, he launched himself at Foxy. Me: “?” Why were they fighting? The text boxes, however, were ecstatic. [YES! THE RIVALRY I LIVE FOR!] [I love a good love triangle with a green-tea pretty boy and a grumpy, possessive hero!] [If it weren’t for the actual heroine, I’d ship this so hard!] I had no idea what they were talking about, but I was terrified. Didn’t they realize my life was on the line? If they hurt each other, I’d have to pay the vet bills. If they got into a real fight, I could end up in jail. “Stop it! Both of you!” I scooped them up, one in each arm, and marched back to the bedroom. “You’re both sleeping with me!”

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When my boyfriend ordered me food delivery, he decided to play a stupid prank in the notes: “This is for my e-girlfriend. Could you do me a solid and check if she’s as hot as her pictures? Heard she looks like a total goddess.” Sighing, I decided to play along with his little game. When I opened the door, the delivery guy’s eyes raked over me. “Wow,” he said. “You’re really beautiful.” I gave him a polite “thank you,” but a strange knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. I tried to shut the door quickly, but his foot shot out, blocking it. He stared at me, his eyes boring into mine. “Thank you?” he repeated, his voice low. “So… how are you going to thank me?” 1 I swallowed hard, a cold dread washing over me. My instincts screamed that this was dangerous. The way he looked at me was predatory, like he wanted to devour me whole. It was almost eleven at night; if he forced his way in, I wouldn’t stand a chance. Trying to keep the tremor out of my voice, I forced a calm tone. “You’re right. It’s late and you worked hard to get here. I’ll have my boyfriend add a generous tip for you.” I turned my head and called into the empty apartment, “Liam! Hey, that delivery you ordered? The driver is super nice, make sure you give him a good tip!” My boyfriend, Liam, wasn’t here, of course. I was just trying to scare the guy off, make him think I wasn’t alone. My heart was a jackhammer against my ribs, but I managed to squeeze out a smile. “Okay, my food’s getting cold, and you probably have more deliveries. Have a good night.” I pushed against the door again. His foot didn’t budge. His face, pitted with coarse pores, leaned closer. “You think I’m an idiot?” he sneered. “If your boyfriend was home, why would the order have your phone number on it?” 2 I flinched back, cursing Liam in my head. He always used his own number when he ordered for me, then texted me when it arrived. Why, of all nights, did he have to use my number and pull this stupid prank with this specific creep? Gritting my teeth, I improvised. “Oh, that? He wanted it to be a surprise, so he wanted me to be the one to get it. It’s just a little game we play. If he used his number, he’d have to get the door, and that would ruin the fun. You know?” The driver grunted, pretending to agree, but then his other hand braced against the doorframe. I could feel him starting to push, his strength slowly building against mine. Panic seized me. My hands, slick with sweat, were straining to hold the door. If he got it open, I was done for. My eyes widened in feigned annoyance, and I yelled back into the apartment, “Liam, say something! Did you fall asleep?!” A second later, my boyfriend’s familiar voice drifted from the bedroom. “Hey, babe, I’m here. Must have dozed off for a sec. What’s taking so long with the food? Are you still out there?” Hearing his voice, the driver finally relented. He stopped pushing and pulled his foot back. His entire demeanor shifted. “Ha, my bad,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I was just trying to help you carry it inside. Since your boyfriend’s here, I’ll get out of your hair. Enjoy your meal.” A wave of relief washed over me. Thank God Liam was so quick on his feet. We’d been on a video call when my phone had buzzed with the delivery notification. Living alone, I’m always cautious. I hadn’t ordered anything, so I ignored the call and stayed on the video chat. Liam was the one who told me he’d ordered it, explaining his dumb prank and how the driver just wanted to see what I looked like. He’d told the driver he was worried he was being catfished and needed visual confirmation. He said if I didn’t come to the door, the driver would probably keep knocking. He told me not to overthink it, that the guy would just say I was pretty and leave. I can’t believe I bought it. I figured, fine, I’ll play along for a minute. So I opened the door. But this wasn’t what Liam described at all. I was just thankful I hadn’t hung up the call, and that Liam had sensed something was wrong and spoken up. My phone was still in the bedroom, and his excuse about falling asleep made perfect sense. I had tricked him. The driver was finally leaving. As I relaxed my guard and put my weight into shutting the door, his other hand shot out, slapping against the wood. “You’re a fun one,” he chuckled, a sinister glint in his eyes. “Did you really think I was just going to leave?” 3 Before I could even process his words, he started talking, his voice a low, excited murmur. “I was just playing along with you. See how nice I am? This is like our own little game, isn’t it? I’ve never even had a girlfriend before. This is my first time playing something like this.” The door began to creak open as he pried at it. His foot slid back into the gap. The fear was real now, sharp and suffocating. “Get the hell out!” I screamed. “Or I’m calling the cops!” He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he pulled out his phone and showed me the chat log with Liam from the delivery app. My blood ran cold as I saw the messages. Liam had told him everything, holding nothing back. Driver: What if she’s not alone? Liam: She is. I guarantee it. Driver: What if she’s a catfish? Liam: Then do me a favor and teach her a lesson. I knew Liam was just trying to be edgy, fully committing to the stupid “e-girlfriend” prank. But what now? What was I going to do? The gap in the door widened. I told myself to stay calm, glaring at him with all the menace I could muster. “If you touch me, you’ll rot in prison!” His smile just got wider, more grotesque. He waved his phone. “What? I’m just teaching you a lesson, like your boyfriend said. You are a catfish! He said you were a goddess, and yeah, you’re pretty, but you’re no goddess.” His twisted logic left me speechless. The door was opening wider and wider. I couldn’t hold him back anymore. I turned to sprint for my phone in the bedroom. Suddenly, an explosion of pain erupted from my scalp. He had a fistful of my hair, yanking me backward with brutal force. A raw scream tore from my throat. I thrashed, trying to break his grip, but he kicked me hard in the stomach. The strength difference was immense; I was powerless. He started dragging me toward the sofa, and a sob escaped my lips. Liam’s voice was still echoing from the bedroom. “Aubrey! What’s wrong?! I think I heard you scream! Should I call 911? Aubrey, answer me!” I tried to scream back, to tell him yes, but just as I opened my mouth, a hand cracked across my face. The world went white for a second. Tears streamed down my cheeks, my mind chanting one frantic thought: No, please, this is disgusting. My whole body trembled as he tied my hands and found my phone. The video call was still active. Liam’s terrified face filled the screen. Seeing him gave me a sliver of hope. “Help…” CRACK. Another slap, harder this time. My face was on fire. “Aubrey! What’s happening?!” Liam screamed, his eyes wide with horror as he saw my swelling cheek. The driver’s leering face appeared next to mine on the screen. “No… I’m so sorry, Aubrey, this is all my fault!” Liam was sobbing now. “I just saw that stupid prank online, I thought it would be funny… How could this happen?! Hold on, I’m coming to save you!” The driver seemed to be enjoying the show. He didn’t hang up. His fingers moved toward the buttons of my shirt. The violation snapped me back to reality. I spat in his face. “You really think you can get away with this?! I don’t know what gives you the nerve, but I have hidden cameras all over this apartment. Everything you’re doing is being recorded! If I survive this, I’ll make sure you spend the rest of your life in jail! And even if I die, Liam will have the proof to do the same!” I was bluffing, trying to scare him into stopping. It was the wrong thing to say. His hands shot to my throat, squeezing with terrifying force. He was putting his entire weight into it. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even make a sound. My mind went blank. I forgot how to draw air. Liam’s voice was fading, a distant, panicked buzz. “Aubrey! Hang on! The police are on their way! You bastard! You murderer! Let her go!” Was this how I was going to die? Choked to death on my own floor? No. I don’t want this. But there was nothing I could do. Just as I thought it was over, my airway opened. Air rushed into my lungs in a great, heaving gasp, and I broke into a violent coughing fit. For a fleeting moment, I thought he’d had a change of heart, that he was letting me go. But then the searing pain returned to my scalp. He was pulling my hair again, dragging me out the door. This was a chance! As soon as we were in the hallway, I would scream my lungs out. Someone would hear. The next second, a towel was shoved into my mouth, gagging me. My heart sank into a pit of cold, black despair. 4 He dragged me toward the stairwell. Everyone used the elevator; the stairs were always deserted. Help me… Somebody, please, help me… I stopped struggling, my body going limp. All I could do was pray that someone, anyone, would hear the noise on the stairs. His face loomed closer. A chill ran down my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut, turning my head away. I had thought that as long as I survived, I could get justice. But as true despair set in, a new thought took root: If he… if he did that to me, I’d rather be dead. Tears streamed from my closed eyes. My heart was a dead, silent thing in my chest. I gave up, lying perfectly still. Suddenly, a bright light flashed across my face, and my heart leaped into my throat. “Who’s there?” a man’s voice called out. The voice sparked a new, frantic wave of resistance in me. I started struggling with everything I had. The driver shoved a few crumpled bills into the newcomer’s hand. “Hey, man. Just pretend you didn’t see anything.” I couldn’t believe anyone would just walk away. I stared at the man on the stairs, my eyes pleading with him, begging him to save me. But right in front of me, he pocketed the cash. “Keep it down,” he said. “And by the way, there are no cameras in the stairwell.” A roaring filled my ears. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. The man continued down the stairs, the crisp sound of his footsteps echoing around me. I didn’t care about the shaking of my body anymore. After a few minutes, the man who had assaulted me stood up. I forced myself to remember that I had to live. I had to survive. I stared at him, my eyes wide, trying to memorize his face in the faint moonlight. But then, a kitchen knife appeared in his hand. In the reflection on the blade, I saw my own tear-streaked face, my hair a tangled mess. My legs gave out. With my hands tied, I couldn’t move. I could only watch as the knife swung down towards me. Drops of blood slid from the tip of the blade. Before I lost consciousness completely, I saw a twisted, eerie smile spread across his face. 5 I finally understood. The monster never intended to let me go. He wanted to rape and kill me from the start. But I refused to accept it! I didn’t want to die like this! Humiliated and forgotten! I want to live! When I opened my eyes again, Liam’s voice was coming from my phone. “Babe, your phone was ringing. Who was it?” I stared at his face on the screen, my mind reeling. I clutched my chest. There was no wound. I realized it instantly. I had been reborn. 6 I scrambled to check my call history. Sure enough, the most recent call was from the delivery driver. I looked up at Liam on the screen. His voice softened. “Aubrey? What’s wrong? You’re looking at me like I’m your worst enemy. Did I do something to make you mad again?” I didn’t have time for him. I grabbed my phone, slid on my slippers, and tiptoed out of the bedroom. My heart pounding, I peered through the peephole in the front door. The hallway was silent and empty. Liam’s voice droned on from the phone. “You’re being way too cautious. Just go get the food. You said you were hungry, so I ordered you something. Hey, maybe the driver will even tell you you’re pretty. What are you so afraid of? It’s just a delivery guy. He’s in a hurry. If you don’t go out, he can’t complete the order on his end.” My nerves were stretched to the breaking point. I couldn’t let what happened before happen again. “Shut up!” I snapped. Liam, offended, abruptly ended the video call. My thumb hovered over the 9-1-1 button. I hesitated. If I called the police and they arrived to find nothing, would they accuse me of filing a false report? But I had to be safe. No matter what, I was not opening that door tonight. I scanned the living room and dragged my small bookshelf in front of the door, wedging it shut. It was the only way I would get any sleep. I turned to go wash my slippers in the bathroom. For some reason, they felt sticky and weird the moment I put them on. I hadn’t taken more than a few steps when a knock echoed from the front door. Thump. Thump. Thump. My heart leaped into my throat. I stood frozen, silent, my fists clenched so tight my nails dug into my palms. I wanted to scream, to unleash all the rage from what I had suffered. But I took a deep breath and quietly dialed 9-1-1. The knocking continued, and the man’s disgusting voice filtered through the door. “Miss, company policy says I have to see the recipient in person. I know you’re in there. Please come get your food. I’m a busy man.” … I would not fall for the same trap twice. I was surprisingly calm now. As the knocking grew more violent, a few books tumbled from the top of the bookshelf. I bent to pick them up. That’s when I saw it. A comic book I had never seen before. It had fallen open to a page where a bold title shocked me to my core: THE PSYCHO DRIVER MURDERS. As if possessed, I picked it up. The woman being murdered in the comic… looked exactly like me.

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My coworker and I were browsing the mall on our lunch break. I glanced at a Sephora, and she immediately grabbed my arm, pulling me inside. “Ooh, see something you like, sweetie? Spend a hundred and get forty dollars off. Help me hit the minimum!” She pressured me into piling a bunch of sale items I didn’t want into my basket so we could check out together. The final bill came to $118. My share was $58; hers was $60. “Sweetie, with the $40 discount, my part is basically covered, so we’re even, okay?” she chirped. “Plus, look! There’s a gift with purchase. I’ll chip in a dollar so you can get this $15 shampoo. It’s all yours. See how thoughtful I am?” She nudged me forward. “Go on, scan your rewards card so we can check out.” I gave her an innocent look. “Oh, I’m not a member.” She pouted theatrically. “Then sign up! It’s only five bucks!” She snatched my phone, ready to do it herself. But the payment screen flashed a notification: Insufficient Funds. My coworker, Lillian, froze. She’d already torn open the packaging on her items, confident I wouldn’t back out. 1 Lillian stood there, locked in a tense standoff with the cashier, before finally shooting me a venomous glare and reluctantly signing up for the rewards program herself. She stepped up to the register under the cashier’s impatient gaze. “So, that’s forty dollars off, right?” “Ma’am,” the cashier said in a monotone, “too many of your items are already on clearance. The best we can do is twenty percent off.” “What?! Then I don’t want any of it!” “Ma’am, you’ve already opened the packaging. You have to pay.” Lillian’s face flushed crimson. She whirled around to face me. “Zoe, just use Afterpay. I’ll pay you back later.” I pulled out my phone and tapped at the screen for an eternity, feigning confusion. “After… what? I don’t think I have that.” Lillian’s patience snapped. She grabbed the phone to set it up for me, only to let out a strangled cry when she saw the credit limit it offered. “How is your limit only a hundred dollars?!” “I’ve, uh, never used it before,” I mumbled. “Then request an increase!” “But… it says here any increase won’t take effect until next month.” “You…!” The cashier had seen enough. “Ma’am, are you going to pay or not? I’m about to call security.” “Fine! Can we use her hundred dollars from Afterpay, and I’ll pay the rest?” “No, ma’am. The transaction has to be processed as one payment.” I silently cheered for the cashier. Usually, they could split payments, but she was clearly done with Lillian’s drama. Finally, cornered and out of options, Lillian had to put the entire purchase on her own credit card. All the way back to the office, her eyes were fixed on me, dark and resentful. “Zoe, I remember you used to save money every month. How can you not even have five dollars to spare now?” Her probing gaze scanned me from head to toe, as if searching for a hidden wallet. I showed her the screen of my investment app. “I locked it all up in a high-yield CD. I don’t even have enough for living expenses right now. I have to ask my mom for lunch money.” “You didn’t do that just to avoid splitting things with me, did you?” “Of course not…” Her face instantly darkened, her voice turning sharp and accusatory. “Zoe, if I hadn’t begged our manager, Ms. Evans, to keep you, you wouldn’t have even made it past your probation. And this is how you treat me? You’re going to nickel-and-dime me now?” She raised her voice. “If you think I’m taking advantage of you, then just stop having lunch with me! I only ask you because you look so pathetic with no one else to eat with. And in return, you make a huge scene at Sephora over a stupid discount?” “That was over a hundred dollars! That’s half a week’s rent for me! All because you wanted to go shopping, I helped you get a discount, and then you tried to stick me with the bill!” Her voice was so loud that the entire office had gone silent, all eyes on us. 2 Before I could say another word, a few colleagues drifted over. “Zoe, how could you do that?” one of them chimed in. “You know Lillian’s family situation is difficult. Why would you set her up like that?” “Yeah, Lily, do you still have the receipt? Just make her pay you back for her stuff.” “Honestly, you should just stop having lunch with Zoe,” another added, patting Lillian’s shoulder. “Come eat with us, so she can’t bully you anymore.” Lillian covered her face with her hands, but from an angle only I could see, she shot me a triumphant smirk. I lowered my head, my fists clenching at my sides. It was always like this. Lillian had started at the company two months before me, yet we were both made permanent on the same day. I’d been on my way to ask Ms. Evans about the length of my probationary period when Lillian pulled me aside, a conspiratorial whisper in her voice. “Sweetie, you have no idea. Ms. Evans was about to let you go. I had to tell her that if you left, I’d walk too. That’s the only reason she reluctantly kept you on,” she’d said. “She’s still not your biggest fan, so you’d better not get on her bad side.” It was my first job out of college. I was clueless about probation standards and office politics, so I swallowed her story whole. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I started treating her to lunch, chipping in extra for her share of group orders, and always covering the difference so she could get free delivery on her coffee. She accepted it all without a second thought, as if it were her due. It wasn’t until a few days ago, when I overheard her talking to Ms. Evans, that I learned the truth. She was the one who had failed her probation. She had only saved her job by claiming that if she was fired, I would quit in solidarity. I, on the other hand, had been made permanent ahead of schedule. From that moment on, my guard was up. But she’d been there longer, was better at networking, and was more popular. Every time she twisted the truth, my explanations just made me look like I was being cheap. She delighted in having me as her “lunch buddy,” all because I owed her a “huge favor.” Everyone else just thought she was being kind to the lonely new girl. This time, however, I had reached my limit. With a cold laugh, I fished the crumpled receipt from the trash and slammed it onto her desk. “If you all feel so sorry for her, why don’t you pay for her stuff?” I pointed at the list of items. “I have dry skin. She has combination-oily. Take a good look at this pile of oil-control skincare and tell me who really wanted it, and who got dragged along to help someone else get a discount!” My sudden counterattack left everyone stunned. It was the first time they had ever seen the quiet, agreeable Zoe fight back. 3 Lillian panicked. “What oily skin? My face isn’t oily at all!” But the more frantic she became, the more curious everyone else grew. The coworker who had spoken up for her first glanced at the receipt, then at Lillian’s shiny forehead, and fell silent. Another colleague chimed in, her tone hesitant. “Lily, that’s… not quite what you told us just now.” Lillian’s confidence began to crumble as the looks from her coworkers turned from sympathy to suspicion. “Sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she said, quickly changing her tune and turning to me. “My big mouth got away from me again. I didn’t realize everyone would react so strongly…” She forced a laugh. “It’s fine, everyone, we bicker like this all the time. Don’t be mad at Zoe. Let’s just get back to work.” Normally, this tactic worked. It would make everyone think I had started the fight, and their opinion of me would sink even lower. But this time, no one took her side. After a few awkward chuckles, the small crowd actually dispersed. Seeing that her attempt to guilt me into giving her money had failed, Lillian’s face soured even more. “Zoe, why did you have to embarrass me in front of everyone?” “Whatever,” she huffed. “You owe me an apology. Buy me a coffee, and we’ll call it even.” I ignored her, my eyes fixed on the proposal I was typing. It was due this afternoon, and I had no more time for her games. “Did you hear me? If it weren’t for me begging Ms. Evans, you would’ve been long gone—” I whipped my head around, my glare sharp enough to cut glass. “You want to go ask Ms. Evans right now? See who she really wanted to keep?” I leaned in. “It seems strange for a company to make an underperforming intern permanent ahead of schedule. But someone who barely scraped by after a three-month probation? Now that seems a lot more plausible, don’t you think?” The color drained from her face. Her bravado vanished, and she snapped her mouth shut. If Ms. Evans found out she’d lied to secure her position, even her signed contract wouldn’t save her from the consequences. The rest of the afternoon was blissfully peaceful. I put the finishing touches on the proposal I’d spent two weeks perfecting. But thanks to the dodgy new hot pot place Lillian had insisted on for lunch, my stomach started churning violently. I saved my work hastily and made a mad dash for the restroom. When I returned to my desk and submitted the final proposal, I saw Lillian watching me, a strange, knowing smile playing on her lips. 4 The next morning, I rushed into the office right on the dot, only to be met by our manager’s roar, a sound so loud it nearly rattled the ceiling tiles. “Zoe! In my office, now!” As I dropped my bag, I caught a glimpse of Lillian, sitting at her desk and calmly inspecting her nails, the corner of her mouth curved into a smug, triumphant arc. Ms. Evans’s office door flew open with a bang. She slammed a stack of papers onto her desk. “Explain this. Why is your proposal identical to Lillian’s? And why did she submit hers a full half-hour before you did?” My mind went blank with a deafening buzz. I suddenly remembered running to the restroom yesterday, so rushed that I’d forgotten to lock my computer. And when I came back, Lillian had been darting her eyes away from my screen. Taking a deep breath, I opened my cloud storage and local drive. A dozen documents, all neatly labeled with dates, lined up on the screen. The earliest file was last modified two weeks ago. “Ms. Evans, I wrote this proposal myself. I have backups of the entire process,” I said, my voice steady. “Here are all the daily drafts, including the initial research data, mind maps, and all my email correspondence with the client.” Ms. Evans squinted at my screen, her expression growing darker by the second. Lillian had somehow materialized at the doorway, her voice trembling. “Zoe… I know you’ve never liked me, but you can’t just accuse me of plagiarism…” Her eyes instantly welled up, making her look like a terrified rabbit. I let out a cold laugh. “Accuse you? All my work, every step of it, is right here. Where’s yours?” Lillian’s face turned a blotchy red. She stammered for a moment before blurting out, “I… I don’t keep backups! I just write it all in one go!” “Oh, really? Then why does your ‘one-go’ version contain the same incorrect data points that I hadn’t gotten around to fixing from last week’s draft?” I projected both proposals side-by-side on the large screen, circling seven or eight identical errors in bright red. The office was dead silent. A few coworkers quietly scooted their chairs back a few inches. Ms. Evans slammed her palm on the desk. “Lillian! Last time, at the team-building event, you falsified an invoice. I let it slide as a first offense. But stealing a colleague’s work? Half your salary this month is gone, and you can forget about your bonus! One more time, and you’re fired!” She grabbed her mug and took a long swig, then pointed at me. “And Zoe… great proposal. I’m doubling your bonus. But let this be a lesson. From now on, you take your laptop with you to the bathroom!” Lillian’s nails dug into her palms. With a sudden shriek, she lunged at me. “Zoe, you set me up! Are you trying to ruin my life? You know about my toxic family! I’ll be ruined if I don’t have money!” I sidestepped her easily. “That sounds like a you problem. Maybe your ‘toxic family’ shouldn’t have taught you to steal other people’s work.” 5 The truce between Lillian and me was officially over. Her reputation in the office plummeted. No one wanted to associate with a backstabbing plagiarist. On payday, a small crowd gathered curiously by the finance office. Lillian had been sniffing around all day, trying to find out what I made, but now that she was a pariah, no one would tell her anything. I made a point of unfolding my pay stub in plain sight. With full attendance, overtime, and a doubled bonus, my paycheck had broken five figures. A few friendly colleagues congratulated me. “You earned it, Zoe. You were working insane hours and running all over town last month. I’m not even jealous.” Lillian’s face turned the color of beet soup. She snatched the pay stub from my hand, her shriek nearly piercing my eardrums. “You made this much? I only got two thousand!” She quickly reined in her emotions, forcing a grotesque smile. “Zoe, since you made so much this month, you have to treat everyone, right?” I waved my hand magnanimously. “Sure. The new bistro downstairs is on me. Everyone’s invited… except for Miss Lillian, of course. I wouldn’t dare. Who knows if you’d order a feast and try to sneak it home in your purse like you did at the last team dinner?” Her composure finally shattered. She lunged at me again, ready to claw my eyes out. A few male coworkers stepped in, grabbing her arms as she thrashed, her furious glare locked on me. “This is my bonus you’re flaunting!” she roared. “You stepped on me to get it! You took what was mine! I don’t care—either you treat me to dinner or you give me half of that bonus!” The sheer audacity of it was almost impressive. I laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. I opened my expense tracking app and turned the screen for everyone to see. “You want to talk about who owes who? I’ve got a list.” “From last March until now, you’ve mooched 87 lunches, 53 coffees, and 21 shared cab rides off me. I’ll round down for you. That comes to a grand total of twelve hundred dollars. You can transfer it to me now.” Gasps rippled through the onlookers as they saw the itemized list. The whispers started immediately. “She mooched that much? What a parasite!” “So when she told us Zoe was being cheap, she was just straight-up lying?” “Wow, Zoe, you have the patience of a saint for putting up with her this long.” Lillian looked like a chicken being strangled. She stumbled backward, and under a chorus of hisses and boos, she fled into the restroom, shooting me one last look of pure, undiluted hatred. 6 The next morning, all hell broke loose in front of our office building. A haggard-looking couple with faces like crumpled maps had Lillian cornered, shaking her by the arm and screaming. “You deadbeat girl! You promised to send five thousand a month! Where is it?” Lillian was a sobbing, sniffling mess. “I got docked this month… I really don’t have any money…” The woman collapsed onto the pavement, wailing. “Ungrateful child! We would’ve been better off raising a pig! You’re going to quit this job right now and come back home to get married!” Lillian clung to the company’s front door like her life depended on it, a picture of such desperation that even the new interns looked away, embarrassed. Suddenly, she turned on her parents. “This is your fault! It was your idea! Why else would I have stolen someone’s proposal? Now my best friend won’t even speak to me!” she shrieked. “Everyone at work hates me! Are you happy now?! I’m not getting married! This is all your fault!” Then, her eyes found me in the crowd of onlookers, her expression shifting to one of undisguised pleading. A flicker of pity stirred in me. Lillian had often complained about her family, about growing up in a household that blatantly favored her brother. He got the best of everything, while she had to scheme and scrape for every penny of her own. Maybe she truly wanted to change, but the damage her parents had done was too deep, making it nearly impossible for her to form healthy relationships. I hesitated, then stepped forward. “Sir, ma’am, if you don’t stop this, we’re going to have to call the police.” “This is a family matter! Call them, see if we care!” the man sneered, and to prove his point, he kicked Lillian hard in the shin. “You useless girl, if you get your father and me arrested, the first thing we’ll do when we get out is kill you!” Seeing me step in to defend her, Lillian’s expression became a complicated mix of shame and hope. She started apologizing to me profusely while dodging their blows. Gritting my teeth, I took out my phone and transferred half of my newly acquired bonus to her. “You want money, right? Take it and go! And stay away from her!” The couple’s demeanor changed instantly. They exchanged a greedy look, snatched the phone to check the transfer, and stalked away, still muttering under their breath that Lillian had better send the rest next month. The drama was finally over. As the crowd dispersed, Lillian threw herself into my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “Zoe, you’re too good to me… I’m so, so sorry for everything!” “I’ll never take advantage of you again!” “I swear, I’ll pay you back!”

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