Author: Momo Chan

1 My senior year was a blur of caffeine and code. I pushed myself to the limit studying for the coveted internship at a top tech firm—and earned first place. My boyfriend Mark ranked 42nd. We’d intern together. But then he texted: “Vivi didn’t make it. Since you got first, you can go anywhere. I declined your offer so she could get in.” Stunned, I called HR. They apologized—the spot was already filled. I checked Vivi’s social media. Her latest post: “Finally got you ” with a photo of Mark holding her acceptance letter. I took a deep breath and called my mom. “I’m done with the internship. I’m ready to take over the family business.” She sighed in relief. Then Mark messaged: “Vivi fought hard for this. Don’t be selfish—think about her for once.” I laughed—a cold, empty sound. When I called him, all the warmth was gone from my voice. “Mark, is my hard work really that worthless to you?” “I’m throwing a tantrum? I bled for that opportunity. Why the hell should I just hand it over to her? Did you even consider my feelings for a second before you made that decision for me?” On the other end, Mark sounded self-righteous, completely unapologetic. “I just figured, since you ranked first, you could get a job anywhere. Vivi isn’t like you.” “So because she’s not good enough, because she barely scraped by, you decided to sacrifice my chance for hers?” I cut him off, my voice like ice. “I’m a person, Mark, not a stepping stone for someone else.” “If you actually cared about me,” I said, my tone final, “you would never have dismissed my efforts like this.” He ignored my point completely, circling back to defend her. “How can you say that? Vivi worked really hard too! At the end of the day, you’re just not willing to make a small sacrifice for a friend. We could have all been interning together.” I let out a cold laugh. The last bit of warmth in my heart turned to frost. “Interning together.” The words were a thorn in my side. I thought he understood, that he saw the journey I’d taken. But I was just a background character in his story, a pawn to be sacrificed for the benefit of others. I didn’t argue anymore. “Then you can go intern with her,” I said flatly, and hung up. The rain continued to fall, blurring the world outside into an indistinct gray haze, just like the future of our relationship. His words were both laughable and insulting. Did I need this internship? No, not really. But what mattered to me was whether my effort, my achievement, was worthy of respect. I wanted this because he was there. I wanted to build something with him, on our own merits, without my family’s name or money. But now I understood. Some paths, you have to walk alone. 2 The next morning, our academic advisor posted a link in the group chat for us to confirm our internship placements. I took a deep breath, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. In the end, I typed in the full name of the tech firm. Mark saw the public confirmation sheet and messaged me immediately, his tone urgent. “Jane, why did you still put down the Firm? I know you’re mad, but there’s no spot for you there anymore.” “Look, I know you’re too proud to admit you have to look elsewhere, but if you submit false information, you won’t be able to graduate!” I stared at the screen and smiled. “Don’t you worry about me, Mark. I’m going to the Firm.” He was silent for a few seconds, then sent, “Is this just because you want to intern with me?” “Just listen, okay? I’ll help you look for other companies. We won’t be at the same firm, but we’ll still be in the same city!” I never realized how conceited he was. “No thanks,” I typed, then turned off my screen. For the next few days, he spammed me with job links, from “$15/hour, room and board included” to “Join our startup and build your dream!” He even sent a flyer for a part-time barista position with the note: “Just to tide you over. I can support you.” He called to ask what I thought. My reply was a single, cold word. “No.” He didn’t contact me again for days. Then he showed up outside my dorm, holding an internship agreement, the Firm’s logo emblazoned on the cover. He held it out to me, his tone a mixture of charity and pride. “I had to beg my mentor, but I managed to get you this spot. It’s not an official internship, but you can shadow the project team and learn.” In other words, an unpaid gofer. I glanced at it but didn’t take it. “Why don’t you give this wonderful opportunity to your dear Vivi?” His face darkened. “Jane, Vivi isn’t as brilliant as you. She doesn’t get as many chances in life.” I stared at him, a bitter taste in my mouth. So, the successful are supposed to sacrifice for the unsuccessful, just to give them a shot? Because the successful will just… get more chances later? The exhaustion I felt was bone-deep, his words a dull knife sawing at my heart. “Mark, I don’t have to intern with you.” His eyes widened, a flicker of panic finally showing through. Just then, Vivi walked out of the women’s dorm. Seeing the agreement in Mark’s hand, she hurried over. “Jane, Mark was just trying to help…” I cut her off, my voice calm but frigid. “Vivi, do I need his help? Do you not remember whose spot that was supposed to be?” Her face went pale, and she looked at Mark with a wounded expression. Mark frowned, pulling her behind him protectively. “That’s enough, Jane. I already went out of my way to get you this position. Why do you have to be so aggressive?” “You’re the top student, right? Just get your foot in the door and then fight for an official spot. What’s the big deal?” He said it so easily, as if all I had to do was show up to get a promotion. I stared at him in silence. Realizing he’d gone too far, his tone softened. “Jane, I didn’t mean it like that. I just think you’re so talented, you can definitely do it.” “Look, we can still work together. We can get a place together, the three of us. Work together, live together. Wouldn’t that be great?”

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In my past life, when my grandmother was on her deathbed, my twin sister and I were summoned to her side. It was time to divide the family assets. I drew the lot for the old family estate in the countryside. My sister, Iris, inherited the thriving factory. A few years later, her factory went bankrupt due to mismanagement. Meanwhile, the dilapidated estate everyone had dismissed was slated for a major development project. The government buyout made me a multi-millionaire overnight. I became the object of everyone’s envy, a nouveau-riche success story. Iris was left destitute. When I went to visit her, bringing gifts, she looked at me with pure hatred and plunged a knife into my heart. “Why should you get so much money without even trying?” she screamed. “I worked myself to the bone for that factory, and I ended up a beggar!” The pain was absolute. My consciousness faded. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at my grandmother’s bedside. This time, I made the first move. “Grandma, we don’t need to draw lots. Let Iris choose first.” … 1 “Penny, don’t pretend to be so generous,” my mother snapped impatiently. “There are only two of you. As the older sister, you should listen to your younger sister anyway.” “She told you to draw first, so just do it. Stop wasting time.” I was taken aback for a second, then a bitter smile touched my lips. Iris raised an eyebrow, her voice soft. “Grandma said drawing lots is the only fair way. But since my sister is letting me go first, I suppose I’ll just…” She was the same as always—playing the part of the innocent, sweet girl while finding the perfect moment to splash mud on me. My father cut her off, ignoring her act. “Penny, you draw first.” I was surprised. My parents had always doted on Iris, giving her the best of everything. Why, on a matter this important, were they insisting I choose first? “How about this,” Grandma said, pushing herself up in bed with a cough. “No drawing lots. Let Iris pick what she wants, and Penny will take the other. It’s a good thing for a child to know how to be considerate.” Iris bit her lip, her eyes darting back and forth as if weighing a heavy decision. Then, she spoke slowly. “I… I want the old family estate.” The air in the room seemed to crystallize. A strange, heavy silence descended. I saw my parents’ eyes go wide with shock, their mouths agape. So, Iris, you were reborn too. In our last life, she couldn’t wait to draw first. This time, her performance of self-sacrifice was clearly a calculated move to avoid repeating her mistakes. A cold smirk formed in my mind. “The old estate?” my father murmured, his voice laced with disbelief. Grandma shot a sharp look at my sister, then spoke. “Then the factory will go to Penny.” No one dared to defy my grandmother. The agreements were signed right there, at her bedside. My parents then left with Iris, leaving me behind to look after Grandma. I quietly followed them out, pressing myself against the wall to overhear their conversation. “Iris, honey, what were you thinking, choosing the estate?” my mother asked, her tone thick with frustration. “You know it’s worthless! The factory has a much brighter future.” Iris was unfazed, her voice bright with a secret excitement. “You don’t understand! The estate is going to make me rich! I’ll be a millionaire!” My father just ruffled her hair, his voice dripping with affection. “Our Iris can have whatever she wants. Daddy will always have your back.” Then, he added casually, “Next time, just tell me what you want beforehand, sweetheart. You have no idea—your mother and I wrote ‘ancestral home’ on both slips of paper for the drawing.” “After your sister drew her lot, we were just going to announce the other one was the factory without even opening it.” The words were a bitter pill. It was all a setup, a scheme to ensure their precious Iris got the more valuable asset. I felt a sudden warmth on my cheek and realized I was crying. I’d always known they favored her, but why did it still hurt so much? I walked back to the room in a daze. Grandma patted the bed, motioning for me to sit. From under her pillow, she pulled out a thick file folder. “Penny, my dear,” she said, her voice weak. “I know your parents’ favoritism runs so deep it could fill an ocean.” “What’s in this folder… I suspect it’s what you’ll need most.” “When you have truly hit rock bottom, when you have nowhere else to turn, open it. Don’t tell them about it. This is the last thing your grandma can do for you.” She told me this between fits of coughing. I finally broke, collapsing into her arms, my body wracked with sobs. I wasn’t unloved. Someone in this world truly loved me. When I got home, I hid the folder in the safest place I could find. 2 The factory was on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t large, but it was well-kept. When I first arrived, the workers welcomed me with warmth and respect. For a few days, I felt like I had won at life. But I knew it was just an illusion. With Iris choosing the estate, my parents felt she had made a great sacrifice. They treated her like a fragile treasure, spoiling her beyond belief. “What does our darling Iris want to eat today?” “Lobster!” This was our daily reality. Whatever Iris wanted, she got. Designer clothes, the newest phone, luxury handbags—nothing was denied her. I would see her and my mother at the mall, hand-in-hand, and each time it felt like a needle piercing my heart. One evening at home, I glanced for a moment too long at Iris and her new shopping bags. My father’s voice cut through the silence. “What are you looking at?” he snapped. “You got the whole factory. Isn’t that enough for you?” He slammed his fork down, rattling the plates on the table. “Your sister was considerate of you. The least you can do is be grateful.” “Remember to use your earnings to buy nice things for your sister, you hear me?” I didn’t answer. I just lowered my head, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. My days were a blur of work until the early hours of the morning—checking accounts, chasing orders, negotiating prices, adjusting production schedules. In my past life, my parents had handled all of this for Iris. They had indulged her every whim, even sinking a fortune into a useless raw material that never yielded a viable product. When the factory failed, they blamed their own incompetence, never once casting fault on her. “Ma’am, have you reviewed last night’s production plan?” my assistant asked one evening, his voice gentle. It was another late night at the factory. I nodded, rubbing my tired eyes. “It’s late, Cole. You should go home. Take tomorrow off.” He hesitated, then left, closing the door softly behind him. The office was quiet again. Business was stable, neither booming nor failing. I thought I could just keep things afloat, but one morning, Cole burst into my office. “Ma’am, it’s bad! Mr. Harrison just called. He’s raising the price of our raw materials by fifty percent!” The folder in my hand slipped and clattered to the floor. “Did he say why?” Cole shook his head helplessly. “Set up a dinner. I’ll talk to him. See if there’s any room to negotiate.” At the restaurant, Mr. Harrison’s smile was painfully fake. “Penny,” he said, raising his glass, “it’s not personal. The economy’s been tough. We have to make a living too.” “I understand,” I replied, matching his smile and raising my own glass. After a few drinks, he was thoroughly drunk. “Penny…” he slurred, leaning in conspiratorially. “If you want to blame someone… you should blame your parents, not me…” “It was your parents… they came to me… told me to raise the price.” “Said your sister thought a young person needed… to be tested. That it was for your own good.” The rest of his words were a drunken mumble. The room started to spin. Iris. It was you again. I tried so hard to stay out of your way, but you just won’t let me be. 3 The factory was on life support. I was spinning like a top, so busy I didn’t even have time to visit my grandmother. I’d been living at the factory for a week straight when my parents called to tell me she had passed away. I felt like I was floating, completely disconnected from my own body. “Your factory has money, doesn’t it? You can pay for the funeral,” my mother said, her tone a command. “Mom, things are tight at the factory right now. I don’t have the money…” I mumbled, ashamed. “Grandma doted on you your whole life, and you won’t even give her a decent funeral?” my father roared, his face turning purple. I had no choice. I scraped together every last penny I had and gave my grandmother a respectable service. At the funeral, my parents and Iris wept dramatically. “Iris loved her grandmother so much,” my mother told the other relatives, dabbing her eyes. “She even paid for this beautiful funeral herself.” But it was my money. I stepped forward to correct her, but my father grabbed me and dragged me into a corner. “Were you about to say something?” he hissed, his hand tight on my collar. “What is there to explain? You took the factory. This is what you owe her. So what if we ask you to spend a little money on her behalf?” His tone shifted to an accusatory growl. “Don’t you want to hear people praise your sister?” Why was it that everything I did ended up being a victory for her? A lump formed in my throat. I fought back tears and shook my head. “No.” “You’d better not. I’m telling you, if you say one word out of line at your grandmother’s funeral, you’ll regret it.” He shoved me away and went back to comforting his grieving wife and daughter. The week after the funeral, we were supposed to have a memorial dinner for the family. Of course, I was expected to pay for that, too. Iris arrived like a movie star, dressed in a new designer dress, a diamond-encrusted clutch in her hand. “My poor sister, you’ve been working so hard,” she said, feigning concern as she greeted our relatives. “The factory must be in a tough spot. But you’re determined to be an entrepreneur, aren’t you? You can’t give up over a few small setbacks.” The monumental obstacles she had created were dismissed as “small setbacks.” I nearly laughed out loud. She linked her arm through mine. “I believe in you, sister. You won’t fail right out of the gate, will you?” The relatives chuckled. “Penny doesn’t really have the makings of a businesswoman, does she?” “It’s only been a month and the factory is already on the verge of collapse.” “Honestly, Penny, you should have just given the factory to Iris. She would have done a much better job.” Their words were a physical weight on my chest. I forced a smile, my fingers gripping my napkin so tightly my knuckles turned white. “I’ll do my best,” I managed to say, the taste of blood in my mouth.

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1 I pulled my in-laws from the mudslide’s grip, hauling them onto the speedboat. Just as I caught my breath, a deafening roar split the sky. A swarm of my husband Roger’s industrial drones was diving right for us. High above, in his helicopter, he had his arm around his young assistant, watching the show with a smirk. The drones’ propellers churned the river into a vicious vortex, threatening to swallow our small boat whole. I frantically dialed his number. “Roger, are you insane? Your parents are on this boat!” A light chuckle came through the phone. “A year ago, Lila’s parents were trapped in a flash flood. You were the rescue captain, but you saved everyone else and left them to die.” “Today,” he purred, “I’m going to let you taste what it feels like to watch your family get swallowed whole.” His assistant, Lila, squealed in delight. “You’re amazing, Roger! I want to see those old geezers dragged to the bottom of the river!” The speedboat bucked violently. My in-laws clung to me, their bodies trembling. I screamed into the phone, “Roger, look closer! It’s your mother and father on this boat!” … “Still playing these stupid games, Rhea?” he scoffed. “My parents went to the chapel at Crestview Mountain for a spiritual retreat today. I dropped them at the airport myself this morning. Maybe use your brain before you start lying?” Lila snatched the phone from him. “This is what you get, Rhea! It’s karma! You let my parents die, and now you and those two old imposters can go straight to hell and keep them company!” I wanted to have my in-laws explain, to shout their identities into the phone. But they were shivering uncontrollably, their faces caked in mud, their hair plastered to their skulls in tangled knots. In their wretched state, they were unrecognizable. “You’re both completely insane!” I roared, hanging up the phone. There was no time. Any more delay and the boat would capsize. My mother-in-law’s face was a mask of pale terror as she gripped my arm. “Rhea, what’s wrong with Roger? He wouldn’t really kill us, would he? I’m his mother!” My father-in-law, a stoic man his entire life, was just as pale. I had no time to comfort them. The slightest mistake now meant we’d all be dead. The drones were creating a powerful vortex, a whirlpool trying to suck us down. “Hold on tight!” I yelled, slamming the throttle forward. Just then, a drone swooped in low. A propeller blade sliced across my cheek. “Blood! Rhea, your face!” my mother-in-law shrieked. My father-in-law roared at the sky, “Roger, you monster! That’s your wife!” I gritted my teeth, the movement pulling at the fresh wound. Damn, that hurt. Roger’s cold laughter boomed from the helicopter’s loudspeaker. “Still got the energy to curse me? Looks like you two old fools are tired of living!” The swarm of drones slammed into us. The boat rocked so violently it almost threw us into the churning water. The river poured over the sides, and the bow of the speedboat plunged beneath the surface. As we were about to be dragged under, my mother-in-law let out a scream of pure despair. The next second, a grappling hook shot down from Roger’s helicopter, clamping firmly onto the bow. My phone rang again. It was Roger. I immediately put it on speaker. “Scared yet? Sign the document in your email right now, and maybe I’ll let you live.” What in the world could he want so badly? I pulled out my phone to check. When I opened the email, my blood ran cold. It was a waiver, admitting I had intentionally abandoned the rescue of Lila’s parents and accepting full legal responsibility for all casualties in the disaster a year ago. But the flash flood was caused by Roger’s company cutting corners and violating safety codes, destabilizing the entire mountainside. Now he wanted to make me his scapegoat, and hand Lila a massive settlement in the process? If I signed this, I’d spend the rest of my life in prison. My mother-in-law leaned over, her body shaking as she read the screen. She broke down, sobbing. “That monster! How did we raise such a heartless beast?” she wailed. “He’s trying to kill his own wife, his own parents, all for that little tramp!” My father-in-law grabbed my phone and pointed it at the helicopter, his voice raw with fury. “Roger, you soulless bastard! Look at me! I’m your father! Are you going to kill your own mother and father?” “You get down here right now! I will never let my daughter-in-law sign that piece of trash!” A wave of warmth and sorrow washed over me. In three years of marriage, they had always treated me like their own daughter. But Roger just laughed. “You senile old bastard, you still think you can impersonate my father? You must be desperate to live, huh? My father is a Thorne. You think he’d be a filthy, mud-caked beggar like you? Rhea, I’m warning you, don’t push me! Sign it! My patience is running out!” Several drones revved their engines, their sharp propellers spinning towards us. One of them sliced into my father-in-law’s arm, opening a gash so deep I could see bone. “Have you made up your mind? If not, I can just send you all to hell to think it over!” “Richard!” my mother-in-law screamed, scrambling to press her hands against his bleeding wound. I stared up at Roger’s drone fleet, my gaze like ice. “Roger, you really think you’ve won, don’t you?” He snorted. “Still acting tough when you’re about to die? Your lives are in my hands!” I slowly shook my head. “You’re just a puppet, letting someone pull your strings while you convince yourself you’re avenging a lost love.” “What are you talking about?” “I’m saying you’re going to regret this. Very soon.” Lila’s shrill voice cut in. “Roger, darling, don’t listen to her lies! She’s just trying to stall for time! Kill her! Kill her now!” That was all it took. Roger’s patience snapped. “Fine! You want to do this the hard way? Then do it!” Dozens of drones simultaneously extended sharp, metallic prods. These were industrial-grade machines; a single one could punch right through our hull. I reached into my emergency pack and pulled out an object. BANG! A flare shot into the sky. Roger erupted in laughter. “A flare gun? Hahahahaha… Rhea, did the river water rot your brain? I’ve jammed every signal in this area. You could shoot a hole in the sky and no one would come to save you!” The wind howled, whipping the waves into a frenzy. My in-laws closed their eyes, their faces etched with despair. I watched the flare reach its apex and explode in a shower of sparks. “Roger,” I said, my voice calm, “do you have any idea what level of jammer is built into this flare gun?” He paused, confused. Before he could ask what I meant, his entire drone fleet went haywire. One by one, the drones faltered, then dropped from the sky like stones, sinking into the murky depths. The triumphant laughter from the helicopter died. “What happened? Roger, what’s wrong with your drones?” Lila cried. I quickly unhooked the grappling claw and gunned the engine, steering the damaged speedboat towards the shore. But Roger was enraged. He piloted the helicopter lower, pressing down on us. “You think it’s over, Rhea?” The grappling hook shot towards us again. My face paled. I grabbed my in-laws, trying to get them away. “Jump! We have to jump!” If we didn’t get out now, the helicopter’s rotors would shred us to pieces. My father-in-law shoved my mother-in-law towards me. “Rhea, get your mother out of here! I’ll hold him off!” “Richard!” she screamed. But it was too late. The metal claw shot out, impaling my father-in-law through his already wounded arm, and hoisted him into the air. He screamed in agony as blood poured down his side, staining his clothes a deep crimson. “Still talking tough, old man? Weren’t you the one who said you’d rather die than sign? Let’s see how tough you really are!” Roger swung the crane arm back and forth, dangling his father mercilessly through the air. My mother-in-law fainted from the shock, collapsing into my arms. They never should have been here. They only came to this disaster zone to clean up a mess Roger had made, and now they were being hunted down by angry victims and their own son. “Roger, stop it!” I screamed. “You’re going to kill him!” “Oh, so now you’re begging?” Roger’s laughter was manic. “Sign the document! Or I’ll drop this old bastard in the river and let him drown!” “Fine, fine, I’ll sign! I’m signing it now!” I didn’t hesitate. I opened the email on my phone and uploaded my digital signature. My father-in-law’s voice was a weak rasp. “You… you little monster… I’m your father…” After Roger received the confirmation email, his laughter turned cruel and final. “Old man, I’m done with you. And since you’re all so ungrateful, you can go down and keep Lila’s parents company!” He released the crane. My father-in-law’s body plummeted into the churning brown water and vanished. “No!” “Dad!” I lunged forward, trying to grab him, but my hands closed on nothing but muddy water. “Go on and cry, Rhea. Why aren’t you crying?” Roger taunted. “Is this how you watched Lila’s parents die? Just standing there, cold as ice?” Lila’s voice was laced with a sick excitement. “Get the old hag too, Roger! Finish her off!” My mother-in-law stirred, her eyes fluttering open. She looked around, confused. “Rhea, where’s your father?” She followed my gaze to the turbulent surface of the river and understood everything. Roger was closing in again. I had no choice but to drag her towards the shore. The downdraft from the helicopter’s rotors was so strong it nearly pinned us to the ground. I pushed her with all my might. “Mom, run! Go!” Roger had lost all control. “Game over, Rhea.” A chill ran down my spine. I looked back. He was leaning out of the cockpit, a modified nail gun in his hand. The barrel was pointed straight at us. Lila clapped her hands. “Let them feel what it’s like to have their bones shattered! Make it so Rhea can’t even crawl away!” My scalp prickled with fear. “Mom, faster!” The rocky slope of the riverbank was just ahead. If we could just climb up, find some cover… BANG! An explosion of pain in my right knee. I collapsed into the mud, unable to stand. My leg was soaked in blood, a gory hole where I could see splintered bone. “Rhea!” My mother-in-law, who had just reached the top of the slope, turned and saw me fall. Without a second thought, she scrambled back down towards me. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I screamed through the pain, “Mom, don’t come back! Run! Go find Julian! Only Julian can stop him!” Julian was Roger’s uncle, the true head of the Thorne family. If he found out what Roger had done, that he’d murdered his own father, Roger’s life would be over. “I’m not leaving you!” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “I can’t leave you alone! If we’re going to die, we’ll die together!” But she was a woman who had lived a life of comfort, not hardship. She didn’t have the strength to drag me. After a few desperate attempts, we were both sinking deeper into the mud. With a final, desperate look, she steeled herself and turned, scrambling back up the slope. “Wait for me, Rhea! You have to stay alive!” I had saved so many people in my life—from fires, from collapsed buildings, from floods. But today, I couldn’t even save myself. I pushed myself up slightly, wanting to watch her get a little farther away. But the helicopter shifted, its sights now set on the small, struggling figure on the slope. Roger raised the nail gun, taking aim at his own mother. Panic seized me. “Roger, look! That’s your mother! Your own mother!” A sneer echoed from the loudspeaker. “Rhea, are you still trying that pathetic lie?” Lila’s sickly sweet voice followed. “She’s trying to trick you, darling. Your mother is so elegant and refined. How could she possibly be that old hag rolling around in the mud?” “You’re right. My mother is sipping tea in the chapel at Crestview right now. Rhea, your time is up.” “Roger, no! If you want to kill someone, kill me!” I screamed. My mother-in-law froze on the slope, her body rigid as she looked back at me. The next second, her body was ripped apart by a volley of nails. My mind went blank. The helicopter descended, using its claw to pick up her body and drop it in the mud in front of me. I stared into her wide-open eyes, still filled with worry for me. Even in death, she was thinking of her daughter-in-law. “Nice and quiet now, isn’t it, Rhea? Enjoy the little gift I prepared for you,” Roger said. “Two old corpses. A perfect match for you.” Lila cheered. “You did it, Roger! Now those two old bastards have paid for their sins!” The helicopter landed, and Roger walked towards me, nail gun in hand. I looked at him—the man I had once loved with all my heart. Now, a demon who had just murdered his own parents. He smiled. “So pitiful. Our heroic Captain Rhea is about to meet her maker.” Lila egged him on. “Hurry up, Roger! I want to see her head explode!” I lay in the mud, the agony in my knee turning into a dull, spreading numbness. My mother-in-law’s body was right beside me. I reached out, took her cold hand, and gave it one last squeeze. “If I survive this, Roger,” I whispered, my voice a low rasp, “I will grind your bones to dust.” His laughter grew wilder. “Is that your last word? Good. I’ll send you on your way.” He raised the nail gun, aiming for my head. Just as his finger tightened on the trigger, a new sound filled the air—the thundering beat of more than a dozen helicopter rotors. They hovered above us, each one emblazoned with the Thorne family crest. Roger’s face went white as he watched a man leap from the lead helicopter.

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After the new transfer student arrived, mysterious injuries started appearing on my body. First, ligature marks on my neck. Then, bruises like fingerprints on my chest. It all came to a head during the National Scholar Championship when a wave of nausea and pain became unbearable. Just before I fainted, a stream of text floated before my eyes: [Good thing our girl is smart, seducing the male lead on purpose so the villainess screws up the competition.] [Serves that evil side character right for chasing after the male lead. This is her karma. When he gets rough and loses control, she’ll pass out and miss the whole thing. lol.] I dragged a shard of glass across my finger. The next day, the transfer student showed up with a bandage on her finger, staring at me with pure venom in her eyes. 1 Suppressed by a tidal wave of agony, I gritted my teeth and forced myself to work on the final essay question. My handwriting was a jagged scrawl. The pain in my abdomen was a relentless storm, each wave threatening to break me. The proctor noticed my distress and offered a quiet word of concern. I just shook my head, lacking the strength to even speak. I had to focus, to push through and finish the question. Another brutal cramp seized me, and I nearly dropped my pen. [Hehe, the male lead is really going for it now. The villainess still thinks she can finish the test? She’s about to pass out.] [Thank god this evil side character can absorb the damage. Otherwise, how could our girl handle this level of… intensity. ;)] [That’s why he likes our girl so much. They’re perfectly compatible. Other girls can’t handle him, but our girl can take it from start to finish.] [If it’s this wild now, imagine the ‘study session’ they’ll have before the final exams! It’s gonna be epic!] [Here it comes, here it comes—] The pen slipped from my convulsing fingers, leaving a long, black gash across the paper. A sharp cry escaped my throat before my mind went completely blank. I fainted. When I opened my eyes again, I finally understood the bizarre, floating comments. 2 The world I had lived in for eighteen years was nothing more than a trashy, erotic webnovel. The female lead they were talking about was the transfer student, Seraphina Jones. Blessed with a unique tolerance for pain, she was perfectly “compatible” with the oversized male lead, Caleb Thorne. The plot had already arranged for them to be intimately involved. And I was the villainous side character, created by the author for one purpose: to act as a pain sponge for the female lead, a tool to heighten their twisted pleasure. Suddenly, all the mysterious injuries made sense. The ligature marks on my neck last week? I’d dismissed them as my pajama strings getting tangled in my sleep. The whip-like marks on my back the other day? I’d convinced myself I’d scraped against the carved headboard. And the tearing pain in my lower body yesterday… I had been terrified I’d contracted some horrible disease. It was only now, with the explosive agony during the competition and the floating comments, that the horrifying truth dawned on me. I looked at the fresh bruises on my wrist and the red marks on my chest—they looked exactly like fingerprints, left by someone’s forceful grip. The realization of where these marks came from sent a wave of nausea through me. God, it was disgusting. I stumbled to the trash can and threw up until my stomach was empty. According to the comments, Sera and Caleb were going to ramp things up before the final college entrance exams, causing me so much pain that I’d collapse and miss them entirely. Sera would get into a top university, starting a new chapter with Caleb. My ending? I would believe I had some strange, incurable illness, and unable to bear the gossip and shame, I would commit suicide, conveniently no longer “bothering” the male lead. Perfect. Just perfect. Except… who ever said I liked the male lead? My gaze fell on the fruit knife on my nightstand. I ran my thumb along the blade. The moment the steel broke my skin, a single bead of blood, warm and crimson, rolled onto the sheet. Tomorrow, I would have my answer. 3 The next day, I was in my seat long before the first bell. Sera and Caleb strolled in late. As her almond-shaped eyes scanned the room, I caught it: a small bandage on her finger. The cut was in the exact same spot as mine. The moment Sera walked in, she launched into a tirade. “Elara, what is wrong with you? Didn’t I tell you to take care of yourself? I told you not to get hurt!” Her shouting immediately drew the attention of the entire class. And my face, which had gone cold as ice. 4 Sera was always like this. She’d boss me around and yell at me over the smallest things, but she always claimed it was because she cared, because it pained her to see me hurt. If I accidentally bumped into a desk corner, she’d curse me out for not watching where I was going, then turn around and stick a protective foam strip on it. When I’d get upset by her attitude, she’d cling to my arm and whine, “Elara, I’m just worried about you. You know I have the best intentions, right?” Because of my family situation, I’d never had many friends. Like an idiot, I saw our toxic friendship as a form of salvation. I thought her harsh words were just her way of showing she cared. It wasn’t until I saw those floating comments that I understood. Her so-called sisterly devotion was just a way to manage her personal pain sponge. To say I wasn’t furious would be a lie. But I was also morbidly curious. If my injuries appeared on her, how much of the pain did she actually feel? “Sera, you really do care about me, don’t you?” I said, drawing out the last word. She didn’t catch the sarcasm in my tone. Her eyelashes fluttered, a flicker of smug superiority in her eyes. “Of course I do. You were the first person who was nice to me when I transferred here.” I lowered my gaze, fiddling with the pen in my hand. When she was the new girl and everyone was ignoring her, I had been the one to offer her the seat next to me, to help her fit in. I was really starting to regret being so damn helpful. 5 During the morning assembly, that familiar, unbearable pain flared up again. I scanned the crowd but couldn’t find Caleb or Sera anywhere. The floating comments provided a live broadcast: [The male lead is so impatient! He can’t even wait until after morning assembly!] [Well, our girl is like a juicy peach. One taste and he’s hooked. More scenes like this, please! I’m here for it!] [Hahaha, the villainess is supposed to give a speech later. She’s going to scream in front of the whole school and make a total fool of herself—] [Isn’t that a little too harsh? The side character hasn’t really done anything bad yet.] [What do you know? The author created her specifically to take the pain so our girl doesn’t have to suffer. It’s her destiny. Besides, it’s her own fault for liking the male lead.] My heart pounded. Were these people insane? The thought that Sera was causing this, that this agony was a byproduct of her pleasure, made me want to strangle her. I didn’t care if this was a novel. I was a real person. A person with flesh and blood, who could laugh and cry, who had parents who loved her. I was not their plaything. I was not a tool. I would break the chains this world had put on me. My eyes fixed on the steps of the stage. It was about a four-foot drop. Not high enough to kill someone. In a move that stunned the entire school, I took a running leap— The comments went wild: [What the hell is this evil side character doing?!] [Is she crazy?!? Because of her jump, our girl just screamed and nearly snapped the male lead’s dick off!] [See? This is why she’s the villainess. Just causing trouble for attention. She’s going to get our girl killed!] [Uh oh, the male lead does not look happy. Do you think it’s actually broken—] 6 I landed hard. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. Probably a sprain. Everyone assumed I was having a breakdown after failing the competition. Even the principal standing beside me was dumbstruck, which conveniently meant I didn’t have to explain myself. The comments, however, were tearing me to shreds: [This side character is such a bitch. She almost turned the male lead into a eunuch!] [This is probably going to give him performance anxiety. Does this mean no more spicy scenes for a while?] [Our poor girl’s ankle is all swollen now. My heart breaks for her—] 7 The assembly ended early because of my dramatic exit. I limped back to the classroom, refusing all suggestions to go to the nurse’s office. I had more important things to do. A moment later, Sera and Caleb shuffled in through the back door. Sera was limping, her eyes red and puffy. Seeing Caleb looking perfectly fine, I felt a twinge of disappointment. So it wasn’t really broken? Sera’s eyes, like a viper’s, locked onto me. Her ankle was only slightly red and swollen. The comments had made it sound so dramatic, but it was nothing compared to my own ballooning ankle. So that was it. Sera only bore half of the damage I took, maybe even less. Of course. The author’s precious daughter had to have her cheat codes. Sera stormed towards me, her face a mask of fury. 8 “Elara, are you out of your mind? What is this new brand of crazy? Your body is a gift from your parents! Don’t you ever think about how they would feel when you hurt yourself like this?” Listening to her self-righteous rant, you’d think she was my mother. And bizarrely, everyone else seemed to fall for it, whispering about how much Sera cared for me. “What’s it to you?” I retorted. “Does your family live in the ocean? Because you’re trying to manage the entire sea.” Now that I knew the truth, I couldn’t pretend for a second longer. Sera froze, shocked by my tone. “What did you just say?” she stammered, clutching her chest as if I’d wounded her. “I’m just trying to show I care, and you think I’m being nosy?” As she spoke, her eyes welled up with tears. [Ugh, this side character needs to die. She’s making our poor girl so upset.] [She’s such a bitch. Someone shows her kindness and she spits on it.] [Don’t worry, the male lead will get revenge for our girl!] Her acting was flawless. She deserved an Oscar. The other students started chiming in. “Elara, Sera is just worried about you.” “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you!” “If you ask me, Elara is just an ungrateful brat.” Buoyed by the support, Sera’s expression softened into a familiar, pitiful look. My eyes shifted to Caleb, standing behind her. So he was going to avenge her, was he? I couldn’t wait. Meeting Sera’s gaze again, I lifted my chin defiantly. “Who needs your fake concern? Don’t think I don’t know what you were up to. You were with Caleb during the assembly, weren’t you?” I needed a reason to burn this bridge anyway. Weren’t the comments always saying I was jealous over Caleb? I put on a heartbroken expression. “Caleb, are you going to deny it?” 9 They both looked guilty and didn’t answer right away. For everyone else, that was an answer in itself. Someone spoke up. “Wait, did Sera only become friends with Elara to get close to Caleb?” The tide of opinion suddenly turned in my favor. Caleb didn’t confirm or deny it, which just made me lose whatever respect I had for him. Everyone had always assumed Caleb and I, childhood friends, would get together after our exams. In reality, I knew he was a player and had zero interest in him. I only let the rumors slide because they kept other annoying suitors away. Whispers broke out. People started calling Sera a backstabber, a manipulative snake. She panicked. “That’s not it, Elara, don’t misunderstand—” She reached for me. I dodged her hand, and in a move that seemed both accidental and intentional, she stumbled and slammed her body into the corner of a desk with a loud cry. But, goddammit, I was the one who felt the pain! An explosion of agony in my abdomen. I instinctively clutched my stomach, beads of sweat popping on my forehead. All my years of refined education couldn’t stop me from wanting to scream bitch! She had done that on purpose. It was revenge. A triumphant, provocative glint flashed in her eyes before she burst into dramatic, crocodile tears. “Elara, why did you push me? I was just trying to help…” Caleb’s face turned black. The comments were frantic: [Our girl is so clever! Create a diversion so no one notices she and the male lead were stumbling out of the bathroom together.] [She went through all this humiliation for the male lead. He must be so moved.] [He would never make her keep their relationship a secret if he wasn’t worried about the evil side character causing trouble. She’s the treasure of his heart.] 10 The bathroom? My vision darkened for a second. Sera had just tried to touch my hand. I wondered if she’d even washed them. In a flash, Caleb had her in his arms, cradling her protectively. He turned to me, his voice dripping with condemnation. “Elara, you are a heartless snake. Sera was only trying to help you, and you physically assaulted her?” The pain in my stomach was so intense I couldn’t speak. To everyone else, my silence looked like a confession of guilt. Their gazes turned from sympathy to contempt. The next moment, Caleb raised his arm, his hand flying towards my face. But just before it connected, Sera pushed me aside, taking the full force of the slap herself. My own cheek burned with a phantom sting. I was officially seeing red. My eyes, locked on Sera, were practically shooting flames. “Sera, are you insane!” She held her reddening cheek and looked at Caleb with noble defiance. “She’s just angry with me, Caleb. I can’t let you hurt my best friend!” Her performance moved the entire class. “Wow, even after Elara treated her like that, Sera is still protecting her. That’s so touching.” Then, Sera turned her head slightly, her voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. “You know, don’t you, Elara? But what can you do? You were born to be my tool.” The last thread of my sanity snapped. I scrambled to my feet and began slapping myself across the face, hard. “You’re right, you’re right, it’s all my fault!” I wailed. “I never should have tried to compete with you for Caleb, even if we did grow up together!” Smack! Smack! Smack! I put all my strength into each blow. My face instantly swelled and turned a blotchy red. I’m just a tool, right? Fine. I’ll claw my way out of this with my bare hands, and I’ll drag the author’s precious daughter down with me. A wildness entered my eyes that clearly terrified Sera. “Stop! Stop hitting yourself!” she shrieked. “I said stop!” No one else noticed, but Sera’s own cheeks were beginning to swell. The other students were just staring, completely bewildered. “Uh, Elara, you don’t have to do this… I mean, Sera isn’t entirely innocent either…” The comments were equally stunned: [Okay, what is happening? Why is the side character hitting herself?] [I think she figured out the pain-sharing thing. But isn’t this like… cutting off your nose to spite your face?] [LMAO, this side character has a certain unhinged energy I kind of respect.] [This is pathetic.]

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My nerves have been shot for weeks. A trip to the hospital confirmed it: Alzheimer’s. The doctor tried to be comforting. “Look at you,” he said, gesturing at my clothes. “Dressed in designer labels from head to toe. You must have a very happy life.” “The progression can be slowed,” he continued. “Tell your husband and children not to worry too much. Why don’t you call them in? I’ll go over the necessary precautions with them.” I opened my phone and stared at the contacts under the ‘Family’ tab. My son, who had cut ties with me the moment he moved abroad. My rebellious daughter, who hated me for breaking up her and her delinquent boyfriend. Or my husband, who was probably with his mistress right now. For a moment, I had no idea who to call. I closed the phone. “It’s fine,” I said softly. “Let’s not tell them.” This way, I can finally forget them all. 1 After I left the hospital, a rare snow began to fall over the city. I grew up in the North, in a place of deep winters. But in the thirty years since I’d married and moved south, I’d never seen a blizzard like this so early in the season. They say a good snow promises a good year. A good omen, perhaps. I squinted, the familiar route home suddenly blurry in my mind. I ended up taking a taxi. The payment app had updated, and I fumbled with it for so long the driver started yelling. After a few more struggles, I was finally home. The house was as it always was: vast, cold, and utterly silent. Not a trace of life. I numbly cleared the dining table and reheated last night’s leftovers. I’d let the house staff go a few days ago. There was no need for so many people to look after just me. Halfway through cooking, I zoned out, forgetting to turn off the stove. The pan started smoking, and I rushed to put out the small flame before it could catch. The resulting meal was a blackened, unappetizing mess. I forced down a few bites and went to bed. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Arthur came home. I heard the door open in a haze of sleep and pulled on a robe, heading downstairs. He was sitting on the living room sofa, smoking. He’d dyed his hair recently, covering the distinguished threads of silver at his temples. His face was still handsome, well-maintained with few wrinkles, and his body was lean. At a glance, he looked almost the same as he had in his youth. No wonder he has a constant stream of young women flocking to him, I thought wryly. He noticed me and stubbed out his cigarette. “Still awake?” I nodded, trying for a light tone. “Getting old. My nerves are shot these days.” For years now, Arthur had treated me with a polite, almost formal respect. A flash of guilt crossed his face. “I’m sorry. If I know I’ll be late next time, I won’t come home.” I could smell a woman’s perfume on him, a scent that was faintly familiar. I vaguely recalled it was the one his little mistress wore. Silence stretched between us. He hesitated, then decided not to hide it. “Ross came back today. We threw a welcome dinner for him. He… he probably still doesn’t want to see you after what happened, so I took Lily.” I nodded again. “Oh.” I congratulated myself internally. It was his mistress’s perfume. My memory wasn’t so bad after all. Not as bad as the doctor made it sound. “Have you eaten?” he asked, a pang of guilt in his voice. “If not, I can make you something.” I cut through his pretense. “Arthur, I need to talk to you.” I put on my reading glasses, fumbling in my handbag for a moment before I found what I was looking for. I handed him the file. He flipped through it, his expression souring as he read. I sighed. “Arthur, my mother passed away at the beginning of the year, didn’t she? I was thinking… our marriage doesn’t have to count anymore either. We’ve both lived such constrained lives, forced to marry without love. We’re old now. Let’s give each other the freedom we’ve always dreamed of, shall we?” Arthur said nothing. He simply lit another cigarette. Through the haze of smoke, I couldn’t read his face. I gave a strained laugh. “As for the children… neither of them wants me as a mother. Ross came home and I didn’t even know. You and your mistress went to his welcome dinner instead of me. I suppose I’ve been a failure in that department, too. But we’ve raised them. Their futures don’t need me anymore. There’s nothing left for me to hold on to here.” “So, sign the divorce papers. We can file them after the one-month cooling-off period.” His voice was hoarse. “We’ve come this far. Can’t we just see the performance through to the end?” I took a cigarette from his pack. “I’m tired, Arthur,” I said softly. “You and Lily have been together for years. She’s lasted longer than any of the others. When I was young, I had a temper. I couldn’t stand it. We fought constantly about your affairs, I tried to divorce you so many times, but my mother always stopped me.” “She said my family was bankrupt, that your family’s money saved us, so I had to be good to you unconditionally. No one ever cared how I felt. Over the years, the debt my family owed yours has been more or less repaid. And now my mother is gone. There’s no need to continue the show. The audience has left.” I took a long drag from the cigarette and smiled faintly. “Let’s get a divorce, Arthur. You want to give Lily a proper title, don’t you? I heard our daughter call her ‘Mom’ the other day.” After I said it all, a heavy fog settled over my mind, and everything went blank. I only remember him smoking, one cigarette after another. Finally, he rasped, “Fine.” He picked up a pen and signed his name, then grabbed his coat to leave. I stopped him. “When you have a moment in the next few days, meet me at City Hall. We need to file the application.” Seeing my resolve, a flicker of anger crossed his face. “Helena, don’t you regret this. Once we’re divorced, you can kiss the comfortable life of Mrs. Thorne goodbye.” I laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t regret it.” My entire life had already been a regret. A lifetime of emotional blackmail, of living in a haze. What could possibly be worse than that? 2 Arthur didn’t come home after that night. Ross, despite being back in the country, never came to see me. And Jenny… well, she had already accepted Lily as her mother. She was probably having the time of her life at Lily’s place right now. I remembered the fight we had before she ran away from home. It was because she’d started dating some reckless biker, skipping her university classes to go joyriding with him. I had grounded her and frozen her credit cards. She had screamed at me, tears streaming down her face. “You’re not my mother, you don’t understand me at all! Aunt Lily supports me and my true love! You’re not even a tenth of the woman she is!” I felt a wave of helplessness. I wanted to say, I’m your mother. Only your mother will ever try to guide you. Outsiders don’t care; they’ll just tell you what you want to hear to make you happy. But the words wouldn’t come out. “I hate you! You don’t deserve to be my mother! No wonder Dad doesn’t love you. You deserve to be alone!” She slammed the door and left. That night, Lily took her in and sent me a text. [Jenny’s with me, Helena. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her for you.] Back then, I still hated Lily. I didn’t want my daughter anywhere near my husband’s mistress. I sent Jenny message after message, begging her to come home. But months went by, and she never replied. … Now, I’ve made my peace with it. I don’t hate Lily anymore. To hell with Arthur, too. My children must have inherited his cold-blooded genes; they were never going to be close to me. What a failure I’ve been. Couldn’t keep my husband, lost my children, and now, in my old age, I have dementia. I’ll probably end my days bedridden. Muttering about the hardships of life, I began to pack my bags, planning to move back to my childhood home. When I was done, I put on my glasses and carefully typed a message to Jenny: [Mom is leaving. Let your father and Aunt Lily take good care of you. It’s getting cold, remember to wear a jacket.] I wanted to wait for her reply before I left. But I waited a long time, and no message came. I sighed. A daughter’s heart flies from home. I lingered on Ross’s chat window for a moment but ultimately didn’t send a message. He hated me. In his heart, he probably wished I would just die and leave him alone. My eyes stung, but no tears came. I supposed I’d cried them all out long ago. As I left the house, I felt no attachment. Only a profound sense of release. I called Arthur and told him to meet me at City Hall. I checked into a hotel near the airport and had the bellboy take my luggage up. By the time I got to City Hall, Arthur was already there, waiting with a woman by his side. My heart sank. He had to bring Lily with him, even on the day of our divorce. Just one last humiliation. Lily had endured years of being the other woman, and now, in her forties, she was about to become the new Mrs. Thorne. Her face was alight with triumph. In her eyes, I was the loser. Dressed in a chic black coat, she clung to Arthur’s arm. She put on a show of magnanimity. “Do you have any plans, Helena? It’s hard to find a job at your age, and you don’t have much savings. Why don’t you keep living in the house? I’ll have Arthur move in with me. Besides, Jenny and Ross are staying with me now, and they miss their father.” Her words were a clear provocation. Arthur said nothing. “No need to trouble yourself,” I said coolly. “I’ve already moved out. You and the children can have the house. The house, the people… they’re all things I no longer want.” Lily’s smile faltered. “Well, if you need anything in the future, just let us know. You and Arthur were married for so long, after all. We’ll help if we can.” “No, thank you. Helping me with this divorce is the greatest help you could possibly offer.” At my words, Arthur’s hands clenched into fists. We went inside. Lily waited in the car. After a long silence, he spoke. “Wouldn’t it be better to just keep things as they are?” I didn’t even look at him. “That’s what you think.” He rubbed his temples in frustration. “You’re just as impulsive as you were when you were young. Always throwing tantrums. I gave you two chances to reconsider. You didn’t take them.” “Save that good fortune for Lily. I don’t need it.” The head of the Thorne family was rarely spoken to like this. His face darkened, and he didn’t say another word. After the paperwork was done, he walked out, got in the car with Lily, and drove away without a backward glance. I clutched the divorce certificate in my hand, a wave of relief washing over me. It didn’t matter how hard the future would be. In this moment, for the first time in thirty years, I was free. 3 I spent the night at the hotel and took an early flight the next morning. Before my mother died, she left me our ancestral home in the North. After arriving, I went straight there. Staring at the dusty, long-abandoned house, I felt a pang of melancholy. I remembered the last day I spent in this house. My mother had knelt before me, her head touching the floor, sobbing. She said if I married Arthur Thorne, his family would save ours from ruin. Only I could save them. “If you don’t marry him, you are no longer a Vance! You are no longer my daughter!” On my wedding day, she offered no blessings. Instead, she sat counting the money the Thornes had transferred to her bank account, a wide grin on her face. … I closed my eyes, trying to recall some happy memories from this house, but they were all shrouded in a thick fog. The doctor said my condition would soon become moderate. I would forget many things, my movements and speech would become impaired. I might even lose the ability to talk. But I wasn’t afraid. To forget all those people and all those things before I die meant I wouldn’t have to remember them in the next life. While my mind was still relatively clear, I spent a few days cleaning the old house until it felt new again. My neighbors were a kind mother and son. When they learned I’d moved in, they often invited me over. We got along well and quickly became friends. The days passed quickly. In a blink, I had been living in the North for half a year. In the first two months, I planted a garden, spending my days watering and fertilizing. In the months that followed, I would forget to water the plants entirely. I’d wake up and just stare into space for hours, sometimes forgetting to eat. My neighbor noticed my garden had withered and that I had grown thin. She was worried. She invited me to her house for dinner. When the food was served, I couldn’t remember how to use chopsticks. Panicked, I reached for the food with my hands. “Helena!” she cried, gently stopping me. She stared at me, a look of realization dawning. “Are you… are you ill?” It was only then that I realized what I was doing. The shame was overwhelming. I wanted to run, to disappear. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be sick anymore. In the later stages of this disease, I might lose my dignity entirely. I had spent my life valuing etiquette and propriety. I couldn’t accept becoming a person without a sense of shame. “I’m sorry,” I managed to say, the words feeling foreign in my mouth. I realized I hadn’t spoken in a long time. “It’s okay, Helena. I understand what’s happening. We’ll take care of you.” “That’s right, Aunt Helena,” her son, a young boy named Leo, added. “I’ll come visit you often. Please don’t cry.” He took a napkin and gently wiped my cheek. I realized then that I was weeping.

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I was seven years his senior. The first time I saw Leonard, he was fighting stray dogs in an alley for scraps. His eyes were pure wolf—feral, vicious. So I took him in. I molded him from nothing. In ten years, he went from a penniless street rat to Sterling City’s most sought-after CEO. I considered him my finest creation. Until a girl brazenly blocked my car, hand on her stomach, playing a voice recorder: “Leonard, who do you like more? Me, or that old hag?” His voice, colder than I knew: “She’s past her prime. I’ve always hated how she looks down on everyone.” I smiled. Success had made him forget the days he groveled at my feet like a dog. The next day, I sent a gift box to his office—inside, the bloodied remains of a stillborn fetus. He pressed a gun to my forehead, eyes bloodshot: “Nora…” he gritted, venom in each syllable. I sipped my tea calmly. “It seems you’ve forgotten what I’m capable of, Mr. Kane.” Leonard’s face was a mask of fury. “You think I won’t pull the trigger?” he snarled. He was no longer the scrawny boy I’d found. Years of navigating a cutthroat world had forged an aura of deadly authority around him. But I just smiled and shook my head. “If I were you, I’d waste less time talking.” Leonard froze. From behind him, a faint noise scraped against the floor-to-ceiling window. He whipped his head around, his expression twisting into horror. The girl, Sienna, was dangling outside the seventy-second floor, her hands bound. Her white dress billowed in the wind, the yawning abyss just beneath her feet. “I’d be careful, if I were you,” I said, my voice a silken threat. The cold steel of the gun didn’t faze me. “After all, if your hand slips… I die, and your little darling gets splattered into a paste on the pavement.” I gave a mock sigh. “Two birds with one stone… oh, wait. Only one bird now, I suppose.” Sienna’s wails were carried by the wind. “Leonard, save me!” Leonard’s eyes were wild, crimson-rimmed. He flicked off the safety with a sharp click. “Nora, you wouldn’t dare!” My bodyguards instantly moved to surround him, the air crackling with tension. A bloodbath was imminent. I waved a lazy hand. “All of you, out.” Then, in one fluid motion, I drew a dagger and, without even looking, plunged it deep into his abdomen. He let out a choked gasp, but the gun pressed even harder against my temple. “Does it feel good?” I murmured, my voice like a lover’s whisper. Leonard’s face was a stone mask. “Are you satisfied? Let her go.” “Sienna isn’t like you. She’s just a naive girl who doesn’t know anything.” Leonard’s men arrived swiftly and pulled Sienna back to safety. I never intended to actually harm her. I watched as he held her, whispering soothing words, cradling her as if she were a priceless, fragile treasure. And suddenly, I felt a profound sense of weariness. He used to hold me that way. After our enemies took their revenge, after I lost our child and with it, the ability to ever have another. She was a girl, already perfectly formed. We had named her Lily. Leonard built a shrine for her, commissioning a gilded memorial at immense cost. “Nora,” he had said, his voice raw with grief, “our daughter will have a peaceful life in the next world.” He wanted a constant stream of prayers and candlelight to watch over her soul. I once asked him why he’d gone to such lengths. His face was unshaven, his eyes hollow, but his voice was unwavering. “Because Lily is the only child I will ever have.” Now, my gaze fell upon the gift box on his desk. You broke your promise, Leonard. But don’t worry. I’ll help you remember it. Sienna, having cried her fill, glared at me with swollen, hate-filled eyes. “Leonard, it was her! That bitch killed our baby!” Leonard’s expression flickered. He gently stroked her hair, his voice devoid of emotion. “You’ve overstepped.” Sienna’s sobs caught in her throat. She didn’t know. No one had told her that after we lost Lily, the very mention of a child became a forbidden word in our world. It was a wound that never closed, a shared agony between Leonard and me. But Sienna was an outsider. She just kept crying, her sobs designed to break a man’s heart. Leonard swept her up in his arms as she fainted, shouldering past me and striding out of the room. “Nora,” he threw over his shoulder, his voice a low growl, “I won’t forget this.” I just didn’t expect his retaliation to come so quickly. As my subordinate delivered his report, I stroked the cat purring on my lap, a profound boredom settling over me. “Mr. Kane outbid us for the Southside property, paying double the market price.” “Mr. Kane is covertly meeting with shareholders to acquire a controlling interest.” “Mr. Kane… has demolished the shrine built for Miss Lily.” My hand tightened, and the cat cried out, cowering in my lap. “Say that again.” My face was impassive. My assistant swallowed hard. “He tore it down, sir. He said… he’s going to build an amusement park for… for his mistress. They broke ground this morning.” CRASH! The teacup in my hand shattered against the wall. The assistant bowed his head. “I’ll handle it immediately!” I held up a hand. “No. I’m going myself.” By the time I arrived, half the shrine was already rubble. Sienna was holding a balloon, skipping around and directing the demolition crew. “Clear that section out completely! And over here, Leonard, I want to put a carousel right here!” Leonard just stood beside her, a gentle smile on his face as he watched her. To any outsider, they looked like a perfect, adoring couple. If only they weren’t standing on the grave of my daughter’s memory. I stepped out of the car. Someone spotted me and started to speak, but the sight of me drawing a gun froze the words in his throat. Sienna turned. “Miss Nora…” I raised my arm and fired. POP! The balloon in her hand exploded. “Ah!” she shrieked, scrambling behind Leonard for cover. “Are you insane?!” Leonard roared. I said nothing. I strode towards the wretched pair, chambered another round, and fired again into the air. The two shots silenced the chaos. Everyone stared at me as if they’d seen a ghost. “Get out,” I said, my voice low and dangerous. Leonard frowned. “Nora.” “GET OUT!” I bellowed, a raw, primal scream. It had been years since anyone had pushed me to the edge of my control. No one dared to move. But Sienna, emboldened, peeked out from behind Leonard, her eyes glinting with defiance. “Miss Nora, what’s the point in letting the dead hold onto so much? It’s the living that matter, isn’t it?” At her words, Leonard instinctively pulled her further behind him, shielding her body with his own. He was afraid. Afraid I would hurt his precious girl. He knew exactly how I would react to that statement.

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1 For as long as I can remember, Mom and I played the dying game. The first time I found her lying still and breathless, I panicked and cried. But eventually, I learned it was just her way of teasing, and I stopped being scared. At the cemetery, a solemn silence hung over the freshly dug grave and waiting coffin. Everyone was crying—except me. I stared at the flag-draped casket and thought, She’s really committed this time. Even Dad’s crying for real. As the coffin lowered, choked sobs rose around us. I tugged Dad’s hand. “Is the game over? I need to wait for Mom at home.” He hugged me tightly, tears falling. “Janice, Mom’s not coming back.” I touched my dog tags and shook my head. “She promised she’d always come back.” No one believed me. They said I was sick. Soon after, Dad brought a woman home and said she was my new mother. But I knew Mom was alive—I’d seen her. Since no one believed me, I decided to find her myself. … Rain hammered against the black umbrellas, a dull, relentless drumming. The cemetery was a sea of solemn black. Suppressed sobs drifted from all directions, and every face was etched with grief, every eye red-rimmed. Dad’s shoulders seemed to have stooped, his body trembling as tears dripped from his chin. This round of the game was a big one. Even uncles I rarely saw were here. One of them, a soldier and a friend of my dad’s, knelt down and placed Mom’s dog tags around my neck. “Janice, this is the only thing your mom left behind. You keep it safe.” Shovel after shovel of dirt fell, covering the flag. Everyone was lost in their sorrow. Except for me. I was waiting for Mom to leap out from behind a gravestone, laughing as she swept me into her arms, spinning me around. “Fooled you! My Janice is so brave!” We’d played this game so many times. She’d hidden under the bed, in the closet, once even inside an old trunk in the attic. And every single time, I would find her, and we’d collapse into a heap of laughter. “This round of hide-and-seek,” she’d always say, “Janice wins again!” So, this time would be no different. Even if it felt more formal, with more people playing along. It had to be part of the game, a new rule Mom made up to make it feel more real. After the mourners began to leave, I asked my dad, “Is the game over? I want to go home and wait for Mom.” He pulled me into a hug so tight it hurt. His voice was a raw, broken thing. “Janice, Mom isn’t coming back.” I looked at the headstone, stubbornly refusing. “She’ll be back when the game is over.” “There is no game…” Dad’s arms tightened violently. “Your mother was killed in action! She’s dead! She is never, ever coming back!” I could barely breathe. I thought maybe he’d forgotten the rules, so I pushed at his shoulder to remind him. “But Dad, that was just Mom’s uniform they buried. It wasn’t her.” His crying stopped abruptly, as if his throat had been squeezed shut. His lips trembled, but no words came out. Just then, the soldier who gave me the dog tags pulled him aside. The rain was loud, but I strained my ears and caught his words. “She was too close to the blast. There… there wasn’t enough left to piece together.” “We only found the combat uniform. Barely stitched it back together.” “Sully, this is all we could do. I’m so sorry.” 2 I listened, stunned into silence. I knew what death was. Mom had told me before. “Death is when you become a star in the sky, Janice. You shine so bright, but Mommy can never touch you or hold you again.” So, death meant no more touching, no more hugs. Dad believed Mom was dead, that he could never hold her again. So, when he looked like he could barely stand, he pulled another woman into a tight embrace. He grieved for a month, and then the sorrow on his face began to fade. One day, the woman, Karen, moved into our house with her son, who was two years younger than me. “Janice, say hello to your new mom.” Dad took my hand, trying to lead me to her. I clamped my mouth shut, staring stubbornly at the floor as I shook my head. “I only have one mom. She’s just playing a very long game of hide-and-seek.” Karen looked awkward and quickly tried to smooth things over. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You can just call me Karen.” Dad took me to a psychiatrist, who said I had PTSD. I put the pills in my mouth in front of him, but as soon as he left, I spit them into the toilet. Grown-ups are the ones who need medicine, I thought, watching the water swirl. I’m not sick. You’re all just silly. Mom fooled every one of you. You have no idea how amazing she is. Eventually, Dad found out I wasn’t taking the pills. “Janice! Why aren’t you taking your medicine?!” His voice shook with anger. “Do you want to stay like this forever? Out of your mind?” I just stared at him in silence, my resolve unshaken. The standoff ended with him slamming my door and storming out. His patience wore thin with each failed attempt to “fix” me. His attention shifted more and more to Leo, Karen’s son. He’d listen to Leo talk about school, take him to the office, give him little projects. The succession plan that had once been centered on me quietly found a new target. I didn’t like Leo. He was always sneaking into my room and messing with my things. When I told Dad, he just said, “He’s just a little boy, Janice. You’re the big sister, you need to let him have his way sometimes.” One day, Leo broke the last model airplane Mom and I had built together. I exploded, screaming at him to get out of my house. Dad’s rebuke was harsher than I’d ever heard it. “Janice! How could you speak to your brother like that! Go to your room! No dinner for you tonight!” It was the first time he had ever punished me for someone else’s sake. I grew quieter, more withdrawn. I would spend hours alone in my room, tracing the metal of the dog tags around my neck, staring out the window. The disappointment in Dad’s eyes deepened as he looked at my mediocre report cards. The formal dinners he once took me to became events for Leo. The custom-made suits were now only ordered in his size. One night, Dad came home late. The moment the door opened, I heard his laughter mingling with Karen’s, and Leo’s proud voice. “Dad, everyone at the gala said I have your presence.” Dad ruffled Leo’s hair. “Of course you do. You’re my son. The company will be yours one day. You’re much more capable than your sister.” He said it just as he saw me sitting silently in the living room. A flash of embarrassment crossed his face. “Janice, you’re still up?” I nodded. “Getting some water.” “Dad, since I did so well tonight, can I have a reward?” Leo’s voice was bright. Dad’s attention snapped back to him, his eyes full of adoration. “Anything you want. You name it.” Leo pointed a finger straight at me. “I want that! The tag on her necklace!” 3 Dad’s smile froze on his face. I clutched the dog tags, taking a step back, my eyes wary. “Leo, that’s something very important to your sister,” Dad said, his tone hesitant. “How about I buy you the newest remote-control plane? Or that big Lego set?” “No! I want that one! That tag is cool!” Leo stomped his foot and lunged, trying to snatch it from my neck. “Get away from me!” I shoved him hard. Caught off guard, he stumbled backward and cracked his elbow on the corner of the coffee table. He immediately started wailing. Karen rushed to scoop him up. “Janice, he’s just a child! How could you push him like that?” Dad strode forward, his finger pointed at my face. “Janice! What is wrong with you? Apologize to your brother right now!” I stared back at him, defiant. “He is not to touch Mom’s things!” “Give it to me!” Dad roared, his anger finally boiling over. “Take off the dog tags and give them to your brother!” I stared at him in disbelief, my voice rising to a shriek. “Why should I? This is what Mom left for me! Have you forgotten her already?” “She wasn’t even gone before you had your arms around another woman! And now you want to give the only thing she left me to your precious new son?” “Shut your mouth!” he bellowed. A sharp, ringing slap cracked across my face. My cheek flared, hot and stinging. A flicker of regret crossed Dad’s eyes. He took a step toward me, reaching out. I recoiled, my gaze turning cold and distant, as if I were looking at a stranger. His fingers curled into a fist. “You live in a fantasy, Janice,” he said, his voice hard. “One day, you’re going to regret this.” I ran to my room and slammed the door. The phantom sting of the slap remained on his palm. He paced, uneasy. Karen put a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re worried, you should go check on her.” He shook his head. “It’s time she faced reality. She can’t live in the past, in some made-up world. Leave her be. A few days of this, and she’ll come around and apologize.” The next morning, I didn’t come out for breakfast. “Should I take some food to her room?” Karen asked. “No,” Dad said sternly. “She’s too willful. We can’t coddle her. She needs to learn there are consequences for disrespect.” On the third day, I still hadn’t appeared. Dad assumed I was still sulking and paid it no mind. When my name flashed on his phone during a meeting, he declined the call, deciding it would teach me a lesson. It wasn’t until the fourth day that Karen spoke up, her voice hesitant. “I don’t think there’s been any sound from Janice’s room. And her food is untouched.” Dad finally unlocked the door. The room was empty. “She probably ran off to a friend’s house. Didn’t even bother to tell us! She’s getting more and more out of control!” Dad fumed, calling my friends one by one, but learned nothing. The next moment, the school called. “Is this Janice Sullivan’s father? Janice hasn’t been in class for three days. Is everything alright at home?” The color drained from Dad’s face. Panic seized him. He hung up and immediately dialed my number. The phone rang for a long time before a flippant male voice answered. “Well, well. You finally remember you have a daughter? You’re a busy man, Mr. Sullivan. Couldn’t even be bothered to pick up the phone.” My father’s blood ran cold. His voice trembled. “Who is this? Where is my daughter?”

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My childhood sweetheart, the prodigal son, had returned—all for a good girl. To prove his sincerity, he bought a box of condoms for when we were together. As I tore open the wrapper, I feigned indifference. “Who is she?” Andy Wheaton leaned against the headboard, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your stepsister. Never thought I’d be the one to fall for her.” “The little innocent… she doesn’t even know how to smoke. I gave her a shotgun, and she coughed for ages.” “Innocent as hell.” 1 My hand trembled violently, the condom falling from my fingers onto the bed. For a moment, my mind went blessedly, terrifyingly blank. For years, Andy had been surrounded by a revolving door of beautiful women, but not one had ever made him want to settle down. Not even me, who had chased him for five years, only ever earning the title of “friend with benefits.” But I never imagined he would end up with my stepsister. And I certainly never imagined he would change his ways for her. Perhaps the helplessness was written all over my face. Andy let out a short, mocking laugh. “Didn’t see that coming, did you?” “Never thought I’d be the one to fall for her, either.” He took a drag from his cigarette, as if savoring a memory. “That clueless girl… doesn’t even know how to smoke.” “I gave her a shotgun, and she coughed for ages.” “So damn pure.” He shook his head, a genuine smile on his face. I swallowed the acid rising in my throat. “Why her?” I managed to ask. Andy stubbed out his cigarette, his voice unusually serious. “Zoe is a good girl. I don’t want to let her down.” My heart stuttered. It felt as if all the strength had been siphoned from my body. “Forget it. You can just take the pill tonight,” Andy said, pushing me down onto the bed and expertly unclasping my bra. “Zoe’s too innocent. I’ve been holding back for days, afraid to even touch her.” It was the same practiced foreplay, the same familiar moves, but my body was cold, devoid of any desire. I pushed him away and stood up in silence. I put on my clothes, my shoes. Then, steeling myself against the pain, I feigned a casual air. “Andy, we’re done.” He paused for a beat, then scoffed, unconcerned. “Stella, you think you can just walk away from me?” I didn’t answer, just grabbed my purse and started packing my makeup. “Fine. Get the hell out,” he snapped, his voice turning cold, laced with the annoyance of a man whose fun had been interrupted. My nails dug into my palms, but I walked out of that room. Andy could fall for anyone. But it couldn’t be Zoe Lynn. Zoe and I were polar opposites. I loved to party, to chase thrills. I was just like Andy—wild and untamable by nature. Zoe, on the other hand, had always been the quiet, obedient good girl who followed all the rules. That’s why I’d gone to rescue her when some lowlifes lured her to a bar. That day, they forced drinks down my throat until I was blind drunk, but I managed to get her out of there. But she, panicking about a homework assignment her teacher had just announced, abandoned me, drunk and disoriented, at a bus stop. The thugs who’d been chasing us dragged me back to a hotel room. Even after all these years, I can’t bring myself to relive that night. I’d always scoffed at the idea of virginity, but there’s a world of difference between choosing to and being forced. Afterward, my body broken and weak from the night-long assault, I found Zoe and slapped her across the face. She burst into tears, her voice a hysterical accusation. “All you ever care about is yourself! If I didn’t turn in that assignment, my teacher would have punished me!” From that moment on, I despised her. And Andy knew all of this. 2 I couldn’t accept that he was with her. My only option was to tune out, to avoid any news of him. But on his birthday, he sent me an invitation as if nothing had changed. Maybe I just needed to see it with my own eyes. Maybe I just couldn’t let go. I went. But when I pushed open the door to the private room, my heart skipped a beat. On the sofa, Andy had Zoe pinned against the back, kissing her with a fierce, brutal passion. I could see the veins on the back of his hand standing out from the force of his grip. The room was full of their friends, cheering and hollering. I was the only one whose face was drained of color. For all the years we’d been together, Andy had always been in control, coolly watching me lose myself in pleasure. This was the first time I had ever seen him lose himself, swept away by his own desire. When the kiss finally ended, Zoe’s face was flushed, her body limp as she leaned against his chest. Andy’s throat bobbed. “How are you so damn innocent?” he chuckled, his voice thick with affection. And then he saw me. The smile on his face faltered, just for a second. I said nothing, my face probably a ghostly white. Someone pulled me into a drinking game. The next round, Zoe lost. The penalty was a pole dance. Zoe had always been conservative. At the suggestion, her face went pale, and she looked to Andy for help. The crowd buzzed with excitement. “Come on, Andy, you’re not gonna let your girl do that, are you?” He wasn’t. He tilted his chin at me, his posture lazy and arrogant. “Zoe’s too shy for that kind of thing.” “You do it for her.” Zoe was too shy. And what was I? A stone settled in my chest, heavy and suffocating. I forced the bitterness down and sneered, “If you can’t handle the stakes, why play the game?” Zoe’s face paled further. She bit her lip and then, her voice trembling, she said, “Stella… are you still holding a grudge because I got you raped?” She emphasized the word raped, making it impossible to miss. A wave of murmurs went through the room as all eyes turned to me, filled with a strange, prurient curiosity. I froze, shocked that she would rip open that wound in front of everyone. She wasn’t done. “How long are you going to hate me for that? I didn’t have a choice! You can’t make it all about you!” “Besides,” she added, her voice rising in self-pity, as if I were the one attacking her. “You sleep around anyway. What’s one more or one less?” The agony of that night washed over me again, a phantom pain that made my whole body tremble. I snapped. Before anyone could react, I grabbed my glass and threw the drink in her face. “Ah!” Zoe shrieked, dissolving into tears as she threw herself into Andy’s arms. I laughed, a cold, sharp sound. “Zoe, you’re as selfish as you’ve always been. I was trying to save you—” “That’s enough.” Andy cut me off, his voice unreadable. He took off his jacket and draped it over Zoe’s shoulders. Then he looked at me, his smile still roguish and charming, but the impatience in his eyes was a blade. “Stella, that was years ago.” “Are you really still hung up on that?” My heart didn’t just sink. It shattered. 3 When it first happened, I wasn’t like the girls in the movies who felt they’d lost their purity and tried to end their lives. But the whispers, the judgmental stares from everyone around me… they left me feeling lost and utterly alone. The worst moment was when a group of thugs from school cornered me at the gate and asked me if being raped felt good. Everyone else just stood by and watched. Everyone except Andy. He flew at them like a man possessed, fighting them all at once. He was beaten until he could barely see straight, but he never stopped shielding me. He broke his hand that day. A few of the thugs ended up in the emergency room. And for me, a desperate, foolish love began to bloom, filling every corner of my teenage heart. Later, during our senior year, the most critical time for our studies, he transferred schools just to be with me, to help me through that dark period. Once, lost in a fog of self-doubt, I whispered to him, “Was it really my fault? Am I… dirty now?” He had just laughed, a wild, reckless sound. “Dirty? Hell no. The moment that bastard gets out of prison, I’ll kill him myself.” And just like that, I became a moth, flying straight into the flame that was Andy Wheaton. Even when his philandering left me burned and broken, I refused to let go. But now, he was asking me if I was still hung up on it. In that moment, looking into the careless cold of his eyes, I suddenly felt tired. So incredibly tired. I don’t remember how I got out of that room. It must have been a pathetic sight. I had chased Andy for so long. I had even stayed in this city, alone, just for him. It was time to let go. I quit my job and, on a whim, bought a ticket home. After packing up my life, I went to Andy’s villa one last time. I had a lot of things there, things that now needed to disappear, along with all the love and lust. But when I opened the door, I froze. The living room was a scene of debauchery. Clothes and used condoms were strewn everywhere. One, two, three… each one a testament to the intensity of their passion. From the bedroom, I could hear the soft, sultry moans of a woman, punctuated by a man’s guttural groans of pleasure. I blinked, my eyes dry, and took a long moment to suppress the wave of pain churning in my stomach. Maybe it was because the woman with Andy was Zoe, the person I hated most in the world. That’s why this, something I should have been used to, felt like a knife twisting in my gut. A few moments later, the bedroom door opened. Zoe gasped, clutching at her naked body. “What are you doing here?!” I forced myself not to look at the raw, love-bitten marks covering her skin. Just then, my phone buzzed. Before I could even look at it, Zoe snatched it from my hand. “Are you taking pictures of me?!” she demanded, her voice rising. Her reaction was so absurd I let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Do I need to?” But she reacted as if I’d struck a nerve, slapping me hard across the face. “You just want to ruin my reputation! You want to make me as dirty as you are!” My head snapped to the side, my cheek burning. I couldn’t understand it. If it weren’t for me, she would have become the “dirty woman” she was so terrified of being. How could she treat me like this? 4 I snatched my phone back and raised my hand to strike her. I was never one to take a hit without giving one back. But in the next second, a hand clamped down on my wrist. Andy’s voice, cold and sharp, cut through the air. “Stella, what the hell are you doing?” Zoe threw herself into his arms, sobbing. “Andy, she took pictures of me. I’m so scared. Can you make her delete them?” Andy’s brow furrowed. “Delete them,” he commanded. The sting on my cheek intensified, becoming unbearable. He actually believed I would do something like that. I clenched my jaw, fighting back tears. “Let go.” “Stella, Zoe isn’t like you,” he said, his voice taking on a menacing edge. “She’s not that kind of girl. Are you trying to ruin her with these disgusting tricks? Delete them now, or don’t force me to get rough.” Every word was a calculated blow, striking right at my deepest pain. Something inside me finally broke. I threw the phone at his face, my eyes red and wild. “Andy, open your eyes and look!” I screamed. “If I had ever wanted revenge on her, I would have taken it years ago!” He flinched, his expression changing as he saw the raw desperation on my face. He picked up the phone and checked it. There was nothing. Zoe felt no guilt. She just pressed herself against him, whimpering. “Andy, I didn’t mean to accuse her. I just… I don’t want to be dirty like her. If anyone knew I’d had sex before marriage, I think I would just die. I’m so, so scared.” Andy stroked her hair, seemingly helpless against her tears. A sarcastic smile touched my lips. I took my phone and turned to leave. Behind me, I heard Andy’s soothing voice. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re not like her.” “You’re not dirty.” I froze. And just like that, the last embers of hope died. All the years I’d spent chasing him, all the memories, shattered into dust. As I sat on the train home, I looked out the window, a strange sense of calm settling over me. Leaving this city meant leaving Andy behind for good. I wasn’t completely without a place to go. Back in my hometown, my mother, long dead, had left me a house. I closed my eyes, hoping for a moment of peace. But a second later, someone tapped my shoulder. A man in a white button-down and gold-rimmed glasses stood in the aisle. He had a gentle face and a shy smile. “Hello, is this seat taken?” I nodded curtly and closed my eyes again. A moment later, he spoke again. “This might be a bit forward, but I took a picture of you just now. Would it be alright if I kept it?” His name was Ethan, and he was a photographer who traveled the world capturing landscapes. The photo he showed me was of my profile, leaning against the window, bathed in sunlight. My expression was… peaceful. I was surprised. I had just made the decision to leave Andy, and my first feeling was relief? “The composition is perfect,” he said, looking a bit shy after his explanation. “If I crop you out, it will ruin the whole structure. But if you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll delete it right away.” I smiled. “It’s fine. You can use it.” Maybe it was because we were sitting next to each other, or maybe I was just bored, but we ended up talking for the rest of the journey. I learned that we lived in the same neighborhood. Even more surprisingly, we had gone to the same kindergarten. “Well, I guess that makes us old classmates,” Ethan smiled. “I have a younger brother who’s always lived in the neighborhood with my dad. I don’t know if you know him. His name is Andy Wheaton.” I froze. The world was impossibly, cruelly small. Andy had an older brother. Smarter, more responsible. When their parents divorced, his mother had only taken Ethan. It had always been a sore spot for Andy. But this incredible coincidence sparked nothing in me. I just smiled faintly. “I know him. We’re not close.” Just then, my phone rang. It was Andy.

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Yvonne Heath was dead. Her life had been one of hardship, and in the end, she was pushed from a second-story window, blood pooling between her legs. She was still clutching an ultrasound photo that read, “12 weeks gestation.” Before she died, she said to me, “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired. I can’t go on.” “From now on, you live for me.” So I took her place. From now on, I am Yvonne Heath. 1 I awoke in a hospital. Every cell in my body screamed in pain. An IV was taped to the back of my hand, cold liquid dripping slowly into my veins. The man sitting by the bed closed his laptop and looked at me, his expression cold. “You’re awake.” I stared at him, saying nothing. “The baby’s gone.” “It’s for the best. A vicious woman like you doesn’t deserve to be the mother of my child.” “Now that our last connection is severed, we’ll get a divorce as soon as you’re discharged.” “Why aren’t you saying anything?” He frowned, his glare sharpening. “Don’t think you can just stonewall me. Without the baby, what other tricks do you have left?” His every word was nauseating. I fought down the bile rising in my throat and looked away. But he wouldn’t allow it, grabbing my chin and forcing me to look at him. “Yvonne, speak!” We were close, so close I could feel the heat of his breath. His name was Jasper Cain. He was the man Yvonne had loved for twenty years. If she were here now, she would be feeling a pain like a knife to the heart. Her whole life had been one long misunderstanding. She had a voice, but no matter how many times she explained, no one ever believed her. As she said, she was tired. Death was a release. But I am not Yvonne. I don’t feel pain when I’m misunderstood. I don’t swallow injustice in silence. There was a vase of flowers on the nightstand. I grabbed it and threw it at his head. It didn’t hurt him, but it caught him off guard, forcing him to stumble back. I ripped the IV from my hand, seized the metal stool beside the bed, and swung it at him with all my might. The rebuke on his lips died before it was born. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious. I gasped for breath, my hand dropping to my side. Blood dripped from my bruised knuckles onto the floor, like crimson blossoms. Yvonne, if you’re watching, watch closely. See how I live. 2 Jasper’s injuries weren’t serious. He was just knocked out and stayed in the hospital for two days. After that, apart from the nurses and doctors on their rounds, my room was silent. I wasn’t lonely. I was focused on recovering, doing light exercises every day. I was going to live a long, long life. On the day I was discharged, I took a taxi home. The moment I stepped through the door, the lively atmosphere in the living room froze. I surveyed the newly decorated house. Pink balloons and ribbons were everywhere. In the center of the room, on a large table, sat a massive two-tiered cake. The woman at the heart of the celebration wore a soft white dress, her long hair flowing around her like a halo. It was her. The one who had pushed Yvonne down the stairs with a smile on her face, not a trace of malice in her eyes. Her name was Celia Rowe, Jasper’s one true love, the one he could never forget. On countless nights, as he’d pinned Yvonne beneath him, it was Celia’s name he’d whispered. To be fair, they were a perfect match. A match made in hell. No one in the large living room spoke. I smiled as if nothing was wrong and walked toward them. “What a party. Why wasn’t I invited?” Jasper instinctively moved to shield Celia, as if I were some kind of monster. “Yvonne, I suggest you behave—” He didn’t finish his sentence. I slapped him across the face. My palm stung. But I knew his cheek stung just as much, and that was all that mattered. “Do you really think you’re some kind of brooding CEO from a novel? Why do you talk so much?” I pushed him aside impatiently and smiled sweetly at Celia. Celia’s face was pale. She clutched at her dress, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Miss Rowe, don’t look so frightened. You should know, until today, I’ve never laid a hand on you.” “Yvonne, how dare you say that?” Jasper interjected. “What about Celia’s car accident? Wasn’t that you? And the time she hurt her fingers…” I slapped him again, this time with my other hand, and deftly blocked his retaliatory shove. My daily hospital workouts were paying off. Celia put on a fragile, terrified act. “Miss Heath, please don’t misunderstand. Jasper is just worried about me…” “Oh, I don’t misunderstand at all. He’s just taking his anger out on me. That’s fine.” My gaze slid back to Jasper. His face was a mask of disbelief. In his mind, Yvonne was silent, invisible, submissive. She was never supposed to be this aggressive. I turned back to Celia. Her eyes flickered with alarm, and she took an unconscious step back. But I couldn’t let her get away. That long, silky hair… it would be a shame not to pull some of it out. I reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair. As she shrieked, I yanked her head down and shoved her face into the cake. Happy birthday, Miss Rowe! 3 The living room descended into chaos. Screams and curses filled the air. The maids rushed forward to rescue Celia. Jasper aimed a kick at my stomach. He was smart. He knew this body was still weak from the miscarriage, that a blow like that would be devastating. But I wasn’t about to let that happen. I used Celia as a shield. As Celia let out another scream, Jasper roared, “Yvonne, are you insane? Do you want me to have you committed?” He had the power to do it. The heir to the mighty Cain fortune could make an orphan girl disappear into a mental institution without a trace. He could have me killed, and no one would ever know. I picked up the cake knife and pressed it to Celia’s throat. Such a slender, pale neck. If I broke the skin, would the blood flow as freely as it had when Yvonne fell? With her life in my hands, Celia fell silent. Jasper was furious, but he had no choice but to try and reason with me. “Don’t be rash,” he urged. But I wasn’t being rash at all. In fact, I was quite enjoying observing the expressions on everyone’s faces. “Jasper, didn’t you want to divorce me?” I asked with a smile. He choked for a second, then a look of “I knew it” crossed his face. “If you don’t want a divorce, we can talk. But don’t you dare do anything stupid. If you so much as touch a hair on her head, I promise, you will regret it.” Threats. Anyone can make threats. “But I’ve already touched quite a few hairs on her head,” I said, looking innocently at the strands of hair caught between my fingers. A small patch of her scalp was now bare. For someone so vain, that had to be torture. If they had just spoken to me nicely, I could have been reasonable. But I am not Yvonne. I do not respond well to threats. So, I pressed the knife harder against her neck. 4 Celia shrieked, clutching at her bleeding neck. “Jasper, save me! She’s crazy!” But what could he do? I had the hostage. He could only glare at me, his eyes darting anxiously to the wound on Celia’s neck. “Yvonne, whatever you want, we can discuss it. Do you really want to go to jail for assault?” The dull blade scraped against her skin. It was more painful that way. “Aren’t you the ones who drove me to this?” I laughed softly. “I’m not afraid of jail. But the moment I’m arrested, the internet will be flooded with stories about how the head of the Cain Corporation abused his wife, cheated with his mistress, and caused her to miscarry. I wonder how that will affect your company’s stock prices.” “That’s nonsense!” he snarled. “You fell down the stairs yourself!” “Did I?” I looked down at Celia. “Miss Rowe, did I really fall by myself?” I pressed the knife a little deeper. “I’m sorry!” she wailed, a mess of tears and snot. “I pushed you! I was jealous! Please forgive me!” Jasper’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Celia, is that true?” “Jasper, please don’t hate me!” she sobbed. “I don’t know what came over me! By the time I realized what I was doing, it was too late! I was just a little jealous… I’m so sorry…” I remembered Yvonne gently stroking her belly, telling me she would love this child with all her heart. I had been callous then, telling her that Jasper didn’t want it, that a child unwanted by its father shouldn’t be born. But Yvonne had been firm. “This is my child. It has nothing to do with Jasper. When we divorce, I’ll take the baby far away.” Then she had asked me, cautiously, “You don’t hate children, do you?” Thinking of this, I suddenly felt tired. The child was gone. My womb was empty. There was no trace that a life had ever been there. I released Celia, letting her slump to the floor. The maids swarmed around her, calling for an ambulance, grabbing a first-aid kit. I stood there, covered in blood, and looked at Jasper. “Didn’t you want a divorce?” I walked over to him and patted his cheek with my blood-stained hand. “Have your lawyer draw up the papers. Everything that’s mine, I want every last cent.” His eyelashes fluttered. He looked up at me, his dark eyes filled with a complex emotion. He ignored my talk of divorce. “Have I… misunderstood a lot of things?” “Misunderstood?” I laughed. “A misunderstanding is when you make an incorrect judgment based on incomplete or inaccurate information. But Yvonne practically tore her heart out and showed it to you. This isn’t a misunderstanding, Jasper. This is you being stupid. Blind.” “And you’ve been blind for a very, very long time.”

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My brother Adrian and I were at war. He believed I caused the car crash that left his beloved Penny comatose, and without hesitation, he imprisoned me for three years. After our parents died, we became like unchained mad dogs, taking pleasure in destroying each other. He poisoned my food; I burned his assets. He once tied me to a helicopter and flew me like a kite; I drugged him and threw him into a wild animal pen. Our twisted games only stopped when Penny finally “woke up.” The woman he adored for three years slapped disownment papers in front of me, smiling triumphantly. “Sign this, or I’ll arrange another accident and frame you.” I laughed sharply, eyes stinging, then stabbed her in the stomach. I called Adrian on speaker, letting him hear her screams. He raged, “Rosalie, are you trying to get yourself killed?” I swallowed blood and hummed defiantly. He needn’t have bothered—the doctor had already told me. Terminal brain cancer. Three days left to live. 1 When Adrian burst through the door with his men, he found me casually crossing my legs, twirling the blood-slicked blade in my hand. Penny lay at my feet, her body wracked with tremors of pain. The moment she saw Adrian, she let out a desperate, piercing cry for help. “Adrian, it hurts! She’s trying to kill me!” The sight of her, covered in blood, turned his eyes a furious shade of red. He took a single step forward, and my stiletto heel pressed down on the wound in her stomach. Penny couldn’t even scream anymore, just curled into a helpless ball of agony. “Let her go!” Adrian roared, surging forward. But with every foot closer he got, I applied more pressure. Fresh blood seeped out, tracing crimson patterns beneath my shoe. Seeing this, Adrian stopped dead in his tracks, his face a mask of bitter defeat. His hands, hanging by his sides, clenched into tight fists. In a strained, hoarse voice, he used a title I hadn’t heard from him in years. “Sister… name your price. What will it take for you to let Penny go?” Before I could answer, he rattled off a desperate list of offers. “Forty percent of the company shares? The West End property? All my real estate in the city? Or… my life?” “Just say the word. It’s all yours.” A mocking laugh escaped me. I was about to throw the disownment papers Penny had brought right back in his face when the world suddenly went dark. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. Damn it, I cursed internally. Of all the times for this to happen. Sure enough, by the time my vision cleared, the cold edge of a blade was pressed against my neck. Another inch, and it would slice through my carotid artery. I met his cold gaze, a defiant smirk playing on my lips as I deliberately leaned into the knife’s edge. Adrian’s pupils contracted, a flicker of hesitation—of panic—crossing his face. And just like that, the tables turned. With a vicious grin, I snatched the knife from his hand. I was about to drive it through his palm when my eyes caught sight of a long, faded scar on his forearm. It stretched for inches, a pale reminder of our childhood. I had dragged him to an abandoned amusement park, a place forbidden to us. In the middle of our reckless games, the rusted frame of a roller coaster had groaned and collapsed right above my head. In that split second, Adrian had thrown himself at me, shoving me out of the way. When the rescue team finally dug him out, his right arm was shattered, nearly beyond repair. As they wheeled him into the operating room, he had gritted his teeth against the pain and forced a smile to comfort me. “Don’t cry, Rose. This is nothing.” A storm of emotions crashed within my chest. Clenching my jaw, I released my grip on the knife. My voice was ice as I bit out each word. “Take that idiot and get the hell out of my sight!” The next second, a blinding agony ripped through my skull, making it hard to breathe. I was going mad with pain, the only relief coming from slamming my head against the wall again and again. Adrian had just scooped Penny into his arms when he turned and saw me on the floor, clawing at my own hair and writhing. He froze for a moment, then let out a cold, derisive laugh. “If you’re going to put on an act, at least make it convincing. I nicked your neck, not your head.” He walked over and kicked me, his voice laced with contempt. “As for today… if you apologize to Penny, I can pretend none of this ever happened.” I turned my head and, with a bitter smile, sank my teeth into his leg. He let out a muffled grunt of pain, his face instantly darkening. Meeting his furious glare, I raised a single middle finger. “Me, apologize to her?” “In your next life.” Adrian’s chest heaved with rage. His final words were a chilling promise. “You chose this.” “Just you wait.” 2 The pain kept me awake all night. As dawn painted the sky in pale shades of gray, a wave of exhaustion finally washed over me. But before I could drift off, bodyguards were dragging me out of bed. Downstairs, I saw that the city’s elite, a who’s who of high society, had been invited to our home. In front of them all, I was thrown onto the doorstep like a piece of trash. A pair of expensive leather shoes entered my line of sight. Adrian’s cold voice drifted down. “You’ll have to understand. I’m throwing a birthday party for Penny, and our guests are… distinguished. The last thing we need is a criminal under this roof.” I fought to swallow the blood rising in my throat and looked up at him with a sneer. “Your methods are getting more childish by the day.” Adrian lit a cigarette, his gaze chillingly cold. He wasn’t looking at his sister; he was looking at an enemy. He blew out a perfect ring of smoke. “My offer still stands. Apologize to her, and this all goes away.” I stretched my lips into a silent, mocking grin. My answer was clear. He let out a sharp, humorless laugh and walked away. But just moments after he left, a commotion erupted from inside. Faintly, I heard my own name being spoken. A sudden, sharp sense of dread coiled in my stomach. I pushed my way through the crowd and saw it—a massive screen at the front of the room, cycling through a series of photographs. When I saw what they were, it was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. The cold spread from my limbs straight to my heart. My hands clenched into fists, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they drew blood. They were photos taken during my time in prison. Photos of my humiliation. The darkest, most brutal moments of my life. Those agonizing memories mixed with the sneers and whispers of the crowd, drilling into my mind. “Look at Rosalie on her knees, begging like a dog. Who knew the madwoman had a breaking point?” “I wonder if I could use these pics to get her into bed. Think she’d say yes?” “Forget it. Who’d want a woman who’s been to prison, anyway?” I bit my lip so hard I could taste blood. Spotting Adrian in the crowd, I lunged forward, grabbed him by the collar, and threw a punch with all my remaining strength. But it was a pathetic attempt. Ravaged by illness, my fist landed on him with all the force of a gentle tap. For the first time, Adrian looked genuinely confused. He grabbed my wrists and pulled me off him, his face flushed with anger. “What the hell is wrong with you? I didn’t put those photos up there!” Nearby, I caught the flash of triumph in Penny’s eyes. A cold laugh escaped me. “Penny. Looks like yesterday’s lesson didn’t stick, did it?” Penny immediately switched to her damsel-in-distress act, clutching at Adrian’s sleeve. “Adrian, it wasn’t me,” she whimpered. “Why does your sister always misunderstand me? Does she hate me that much?” Adrian instantly moved to shield her. The absurdity of it all made me laugh. “Adrian, how can you be so stupid?” I spat. “Besides you, she’s the only one who knows about my time in prison. Who else could have leaked those photos?” His voice was cold, certain. “It wasn’t Penny. She’s too timid. She wouldn’t dare.” I was done talking. I grabbed a nearby wine bottle and charged at Penny. But before I could reach her, Adrian’s bodyguards grabbed me by the hair and started dragging me out. The mocking, disdainful stares of the crowd felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing my heart. The rage and humiliation overwhelmed me. My vision went black, and I coughed up a mouthful of dark, thick blood. As my body went limp and I fell to the ground, the last thing I heard was a desperate, horrified shout. “Sister!” 3 When I woke up, my eyes met Adrian’s. They were red-rimmed and bloodshot. The next thing I knew, he threw a blood pack, and it splattered across my face. His voice was like ice. “Quite the performance, Rosalie. Too bad Penny found the blood pack you had prepared. Faking a collapse in front of all those people just to frame me… your little schemes have gotten much more clever.” I stared at him, stunned, for a long second. Then I grabbed the vase from the nightstand and hurled it at him. A satisfying line of red bloomed on his forehead, and only then did the inferno in my chest die down to a simmer. My voice was a raw rasp. “You idiot. Get out. I don’t want to see your face.” Adrian let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-scoff, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Penny and I are moving out tomorrow. From now on, you can throw your tantrums all you want. There will be no one left to stop you.” I turned my head away, my voice flat and cold. “Good. Out of sight, out of mind.” But the moment the door slammed shut, tears streamed down my face like broken strings of pearls. That bastard. I muttered curses under my breath as I got up and pulled a worn, yellowed photograph from a drawer. It was a picture of our family of four. My trembling fingers traced the smiling faces of our parents. Mom, Dad… your precious daughter is dying tomorrow, and there’s no one left to even claim her body. Just as I regained a sliver of strength, Penny showed up at my door with a food container. She wore the same smug, triumphant smile I had come to despise. She laid out the food—a spread of rich, greasy dishes. The cancer had spread everywhere, even to my stomach. I could barely handle liquids, let alone something so heavy with oil and salt. I looked at her, my eyes cold, and pointed to the door. “You have sixty seconds to get out. When time’s up, I’m throwing this food, and you, out the window.” Penny gasped, covering her mouth in mock surprise. She looked me up and down, her voice dripping with exaggerated pity. “You really are sick.” “Is this what they call karma, Rosalie?” The words had barely left her mouth before I snatched a bowl of hot, red soup and flung its contents directly at her face. The scalding liquid made her shriek in agony. The sound was music to my ears, and a slow, satisfied smile spread across my face. But at that exact moment, the door opened. Standing in the doorway was Adrian, his face as black as thunder. Behind him stood a dozen doctors and nurses, their mouths slightly agape in shock at the scene before them. One of the doctors couldn’t help but ask, “Mr. Sterling, who exactly is the patient?” Adrian pulled the weeping, red-faced Penny into his arms. He remained surprisingly calm as he instructed the butler to see the medical team out. “We don’t need doctors. Call the morgue. They can wait to collect her corpse.” His voice was devoid of all emotion. “She’ll kill herself with one of her fits eventually.” He glanced at the food spilled on the floor. “And don’t bother bringing her any more of this.” I laughed, a raw, broken sound, and shouted at his retreating back. “Hey, you bastard! On the day of my funeral, don’t forget to burn the house down for me too!” In all the years of fighting with Adrian, going hungry was nothing new. But this time was different. I couldn’t bear it. The searing pain in my head and the gnawing ache in my stomach sent me into waves of dizziness. I’d pass out at my computer, wake up, and pass out again. I was racing against the clock, knowing that every second was precious. After all this time, my investigation into our parents’ death was finally bearing fruit—and all signs pointed to Penny’s family. After another sleepless night, fueled by nothing but adrenaline, the chain of evidence was complete. I backed up one copy and sent another to the police. With that done, I dragged my exhausted body back to my room. I wanted to close my eyes for the last time in this room, a place that still held the warmth of our family. But when I opened the drawer, the spot where our family portrait should have been was empty. 4 My breath caught in my throat. Like a madwoman, I dragged my weak, tired body downstairs. And there she was. Penny, sitting on the sofa. She was toying with the photograph. When she saw me, a defiant smirk twisted her lips. “Look what I found.” “The great Rosalie’s one weakness.” My hands clenched into fists. I fought to suppress the murderous rage boiling inside me. “You’ve already won everything. Why are you still wasting your time on a dying woman?” Penny blinked innocently. “I have to make sure you die for good this time.” With that, she took out a lighter and set the corner of our family portrait on fire. The flickering flames danced across her pretty face, twisting her features into the mask of a demon. “You should have just died sooner, you know? I had to pretend to be in a coma for three years because of you.” “Your idiot brother is completely devoted to me. Once you’re gone, the Sterling family fortune will be all mine.” Perhaps it was a final burst of energy before death, a last flicker of a dying flame. I moved faster than I thought possible, lunging at her, grabbing her hair, and slamming her head against the floor. Penny, not expecting me to have any strength left, screamed, her face contorting with fear. “How dare you touch me! Adrian will never forgive you for this!” I looked at the photograph, now half-consumed by flames, and a grim, cold smile spread across my face. “It’s true, I’m dying. But before I go… how about I drag you down to hell with me?” Ignoring her terrified screams, I took the lighter and set her hair ablaze. Penny scrambled away, shrieking and batting at the flames, fumbling for her phone to call Adrian for help. I watched the chaos unfold, laughing until tears streamed down my face. But what I didn’t know, what neither of us knew, was that Penny was pregnant. And in the struggle, she lost the baby. It was the first time I had ever seen Adrian on the verge of tears. He looked like he wanted to kill me, but instead, he just dragged me to the family hall of ancestors. “Tell me,” Adrian’s voice was shaking uncontrollably. “Why did you go after Penny and the baby?” I placed the half-burnt photograph in front of him. “She burned this.” Suddenly, Adrian snapped. He snatched the remaining half of the photo and ripped it to shreds. “Stop lying!” he roared, his face contorted with rage and disappointment. It was the same look he’d given me years ago when Penny had her accident and he refused to believe my innocence. “Someone like you doesn’t have a shred of family feeling left in your heart!” “I’ve known it all along. You wanted the family fortune all to yourself. When you realized you couldn’t get rid of me, you decided to make sure I’d never have an heir.” “I’m done giving you chances.” He let go, and a single sheet of paper fluttered down in front of me. The disownment papers. “From this day on, we are no longer family. We split the inheritance, fifty-fifty.” I stared at him, numb, and asked, my voice barely a whisper, “You know the price of this, don’t you?” Adrian refused to look at me. He knelt ramrod-straight before our parents’ memorial tablets and, in a loud, clear voice, declared for all to hear: “The Sterling family creed is absolute. Those who break the bonds of family must endure the ninety-nine lashes!” “And I have summoned the witnesses.” His voice cracked for a moment before he continued. “As for your ninety-nine… I will take sixty-six of them for you. Consider it repayment for our childhood.” The pain in my heart was so intense it was a physical thing, but I let none of it show on my face. My body was failing, but I forced myself into a posture of pure, biting contempt. “Fine by me. I couldn’t be happier.” The barbed whip fell. By the tenth lash, I couldn’t hold on anymore. My vision swam with red. A pain unlike anything I’d ever known ripped a sob from my throat, and I found myself crying out for our parents. In the room next to me, Adrian remained silent. He took his hundred lashes without making a sound. When the punishment was over, he limped to the doorway to look at me. He was silhouetted against the light, so he couldn’t see the blood streaming from my eyes, nose, and mouth. A sudden, disdainful scoff broke the silence. “Stop faking it, Rosalie. I’ve fought you for three years, and you’ve always bounced back. Thirty-three lashes? That’s nothing more than a scratch to you.” “I’m leaving. Good luck.” I didn’t even have the strength to give him the finger. And then, the pain vanished. In my fading vision, I saw Mom and Dad, smiling at me. At the same time, Adrian stepped outside, just in time to see Penny being forced into a police car.

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