Author: Momo Chan

After ten years in hiding, I finally emerged, only to find the story had ended long ago. This post-apocalyptic novel was in its final chapters. The hero, Quaid Cole, had established a small-scale human sanctuary, and civilization was beginning the slow, arduous process of rebuilding itself. But none of that good fortune was for me. On my first day in this world, I made a shocking discovery: I was a pet jellyfish Quaid kept in a tank. That’s right. No eyes, just a basic light-sensing system. Even my thoughts felt flattened, simplified. But I never forgot my keeper. He would feed me the most delicious little shrimp. He would mix the saltwater to the perfect, most comfortable salinity. He would gently poke my bell and tentacles with his finger. Then one day, he just… never came back. And I… missed him. Damn it. A human had me completely wrapped around his little finger. 01 When the apocalypse hit, every plant and animal on Earth underwent some form of mutation. Monstrous tsunamis and famine followed, swallowing eighty percent of the world’s landmass. I knew none of this. All I knew was that one day, my tank suddenly became infinitely larger, big enough for me to roam the entire house. At first, everything was a blur. Gradually, the shapes of furniture began to resolve. Straining my mind to access my past life’s intellect, I determined this was the home of a single man. Before the end, it must have been a beautiful place. But now, the vast picture windows were shattered, and wooden furniture drifted bizarrely beneath the ceiling, along with a collection of medals, creating a strange, submerged wonderland. During my explorations, I found a photograph, laminated and preserved. It showed a handsome man with a sharp buzz cut. His white lab coat was flung open with an air of defiance, and he wore a pair of strange-looking goggles, his brow furrowed as he stared into the camera. …He looked so kind. He must be a good person. Yup. I gently touched the photo with a small tentacle, and my body began to glow faintly. I had to find him. A keeper who abandons his pet is no good. Besides, I was so, so hungry. If I could just find him, I was sure I could eat all the shrimp I wanted. 02 The first time I tried to leave, I swam headfirst into a piece of furniture and nearly bruised my bell. The world outside was far too dangerous for a little jellyfish. It took I don’t know how long, but I focused all my energy on transforming myself into my previous human form. A jellyfish is mostly water, a boneless, floating creature. By constantly absorbing the water around me, I slowly managed to create a shimmering, translucent human shape. The massive expenditure of energy left me even hungrier. Dizzy with hunger, I pushed aside the overgrown algae and barnacles and “swam” out through the shattered picture window. Before me lay a resplendent, silent, underwater city. Schools of fish darted through the skeletons of once-mighty skyscrapers, where clothes, gnawed down to threads, drifted like ghosts. I noticed that even the once-harmless fish were different now. Some had evolved to monstrous sizes, others had developed deadly venoms, their very colors screaming danger. No matter how glorious human civilization had once been, it was utterly fragile against the might of this new ocean. The moment I emerged from the house, a dark swarm of fish changed course, and the seaweed lunged toward me like grasping hands. 03 Back when Quaid was taking care of me, if the water temperature dropped by a single degree, I would droop my bell and play dead for him. Jellyfish are delicate creatures, after all. The slightest mistake, and it’s curtains. Now, the water was so cold it made me shiver. “Ooh, seaweed. I was just getting hungry,” I said, plucking a large handful and munching on it as I swam. “This fish probably doesn’t have many bones… let’s see…” I noticed some fish trying to bite me, but my body regenerated almost instantly. A jellyfish’s healing ability is formidable. “Doesn’t taste great, though… hiccup.” Grimacing, I ate everything edible in the vicinity before pulling out the photograph again. On the back was an address… It seemed to be where my keeper used to work. I clapped my hands and set off with a determined swagger. “Captain Cole, we’re detecting an anomalous magnetic field in Zone Z!” The man at the screen had a grim expression. “You need to see this. It’s coming from the Dead Zone, the area with the most severe marine mutations. We’ve lost personnel on every reconnaissance mission we’ve sent there…” But now, the glaring red on the screen had faded significantly, which usually indicated a drop in the danger level. Yet, no one in the observation room looked relieved. A deep, cold voice cut through the tension. “A new apex predator may have emerged. Once its mutation is complete, it will dominate all other life in its environment. We need to prepare.” Quaid Cole stared at the screen, his eyes darkening, his lashes casting a small shadow on his cheek. “Return to Base for now.” 04 My keeper’s workplace was also flooded. Not a soul in sight. I clutched my empty stomach, completely at a loss. Just then, a waterproof radio crackled to life: “Broadcast Number 27803… crackle… The year is now 30XX… To any humans still surviving on this planet… do not give up… crackle… please head east… this is the Base… we are still conducting search and rescue operations…” Yes! I clenched my fist. I’ll go to the Base and find him there. I grabbed a white lab coat and threw it on, completely oblivious to the fact that an invisible dead zone had formed around me, a space so empty that not even a single shrimp dared to swim near. On a desk, I found some documents in a sealed bag. The handwriting on one was sharp and powerful: How to Care for a Fussy, Spoiled, and Prideful Jellyfish 1. Change the water regularly. 2. Provide sufficient food. 3. Gentle touching. … Gentle? He poked my head like he was trying to pop a balloon. 05 I headed east for a long time, and the water seemed to be getting shallower. Along the way, I found a light blue shoulder bag and carefully filled it with beautiful conches, shells, pink coral flowers, and strangely shaped stones. They were a gift for my keeper when I found him. The last remnants of humanity had gathered on the final piece of land on Earth. Unsure if I could survive out of the water, I cautiously swam upward and extended a hand above the surface. No pain. So, I clambered ashore, dripping wet. My body had lost much of its translucence, but I felt clumsy, not as agile as I was in the water. With the human population so drastically reduced, I hadn’t encountered anyone on my journey. But not long after reaching land, I came across a small group. They were men and women, protectively guarding a fishing net full of food. When I asked for directions, they just stared at each other. “You want to go to the Base?” The man in the lead let out a sarcastic laugh. “Do you have any idea how dangerous the road is? And what makes you think the Base will just let you in? People are dying to get in there!” He was about to say more when the woman next to him nudged him discreetly. She turned to me with a warm smile. “Why don’t you come with us? We’re heading there too. It’s good to have company.” I nodded obediently. “Okay.” That night, by the campfire. Faint whispers carried from behind the trees: “You idiot! Didn’t you see she’s alone? To have survived this long and gotten this far, that bag of hers must be full of good stuff.” “Besides, a woman like that… you know how much gold she could fetch on the black market? We might even be able to buy a Base access card outright!” “Let’s just starve her until she’s weak, then sell her…” In the darkness, two pairs of greedy eyes watched the girl sleeping soundly. This area was a settlement that had sprung up around the Base. The Base provided some aid to all humans, like medicine and food, but not everyone could live inside. Only those who passed the Base’s assessment could become a member. The next morning, we set out for the Base without even eating breakfast. Along the way, the woman, who called herself Belle, chatted with me endlessly. “What are you going to the Base for? How did you get here?” I wanted to say I was looking for my keeper, but I was afraid of revealing I was a jellyfish. I wracked my brain and said, “I’m… I’m looking for my family. I swam here.” Belle scoffed internally. She can’t even lie properly. As if anyone could swim through that deadly stretch of ocean. What an idiot. “What’s in your bag? It looks heavy. I can carry it for you.” I patted my little bag proudly. “No, thank you! These are my treasures.” My keeper will be so happy when he sees all the pretty flowers and stones I found. “…” “By the way, sister, how old are you? Where do you usually hang out?” I blinked, asking my own curious questions. 06 We traveled for several days. Belle said that with food so scarce, they only ate one meal a day. I couldn’t stomach the compressed biscuits anyway, so every night, I would sneak off to a nearby stream to catch fish. The fish and crabs in these freshwater streams had also mutated; they were vicious, leaping out to bite my legs. I unfurled two of my tentacles and caught half a basketful, eating until my belly was round. So, while I followed them with boundless energy, Belle and her husband, who had started out at a brisk pace, were soon practically holding each other up just to keep walking. They had food with them. Why weren’t they eating it? Humans were so hard to understand. After three days of this, we finally reached a small town. The town was in ruins, the air thick with the smell of oil and gunpowder. People on the roadside watched us with unfriendly eyes. Belle’s husband said he needed to get his weapon serviced and left us. “You see how things are now. It’s not like the old world. Especially for us women… if we don’t find a safe place, who knows what could happen…” Belle said, taking my hand in a sisterly fashion. “You’re so young, it’s too dangerous for you to be wandering around alone. I have an idea. This town is great. There are a lot of powerful men here. If you could stay, you’d be rich and safe!” I looked at her, confused. “Huh? Isn’t this the Base?” “Silly girl, what’s so great about the Base?” She patted my head. “This is where everyone wants to be. You just sit here in the park and don’t wander off, okay? Wait for me to come back.” I watched her walk into a shop with a black sign. I thought about what she’d said and frowned. Belle was trying to be kind, I guess… but I didn’t want to stay in this town. 07 After some hard bargaining, Belle finally settled on a price. To her shock, when she returned excitedly to the park, I was surrounded by several heavily armed men. “This is her?” one of them grunted. Seeing Belle, I beamed and waved. “Sister, I found someone for you! You can stay in this rich and safe place now!” Belle froze, her jaw dropping. “This kind uncle heard a woman wanted to stay, so he came right over with me,” I explained to the men. “That’s her.” “You— I’m not—” Belle’s eyes widened in fury, but before she could scream, two men grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her back. Another clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, and there’s a brother, too. He wants to stay in town as well,” I added earnestly, seeing Belle’s tears of joy. “No need to thank me. You two took such good care of me on the road.” Belle was already dizzy from hunger. The sudden shock and rage were too much, and all the fight went out of her. “Right, I get it. We can always use more labor in town…” The uncle nodded. He was a very kind man. Earlier, when the shells and conches had spilled from my bag in the park, he’d seen me picking them up and had gone pale. When I told him about the brother and sister who wanted to find a rich and safe place to live, he had immediately pounded his chest and said to leave it to him. “Oh, and here’s your finder’s fee. Two pieces of gold. Fifty grams for the woman, ten for the man.” “Thank you, uncle,” I said with a sweet smile, tucking the two gold bars into my bag. Now I had money for the rest of the trip to the Base, and the brother and sister got to stay in town. What a wonderful day. When the Base finds out about this, they’ll think I’m the smartest, kindest little jellyfish in the world. They’ll definitely let me in. 08 I spent another half-day in town, stocking up on food and a few dresses. I considered buying a weapon, but I didn’t know how much farther I had to go and didn’t want to weigh my bag down. Now that I’d found other people, the way to the Base wasn’t hard to find. I fell in with a stream of survivors, all heading in the same direction. “You have to pass an assessment to get into the Base. I just hope I don’t get Captain Cole as my examiner…” someone prayed. “I heard he built the Base with his own two hands.” A heavy silence fell over the group. Everyone knew the chaos of the early days. The kind of person who could forge a sanctuary from that chaos was not a man of mercy, but a man of iron will. “I was only seven or eight when the world ended. My mom used to scare me with his name at night.” “Me too! She’d say if I didn’t go to sleep, she’d let him come and get me…” I trailed behind the group, shivering. I never imagined my former keeper, now Captain Cole, could be so terrifying. I pictured him with giant fangs, razor-sharp claws, and fierce, red eyes… Weighted down with worry, I finally arrived at the gates of the Base. It was imposing and fortified, its cold white walls reflecting in my eyes. Everyone surged forward to line up at the checkpoint. I hurried to the back of the line. But the guards who usually stood watch were gone. The iron gates were sealed tight. 09 Inside the Base, alarm bells were shrieking. The sound of running footsteps echoed through the halls. “SSS-level alert! SSS-level alert! Unknown high-intensity mutant approaching!” For days, their sensors had tracked a dangerous mutant lifeform on the move. It had traveled all the way from the Dead Zone and was now right on their doorstep. “Report! Sir… Captain Cole, we’ve checked the perimeter. There’s a group of survivors at the gate seeking entry… besides that, nothing unusual. I suspect one of them might be the high-intensity mutant, or perhaps has been parasitized by it. We still don’t know what this thing looks like…” Quaid calmly glanced at the monitor, his gaze lingering on the group of survivors. His eyes quickly found a girl in a white, floral-print dress. She stood out starkly among the grimy, armed crowd. Many in the line had also noticed her, their expressions growing wary. But the girl seemed oblivious, happily trying to clip a seashell into her hair like a barrette. A creature that fragile couldn’t survive in this world. He coolly looked away. “Captain Cole?” “Place them in the temporary shelter. I’ll conduct the assessment myself,” Quaid said, his voice low and firm. 10 I was trying to clip a blue shell into my hair when a young man with a friendly smile approached me. He was slender, with glasses that gave him a scholarly air. “Here, let me help you.” He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. “Thank you. What do you think is going on? Who do you think will assess us?” The man seemed thoughtful. “Could be Quaid Cole himself.” Just as he spoke, the iron gates began to slide open. We followed the guards into a wide, open space. As I looked around, a figure appeared on a high platform. A buzz cut, sharp features, and a scar I didn’t remember slicing through the tail of his eyebrow. He wore a uniform, and the brim of his black cap cast a shadow over his strong jawline. His presence alone silenced the crowd. I stood on my tiptoes, trying to get a better look, and pulled out my photograph to compare. Hmm. No fangs, no claws… that was my keeper, all right. “I am Quaid Cole. I will be your examiner.” 11 The man with the glasses saw my confusion and whispered, “Don’t be scared. After the apocalypse, many animals mutated, but so did some humans. The Base is looking for people who have awakened special abilities.” The next moment, Quaid announced the test: defeat a megalodon in the simulation training room. We entered the training room one by one, according to our place in line. Since I was last, it would be a long wait. My bag felt heavy. Remembering something, I scampered up the stairs. “What do you think you’re doing?” A guard blocked my path. “I need to talk to your captain…” “Let her through.” Finally, a chance to talk to my keeper! I was ecstatic. “I finally found you! I’ve been looking for you for so long.” Quaid stared at the girl before him. “What?” he said, his brow furrowing. “Do not attempt to fraternize with the examiner.” His voice was cold, and the girl seemed to freeze in place, too intimidated to come any closer. I hung my head and carefully took out the conches, shells, pink coral flowers, and colorful stones from my bag, placing them on the ground. “I’m not trying to fraternize. I found these in the ocean. They’re my treasures, and I wanted to give them to you.” As an afterthought, I tucked the photograph under one of the stones. Afraid he would scold me again, I didn’t dare say another word. I turned and bolted back down the stairs. Quaid stood there, stunned for a moment, his gaze fixed on the small pile of treasures. I couldn’t believe how mean he had become. He didn’t even apologize for not feeding me a single shrimp and just abandoning me. “Stop.” I ran faster. 12 Ignoring the voice behind me, I rejoined the line. Agonized screams periodically echoed from the simulation room. When the man with the glasses was the first to emerge, his lenses spattered with blood, a smile playing on his lips, I suddenly realized who he was. Liam. The main villain of this post-apocalyptic novel. I should have recognized him at first glance. But ten years as a jellyfish in a tank, with no one to talk to, nothing to read, no contact with other humans, had caused my language and memory skills to deteriorate. My human way of thinking had faded. By the end, I truly thought of myself as just a jellyfish with a few stray thoughts. Only after the apocalypse allowed me to leave the tank did I slowly begin to recover my “human” abilities. In this base-building novel, Liam was the ultimate antagonist. He had a legion of fanatical followers born from the chaos of the apocalypse and possessed powerful mutated abilities of his own. He was the secret commander, his true identity unknown to anyone. In the novel’s finale, he was betrayed by a subordinate and cast into the sea— Everyone thought he was dead. Liam sat down next to me. He glanced up at the platform, then took off his glasses to wipe them, a small smile on his face. “Don’t be afraid. I don’t know what your ability is, but the megalodon in there has a weakness.” What villain? This was a top student, sharing answers and looking out for his classmates! What a great guy. I looked at him with stars in my eyes. “Ahem,” he said, looking away uncomfortably. “Its mutated attack pattern has a flaw. Every 90 seconds, it has a moment of slight hesitation. You can either attack then, or… use that moment to trick it into attacking someone else.” Liam watched me diligently taking notes, his gaze drifting to my skinny arms and legs. “If you can’t do it, just forfeit. I’ll find a way to get you in.” One by one, the other candidates stumbled out, dazed and injured. Finally, it was my turn. After another short wait, I stepped into the simulation room. The room was filled with seawater. I jumped in gleefully. It had been so long since I’d been in the ocean. I instantly felt a current of power flow through me. It was wonderful. Then I saw my opponent… a palm-sized pufferfish?! Wait, what happened to the megalodon?! 13 I poked the little pufferfish. It puffed up into an angry, spiky ball. I played with it for a bit, then swallowed it in two bites. Battle over in five minutes. I kind of wished it had been the megalodon. That would have been a proper meal. Why did the test change for me? And so, I passed the first assessment in last place. There were two assessments to get into the Base. Combat ability was one, and professional skill was the other. If you had a specialized expertise, like a doctor or a mechanical engineer, you could also get in. The second assessment was to fill out a form with your specialty. Three hours later, a very sad little jellyfish handed in a blank sheet of paper. 14 “Captain Cole, why is this one blank?” a subordinate asked, flipping through the papers. Quaid said, “She’s honest. Unlike those who would lie just to get in.” “…” The subordinate paused. “Her combat score seems average, too. One-star difficulty. The strongest in this batch is the one with the glasses… Liam. He must be the dangerous mutant.” Quaid didn’t answer, his eyes scanning the combat recordings of each candidate. Suddenly, a series of bloodcurdling screams erupted from outside the training room!

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The first day of preschool. My darling boy was clinging to a police officer, bawling his eyes out. “Help me! I don’t wanna go to school!” Sigh. I stepped forward to pry my son off the poor man, and then… I froze. Because this wasn’t just any cop. It was my damn ex. 1 I’ll admit, a man in uniform has a certain appeal. My son, Theo, was attached to him like a little koala, his arms and legs wrapped tight. His little nose and eyes were red and puffy from crying, his breath catching in hiccuping sobs as he buried his head in the officer’s neck, completely secure. The officer, however, looked anything but secure when he saw me. His face changed instantly. My own heart lurched. Four years since the breakup, and of all the places to run into him, it had to be here. All I could think was, what rotten luck. I’d sworn four years ago that if I ever saw him again, I’d be struck by lightning. Looks like my karmic retribution was just around the corner. But before divine justice could smite me, I had to get my son back. “Theo, honey, come here. You’re getting the nice officer’s uniform all dirty,” I tried, hoping a little white lie would do the trick. The little traitor didn’t even spare me a glance, having already defected to the enemy. Chace’s eyes, sharp and intense, were fixed on me. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was staring at me like he was aiming a sniper rifle right at my soul, and it was making my skin crawl. I just prayed my son would get the telepathic message and come to me. “No,” Theo mumbled, tightening his little arms. He looked at me with tear-filled, mournful eyes. “I…” Forgive my inner brute, but at this rate, I’d never get this kid into school. This… this little rebel! He was forcing my hand. “Listen up, kiddo. Police officers are here to catch naughty little boys. You want a shiny pair of silver bracelets? A nice, hard bed at the station? Little Joey from next door has been eyeing your Super Wings collection for a long time. The second you’re hauled away, I’m giving it all to him.” It wasn’t just Theo; Chace’s expression darkened even further. His handsome face was like a storm cloud rolling in. He always looked like that when he was angry. I used to be able to gauge the exact level of his fury by the shade of his scowl. Right now, we were at DEFCON 1, probably because I was slandering his entire profession. I know, I know, you’re not supposed to use police officers to scare children. But I was desperate. “Officer, do you really arrest little kids?” Theo asked, cupping Chace’s face with his chubby hands, his eyes brimming with pitiful tears. “No,” Chace answered firmly. Excuse me?? Alright, fine. So much for my authority. I glanced at my watch. If I didn’t get Theo into that school soon, I was going to be late for work, and there went my perfect attendance bonus for the month. “But,” Chace added, his tone softening, “officers don’t like boys who don’t behave. Are you a good boy?” My little fool nodded obediently, his voice milky. “I am. Theo is the bestest boy.” “Good. Then I’ll take you inside,” Chace said, his voice shifting. With a single fluid motion, he strode past me, carrying Theo into the preschool. I scurried behind them, marveling at how easily he’d handled it. A kid was just a kid. How could he possibly outsmart Chace? The memory of how thoroughly Chace used to run circles around me still brought a sting to my eyes. 2 After dropping off Theo, I’d have to hit every green light to make it to work on time. But it was rush hour. Getting a ride wasn’t going to be easy. “Where are you going?” Chace asked, his voice cold. “To work,” I said evasively. It was awkward enough running into an ex, let alone one with our history. “I’ll give you a ride,” he stated, his face a blank mask. “Using a public vehicle for personal business on company time…” I clicked my tongue, my face a picture of disapproval. Even on the verge of being late, a taxpayer had to defend her rights. Chace pressed a button on his key fob, and a black SUV parked nearby beeped. I jumped. He got in, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You seem to know a lot. I just finished the night shift. I’m on my way home to sleep, and this is my personal car.” “Oh.” Mortified, I quickly looked down at my phone. The rideshare app was useless; not a single car was available. “Scared to get in? Zara, you used to be so brave. You think I’m going to eat you?” Chace rested his arm on the open window, his expression openly challenging. I have many virtues, but resisting a dare is not one of them. “Scared of you? Please…” I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. “102 Lakeside Drive. Thanks.” Chace hit the gas, and the SUV pulled out into traffic. It was like the traffic gods were smiling down on me. We didn’t hit a single red light. I clenched my fists in excitement. My perfect attendance bonus was safe. “Why are you shaking?” Chace glanced at me from the corner of his eye. His profile was chiseled, like something out of a sculpture gallery, flawless from every angle. “I’m not shaking,” I said stubbornly, quickly placing my hands primly on my knees. “Is Theo your son?” Chace asked. “Would he be calling me ‘Mom’ if he wasn’t?” I shot back. I was surprised. He was the one who left me. Why did he care now if Theo was my son? It was none of his business. “You’re married?” His voice was low, betraying no emotion, but it sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine. I suddenly pictured him in an interrogation room, questioning a suspect. He was questioning me the same way. “Yes.” That should have been the end of it. But I forgot that Chace wasn’t a normal person. The conversation only ended when he decided it was over. A guy with his personality would never find a girlfriend in today’s world. I must have been blinded by his looks back then, falling for his tricks before I knew what was happening. Later, when his interest faded, I had enough self-respect to leave quietly. “Where is he? Why didn’t he come with you to drop Theo off today?” Chace was relentless. Once he wanted to know something, he wouldn’t let it go. “That’s my private business,” I protested. “When was Theo born? What month, what year?” I… 3 If we weren’t in his car, I would have cursed him and his entire family tree. But I knew him. The more I tried to hide things about Theo, the more suspicious he’d become. Fine. I’d fall back on a classic cliché. That would shut him up and stop him from demanding to meet my “husband.” “Since you’re so concerned about your ex-girlfriend, and it’s not like it’s some dark secret… after we broke up, my family set me up on a blind date. My husband was very wealthy, a big deal in business. We were always apart because of his work, and then… he died in a car accident before Theo was even a year old… I’ve been raising Theo by myself all these years, doing everything for him, being both a mother and a father…” I covered my face, my head bowed in sorrow. You have to commit to the performance. It worked. Chace stopped asking questions. But the veins on the back of his hands stood out against the steering wheel. The atmosphere in the car instantly tensed, the temperature dropping by at least ten degrees. Since he didn’t respond, I couldn’t muster any real tears. I kept my face hidden and turned to look out the window. Through the gaps in my fingers, I watched the city blur past, desperately wishing, Are we there yet? I knew it. I would have rather lost the bonus than get in this car. “I’m sorry.” What? I thought I’d misheard. “What did you just say?” I asked. “I don’t repeat myself.” I shot him a dirty look. What was he apologizing for now? Just then, his phone rang. It sounded like a call for backup. He exchanged a few brief words and hung up. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to face me. “Your office is just around the corner. You can run from here. I have to go, I’m needed on a call.” “Okay,” I said, getting out. I watched him speed away without a second glance back. The same person, the same situation. It was like we were back four years ago. During his second year as a cop, he was always on call. No matter where we were or what we were doing, one phone call and he was gone. I understood all of it. I never threw a fit or gave him a hard time. But he never knew how hard the lonely nights were, how much I worried every time I watched him leave. Well, that was all over now. I had Theo to keep me company. As for Chace, some other woman could worry about him now. I clocked into work with one minute to spare. With that kind of luck, it was bound to be a great day. Or so I thought. Just as I was about to clock out, my boss dropped an urgent task on my desk. Damn it. I had to rush. I had promised Theo I’d be the first one to pick him up today. After finishing my work, I sprinted out of the office faster than anyone. By the time I reached the preschool, I felt like I was half-dead. And I was still too late. Parents were already leaving with their children. Theo was probably standing by the gate all by himself again, waiting for me. I was still trying to figure out how to explain being late when I looked up and saw Chace. He was here again. And he was holding my son. 4 He’d changed out of his uniform and was wearing casual clothes. His arms, exposed below the short sleeves, were a sun-kissed bronze, all corded muscle. The simple t-shirt clung to his broad chest, looking even better than the uniform. He was holding Theo with one arm. At six-foot-one, with broad shoulders and long legs, he cut an impressive figure. Every young mother and pretty teacher that walked by did a double-take. Figures. The man was still a walking hazard. “Mommy!” Theo reached his little arms out for me. That sweet little voice melted my heart. “Mommy’s here,” I said, taking him from Chace and hugging him tight, planting a big kiss on his forehead. I hadn’t seen him all day, and my eyes started to sting. “Theo saw me when I got here and started crying for me, so I brought him out,” Chace explained. “Right. Thanks.” After I answered, it hit me. Are cops really this free? Why was he hanging around a preschool? “Wait, what are you doing here?” I asked, looking at him suspiciously. He wasn’t planning something, was he? Chace’s lips curved into a smile. He reached behind him and pulled out a little girl, hoisting her into his arms. “Picking up my kid.” I had been so focused on Theo that I hadn’t even noticed the little girl hiding behind his leg. I felt like a complete idiot. So much for thinking I was special. Four years was plenty of time for him to get married and have a child. We were broken up. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But a tidal wave of emotion washed over me—disappointment, hurt, a suffocating tightness in my chest. “We’re going now. Goodbye,” I said, my eyes downcast. I hugged Theo tighter and walked away quickly. Chace called my name from behind, but I ignored him. “Mommy, the officer is calling you,” Theo reminded me. “Don’t listen to him.” The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I had spent the last four years thinking about him, and now it was clear he’d probably forgotten all about me. If not for this chance encounter, we might have never seen each other again. “Good boys don’t lie. You heard him. And the officer said I’d get a present if I was good,” Theo argued, his loyalty clearly misplaced. His world now revolved around the police officer. “You want a pair of silver bracelets?” Theo burst into tears. I was completely caught off guard and had to spend the next few minutes hugging and soothing him. That night, Theo had a nightmare, mumbling about not wanting silver bracelets in his sleep. I was filled with regret. I had to stop scaring him like that. It was bad for both of us. The apartment was quiet, but I couldn’t sleep. I replayed the day’s events in my mind, thinking of Chace, of the little girl by his side, and my heart ached with a familiar sourness. 5 We got together because I was completely powerless against his good looks. Chace was at the police academy, and I was at the art school right across the street. It was like the two universities had planned it. Every day, droves of pretty art students would gaze across the street at the handsome future police officers, and the police cadets would shout their drills extra loud to attract the attention of the delicate young women. The fact that Chace and I hit it off stunned a lot of people, including me. I wasn’t anything special. I had a reasonably pretty face and a talent for drawing. For four years of college, Chace was my exclusive model. He seemed to enjoy it. He was a quiet person; when he wasn’t exercising, he was staring into space. He always corrected me, insisting he was “thinking,” not “spacing out.” I would just laugh and tell him his defensiveness was a dead giveaway. After graduation, he was assigned to a local precinct, and I found a job as a design assistant. As rookies in the professional world, we barely had any free time. Chace rented an apartment near my office and asked me to move in with him. It was only later that I realized he did it so I could sleep in a little longer in the mornings. I was terrible at waking up, often pulling all-nighters to finish projects. Those extra minutes of sleep were precious. Everything seemed to be moving in the right direction. We would be like most couples: save up some money, get married, have kids, and live a quiet life. But in his second year on the force, things changed. He was always working overtime, always taking calls. The rare date we had would inevitably be cut short by some emergency. I was committed to him, so none of that mattered. He was a cop; I understood the nature of his job. But some things you can’t fight. Love, like the tide, comes in and goes out. It was a harsh reality, but one I had to accept. Chace spoke to me less and less. We saw each other less and less. His coldness and avoidance felt like he was trying to push me into being the one to say it was over. I didn’t want to, but I wasn’t going to beg. After all those years together, I deserved better. It’s strange, but the day we broke up was the only time we were ever truly intimate. And I initiated it. I don’t know if that’s something to be proud of or sad about. I’d had a few drinks. I kicked open his bedroom door and pounced on him. He tried to resist, so I just grabbed his collar, buried my face in his chest, and cried. In the end, I got what I wanted. But the feeling between us was gone. If there was no feeling left, why cling to a one-sided love? I left quietly while he was away on a business trip. What happened next was like a cosmic joke. That one time… I got pregnant. Without a second thought, I had Theo and raised him by myself. As for Chace, it never even crossed my mind to tell him. In my sleep, I heard Theo whimpering about not wanting to go to preschool tomorrow. I turned and wrapped my arms around his small, soft body. When I touched my own face, I realized it was wet with tears. “I don’t want to go to preschool either. I’ll have to see him,” I whispered. I hoped Chace wouldn’t be the one dropping off his kid tomorrow. I sighed, found a comfortable position, and closed my eyes. 6 Well, damn. The next morning, I woke up sick. My usually indestructible body had finally given up. I was a mess, sniffling and weak. I was afraid of getting Theo sick, so I asked my friend Chloe to watch him for a few days. She was his godmother, a single woman with a hopeless weakness for adorable little boys like mine, but a deep-seated disdain for me. She was always telling me to find a good man and settle down. I always brushed her off. Good men weren’t exactly easy to find. Even though I was sick, I still had to work. How else was I going to support the two of us? Finally, my boss couldn’t take it anymore. I think the sight of me trying to give a presentation while simultaneously blowing my nose, wiping my eyes, and speaking in a hoarse croak was too much for him. He mercifully gave me two days off. Sleeping in on a workday was pure bliss. The sickness came on strangely, but it left just as quickly. After a few days of rest, I was mostly better. I called Chloe to arrange picking Theo up, only to find out she was at a birthday party! “Where is my son? What did you do with him?” Chloe was full of apologies. “Just tell me where he is! I’m going to get him!” Could a best friend be any more unreliable? She hemmed and hawed, but I finally cornered her until she confessed. “23 River Road, Apartment 5-3-202.” I froze. I would never forget that address. It was where Chace and I had lived four years ago. A dark premonition washed over me. This was not going to be simple. “Chloe, I swear I’m going to kill you!” I was at my wit’s end. “Now, Zara, don’t be like that. You’ve been raising Theo alone for all these years, for what? Chace is his father, and he hasn’t done a single thing. What’s wrong with him watching his own son for a few days? Why are you so stubborn? If you ask me, you never should have hidden it from him. Maybe you two would have never broken up.” Was I wrong? No. You can’t force someone to walk the same path as you. He was married with a child now. I couldn’t be the one to wreck his family. “It’s impossible for Chace and me. He’s married,” I sighed. Chloe started to say something else, but I hung up, grabbed my bag and coat, and headed out to get my son. I hailed a cab, but the traffic was a nightmare. I’d hit rush hour again. The scenery was mostly the same as it had been four years ago. Chace had rented this place because it was close to my office. After we broke up, I moved out and never came back. I now lived in a small loft apartment that I’d bought outright. It was a bit out of the way, and I spent almost an hour commuting each day. But I bought it because it was far away. Far enough to avoid him. To never see him again. And now, after running in circles, I was right back where I started. I took a shaky breath, stood at the door, and rang the bell. 7 The doorbell was the same one I’d programmed. When you pressed it outside, a recording of my voice would play inside: “Chace and Zara, you have a visitor!” What was once sweet was now excruciatingly awkward. Why hadn’t he changed it?! The door opened. Chace was in loose-fitting loungewear, with Theo perched on his shoulders. Their faces were smeared with face paint, and they were holding toy guns. They had clearly been playing soldiers. Theo’s eyes were shining with an excitement he couldn’t hide. I could see he liked Chace. Did he even want him to be his father? I quickly squashed the ridiculous thought. Chace was married. Theo and I couldn’t become a joke. “Mommy! The officer and I are playing guns! We’re special forces! Come in, Mommy!” Theo tugged on my arm, but I remained rooted to the spot outside the door. The excitement on Chace’s face faded. “Come in,” he said. “It’s not Chloe’s fault. I was the one who asked to have Theo over.” I scoffed. “Don’t you have to work?” “I took some vacation time. I haven’t had a vacation in four years,” he said, his eyes fixed on me. The words were loaded. He deliberately emphasized four years. We had been apart for exactly four years. “Well, thanks for the trouble. I’m here to take Theo home.” My gaze shifted past him to my son. “Theo, go get your backpack. We’re going home,” I said, bending down to urge him. Theo looked reluctant, glancing back and forth between me and Chace. He clearly wasn’t done playing. I grabbed his little arm, my face hardening. “Theo, be a good boy and come home with Mommy. It’s not nice to bother people.” “But Mommy, you said if we’re in trouble, we should find a police officer. He’s not people,” he said, then looked up at Chace and smiled. My patience was wearing thin. I scooped him up in my arms. “Let’s go!” Theo immediately started to cry, reaching for Chace. “I don’t wanna go! I wanna play with the officer…” he wailed, just like he had at the preschool gate. The sound echoed through the hallway, making my ears ring. Chace grabbed my arm, his face grim. “Don’t make him cry. Give him to me, I’ll calm him down.” A fire ignited in my chest. “I’m his mother. I don’t need you to teach me how to raise my child!” My shout only made Theo cry harder. “Let go!” Chace’s expression grew even darker. His grip on my arm tightened. With a struggling son in my arms and his demanding father by my side, the situation was spiraling out of control. I could feel sweat trickling down my back. A few neighbors walked by with their groceries. “Oh, dear,” one of them said. “A little lovers’ quarrel, upsetting the child. Just take her inside and make up, dear.” 8 Before I could explain that he wasn’t my husband and we were not a “little couple,” the world tilted. Chace had swept both me and my son up into his arms and carried us inside. His strength was impressive, but I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles. Everything in the apartment was exactly as it had been four years ago. From the big things, like the sofa and table we’d bought online together, to the small things, like the ceramic rabbits from the night market and the stuffed animal he’d won for me playing darts—everything was in its original place. It was like time had rewound. Chace stood before me, hands on his hips, and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. It was still cut short, stiff and a little severe. “We need to talk about this from the beginning,” he said, watching my expression carefully. “That day at the preschool, Theo saw me and ran right into my arms. Chloe was there too, but he wouldn’t go with her, so I brought him home for a few days… I’m on vacation, anyway.” He was explaining, but I found the whole thing ridiculous. I smirked. “What are you smiling at?” he asked, frowning. “Nothing.” I didn’t want to say it. How could he come up with such a lame excuse? Instead of spending his vacation with his wife and child, he was babysitting mine for free? Wasn’t his wife jealous? “Are you hiding something from me?” Chace blocked my path, his gaze darting between me and Theo. I froze. My worst fear was coming true. I was going to kill Chloe when I got my hands on her. “I think that’s my line,” I retorted, referring to the little girl, Amy. If he was married, he should act like it, and stop playing these games. Chace’s eyes dropped, like a student caught cheating. “I want to talk to you. Just the two of us. A real conversation,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “There’s no need. You two live your lives, and don’t bother me and my son. We’ll be fine,” I said, getting up to leave. Chace frowned, a look of confusion on his face. I snorted internally. Men. Always wanting what they can’t have. Chloe had once told me that once a woman sleeps with a man, he subconsciously considers her his. Chace was clearly suffering from a case of that delusion. Get a grip! I was my own person. He was his. And more importantly, he was married. I had no interest in being a homewrecker. I picked up Theo and left without a second thought. The sound of the door closing behind me felt like it was finally severing the last ties of those four years. Chace watched us go, looking dejected. His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Back home, I asked Theo about his time there. He excitedly told me about all the games he played and the food he ate at the officer’s house, and that his godmother had visited him. The mention of Chloe reignited my anger. I called her. She was on a business trip in some far-off country. I yelled at her for a solid twenty minutes before she even mentioned she was abroad. I was so mad I started crying, which only made me madder when I realized I was ruining my expensive makeup. How many freelance gigs would it take to replace that? “Mommy, why are you crying?” Theo came over with his favorite Super Wings toy and wiped my tears with his chubby little hand. I sniffled and pulled him into a hug. If it weren’t for this little guy, would I be working myself to the bone like this? Sometimes I thought about finding a man and settling down. But who could guarantee that marriage would make life easier? It would just be a different set of problems. Besides, my first love had set the bar too high. After Chace, no one else seemed to measure up. It was my own mess to clean up. I just had to suck it up and deal with it.

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Liam Carter, the boy I’d sponsored for ten years, was now Hollywood’s biggest star. That night, as he won Best Actor at the Starlight Awards, I watched proudly from the crowd. When asked who he wanted to thank, he looked straight at me. The spotlight hit my face—I froze. Then he turned to the camera, voice cold with disgust. “I thank this woman for showing me what harassment means.” He called my letters and support obsession, claiming his success was his alone. The audience erupted. Hate flooded online. Then, on the big screen, a promo reel appeared under the title “CEO” — displaying my name, Rebecca Sterling. 1. Public Humiliation “Oh my god, that’s her? She looks so normal. How can she be some kind of psycho stalker?” “Ten years? Jesus, poor Liam. I can’t imagine being hounded by someone like that.” “Gross. Get her away from me. I don’t want to catch her crazy.” I sat frozen in my seat, unable to move. My phone vibrated violently in my pocket. I didn’t have to look to know that my face, branded with the label “psychotic stalker,” was already going viral across the entire internet. On stage, Liam was basking in it. He looked at me, his eyes gleaming with the sweet satisfaction of revenge. The ceremony ground to a halt as security guards started moving toward me. I forced myself to stand, and under a thousand gazes of contempt and morbid curiosity, I walked toward the exit. As I passed the VIP section, a woman in a dazzling pink designer gown suddenly stuck out her foot. I stumbled, pitching forward, my knee cracking hard against the marble floor. “Oh my! I am so sorry… ma’am,” she chirped. Chloe Vance, the studio’s new rising star. She covered her mouth in mock horror, but her eyes were crescent moons of pure glee. “I didn’t do it on purpose. Why were you in such a hurry? Rushing off to find your next victim to harass?” A wave of muffled laughter rippled through the nearby seats. I pushed against the floor, trying to get up, but a sharp, searing pain shot through my knee. A pair of polished leather shoes stopped right in front of my face. It was Liam. He looked down at me as if I were a piece of trash on the sidewalk. “Are you done making a scene?” His voice was quiet, but every word was a dagger to the heart. “You’re embarrassing me, Ms. Sterling.” I looked up at him. His face, flawless under the stage lights, was a mask of cold fury. “I warned you to stay away from me.” Chloe immediately wrapped her arm around his, a clear gesture of ownership. “Liam, honey, don’t get upset,” she cooed, her voice trembling theatrically. “Don’t let someone like her ruin your night. She’s terrifying. What if she has a knife?” Liam patted her hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’m here.” His gaze on me turned three shades colder. “Security, get her out of here.” “And from now on, this woman is banned from any event I attend. Do you understand?” Two guards grabbed my arms, their grips rough and punishing. They half-dragged, half-carried me toward a backstage exit. As we passed an empty dressing room, Liam’s voice cut through the air from behind us. “Wait.” The guards stopped. Liam strode over and waved them away. The door clicked shut, leaving the two of us alone in the cramped space. He tossed a heavy cardboard box at my feet. “This,” he spat, “is all the trash you ever sent me.” “You can have it back.” “I never read a single word.” Spilling out from the box were the hundreds of letters I had written him over the last decade. Every single one held my hopes, my encouragement, my belief in him. And he had just called them trash. He leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “You know what? Every time I saw your self-righteous face, it made me sick to my stomach.” “You thought a little money made you my savior?” “Let me tell you something, Rebecca Sterling. The thing I hate most in this world is being looked at like a stray dog.” “Your cheap charity was the greatest insult of my life.” My entire body went rigid. He knew my name. He’d known it all along. “You…” “Surprised?” He straightened up, a cruel smirk twisting his perfect lips. “I looked you up ages ago. Founder of some small-time production company. What, did you really think you were somebody?” He raised a hand as if to pat my cheek, then seemed to think better of it, as if I were too dirty to touch. Instead, he flicked a piece of imaginary lint from my collar. “Stop dreaming.” “You and I are not in the same world.” With that, he turned and pulled the door open. Chloe was waiting for him, a flash of triumph in her eyes before she plastered on her innocent façade. “Liam, let’s go! The after-party is about to start.” “Yeah.” Liam walked away without a backward glance. The door slowly swung shut in front of me. I stared at the scattered letters on the floor. The pain in my knee, the pain in my heart—it all blended into one unbearable ache. My phone finally stopped vibrating. I pulled it out. The last message was from my assistant. “Rebecca, the company’s website… it’s been hacked.” 2. The Unveiling I didn’t go home. I had my driver take me straight to the office. The high-rise was deserted at midnight, a silent monolith with a single light shining from my office window. My assistant, Sarah, was pacing frantically outside my door. The moment she saw my torn stocking, the raw scrape on my knee, and my disheveled state, her eyes welled up. “Rebecca, you…” “I’m fine.” I pushed open the office door. “What’s the word from the PR department?” “It’s no use.” Sarah’s voice cracked. “This was a planned attack. The sheer volume of bots and trolls is overwhelming. Our official statement was buried in seconds. The entire internet is calling for your head, and someone’s already doxxed the company’s address. They’re planning to protest outside tomorrow.” I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing down at the river of headlights flowing through the city below. “And Liam?” “The after-party… is still going. He and Chloe are trending number one worldwide. The headline is ‘A Match Made in Heaven.’” How ironic. I built the pedestal he stands on, and the moment he reached the top, he grabbed another woman’s hand and kicked me off, letting the world cheer as I fell. Sarah dabbed antiseptic on my knee, the stinging pain pulling me back to the present. “Rebecca, we have to call the police! This is slander!” “It won’t work.” I shook my head. “He’s too smart for that. He only ever said ‘that woman,’ never using my name. The more I fight back now, the more it will look like I’m just a woman scorned, proving his point.” “Then… then what do we do?” I didn’t answer. My eyes fell on a picture frame on my desk. It was a photo from ten years ago. In it, a scrawny boy in an ill-fitting school uniform stared back, his lips pressed into a defiant line. His eyes, though, were like a wolf pup’s—fierce and untamed. That was the first time I met Liam Carter. No, back then, his name was Jed. In a forgotten, poverty-stricken town in the middle of nowhere, he’d been caught stealing a loaf of bread and was tied to a tree in the town square, being beaten. Everyone called him a no-good orphan, a little thief. I was the only one who walked over and cut the ropes. “Why did you steal it?” I asked him. He just stared at me, silent, clutching the dirty bread to his chest as if it were treasure. I found out later it was his little sister’s birthday. She hadn’t eaten in three days. I took him out of that town. I gave him a new name: Liam Carter. A name that sounded clean, respectable. A gentleman’s name. I sent him to the best schools, paid for all his and his sister’s living expenses, her medical bills. I wrote him letters, telling him to stand tall, to get an education, to see the bigger world waiting for him. The day he was accepted into the conservatory, he called me for the first time. His voice was trembling with excitement. “Rebecca, I got in! I’m going to make so much money one day. I’ll pay you back for everything!” That was the first and only time he called me by my name with anything resembling warmth. I cherished it for years. Later, when he broke into the industry, I worried my role as his benefactor might hold him back, so I founded Sterling Entertainment, pulling every string I had to make him a star. I stepped out of the spotlight and became the mysterious “Ms. Sterling” behind the scenes. I thought I was the one person he trusted above all others. It turns out, the entire thing was a one-woman show. My phone chimed. A direct message from an unknown account. It was Chloe. “Hey, Rebecca. Hope you’re not too upset about tonight. Liam’s just like that. He’s not a bad person, just… principled. He hates being lied to.” “He said people like you, who use a little charity to try and control someone’s life, are the most disgusting of all.” “Oh, and by the way? He also said that just looking at those letters you wrote made his skin crawl. He burned them all in the dressing room after the show.” “You need to learn your place, ma’am. Don’t reach for things that don’t belong to you. You know?” Every word was a needle dipped in poison, aimed directly at my most vulnerable spots. I turned off my phone. “Sarah,” I said, my voice steady. “Get Legal and PR on the line. I want a full executive meeting tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock sharp.” Sarah stared at me. “Rebecca, are you going to…?” I looked out at the black, starless sky and spoke each word with chilling precision. “I’m going to take back everything he ever got from me.” 3. The Counterattack At 8:50 a.m. the next morning, I walked into the lobby of Sterling Entertainment. It was swarming with reporters. A frenzy of camera flashes blinded me. “Ms. Sterling, do you have a comment on Liam Carter’s allegations?” “Can you confirm that you have been harassing him for a decade?” “Rumors say you’re the secret CEO of Sterling Entertainment. Is that true?” I wore dark sunglasses, my face an impassive mask as security cleared a path for me through the mob to the executive elevator. Just as the doors slid shut, I heard someone shout, “Don’t let her get away! Freaks like her deserve to be exposed!” At nine o’clock on the dot, I pushed open the door to the boardroom. Every senior executive, including the heads of Legal and PR, was present. My seat, at the head of the table, was empty. Instead, Liam, his manager Marcus, and Chloe were sitting beside it, looking perfectly at home. The moment Marcus saw me, his face hardened. “What are you doing here? Who let you in?” Chloe shrieked and scrambled to hide behind Liam. “Liam, honey, it’s her! How did she find us here? Is she going to try and hurt you?” Her voice was so sickeningly sweet it was practically dripping sugar, as if I were some kind of rabid animal. Liam patted her back, then looked up at me, his eyes full of annoyance and disgust. “You again. What the hell do you want now?” “Wasn’t humiliating yourself in front of the entire country enough? Now you follow me to the office? Have you no shame at all?” I ignored him and walked toward the head of the table. Marcus immediately jumped up to block my path, puffing out his chest. “Ma’am, this is a private executive meeting. Unauthorized personnel need to leave immediately, or we will have you removed.” “Yeah, get her out of here!” Chloe added, peeking out from behind Liam. “She’s a psycho! The real CEO will be here any minute. We can’t have someone like her tarnishing the company’s image!” “The CEO?” I repeated the words slowly, a bitter smile playing on my lips. I scanned the room. The executives seated around the table either stared at their notes, avoiding my gaze, or watched with smug amusement. They all knew who I was. But in this moment, not a single one of them moved to defend me. It’s human nature to side with the powerful. And right now, Liam Carter was the company’s golden goose, their cash cow. I was just a social pariah, the “stalker” the whole world was laughing at. Liam, clearly accustomed to this level of deference, leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, speaking to me with the magnanimity of a king addressing a peasant. “Look, I’ll admit you helped me out a few times in the past. So I’m willing to let last night go.” He pulled a black credit card from his wallet and tossed it on the table. “There’s a million dollars on this. Take it, and get out of my sight. I never want to see you again.” A million dollars. The bone marrow transplant I’d paid for his sister cost more than that. Chloe let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, Liam, you’re too kind! After everything she did to you, you’re still giving her money? You’re just too good for this world!” She picked up the card, walked over, and held it out to me like she was feeding a dog. “You hear that, ma’am? One million dollars. That’s more than someone like you could spend in a lifetime. Take the money and get lost before you embarrass yourself further.” She tried to shove the card into my hand. I didn’t take it. Her hand hung in the air, a flush of anger creeping up her neck. “What’s your problem? Not enough? A million is a gift. Don’t be so ungrateful!” Liam’s patience finally snapped. “Security!” he roared. “Get this woman out of my building! I don’t want to see her face for another second!” Several guards rushed in and moved toward me. The entire boardroom watched in cold silence. In their eyes, I was about to be thrown out like a dog, kicked out of the very empire I had built from the ground up. I finally lifted my gaze, looking past them all to my assistant, Sarah. “Sarah.” My voice was quiet, calm. Sarah understood immediately. She picked up the internal phone on the conference table. “Please send Mr. Albright from Legal and Ms. Davis from HR to the main boardroom. And notify building security to escort these gentlemen out.” She gestured to the guards who had just stormed in. The boardroom fell silent. Utterly, completely silent.

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After I was brought back from the family farm, I found myself in an arranged marriage with Eric Kensington, the CEO of Kensington Corp. And I inherited a son. An isolated, supposedly violent one. The first time I tried to show him a little kindness, I heard his inner thoughts: [She’s just like all the other women. She’ll talk trash about me to my dad, and I’ll get an even worse beating.] So I decided to be direct. I took his small hand in mine. “Sweetheart, I’m here now. No one will ever be able to falsely accuse you again.” Later, when the marriage contract was up, Eric and I went our separate ways. But the little guy packed his suitcase and chased after me. “Mom,” he said, his eyes wide. “Can I come home with you and raise pigs?” 1 I hadn’t been back from the farm for long before my family married me off to Eric Kensington, the CEO of Kensington Corp. On my first night in his mansion, I couldn’t sleep. The bed was too soft. I went downstairs for a walk. And I stumbled upon Tim being punished. He was such a tiny thing, kneeling all alone in the courtyard. He was wearing a light green short-sleeved shirt with a dark brown tie. It was an adorable, formal little outfit. But I’d heard the stories. Eric’s son was isolated, violent, and utterly incorrigible. Everyone in our circle knew the Kensingtons had more or less given up on him. Still, it was a chilly autumn night, with a light rain misting the air. My heart ached for him. I grabbed a blanket and headed outside. Mr. Harrison, the butler, intercepted me, his voice as cold as the evening air. “Miss Thorne, the young master has a volatile temperament. It would be wise to keep your distance, lest you get hurt.” In the shadows, the light in Tim’s eyes dimmed. I saw his chubby little fists clench and unclench at his sides. His lips were pale, and he looked like he was about to pass out. He didn’t look like he could hurt a fly. I went upstairs to find Eric. He had just stepped out of the shower, a single white towel knotted low around his waist. Above it, his torso was a landscape of taut muscles, the clean lines of his V-cut abs disappearing beneath the towel. With the addition of the gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, he was a potent mix of discipline and raw appeal. I’d never seen a man that handsome back on the farm. But no amount of good looks could excuse his neglectful parenting. “Mr. Kensington,” I began, my voice trembling slightly, “Tim is only five years old. Whatever he did, it’s no excuse to make him kneel for hours in the cold rain.” Eric’s brow furrowed, clearly annoyed by my interference. “Do you know him? Do you have any idea what he’s done? Miss Thorne, I’d advise you not to meddle in things you don’t understand.” “But his health…” “Harrison,” Eric called out, his voice flat. “Bring him up.” The butler was back in moments with the boy. “For tonight, out of respect for Miss Thorne, the punishment is suspended. Go to bed.” Tim shot me a surprised look, then mumbled a listless, “Okay.” He turned and walked back to his room. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Maybe Eric wasn’t as heartless as the rumors claimed. He could be reasoned with. “Mr. Kensington, I…” “I didn’t do anything wrong!” A black shadow darted past me. Tim had returned, charging at Eric like a miniature bull. Eric was prepared, scooping him up with one arm. But he wasn’t prepared for Tim’s other hand, which shot out and grabbed the one thing holding his dignity in place. His towel. It went flying through the air. The cool night breeze whistled a cheerful tune. Shocking! Thrilling! Magnificent. And… CRASH. The sound of a cup shattering on the floor. Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, had come up with coffee and was now frozen in place, gasping. The butler’s eyes were wide as saucers. Two staff members, two statues of pure shock. “We saw nothing! We absolutely, positively saw nothing!” they stammered in unison. What was the big deal? I blinked, then took another good look. A low, menacing voice rumbled from above me. “Have you seen enough?” I had never seen so many colors on a person’s face. A kaleidoscope of emotions—shock, rage, and pure mortification—warred on his face. I cleared my throat. “Don’t be shy. I’ve seen them neuter boars back home. It’s pretty much the same thing…” “Shut up.” The bedroom door slammed shut with a resounding BANG. I could hear Eric’s voice, laced with warning. “Tim, you’ve gone too far. If you ever bite me again, I’ll pull out all your teeth.” 2 I remembered the smug looks on my step-sister and her mother’s faces before the wedding. “Eric Kensington is completely uninterested in women, and his son is a little monster. So many women have tried to marry into that family and run away screaming. I bet you anything Thea won’t last three months before they drive her insane.” “Your boss… he doesn’t hit people, does he?” I asked the housekeeper. Mrs. Gable shot me a disapproving look. “Is it really ‘hitting’ when a parent disciplines their child?” From inside the room, I could hear Tim’s shrieks as he was being spanked. “So, why was he being punished in the first place?” “The young master pushed Miss Victoria down the stairs. She’s still in the hospital, unconscious.” Victoria. I’d heard the name. Eric’s “white moonlight”—the one that got away. “If it weren’t for the young master constantly getting in the way, Miss Victoria would be the one married to him now.” Still. One thing had nothing to do with the other. I kicked the bedroom door open. Father and son both snapped their heads toward me. Tim’s pale, soft cheeks were stained with tears. He looked utterly pitiful. “Mr. Kensington, so I saw you naked. What’s the big deal? You’re perfectly average-sized. Is it really necessary to take out your embarrassment on a child?” Eric’s face was a thundercloud. When I was Tim’s age, someone once held an umbrella over my head in a storm, and that simple act of kindness lit up my entire childhood. Now, I wanted to be that umbrella for him. I crouched down. “How about some tomato and egg noodle soup? I’m a great cook.” I reached out and ruffled his hair like he was a puppy. It was thick and soft, wonderfully fluffy. Before I could get another pat in, he squirmed out of Eric’s arms, leaned down, and bit my hand. “Get away from me, you ugly monster,” he snarled, then bolted downstairs. I looked at the perfect set of teeth marks on my skin. He was strong. It was bleeding. Beside me, Eric’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “So, Miss Thorne, still feel like making him that soup?” “Yes,” I said. “I do.” 3 After bandaging my hand, I went to the kitchen to make the soup. Mrs. Gable came in on her way downstairs, her voice cool and distant. “Miss Thorne, if you think you can win the master’s affection by sucking up to his son, you’re mistaken.” “The master loves Miss Victoria. He won’t eat your soup. And the young master is a picky eater. He won’t touch it either.” She was trying to put me in my place. I gave her a bright smile. “Is that so? Well, until your Miss Victoria marries into this family, I’m the lady of this house. And whether I make soup or not isn’t your decision to make. It’s mine.” Mrs. Gable was stunned, clearly not expecting me to have a spine. “Now, get out.” “Right away, ma’am.” As soon as she left, I saw Tim in the living room with a toy car. He was pretending to play, but he was watching my every move. Suddenly, I heard it. A voice, clear as day, inside my head. [Wow, she told Mrs. Gable, the tattletale, to get lost. That was awesome. But she looks so… country. She has a part in her hair like a little road.] Huh? The high-tech, screen-equipped refrigerator reflected my image back at me. And yes, there it was, a very distinct part in my hair. I’d have to start taking better care of myself now that I was a lady of leisure. No more farm work. From now on, it was all about cultivating elegance and enjoying the good life. [I just bit her. Why would she be nice and make me soup? Is she like the other women? Is she going to pretend to trip and spill it, then blame me so Dad hits me again?] [But I’m so hungry…] Grrrrumble. I was shocked. My instincts had been right. This child wasn’t isolated and violent. He was just a poor, lonely little soul. [Forget it. I’m not eating. She’s probably just like the rest of them. She’ll go tell Dad all sorts of bad things about me and make him hate me even more.] My heart broke for him. I changed my strategy. Time to be direct. I ladled the soup into a child’s bowl shaped like a kitten’s head. Then I walked over and took his hand. My voice was soft. “Sweetheart, from now on, I’m here. No one will ever be able to falsely accuse you again.” 4 Tim froze, completely stunned. A second later, he sniffed dismissively. [That’s what Victoria said, too. And then she started blaming me for everything.] [The prettier the woman, the bigger the liar. I don’t believe her.] With that, he scurried away. I had made an extra bowl for Eric, so I carried both of them upstairs. The tomato broth was rich and thick, the eggs fluffy and soaked in flavor. A sprinkle of bright green scallions on top made it look irresistible. The light was on in his study. I knocked once and pushed the door open. “I made soup.” Eric looked at me, his expression unreadable, his tone distant and laced with a warning. “Miss Thorne, there’s no one else here. You know perfectly well why we’re married. Don’t start aspiring to things that don’t belong to you. When our three years are up, we go our separate ways. There’s no need to put on a show of being the perfect wife and mother.” He never would have had to marry me if my father hadn’t set him up, making sure he woke up in my bed. It was only natural that he disliked me. Still, I rolled my eyes at him. “I made it for Tim. I just brought you a bowl as an afterthought.” I tried to hold my tongue, but I couldn’t. I may be good-natured, but I have a temper. “Mr. Kensington, you may be a rich and powerful CEO, but not every woman who sees you is going to fall for you. Don’t be so conceited.” He stared at me, speechless. “Tim is just a little boy. If he goes hungry, it could cause stomach problems later in life. He’s your son. The least you could do is be grateful that I’m kind enough to feed him, but instead you’re being sarcastic and accusatory. Are you even sure he’s yours?” My words seemed to deepen the storm clouds on his face. He was clearly not pleased with a woman who dared to talk back to him. But his upbringing won out. He didn’t say anything to me, just turned and told Mrs. Gable to bring Tim in. Tim entered cautiously, his eyes darting between me and his father. “Dad,” he whispered. Eric gestured with his chin toward the soup on the desk. “Eat it.” It was a cold command, not a fatherly invitation. “Okay.” Tim carefully picked up his chopsticks and began to slurp the noodles. [Dad actually noticed I haven’t eaten. Does that mean… he doesn’t hate me as much today?] At his core, he was just a little boy starved for affection. “Slow down, you’ll choke.” Tim’s head snapped up, his face a mask of astonishment. [She… she really didn’t try to trick me? She just made me soup? Is it poisoned?] But he was a child, and his memory was short. Soon, his feet were swinging happily under the chair. [This is so good!] Who said he was difficult? He was actually quite easy to please. He finished the bowl quickly, licked his lips, and stared longingly at Eric’s portion. He wanted more but didn’t dare ask. It was a pretty big bowl. I wasn’t sure if a child should eat that much so late at night. Then Eric spoke. “It’s late. No more. Go brush your teeth and get ready for bed.” Tim mumbled an “okay” and left. Once he was gone, I started to clear the bowls, including Eric’s untouched one. “Mr. Kensington, I overstepped tonight. I won’t make food for Tim without your permission again.” I was about to leave when he stopped me. His eyes were deep, intense. “If you can remember your place, you may do as you wish in this house without asking for my permission.” Oh-ho. A classic move. Feign retreat to advance. Was he giving me power? The hearts of men. So complicated. I smiled and placed his soup back in front of him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Kensington. I know you have someone else in mind for the role of Mrs. Kensington. I’m only in this for the money.” He tossed a black card onto the desk. “See that you remember that.” 5 Eric was a busy man. So busy that, despite living under the same roof, we barely saw each other. One afternoon, I discovered a whole row of motorcycles in his garage. I immediately went to find Mrs. Gable, who pointed me to a room where the keys were kept. Rich people’s car keys lived in their own separate room, apparently. I picked the most impressive-looking one. But before I could even get it out of the driveway, Tim was brought home by the butler, Mr. Harrison. Harrison was on the phone with Eric. “Yes, sir. The young master got into another fight.” “He’s home now. The damages have been paid.” “Very good, sir. Goodbye.” After hanging up, the butler fixed Tim with a grim stare, looking for all the world like my bald, terrifying middle school principal. “Young master, you remember the Kensington family rules, do you not? Kneel. Mrs. Gable, bring the ruler.” Tim’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Mr. Harrison, I really didn’t hit him! Please, just tell Dad…” “Mr. Harrison, perhaps we should wait for Mr. Kensington…” Mrs. Gable began. “Mrs. Gable, the master has entrusted the young master’s discipline to me, and I will see it done.” He turned back to the boy. “Young master, the security footage is quite clear. You hit him.” When Mrs. Gable returned with the ruler, Tim transformed into an enraged lion cub. He shoved her aside and scrambled under a table, his eyes red and brimming with unshed tears. [He started it! He hit me first! Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me?] He swept a crystal fruit bowl off the coffee table, sending it crashing to the floor. He kicked over an antique vase. “Fine! I did it!” he screamed, his voice raw. “I hit him, and I wanted to kill him!” “And I’m going to kill you, too! Get away from me!” “I’ll kill all of you!” “Mrs. Gable, call for backup!” A team of security guards in sharp suits entered, surrounding the small boy. “Lock the young master in his room for now. We’ll wait for the master to return for the full punishment.” Sheer terror flashed in Tim’s eyes. He began to struggle violently. “No! I won’t go! Get off me! All of you, get off me!” He screamed. He bit. Several guards quickly pinned him down. No matter how much he thrashed, he couldn’t break free. He was locked in a room. A dark room. There was nothing inside. When the door closed, his hysterical screams echoed through the hall. “I hate you! I’m going to kill all of you!” So it really wasn’t him. But for some reason, no one ever believed him. And in his anger, he would just lash out with threats, which only made things worse. This kind of violent suppression was only going to backfire. “Give him to me.” Mr. Harrison frowned. “Miss Thorne, this is a family matter. I must insist you stay out of it.” “To hell with your ‘family matter,’” I spat, losing my temper completely. “If you’ve forgotten, go take a look at my marriage certificate! I’m taking Tim with me.” The butler didn’t budge. “Without a direct order from the master, no one is to go near the young master.” With that, he and the guards departed. Mrs. Gable hesitated. “Miss Thorne, when the master is away, Mr. Harrison is in charge of discipline. You can’t take him without an order. Besides… the young master really can be violent. He’s only trying to protect you.” After her warning, she left too. A heavy weight settled in my chest. I’ve never had children, but I knew this kind of treatment would lead to disaster. The sounds from the room grew fainter. The door was locked. The window… I slipped out of the house, avoiding the staff, and started climbing. Hand over hand, I scaled the wall to the second floor, inching my way along the window ledge. I smashed the glass. When I tumbled inside, the first thing I saw was a small, trembling ball curled up in the corner, whimpering softly. “Tim.” The figure in the corner flinched. His voice was small and fragile, like a wounded kitten’s. “Mommy? Is that you?” “Mommy, it’s so dark in here. I’m scared.” 6 The tiny bundle launched himself into my arms. As soon as he saw it was me, Tim’s expression stiffened, and he instinctively tried to push me away. “You…” “Shh!” I held him tight. “I’m getting you out of here. Don’t make a sound, or we’ll get caught.” His face was a mask of suspicion. “You scheming, wicked woman. What are you planning to do to me?” “Hold on tight. We’re on the second floor, and it’s a long way down. And my name isn’t ‘wicked woman.’ It’s Thea.” “Aren’t you afraid of Mr. Harrison? If he finds out, he’ll have the guards lock you up, too.” Despite his muttering, he clung to my neck like a little octopus. It had been a while since I’d climbed anything. I was out of practice. We finally made it down to the ground. I led him to the garage and found a tiny helmet for him. “Where are you taking me?” “I’m kidnapping you. Then I’m going to sell you.” The motorcycle roared to life. Mrs. Gable heard the noise and came out to investigate. Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh no! The young master has escaped… wait! You can’t ride that one! That’s the master’s favorite…!” I took Tim to a KFC and ordered him a mountain of food. He didn’t eat. He just stared at me, his eyes full of suspicion. “What do you really want?” “I told you, I’m going to sell you. The only son of the CEO of Kensington Corp must be worth a lot of money, right?” “I’m not worth anything.” Tim lowered his head, his long eyelashes hiding his expression. “Dad doesn’t like me. It’s no use selling me.” I placed my hand over his. “But I like you very much.” He looked up at me, shocked. A moment later, a blush spread across his soft cheeks. He looked flustered and shy, fidgeting with his chubby fingers. I covered his hands with mine. “You’re adorable, and I like you. But for now, let’s just eat, okay?” “Well… if you insist, I guess I can do you a favor and eat a little.” The little guy was starving. He devoured the food. Once he was finished, I could see his defenses were down. I seized the opportunity. “You ate my food, so now you have to tell me what happened at preschool. Why did you hit him?” “Because I felt like it.” “Use your words.” “I didn’t like the look of him, so I hit him.” [It doesn’t matter. No one will believe the truth anyway. They’ll just say I’m making excuses.] Poor baby. I ruffled his hair. “I’m guessing… he started it.” Tim’s head snapped up. He quickly looked down again, but the way he was wringing his hands betrayed his excitement. [How did she know Tiger was the one who started it?] “It was Tiger, wasn’t it? He hit you first.” Tim’s eyes went wide. He looked absolutely stunned. [She knows that, too? Does she also know he was bullying Daisy, and that’s why I hit him?] “Tiger was picking on Daisy, and you were defending her.” The little guy was so excited he nearly slid off his chair, a tuft of his hair sticking straight up. [She knows! She knows! She knows everything!] “Tiger is a bully, isn’t he? He picks on Daisy and the other kids, too.” [Aaaaaah! She’s an angel! She has little stars in her eyes!] I smiled and took his hand. When he didn’t pull away, I lifted him onto my lap. “I was right about everything, wasn’t I?” “I guess you’re pretty smart,” he mumbled, trying his best to look nonchalant despite being thrilled. He was a lot like Eric in that way. “Should we call your dad and tell him the truth?” Tim’s expression immediately turned anxious. After a long pause, he asked uncertainly, “But what if…” “There are no what-ifs. But you have to tell him exactly what I tell you to say. I promise, he’ll listen.” “Fine. I’ll give you one chance.” “Deal.” Just as I was about to dial, my phone rang. It was Eric. Time to face the music. The moment I answered, his cold voice came through the line. “Did you take Tim?” “About that fight at preschool, I think you need to hear the truth. I’ll let him tell you himself.” “Dad.” “Are you ready to admit you were wrong?” “I… I am…” I gave Tim’s ear a gentle squeeze, and he perked up. “Dad, Tiger started it. I didn’t mean to hit him.” Eric had probably heard that line a hundred times. He had zero patience left. “The teacher and the security cameras both say it was you, Tim. Are you really going to lie to my face?” Tim’s confidence wavered. He looked at me, his eyes filling with tears. I gave him a firm nod. Bolstered, he recounted the entire story, exactly as it happened. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Are you sure you’re not lying this time?” “I’m not, Dad.” “I see. I’ll look into it.” I hung up the phone and wiped Tim’s tears. “Feeling a little better?” He nodded enthusiastically, then looked a bit embarrassed. “But will Dad really investigate?” “Let’s give him a chance.” Even as I said it, my fingers were flying across my phone’s screen. I sent Eric a friend request with the note: Urgent. He accepted almost immediately. “To the busiest CEO in the world: Do your job. Investigate properly. Find out just how many times you and that teacher have wronged your son because of your own biases.” His reply was swift. “Where are you?” “Don’t worry. I may be the step-mom, but I won’t falsely accuse him, I won’t make him cry, and I certainly won’t sell him. I’ll bring him home tonight.”

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My parents, without my knowledge, took out a three-million-dollar life insurance policy in my name. That weekend, for the first time ever, my father took me fishing. He even bought me a hot dog, a treat usually reserved for my sister. He knelt down, his voice heavy as he straightened my collar. “Anna, please don’t blame your dad.” “Your sister needs to study abroad, and we just can’t afford it.” “Just think of this as helping the family one last time. It’ll be like falling asleep. You won’t feel a thing…” The moment the words left his mouth, he kicked me into the reservoir behind us. 1 Icy water flooded my nose and mouth. I couldn’t swim. Survival instinct kicked in, and I thrashed wildly, my arms and legs flailing in a desperate, chaotic dance. On the bank, my father watched me with cold indifference, as if observing a dying ant. Beside him, my mother pulled out her phone, seemingly checking the time. My sister, Karen, took out a compact mirror and meticulously reapplied her lipstick, a hint of impatience in her voice. “Dad, why is she taking so long? What if someone sees?” My mother soothed her. “Don’t worry, no one comes here at this hour. I checked. It only takes three to five minutes for an adult to drown. A child like her will be even quicker.” My father nodded, his voice devoid of any warmth. “We’ll wait a little longer. Once she sinks, we’ll call the police. We’ll say she slipped and fell in by accident.” My strength was fading, my vision blurring at the edges. Why? All because my sister wanted to attend a prestigious boarding school in England, with a tuition of a million dollars a year. And the beneficiaries of that three-million-dollar life insurance policy were my parents. So that was it. The hot dog I’d never been allowed to have before was my last meal. The first time my father had ever called me “sweetheart” was to send me to my death. A burning hatred filled me. A tearing pain ripped through my lungs as I choked on water. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, my body sinking into the cold darkness, a blinding light shot out from the distance. It was followed by a man’s furious, booming voice. “What the hell?! Who’s over there? Crew! Where the hell is the crew?!” “Is that someone in the water?! Get them out, now!” I heard the panicked shrieks of my parents and sister from the shore. “Someone’s here! Let’s go!” In the chaos, I heard a loud splash. I felt strong arms pulling me up, breaking the surface. The last thing I saw was the face of a young man in a black t-shirt, his features etched with frantic concern. 2 When I woke up, I was in a modified van, the kind celebrities use. A dry jacket that smelled faintly of tobacco was draped over me. A beautiful woman with flawless makeup and a chic haircut was gently toweling my hair dry. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?” I tried to speak, but my throat was on fire. No words came out. The beautiful woman handed me a glass of warm water. “Slowly now. You swallowed a lot of water; your throat is raw.” I took small sips, my eyes taking in my surroundings. Besides the beautiful woman, there was a man with silver hair leaning against the window, scrolling through his phone. He was more handsome than any movie star I’d ever seen. A burly man with a buzz cut sat in the driver’s seat, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl. I remembered him. He was the one who jumped in to save me. The van door slid open, and a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and a wrinkled director’s vest poked his head in. “She’s awake?” His voice was the same gruff one I’d heard before I passed out. He looked me up and down, his tone impatient. “Hey, kid, where are your parents? What are you doing out by the reservoir in the middle of the night? If you’re looking to end it all, don’t do it next to our film set. Damn bad luck.” The beautiful woman shot him a glare. “Director! She’s just a child!” The man, the director, clicked his tongue. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, but after a glance at me, he shoved them back in his pocket with an annoyed sigh. “Alright, alright. Faye, get her parents’ number. Let’s get them to pick her up so we can get back to filming.” My parents’ number… My body started to shake uncontrollably. I couldn’t go home. If I went back, they’d just push me into the water again. Or find some other way to kill me. Seeing me tremble, the woman, Faye, thought I was cold. She wrapped the jacket tighter around me and asked in a gentle voice, “Anna, right? We found your student ID in your pocket. Can you tell me your parents’ phone number, sweetie?” I bit my lip, hard, and shook my head violently. Tears streamed down my face. “I… I don’t want to go home…” The director’s scowl deepened. “Oh, great. So now you’re our problem? You think we can just feed you? Let me tell you, this production is running on fumes. We can’t afford any freeloaders!” The silver-haired man put down his phone, his voice a lazy drawl. “Come on, Mark. Don’t take it out on a kid.” He walked over and knelt in front of me, bringing himself to my eye level. “Hey, little one. Did you have a fight with your folks? Running away won’t solve anything. How about I take you home?” I shrank back, sobbing, and buried my face in Faye’s side. “I didn’t run away… I just… I fell in by accident…” “My parents… they don’t know I’m here…” I couldn’t tell them the truth. They were strangers. Why would they believe that my own parents had tried to murder me? If they sent me back, it was a death sentence. I had to lie. 3 The director, Mark, looked at me skeptically. “You fell in by yourself? Then where are your parents?” I clutched the hem of the jacket, my head bowed. “They… they work a lot. I’m usually home by myself.” “So what were you doing at a remote reservoir like this?” “I… I heard it was beautiful, so I wanted to see it…” My lies were full of holes. A teenage girl, alone, at a deserted reservoir in the middle of the night? It made no sense. The silver-haired man, Evan, just smiled faintly and said nothing. From the driver’s seat, the burly man, Dex, glanced back at me, his voice a low rumble. “Director, maybe we should just call the police. Let them find her family.” The police! They would definitely contact my parents! A jolt of terror shot through me. I grabbed Faye’s arm, my voice a desperate plea. “No! Please, don’t call the police! I’m begging you!” My reaction was so extreme that it startled the three men. They all stared at me. Faye rubbed my back soothingly. “Okay, okay, we won’t call the police. Calm down.” She looked up at the director. “Mark, look how terrified she is… Maybe we could just let her stay here for tonight? We can figure it out in the morning.” Mark’s brow was so furrowed it could have crushed a fly. “This is a film set, not an orphanage!” But despite his words, he waved a dismissive hand and got out of the van. “Fine! One night! But she’s out of here tomorrow, you hear me?” The door slid shut, blocking out the cold wind. Faye found me a set of clean, dry clothes and poured me a bowl of hot porridge from a rice cooker. “Here, eat this. It’ll warm you up.” The millet porridge was fragrant and creamy. I held the warm bowl, and fresh tears welled up in my eyes. No one had made me hot porridge since my grandma passed away. My mother always said cooking was a waste of time that she could be using to build her career. Our meals were always prepared by a part-time cleaner who only knew how to make two dishes: stir-fried cabbage and boiled cabbage. Because my sister Karen needed to watch her figure, and my mother said cabbage was the best for that. And I had to eat what they ate. Faye saw me just drinking the porridge, not saying a word, and thought I didn’t like it. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a packet of teddy bear cookies. “Not to your liking? How about some cookies?” I quickly shook my head and finished every last drop of the porridge, even licking the bowl clean. “It was delicious! Thank you, pretty lady!” Faye smiled and stroked my hair. “Silly girl.” That night, I slept on the long bench in the van. It was cramped, but I felt safer than I had in years. But that sense of security was shattered the next morning. I was woken by a commotion outside. I opened my eyes to see my parents and my sister, Karen, standing right outside the van. My mother was clutching the director’s arm, her face a mask of frantic worry, her voice choked with sobs. “Director, thank you so much for saving our Anna! We’ve been looking for her all night!” My father stood beside her, his eyes red-rimmed, thanking them profusely. Karen, seeing that I was awake, rushed to the van door. “Anna! How could you be so selfish?” she cried out for all to hear. “Just because you don’t want me to go abroad, you’d resort to threatening our parents by jumping in the water? Do you have any idea how worried we were?” 4 My sister’s words were like a thunderclap, exploding among the film crew. Everyone turned to look at me with strange, judging eyes. So, I was the evil sister, so jealous of my sibling that I’d fake a suicide attempt to manipulate my parents. Director Mark’s face instantly darkened. Even Faye’s brow furrowed, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. I felt a chill spread through me, rendering me speechless. My mother climbed into the van and threw her arms around me. But her hand, hidden from view, pinched the flesh of my lower back, hard. “Anna, you scared me to death! Let’s go home. Whatever it is, we can talk about it at home. Don’t bother these nice people.” The sharp pain made me gasp, and tears sprang to my eyes. To any outsider, it looked like a touching mother-daughter reunion. Karen followed her in, linking her arm through mine in a show of affection, but her nails dug into my skin. She leaned in, whispering so only I could hear. “You got lucky, Anna. But don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of ways to deal with you at home.” “You’d better behave. Because next time, it won’t be as simple as a little push into a reservoir.” I froze, paralyzed with fear. My legs wouldn’t move. My father came over, a “kindly” smile on his face. “I’m so sorry about all this,” he said to the director. “She’s just a child, so thoughtless. We’ll take her home now.” He reached out to grab my arm. I flinched back with a terrified scream. “No! I’m not going with you!” My mother’s face hardened, her voice laced with a threat. “Anna! Stop making a scene! Do you want me to hit you in front of all these people?” My father lost his patience. He grabbed me roughly and started to drag me out of the van. “Let’s go! We’ll see how we deal with a thankless brat like you at home!” The crew just watched, no one stepping in to help. To them, this was just a family squabble, parents disciplining a disobedient child. Despair washed over me. I was going to die. Just as my feet hit the ground, just as I was about to be shoved into my family’s car, a cool, calm voice cut through the air. “Wait.” It was the silver-haired man, Evan. He was leaning against the van door, casually dangling something from his fingers, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at my father. “Sir, before you go, perhaps you could explain this?” My father followed his gaze, and the color drained from his face.

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I was on my way to confess my feelings to my dream guy when I got mugged. The mugger tore up the ninety-plus love letters I’d written for him. So, I broke three of the mugger’s ribs. The next day, we both ended up on the local news. My dream guy, Henry, sent me a text: “Innocent little wallflower, huh? Savage.” 1 I’d been chasing Henry for four months, and for three and a half of them, I’d been playing the part of a delicate, innocent wallflower. The first fifteen days were my trial-and-error phase. I engineered a series of “coincidental” encounters with him, trying out a different persona each time. I went from the cool, aloof ice queen to the adorable, bubbly girl-next-door; from a sun-kissed, athletic type to a calculating, dark-academia genius. I was on the verge of developing a personality disorder. But he treated me like I was thin air. Then, by a stroke of luck, my roommate stayed up all night binging an old-school billionaire romance series. She swore to me that cold, ruthless men like Henry all had a secret weakness for clumsy, fragile girls who were as kind and pure as angels. So, on day sixteen, I dressed myself in the plainest, most unassuming clothes I owned and “accidentally” stumbled right into him. He finally deigned to lift his head, his gaze sweeping over me with disinterest. Then he spoke the first words he’d ever said to me in two weeks— “Get off.” The billionaire romance novels didn’t lie. I was so moved I could have cried. And so, I kept up the innocent wallflower act for the next three and a half months. Yesterday, my life as his number one admirer took a dramatic turn. After steeling my nerves, I asked Henry out to a movie for the fiftieth time—and he actually said yes. He agreed to see a movie with me! That was basically a marriage proposal, right? In my head, I’d already picked out names for our second kid. My roommates rallied around me, treating the date like a top-secret military operation. The first spent three hours crafting a flawless, barely-there, “no-makeup” makeup look. The second styled me in an immaculate, all-white outfit, the epitome of wallflower chic. The third channeled her inner drill sergeant, rigorously coaching my every word and gesture. As for me, I pulled an all-nighter, pouring my heart into ninety handwritten love letters for him. Our mission: to conquer Henry’s heart and officially end my two decades of singledom. The next afternoon, with my roommates cheering me on, I floated out the door, my heart soaring. A beautiful, epic romance was just around the corner. On the way, I even stopped by an arcade to get a fistful of tokens. A date isn’t complete without winning a prize from a claw machine to really elevate the romance. And then— Not long after I left the arcade, I ran into a mugger. 2 The burly man held a knife to me, snatched my phone, and backed me into a dark alley, demanding I hand over all my money. A smart girl knows when to fold. I glanced at his grizzled face, then at the gleaming blade in his hand. Without a second’s hesitation, I tremblingly scooped a handful of arcade tokens from my bag and offered them to him. The man flicked me hard on the forehead. “You trying to be funny with me?” Then— He expertly snatched the tokens from my hand and stuffed them into his pocket. “All of it. Don’t make me get it myself,” he growled, his face a mask of menace. I shakily offered him another handful of tokens. The mugger stared at me. He took the tokens, then flicked my forehead again, harder this time. The force of it nearly brought tears to my eyes. “Damn, you’re broke! I only targeted you ’cause I saw you leaving the arcade with your bag stuffed full.” He started rummaging through my bag himself, a hint of regret in his voice. You didn’t look very closely, I thought, rolling my eyes. My bag was already bulging when I went in, thanks to the ninety love letters. The mugger pulled out three more handfuls of tokens. Furious, he flicked my forehead again, this time with the full force of his frustration behind it. Tears finally streamed down my face. “That’s all the money I have,” I sobbed. He refused to give up. He felt a side pocket and pulled out a small, folded card. On it was written— “Your eyes, like stars, shining so bright, one look and I fell into their light. Don’t you worry, it feels so right, maybe this was destiny’s might, I can’t look away from you tonight.” “What the hell is this?” I could see genuine, bizarre confusion in his beady little eyes. “It’s… a love letter I wrote,” I mumbled, my face burning. He pulled out another one— “Like a chemical reaction, a fantasy forgiven by isolation. It must be your gentle gaze, setting my world ablaze, warming my heart’s maze, healing my broken days.” “I read this and I feel like I’m about to start singing,” the mugger scoffed. “Broke-ass kid, wasting your time on useless crap.” He raised his hand and, with a flick of his wrist, sent all ninety of my love letters fluttering into the grimy air. That was too much! That was my entire night’s work. A surge of rage washed over me. While he was busy pocketing the last of the tokens, I bent down, snatched a loose brick from the ground, and brought it down hard on his head. Caught completely off guard, the man crumpled to the ground. “You damn—you’re asking for it,” he grunted, stubbornly trying to push himself back up. I took a running start and kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling back down. His knife clattered away into the darkness. “Give me back my phone,” I demanded, plopping myself down on his chest to keep him from escaping. I heard a sickening crack from his ribs. Suddenly, he went completely still. He wasn’t even struggling anymore. Oh god, did I kill him? A wave of panic hit me. I scrambled off him and shook his arm. “Hey, mister? Are you okay?” “Just… call the cops,” he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper. “And an ambulance.” I fished my phone out of his token-filled pocket and shakily dialed 911. “Hello? I’m in the alley about two blocks down from the Main Street Arcade. I’ve just been mugged,” I said, my voice thick with fake tears. I was genuinely worried he wouldn’t make it until the police arrived. “So, is this your first time mugging someone?” I asked, squatting beside him after hanging up. I figured a little conversation might distract him from the pain. He let out a pained groan and turned his head away from me. “Why didn’t you just take my whole bag?” I scooted around to face him, unable to hold back my burning question. His breathing was loud and ragged, each breath sounding like it could be his last. 3 When the police arrived, I was sitting next to the mugger, checking to see if he was still breathing. “You’re the one who called it in?” An officer stepped out of the car, gun drawn, and stared at me. The rest of his squad fanned out behind him, their expressions a mixture of confusion and caution. I glanced at the half-dead man on the ground, then at the officer’s weapon. “I might have accidentally subdued him,” I said meekly. And so— The mugger was loaded into an ambulance, and I was taken to the police station. After I gave my statement, the officer handed me back my two pockets full of tokens and the scattered pile of love letters. The sky was completely dark by the time I walked out. “You’re late.” The message popped up on my phone the second I turned it on. A bolt of lightning shot through me. I had completely forgotten about my movie date with Henry. I frantically dialed his number. He picked up after a few rings. “What happened?” His voice, even through the phone, was as smooth and magnetic as ever. “I got mugged on my way over. I’m still at the police station. I was so scared,” I whimpered, the wallflower persona kicking in automatically. The officer who took my statement was packing up his notebook. He shot me a strange, unreadable look. “Your address. I’ll come get you.” Henry, my kind-hearted hero, didn’t hesitate. I gave him the address of the station. He just said, “Okay,” and told me to wait. “I’ll just wait here for a bit. Someone’s coming to pick me up,” I told the officer, flashing what I hoped was an innocent, grateful smile. He nodded in understanding, but the weird expression never left his face. 4 I didn’t notice Henry when he arrived because I was deep in the trenches of a heated League of Legends match, furiously typing insults at my teammates in the chat. “Mia.” It was only after the match ended that he finally spoke my name. I looked up mechanically, quickly locking my phone screen. “Henry, you don’t have perfect vision, do you?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “No,” he said, pausing for a fraction of a second. He nodded slowly. “Were you just looking at something I wasn’t supposed to see?” “Hahahaha, that’s great!” I let out a huge sigh of relief. “My phone screen cracked when I dropped it, so it’s just showing a bunch of asterisks when I type. I didn’t want you to think less of me,” I said, shoving my phone in my pocket. It was a flawless excuse. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you hurt?” he asked, changing the subject. I stared at his lips, how they moved when he spoke. God, they were perfect. I could feel the drool pooling in my mouth. I shook my head, my persona as solid as a rock. “I’m okay. He took all my money and he hit me, but I’m really okay.” “He hit you?” Henry’s brow furrowed, his expression darkening. “Yeah, three times,” I nodded eagerly. He held out his long, elegant hand. “Let’s get you up. I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out.” This was my chance to create a moment. I immediately took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. “Excuse me, do you know which hospital they took the suspect to?” Once I was standing, I was reluctant to let go of his hand. To his credit, probably out of some sense of humanitarian duty, Henry didn’t pull away. But he turned to ask the officer about the mugger. “He’s at St. Jude’s,” I blurted out, my heart pounding. “Oh, my head feels a little dizzy from where he hit me. Can we just go home? I really need to lie down,” I said, tugging on his sleeve and leaning weakly against him. His whole body went rigid, but he didn’t push me away. And thankfully, he dropped the subject. “I’m taking you to a doctor. We need to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” he said after a slight cough. The mugger was probably lying in a bed at that very hospital. Going there would blow my cover completely. I waved my hands frantically. “No, no, it’s fine!” “We should get it checked out,” he insisted, his hand steady on my arm. “Really, it’s okay! It’s so late, I just want to go home and sleep!” I was getting desperate, and my voice, without its usual delicate filter, came out loud and clear. Henry froze. He gave me a complicated look. “Well, you certainly sound energetic. I guess you’re probably fine.” I stared back at him. Now it was my turn to look complicated. 5 That should have been the end of it. But then, they pulled the security footage from the alley. It all started when the local police department was featured on a reality show, something like a local version of Cops. One of the officers recounted the most memorable calls from the past week. The show’s producers, bless their soulless hearts, tracked down the footage of my case, edited it into a segment, and the clip immediately went viral. The security footage clearly showed me grabbing a brick and knocking the 250-pound mugger to the ground. When he tried to get up, I flew at him with a kick that sent him sprawling, then pinned him to the pavement with my butt until he couldn’t move. The video ended with him, lying on the ground, begging me to call the police. I hadn’t seen the clip myself, but Henry was kind enough to share it with me. The title of the video was emblazoned across the top: “Gen Z Girl Annihilates Mugger, Who Begs Her to Call the Cops to Save His Life.” “Didn’t realize you were such a hero,” he texted. I could practically hear his deadpan voice through the screen. “You didn’t see the beginning!” I typed back frantically. “He insulted the love letters I wrote for you! He insulted my love for you!” I was trying to salvage the situation. Henry’s response: “Savage.” I stared at the word, unsure how to reply. I gave up, flopped onto my bed, and opened the video’s comment section. “LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO” “That dude’s been mugging people for years and he finally met his final boss.” “Three simple moves to make a criminal rethink his life choices!” For a crime story, the comment section was an unusually peaceful, harmonious place. 6 That night, the internet sleuths found my TikTok account. I gained 3,000 followers overnight. My TikTok is usually just a random collection of food, fun, and the occasional nerdy dance video. The comments were normally from a handful of friends and family. Now, it was a pilgrimage site. Underneath my dance videos, the comments were ruthless: “Where can I find a champion like this?” “Am I blind, or is she just wringing the air dry?” “I can feel the raw power and tenacity.” And, of course, an endless, soul-crushing stream of “LMAO.” My roommate tried to console me. “You may have lost love, but you’re on the path to fortune. When you’re forty, you can hire ten guys who look just like Henry.” “How vulgar! I’m not that shallow. I love Henry for his beautiful soul!” I huffed, defending my honor. Though, I had to admit, the thought of twenty Henrys bowing to my every whim was… appealing. Just thinking about it filled me with a new sense of purpose. My fingers flew across the keyboard. “What are you doing?” my roommate asked, pointing at the academic journal database open on my laptop. “You have a paper due soon?” I shook my head. “I’m writing a new love letter for Henry. The last ninety didn’t truly capture my feelings.” My roommate stared at me, dumbfounded. “Hmph. I’m not like you people,” I said with a smirk. “I’m going to have it all: love and money. I’ll have the young and beautiful Henry by my side twenty years ahead of schedule.” At two in the morning, I sent Henry my meticulously crafted, 3,000-word masterpiece of a love letter. Five minutes later, he replied with a plagiarism report showing an 88% match. I was speechless. I typed back: Your attention to detail reminds me of one of my mom’s relatives. The three dots indicating he was typing appeared and disappeared for two full minutes. Finally, a single message came through: ? My mom’s future son-in-law, I sent, feeling giddy. Henry: lol He didn’t deny it! He even said “lol”! He really, really wanted to be my mom’s son-in-law. 7 “Henry!” The next day at lunch, I “coincidentally” ran into him in the cafeteria, as usual. “What a coincidence! We must be destined to meet,” I chirped, setting my tray down across from him and sliding into the seat beside him. He shot me a cool glance and didn’t reply. Thanks to my frequent “coincidences,” Henry’s roommates had learned to make themselves scarce the moment I appeared. “Let’s go to the movies tonight. I promise nothing will go wrong this time. I’ll stick to the main roads,” I said, poking his elbow. He put down his fork, a thoughtful look on his face. “I won’t even go near an arcade! I won’t carry a single cent! No one will have a reason to rob me!” I held up three fingers, swearing an oath. Henry gently pushed my hand down and pulled out his phone. He wasn’t smiling, but I could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. My internal alarms blared. Was he about to text some other girl right in front of me? A second later, a notification popped up on my phone. A message from Henry. He had forwarded me a video. Suspicious, I pressed play. And then— My own voice, loud and unfiltered, boomed from the speakers. “Alright everyone, watch this! I’ll make you some juice!” On the screen, my face was contorted in a ferocious grimace as I crushed an entire apple in my bare hand in under five seconds. Silence. A profound, deafening silence filled the space between us. I forgot how to move. … It was a video my aunt took last Thanksgiving at a family dinner. My cousin had just shown off by opening a beer bottle with his teeth, and not to be outdone, I’d performed my signature party trick: hand-juicing an apple. At the time, everyone thought it was hilarious, and they’d egged me on to post it to TikTok. Well, it was still hilarious. Just not for me. I wanted to cry. “Henry, what if I told you that was my alter ego? Would you believe me?” I stammered, inventing a sci-fi explanation on the spot. “She’s a super-strong warrior. The real me is… very delicate.” A small laugh escaped his lips. “Pfft.” “It’s true! I’ve been meaning to tell you,” I insisted, pouting. His voice was laced with amusement now, as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “So why decide to tell me today?” I kept the lie going. “I wanted to give you a heads-up. It’s better you know now than finding out during the pre-nuptial check-up.” Henry went silent. I might have been imagining it, but the tips of his ears turned bright red.

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At nineteen, my life was a relentless cycle of work to scrape together tuition. Who knew a single accident would plunge me into a world I was never meant to enter? In the hushed VIP lounge, a man radiated effortless privilege—devastatingly handsome, like a marble-carved god. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a black credit card spinning toward me. It was his girlfriend’s rejected card, landing on my uniform like a calculated insult. For a split second, my eyes lit up. Then I froze. Before me, eerie glowing captions shimmered in the air: [LOL, does this waitress think the male lead is into her?] [This is just a lovers’ spat. She’s collateral damage.] [Our girl Mia is upset he only throws money at problems.] [Don’t worry—he’ll make it up to her with a Winston Blue diamond later~] [Why is this rando still standing there? Grab the card and go!] [Stay in your lane, girl.] I lifted my gaze to the couple locked in their silent battle. Why wasn’t I leaving? Duh—he hadn’t given me the PIN. 1 Right now, that little piece of plastic lay at my feet, feeling as dangerous as a live wire. Eason Astor and Mia Stone were still locked in their standoff, the tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a knife. One was the golden boy, born with a silver spoon and the world at his feet. The other, the penniless, innocent girl he’d fallen for at first sight. It was a perfect romance novel setup. Finally, Eason’s patience snapped. His gaze, sharp with irritation, landed back on me. “Why are you still here?” The annoyance in his voice was raw. He couldn’t unleash it on the woman he loved, so a nobody like me became the perfect target. Before I could speak, Mia, the woman across from him, let out a bitter laugh. “See, Eason? Even the waitress finds your little ‘money-is-the-answer’ routine disgusting.” Her words were a double-edged sword, meant to mock him and humiliate me in one fell swoop. Eason’s face darkened instantly. [OMG he’s furious! He loves her so much! The possessiveness is off the charts!] [So sweet! Our Mia is the only one who dares to talk to him like that!] [Warning: high-stakes drama ahead! The female lead is about to storm out in a jealous fit, the male lead will chase her, and things are about to get steamy!] Amidst the chorus of [So sweet!] from the floating text, I bent down. Not to pick up the card. Instead, I offered Eason, his face a thunderous mask, a perfect ninety-degree bow. “Thank you,” I said. I straightened up, meeting his stunned gaze. My voice was more sincere than it had ever been in my life. “Mr. Astor, thank you for your generous grant. I promise every cent of this money will go toward my education.” The entire room fell into a dead silence. The captions flickered and froze for a second. Ignoring his bewildered expression, I pulled my student ID and driver’s license from the pocket of my uniform apron and presented them with both hands. “I’m a sophomore in the finance department at Ashton University. My name is Chloe. These are my credentials.” “A million dollars is no small sum. I will write you a formal IOU. And if you need, I am available at any time to cooperate with you or your family’s foundation for any ‘targeted philanthropy’ interviews you might require for PR purposes.” My words were crisp and clear, delivered like a corporate report. Eason was utterly dumbfounded. He shot a subconscious glance at Mia and saw exactly what he expected: her face was drained of color, her eyes wide with disbelief. He cleared his throat, a muscle ticking in his jaw, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards into a ghost of a smile. “That won’t be necessary. It’s nothing.” Despite his words, he pulled out his phone and, right in front of Mia, opened a new contact screen. “But your mention of an interview gives me an idea. Add my number. You never know when the company might need some good press you could help with.” Mia’s expression shifted from pale white to a furious red, finally settling on a shade of deep, mortified shame. She bit her lip so hard it had to hurt, watching as Eason and I exchanged numbers. Her glare was so intense it felt like she was trying to carve a piece out of me with her eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Eason,” she spat. She snatched her purse off the table and, with that parting shot, stormed out of the room. 2 The door slammed shut with a resounding bang. Eason’s expression was grim. He took a half-step, instinct telling him to go after her. But I moved first, stepping sideways to block his path. He frowned down at me, the irritation practically boiling in his eyes. “What do you want now?” I ignored his tone, looking at him calmly and asking a question that seemed to come out of nowhere. “Mr. Astor, that card… it was meant for her, wasn’t it?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m accepting it because my tuition for next semester is due, I have younger siblings to support back home, and I’m at the end of my rope.” “A million dollars might be a small number to you, but to me, it’s a lifeline.” My voice was quiet, but every word was crystal clear. “But for a girl who isn’t struggling for money, it’s just humiliating.” I met his gaze, which was now flickering with shock. “She’ll think you’re no different from all those other shallow men who think money can solve everything.” Eason fell completely silent. The storm in his eyes slowly subsided, replaced by a flicker of confusion. After a long moment, he swallowed hard and, almost against his will, asked, “So what do you suggest I do?” I bent down, picked up the thin piece of plastic from the floor, and held it out to him. “If you want her to see you’re different, then stop doing things that any rich guy could do.” Eason looked down at the card in my hand, his expression thoughtful. When I left the lounge that night, Eason had insisted I take the card. He even gave me the PIN. Rich people, I thought wryly, always have a trick up their sleeve. If I hadn’t pushed my luck and stayed those few extra minutes, if I hadn’t spelled it all out for him, this card would have been nothing more than a useless piece of plastic in my hand. Back in the staff locker room, I changed out of my cheap uniform. As I pulled my textbooks from my locker, a worn-out notebook fell to the floor. I picked it up and opened it. The pages were crammed with notes, all about Eason Astor: how often he came to the club, how much he spent, what he drank. And the one name he would mutter over and over again when he’d had too much. Mia. But he was the prey I had been stalking for so long. A small smile touched my lips. I ripped those pages from the notebook, tore them into tiny pieces, and tossed them into the trash. From that day on, Eason came to the club more often, always requesting me as his server. But every single time, he came up empty. I was never there. 3 I turned slowly, squinting into the glare. A tall, slender figure stood silhouetted against the bright afternoon sun. The light was blinding, but I didn’t even blink. “Then perhaps you’d like to demonstrate, Mr. Astor?” I said calmly, dusting the chalk from my hands. He seemed taken aback by my reaction. He paused, then cleared his throat and pronounced the word in a flawless, crisp British accent. “Apple.” The pronunciation was perfect, dripping with the kind of casual superiority that comes from a lifetime of privilege. For a family like his, a bilingual upbringing was standard. The authentic accent others might spend years trying to master was just his everyday normal. A chorus of oohs and aahs rose from the children around me. They all agreed he said it much better than I did. A smirk played on his lips, clearly pleased with the effect. He finally turned his full attention back to me. “What are you doing here?” he asked, then seemed to remember. “Oh, right. Your manager at the club told me. Said this is where you always are when you’re not working.” I didn’t say anything. I just bent down and began quietly gathering the flashcards and worn-out books from the dusty ground. Only after the last card was tucked away in my canvas tote did I look up and meet his eyes directly. “Did the manager only tell you I come here? Or did he also mention I’m an orphan, and that when I’m not working, this is the only place I have to go?” The smugness on Eason’s face vanished, replaced by a flash of awkwardness he couldn’t quite hide. But I didn’t give him time to dwell on it. I cut straight to the chase. “So, Mr. Astor. Tell me about you and your girlfriend. How are things?” [Dude, why are you telling all this to a random side character?] [She’s appeared twice now. Something’s not right. I bet she’s the secret second female lead.] [Shut up, you guys. I live for this kind of drama. Go on!] My directness seemed to have pierced his pretense. He dropped the act. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, trying to justify his presence. “You took my money. The least you could do is offer a little gratitude and help me with a problem, right?” He leaned against the old oak tree in the center of the yard, his voice laced with defeat. “She hasn’t contacted me at all. I heard… I heard she’s been spending a lot of time with the student council president.” I just let out a soft laugh. “Mr. Astor, have you ever stopped to wonder why you always hear about it the second Mia gets close to another man?” Eason froze. The confusion in his eyes was instantly replaced by a spark of understanding. He wasn’t stupid, just blinded by his own emotions. The storm was back in his deep-set eyes. He stared at me as if I were his last hope. “So… what do I do?” I slung the tote bag over my shoulder and stepped into the sunlight, my words clear and deliberate. “It’s simple.” “Make her realize that jealousy games won’t work on you anymore.” I watched the shock register in his eyes before delivering the final blow. “Only sincerity will.” 4 Eason was silent for a long time. So long that the kids from the yard ran back over, tugging at my shirt and asking when I’d be back again. I smiled and ruffled their hair, promising I’d return next week. It wasn’t until the children had scattered that Eason finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse. “Ashton University is having its anniversary ball this Saturday. You… will you be my date?” He seemed to have summoned a great deal of courage to ask; the tips of his ears were pink. I laughed coldly to myself but put on a hesitant expression. “I’m just a waitress who works at a club. I’d probably just embarrass you at an event like that.” “You won’t,” he cut in. “It’s settled.” He paused, then, as if trying to regain control of the situation, he gave me a searching look. “Wait, you’re an Ashton student too?” “Yes. Finance department, freshman year,” I answered smoothly. The confusion in his eyes deepened. “I thought Ashton’s full-ride scholarships covered all tuition and basic living expenses. How are you still…” He trailed off, but I knew what he was asking. I lowered my head, and at that exact moment, a breeze rustled past, lifting the cuff of my faded, worn-out shirt. For a split second, an ugly, jagged scar on my wrist was exposed. Eason’s pupils contracted sharply. I pulled my sleeve down as if nothing had happened, avoiding his question. “I’ll see you on Saturday, Mr. Astor,” I said softly. … Saturday night, the Ashton University auditorium was ablaze with lights. When I walked in on Eason’s arm, nearly every head in the room turned. My dress was the simplest white slip gown imaginable. It made me look frail, almost ethereal, but clean. [Oh damn, they’re wearing the same color. This is gonna be good.] [Is Chloe doing this on purpose? Such a copycat.] [You guys know nothing. I saw her backstage. She borrowed that dress from the event staff. The tag is still on it.] Almost as soon as the captions appeared, Mia came striding toward us, her face a mask of fury. She was also in a white dress—a designer piece from the latest haute couture collection that made her look like a proud, untouchable princess. And I, next to her, looked like a cheap imitation. It was ironic, really. Before she met Eason, she was just like me, a scholarship student juggling jobs to make ends meet. Now look at her, draped in luxury, with a man like Eason wrapped around her finger. Maybe we weren’t so different after all. I let go of Eason’s arm and gave her a polite nod. “Hello, Mia.” Her response was the sharp crack of a slap across my face. A searing pain exploded on my left cheek before I even had time to process what had happened. Mia’s shrill voice cut through the ballroom buzz. “Chloe, are you addicted to copying me? Does it give you some kind of sick thrill to steal things that belong to other people?” Her words were a clear double entendre. The murmurs of the crowd instantly swelled around me, drowning me in their judgment. The stares—scorn, amusement, pity—pricked at me like a thousand tiny needles. I cupped my stinging cheek, but I met her gaze calmly. “You’ve misunderstood. I just borrowed a white dress from the event staff for the ball.” I glanced around the room. “If wearing white is considered copying you, if it’s not allowed, then does that mean every other student here in a white dress deserves to be slapped? Does that mean none of them have the right to be here tonight?” Mia’s face turned a blotchy, furious red. She was trembling with rage, raising her hand to strike me again. But this time, a hand shot out and caught her wrist mid-air. It was Eason. Mia stared at him in disbelief, tears instantly welling in her eyes. “Eason, why…?” she choked out. “Why are you always defending her?” Eason’s face was tight with anger. I was his date, and this public spectacle was humiliating for him. “Stop making a scene! It’s just a dress. Who cares who wears what? Does everyone have to be different from you?” “Anyone else can,” Mia shrieked, “but not her!” 计费点 5 Mia glared at me with pure hatred, then violently wrenched her arm from Eason’s grasp and ran out of the auditorium, sobbing. Once again, I was the center of everyone’s attention. I gave the man frozen beside me a gentle nudge. “Aren’t you going after her?” I offered a helpless smile. “Now’s the perfect time to clear things up.” I smoothed down my dress. “I should head back to my dorm.” But Eason didn’t move. He looked at my swollen cheek, his voice hesitant. “Your face…” I shrugged, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel, and joked in a voice only he could hear, “It’s fine. The million dollars you gave me should cover a few more slaps, I think.” Then, fighting back the sting in my eyes, I turned to leave. I hadn’t taken more than a few steps before a firm, warm hand closed around my wrist. I looked up, feigning surprise, and met his dark, unreadable eyes. They were churning with a storm of emotions I couldn’t decipher—guilt, regret, and something that looked suspiciously like… concern. “If I let you walk out of here alone like this, that would be the real injustice,” Eason said, his voice low and serious. Before I could respond, the world tilted. In front of everyone, he swept me off my feet and into his arms. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by a wave of shocked whispers. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in the warmth of his chest. The familiar, crisp scent of pine and expensive cologne enveloped me, shielding me from the prying eyes. [Has he lost his mind? He’s not chasing Mia, he’s carrying this manipulative girl?] [I’m gonna be sick. Chloe is a master manipulator. A slap in exchange for a princess-carry? Worth it.] [Are they actually a thing? If so, poor Mia…] The captions continued to rage on Mia’s behalf. But hidden against his chest, I allowed myself a small, triumphant smile. Eason carried me through half the campus to the parking garage and gently placed me in the passenger seat of his Maybach. The car finally came to a stop in the underground garage of a high-end downtown apartment building. His home. Inside, Eason retrieved an ice pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a soft towel, and carefully pressed it against my swollen cheek. The cold made me hiss softly in spite of myself. His movements instantly became even gentler. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I handled that badly. You didn’t deserve that.” I shook my head, my eyes downcast, my voice as soft as a feather. “It’s not your fault. Mia… she just cares about you so much. It’s only natural she’d get jealous seeing me with you.” A wronged woman, showing magnanimous understanding at the perfect moment. As expected, Eason fell silent. His brow was furrowed, his eyes clouded with a deep-seated frustration. After a long moment, he said quietly, almost to himself, “She… she didn’t use to be like this.”

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6. A tall man with sharp, predatory eyes stormed in, flanked by two thuggish-looking cronies. I shrank back into the room, my heart pounding. “Get out. This spot is ours now!” the tall man snarled. I recognized him. He was the most aggressive one at the bakery yesterday, the one who had physically ripped bread out of other players’ hands. I knew I couldn’t fight him. I decided to give up my sanctuary. But as I reached the door, he whipped out a knife and pressed the cold blade against my throat. “Hand over all your money and food. Now. Or I’ll gut you.” The crazed, cruel look in their eyes told me they weren’t bluffing. My mind raced. Fight back? I wouldn’t stand a chance. Give them my money? That was the same as being eliminated, saddled with a massive debt. What could I do? I swallowed hard. “Hey, man, let’s just talk about this. Robbery will get you eliminated by the system.” “Shut up! I’m not asking again.” The blade pressed deeper. I stopped resisting. I transferred my entire $10 balance to him. Staying alive was the only way to win the prize. The tall man snatched the money and shoved me out of the room. As they slammed the door shut, I heard them gloating. “Mugging players works like a charm. Good thing he told us it wouldn’t get us kicked out. We’ll never have to worry about money again.” He? Who were they talking about? Robbing an NPC was forbidden, but robbing, or even killing, another player was apparently fair game. Who knew the rules so well? It was only day two, and I had lost everything. No money, no food. Was this the end? A moment later, another anonymous broadcast echoed: [Attention! Saltine crackers are now on sale at the 24-hour convenience store in Departures, Zone B!] The equipment room door opened. The tall man and his lackeys emerged. I quickly ducked into the shadows and followed them toward the store. They spent every cent of their stolen money on crackers. The moment the transaction completed, the system’s voice boomed: [Players 5, 49, and 61 have been eliminated for overspending. Debt: $200,000.] The tall man howled in disbelief. “But this was money I stole! How is that overspending—” Before he could finish, he vanished in a flash of light. His two cronies disappeared a second later. Dozens of bags of crackers and several loaves of bread clattered to the floor. I sprinted forward, shucked off my jacket, and used it to scoop up every last crumb. My hunch was right. The system said overspending led to elimination, but with only a $10 starting fund, how could anyone overspend? There was only one possibility: using another player’s stolen money, if it took your total spending over the initial $10 limit, counted as overspending. But the tall man hadn’t been eliminated for stealing bread from other players. That meant plundering food was allowed. I could see the days ahead. Players who figured out the rules would turn on each other, fighting brutally for scraps. I had to hide this food. With this stash, I could definitely last until the end. I found five separate, secure hiding spots and distributed my supplies. One location per day. That was the plan for the next five days. After all that, my Stamina was critically low, flashing a warning. I had no choice but to go back to a terminal chair and force myself to sleep sitting up. 7. Day three. A heart-wrenching coughing fit ripped through the quiet morning, snapping everyone’s attention to a young woman, Player 47. She was curled up on a cold metal bench, her body shaking violently, her face flushed a deep, alarming red. Her boyfriend, another player, looked at her with disgust. “What’s wrong with you? You have a fever? Don’t tell me you’re not gonna make it to day seven!” The woman’s voice was a weak, hoarse whisper. “I’m just… so cold. It hurts. Alex, can you just hold me?” “No way. What if you get me sick?” he shot back, stepping away. Without warning, a shrill alarm blared throughout the terminal. The heavy, rhythmic tread of boots echoed from a nearby corridor. A team in full white hazmat suits appeared and efficiently lifted the sick woman onto a stretcher. “Let me go! I don’t want to be eliminated!” she screamed in terror, reaching for her boyfriend. “Alex, help me! Help me!” But Alex didn’t even look back. He just turned and ran. The hazmat team ignored her cries, wheeling the stretcher away as the other players watched in horror. Seconds later, the broadcast: [Player 47, deemed a severe public health risk, has been removed from the game area for quarantine. Eliminated! Debt: $200,000!] [Player 87, deemed a severe public health risk, has been removed… Eliminated! Debt: $200,000!] Players exchanged wary, suspicious glances. “Player 87 was the one eating out of the trash yesterday. He’s been sick all morning.” “So you can’t get a cold, and you can’t get food poisoning.” Who would be next? Every cough, every throat clear, sent a fresh jolt of fear through the terminal. Another rule learned: do not get sick. I survived the day on my hidden bread and crackers. The airport was even colder now, a true icebox. I found a Mylar emergency blanket in the trash, the kind hikers use. It was far better at retaining heat than my flimsy airline blanket. Day four. The number of eliminated players was climbing steadily. When I woke, I set out to retrieve my daily ration. Avoiding the main crowds, I made my way to my first hiding spot: a narrow gap behind a large planter in a deserted restroom area. I knelt and reached into the familiar crevice. Empty. There was nothing there. My heart plummeted. I searched again, frantically, but found nothing, not even a crumb. Panicked, I ran to the next location. Nothing. And the next. Nothing. All four of my remaining stashes had been cleaned out. My entire life-saving supply of crackers and bread, gone overnight. My guaranteed win had just been completely upended. To find all my spots so precisely and empty them so quietly… this wasn’t the work of an ordinary player. Who was it? Who had been watching me? My morale hit rock bottom. I tried the free sample circuit again, but with more players desperate, the stores had gotten wise. All samples were gone. Even the Starbucks condiment bar was bare. The trash cans had become battlegrounds. Players were still risking food poisoning to find something, anything. By the time I checked, there wasn’t even a scrap left. By 10 PM, all my meters were flashing red alerts. Desperate, I walked toward the luxury retail wing of the airport. Another player whispered as I passed, “Looks like she’s done for. What’s she gonna do in the designer stores?” 8. In a trash can near the luxury shops, I found what I was looking for: several discarded shopping bags and empty boxes from high-end brands. Passengers often ditched the packaging before their flights to avoid import taxes. I carefully placed the pristine boxes into the best-looking bag and headed down to the first-floor departure hall. During my earlier scouting, I’d noticed a 24/7 high-end restaurant there: Dragon’s Hearth. I was going to scam a free place to rest and some free food. Pushing through the heavy glass doors, I was hit by a wave of warm air and the rich aroma of simmering broth. A smiling hostess hurried over. “Welcome! A table for how many?” “Two,” I said, my voice raspy. I casually placed the conspicuous luxury bag on an adjacent chair. “A quiet spot, please. I’m waiting for someone.” The hostess’s eyes flickered to the bag, and her smile widened. “Of course, right this way!” Anyone who could afford that much luxury wasn’t here to scam a free meal. She led me to a semi-private booth with plush, cushioned seating. The moment I sat down, I pulled out my phone and dialed a nonexistent number. As the fake call “connected,” my voice, choked with emotion, echoed through the quiet restaurant. “I’m at Dragon’s Hearth. I bought a ticket to Paris for 3 AM. If you don’t show up, you will never see me again!” I slammed the phone down on the table, my eyes instantly welling with tears. The hostess quickly returned with a bowl of warm, sweet herbal soup and a small plate of fruit. “Ma’am, please calm down,” she said, her voice soothing. “Have some soup. Is your boyfriend giving you trouble?” My voice was thick with emotion. “Thank you. I just can’t eat, knowing he’s with his perfect ex right now.” “You have to eat, especially when you’re upset,” she said, placing the soup in front of me. “You need your strength for when he comes crawling back.” I nodded and took a small sip. The warm liquid soothed my parched throat. My stomach was screaming, but I had to hold back. The hostess returned with a complimentary bowl of steamed custard. Feigning heartbreak, I went to the condiment bar and quickly scooped three large spoonfuls of savory minced beef into my custard. Back at my seat, I forced myself to eat with elegant, small bites, all while keeping a wary eye on the staff. The hostess seemed to have radar. “Ma’am, since you’re feeling down, would you like to try our new tomato broth? It’s sweet and sour, very appetizing!” A vibrant red bowl of soup appeared before me. “Can I get you some snacks?” A plate of free french fries followed. “Any word from your boyfriend yet?” The hostess leaned in again, her eyes full of gossip and sympathy, seemingly more invested in my drama than I was. Alarm bells went off in my head. She was checking on me too often. I immediately switched gears. Tears filled my eyes again, my voice trembling with despair. “Is he really not coming? I never really planned to leave…” I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking. “Oh, don’t cry, don’t cry!” The hostess panicked, rushing back with a giant, fluffy teddy bear. “Let him keep you company! You’re so beautiful, your boyfriend will definitely regret this!” Hugging the soft bear, the exhaustion was overwhelming. My Stamina was critical. I had to rest. I secretly set a vibrating alarm for 2 AM, then, looking completely emotionally drained, I curled up on the soft sofa and closed my eyes. As I drifted off, I prayed they wouldn’t kick me out. I don’t know how long I slept, but the hostess gently woke me. “Miss, isn’t your flight about to depart?” Right on cue, my phone began to vibrate violently. My alarm. In a flash, I grabbed the phone and, without looking, screamed into it with my pre-planned lines. “I waited for you for four hours! Are you still not coming? Is she really that important? I’m leaving! I’m really leaving this time! Can’t you just come and see me one last time?” I ended the call and buried my face in the teddy bear, making it look like I was sobbing. The manager, who had been approaching, stopped, shook his head, and walked away. The hostess kindly brought me a blanket. I slept on that plush sofa all night. The next morning, as I was about to leave, the hostess brought me a complimentary breakfast of soy milk, congee, and a tea-infused egg. “You go, girl!” she said with an encouraging smile. “You’ll find someone better! This is a new beginning for you!” Since I hadn’t ordered anything, I didn’t pay. I thanked her quietly and walked out the glass doors. My Stamina and Hunger meters were completely full. It was a shameless tactic, and one I could only use once. I had just played my trump card. 9. Day five. I ran into Cole and his group right outside the restaurant. His team had swelled to over twenty people. They were in the middle of distributing crackers. When I saw the packaging, my mind went blank with rage. Those were my crackers. I had torn a tiny corner off each bag as a marker. I stormed over. “Cole! You stole my crackers!” He just smiled and offered me one. “Don’t be mad. I told you, you should have joined us.” “Give them back.” “Take a look around,” he said, gesturing to his followers. “Do they look like they want to give them back?” Twenty pairs of greedy eyes stared back at me. I snatched the cracker he offered and took a step back. “Can I join you now?” “Too late, Ava,” he said with that same disarming smile. “This was never a solo game. The only way to survive is to team up and take resources from other players. You have no money and no food. You have nothing of value to us.” At that moment, a new system directive came through: [Welcome to Day 5. To increase the entertainment value, all public water fountains will now be shut off. Water from restrooms is contaminated and not safe for consumption.] The public channel exploded with rage. “Entertainment value? Screw you!” “No water? For three more days?! They’re trying to kill us!” Cole’s team started to get agitated, the fear of dehydration eclipsing their momentary joy over the food. But Cole remained calm, raising a hand to quiet them. “What’s the panic? It’s just water.” He shot a sideways glance at me. “The other players still have water. We just have to take it.” My stomach dropped. Before I could run, twenty pairs of bloodshot eyes locked onto me. The mob descended like hyenas smelling blood. “Let go! It’s mine!” I clutched my backpack, but I was hopelessly outnumbered. The strap was ripped from my shoulder, the zipper torn open. My two full water bottles were wrenched from my grasp. The few sugar packets I had left scattered on the floor and were instantly snatched up. I was shoved to the ground. Cole’s voice was ice-cold. “Be grateful we’re letting you live. Now get lost.” I scrambled to my feet and ran. Not from Cole, but for water. I had to get there before anyone else figured it out—the liquid disposal area. TSA regulations meant passengers couldn’t bring liquids over 100ml through security. At the checkpoint, they had to discard their water bottles, sodas, and juices in special large bins. I sprinted to the domestic departures security checkpoint. There they were: three massive, transparent disposal bins, each half as tall as me. They were overflowing with half-full and even unopened bottles of water, sports drinks, sodas, teas, and juices. Two TSA agent NPCs stood nearby. Simply rummaging through the bins was out of the question; it would trigger the security alarm. I couldn’t wait any longer. I pasted an expression of sheer panic on my face and rushed toward the checkpoint, heading straight for the bins. “Excuse me, coming through!” I yelled, my voice cracking, pushing past the people in line and successfully getting the agents’ attention. “Ma’am, you need to get in line!” a middle-aged agent said, blocking my path. “I’m so sorry, sir!” I said, speaking a mile a minute, my voice filled with genuine-sounding panic as I pointed at the bins. “I think my ring fell in there! It was my grandmother’s! Please, let me just look for it! It’ll only take a second, I promise!” Tears welled up in my eyes on command. The agent hesitated, then stepped aside. “Be quick about it! Don’t hold up the line!” “Thank you, sir! Thank you!” I practically dove for the bins. “So I don’t make a mess, I’ll just take these bags over here to sort through,” I said, hoisting the three giant plastic liners out of the bins and dragging them to a spot just out of the agents’ line of sight. Jackpot. This was more than enough water to last three days. I quickly emptied one bag and filled it with all the unopened bottles, then scurried away from the security area, my heart hammering against my ribs. I didn’t stop until I found a secluded accessible restroom and locked the door. No one could know I had this much water. I stood on the toilet, pushed up a ceiling tile, and stashed half my supply in the crawlspace. I hid the rest in several other nooks and crannies around the terminal before repeating the entire process at the international departures checkpoint. It wasn’t greed. I had a much bigger plan.

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Ever since my brother found out I wasn’t his real sister, he’s been ice-cold. The pain was a constant, sharp ache in my chest. I was packing my bags, ready to get the hell out, when I stumbled upon his journal. 【It’s over. She’s not my real sister. I can’t control myself anymore.】 【God, I want to taste my sweet little sister’s…】 【She crawled into my bed last night, her face flushed from the heat, whimpering my name like a prayer. It’s going to be the death of me.】 【She can’t even solve a simple calculus problem. The anger makes my heart ache. I just want to take a whip to her.】 【The shower is so damn small, and she still insists on squeezing in. Doesn’t she know I could pin her against the tiles until her eyes lose focus?】 【If she calls me ‘brother’ one more time, I’ll ship her off to the Arctic to pluck weeds.】 I snapped the journal shut. My feet carried me down to the basement, my movements silent and deliberate. My hands, trembling slightly, closed around a set of chains, a candle, and a leather whip. Brother, you get to punish me during the day. But at night… it’s my turn. … When I got home from class, Liam was doing laundry. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing the strong, corded muscles of his forearms. “Brother, you’re home early,” I chirped, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and resting my head against his back. His whole body went rigid. After a beat, he resumed his task, his voice a shard of ice. “Lily, let go.” Just then, my eyes landed on the pile of clothes he’d set aside on the floor—my lace bra and camisole. A bitter sting pricked my nose. Just a few days ago, before the DNA test results came back, he wasn’t like this. Was blood really all that mattered to him? When my biological parents had shown up, I’d refused to even meet them. They abandon me for eighteen years and then decide they want me back now that I’m an adult? What kind of joke was that? My adoptive parents—our parents—insisted on not getting a DNA test, saying I would always be their daughter. But Liam… my brother… he was the one who had to confirm it, to shatter that last shred of hope that we were connected by blood. And now, in just a few short days, we’d become so distant that he couldn’t even stand to wash our clothes together. “Hmph. Fine, I’ll let go,” I snapped, kicking his shin playfully, though there was real anger behind it. “I’m moving out tomorrow anyway! You can have this whole mansion to yourself. I don’t want to be a burden, living under your roof!” I snatched my clothes and stormed off. Tears streamed down my face as I started to rewash my things in the sink. Wait a minute… where were my panties? They must have gotten lost in the shuffle. At dinner, an unspoken truce hung between us. Liam was silent, his focus entirely on placing more food onto my plate. I was still fuming, stubbornly shoveling food into my mouth without looking at him. Then, a red folder slid into my line of sight. “I transferred the deed to you a while ago,” Liam said, his tone casual, almost dismissive. “The house is yours. Don’t overthink it.” Because my university and his company were in the same city, our parents had bought this villa for us to share. It was easier than dorms, and he could drive me to and from campus. We’d grown up side-by-side, inseparable. He did my laundry, cooked my meals… he spoiled me more than our parents ever did. Everyone used to joke that he was a cold-hearted CEO to the world, but at home, he was just a pathetic simp for his sister. I had pushed myself to get into Avalon University just for him, just so we could keep living together. That way, when a horror movie scared me, I could still crawl into his bed. I could keep basking in the warmth of his affection. But that single, sterile piece of paper—the DNA report—had shattered everything. He’d become cold. Distant. I thought he was afraid I’d try to fight him for the family inheritance. But now he was just… giving me the house. Maybe I was the one with the twisted mind. Later that night, while Liam was in the shower, I snuck into his room, burrowing under his covers just like I used to. His bed smelled of ebony and sandalwood, an austere and sensual scent that was a perfect match for his restrained intensity. I was happily breathing it in when a flash of white under his pillow caught my eye. I tugged at it. It was my lace panties. My face went nuclear-hot. They were the ones from the laundry… the unwashed ones. What were they doing here? Click. The bathroom door opened. I dove back under the covers instantly. Peeking through a tiny gap, I saw Liam. His chest was bare, droplets of water tracing a path from his sharp jawline, over his Adam’s apple, and down to the sharp V of his hips, where a pair of silk pajama pants hung precariously. As he towel-dried his hair, the fabric swayed, and my gaze involuntarily dropped to the prominent bulge beneath. Note to self: next time I buy him underwear, go up a size. No wonder he never even opened the last pack I got him. A strange heat began to creep through my body. It was probably just stuffy under the blankets. He finished with his hair and slid into bed. The cool, smooth feel of his skin so close sent a shiver of excitement through me. Before he could react, I popped my head out from under the comforter, a sweet, innocent smile plastered on my face. “Lily! Get out!” His voice was louder than usual, sharp with authority. “Didn’t I tell you? You’re not allowed in my bed anymore!” He was yelling at me again. The force of his words stunned me. A wave of hurt washed over me, and my eyes welled with tears. “Why are you yelling at me? Don’t you even want to know why I came in here?” Seeing my tears, he immediately softened, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Okay, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. Just… talk to me.” Crying had always been my secret weapon against him. He couldn’t stand to see me cry. “I’m sorry, brother,” I choked out between sobs. “I misunderstood you earlier. I shouldn’t have said those things.” He was so good to me, and I’d accused him of such awful motives. A stray piece of my hair fell across his cheek. He sighed, and his hand lifted, an instinctual move to tuck it behind my ear. But he stopped, his fingers hovering in the air between us. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting some internal battle, before balling his hand into a fist and pulling it back. We were so close, my body sprawled over his. As our eyes met, I saw his pupils dilate, his breathing becoming ragged and shallow. “Brother,” I whispered. “Hmm?” I shifted uncomfortably. “Something’s… digging into me.” His arm tightened around me like a steel band, pinning me in place. “Don’t move,” he growled, his voice thick. “Brother, let me go, it’s uncomfortable.” “Don’t call me that.” What? So we couldn’t be real siblings, and now we couldn’t even be regular siblings? This corporate shark was truly heartless. Fine. See if I’d listen. “Brother, brother, brother…” I taunted, chanting the word over and over. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow, his long lashes trembling with the effort of his restraint. “If you say that one more time, I’ll ruin you.” The last two words were ground out between clenched teeth. I stuck my tongue out at him. “Brother, brother!” I wasn’t going to let him win. If he didn’t want me to say it, I’d scream it. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And then he moved, pulling me down hard against him. My eyes flew open as he buried his face in the curve of my neck. His damp hair brushed against my collarbone, and his hot breath sent sparks across my skin. A low, desperate groan escaped his throat, a sound that sent a jolt of pure electricity from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. His knee nudged my legs apart. “Liam,” I gasped, my sharp cry cutting through the charged silence. In my panic, my nails dug into his back, leaving a thin red line. I heard him hiss in a sharp breath. With a sudden, violent shove, Liam pushed me away. He scrambled out of bed and fled into the en-suite bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind a complete blank. A sliver of light escaped from under the bathroom door. I could see his tall, lean silhouette moving behind the frosted glass. God, his body was incredible—broad shoulders, narrow hips, every movement hinting at a tightly coiled strength. I remembered the feeling of that strength pinning me down, flipping me over… and my face began to burn again. If I hadn’t stopped him… My thoughts were still drifting when his shadow disappeared from the door. The main bedroom’s bathroom was set further back, but if I listened closely, I could still hear the shower turn on. The sound of rushing water filled the room, but beneath it, I could hear something else. Low, restrained gasps. Pained, desperate breaths. The sound of the water and his labored breathing washed over me, a strange, intoxicating symphony. Minutes ticked by. I told myself I’d wait for him to come out, wish him goodnight, and go back to my own room. But he was taking forever. Could he have passed out from the steam? “Are you okay in there?” I called out, a genuine thread of concern in my voice. “You’ve been in there for a while.” Silence. Then, his voice came, rough and raw. “Lily.” “Yeah?” “Walk over to the bathroom door.” I did as he asked, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. “Liam, are you sure you’re okay?” The frosted glass reflected my own fuzzy image. I couldn’t see anything else. “Good. Stop right there. Don’t move.” His voice was even thicker now, his breathing more ragged, more urgent. It built and built until a final, choked-off groan tore from his throat. Then, silence. That night, I had a dream. I dreamt I was in his shower. Under the spray of hot water, he was looking down at me, coaxing me to open my mouth. I refused. The next second, his hand shot out, cupping my jaw, forcing my lips apart, wider and wider. He covered my eyes with his other hand. I was blind, but my other senses were on fire. I could hear the rustle of fabric, and then a torrent of fire was forced into my mouth. It wasn’t his usual cold arrogance; this was lava flowing just beneath a sheet of ice. My mouth was full, I couldn’t speak, only struggle against the burning sensation as it filled me, consumed me. Finally, when I couldn’t take any more, he pulled back, removing the hand from my eyes. The next morning, I woke up to a faint, sticky residue crusted at the corner of my mouth. I must have been drooling again, I thought. I knew sleeping with my mouth open was a bad habit; I even used those little mouth tapes to try and correct it. But every morning, the tape was gone, probably ripped off in my sleep. I really needed better self-control. “Liam, Lily, are you two awake?” Mom’s voice, a welcome and familiar sound, drifted in from the living room. Mom was here! Forgetting everything else, I bolted out of my room. She drove into town once a month to see us, always bringing her homemade strawberry jam and kimchi, and she’d usually tidy up the house for us. This time, along with the food, she’d brought me a gift: a butterfly-back dress. Her eyes were full of warmth as she held it up. “The moment I saw this in the store, I thought of you. I told your father, ‘Our Lily will look like an absolute angel in this.’” I held the dress against myself, hesitating. “It’s beautiful, Mom, but… isn’t it a little revealing? I’ve never even worn a skirt that doesn’t go past my knees.” This thing was so short, I felt like I’d flash someone just by bending over. Mom examined it again. “Well, it is a little sexy, I suppose. But you’re a college girl now, Lily! You can’t live in white t-shirts and jeans forever. A change of style is good! And this dress is perfect for you.” “But—” Before I could finish, Liam walked out of his room for breakfast. Mom immediately grabbed him, seeking his approval. “Liam, look! Isn’t this dress perfect for your sister?” He glanced at the dress, then at me, his expression unreadable. He gave Mom a clipped, dismissive “Mm-hmm.” That was all the encouragement she needed. “Then you’ll wear this on your date with Ethan this weekend! The Sanders family adores you. Mrs. Sanders was just telling me the other day…” At the mention of Ethan, I blushed. Ethan Sanders was Liam’s best friend and the heir to the Sanders Corp fortune. He’d even provided the seed money for Liam’s startup. Our parents had always hoped Ethan and I would get together; the alliance would be a huge boost for Liam’s company. Liam, who had been quietly eating his breakfast, cut Mom off. “It’s ugly. The dress is hideous, and it’ll look even worse on her.” “Hey! Don’t you talk about your sister that way.” “She’s not my sister,” Liam said, his voice dropping ten degrees. “Liam!” Mom’s voice shot up an octave. She was furious. The atmosphere in the living room turned thick and heavy. Mom glared at Liam, her lips a thin, hard line. I looked down, my hands twisting the hem of my shirt, my eyes starting to burn. Seeing my distress, Mom’s expression softened. She stroked my cheek gently before turning her glare back on her son. “Liam, if you ever say that again, you are no son of mine. As long as your father and I are alive, Lily is, and always will be, your sister.” “Oh my god, Ethan is going to lose his damn mind.” My cousin, Chloe, was practically vibrating with excitement after I’d filled her in and shown her the dress. I rolled my eyes. “Please. A guy like that has seen every kind of beautiful woman there is.” She wagged a finger at me. “Nuh-uh. The way that man looks at you… it’s so gentle. You’re exactly his type.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, listen to you, the relationship expert. So how does your god-tier guy look at you?” She paused to think. “Ethan’s gentle. My guy… he’s not. He looks at me like he wants to devour me whole.” Chloe had transformed into a self-proclaimed love guru ever since she started college. “The way he looks at me is… oh, I know! It’s the same way Liam looks at you!” “Ahem!” I nearly choked on my water. “You can talk crap about anything else, but not that.” “Fine, don’t believe me,” she said, fiddling with a charm on my backpack. “So, any plans for the long weekend?” “Liam’s teaching me how to bake. He already bought all the ingredients; I just need to be ready.” Her eyes lit up with mischief. She leaned in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Ooh, he’s got everything ready for you, huh?” She put a suggestive emphasis on the word ‘everything.’ “Huh?” It took me a second to catch her drift. “I mean, Liam hits the gym all the time, right? He must have crazy stamina. Can your little body even handle that?” Her meaning slammed into me. This girl’s mind was permanently in the gutter. I flicked her forehead. “You’re insane. Liam and I are siblings.” “So? Not by blood,” she shot back, leaning in even closer, her eyes gleaming. “Don’t you think the whole forbidden step-sibling thing is way hotter?” “You’re impossible.” … We horsed around until, before we knew it, the sky had grown dark and Liam was calling us for dinner. Just before we left my room, Chloe insisted I try on the dress. I slipped it on, and her eyes went wide. She pushed me in front of the full-length mirror. “Damn, girl. If you wore this with black stockings, Liam would be good for ten rounds a night.” I stared at my reflection. The iridescent lavender fabric clung to my curves, highlighting my collarbones, my narrow waist, my long legs. Chloe had swept my dark hair into a messy bun, letting a few wisps fall around the nape of my neck. The look was somehow both sweet and dangerously alluring. Seeing myself like this for the first time made me blush. I was just about to change when the door swung open. “This is the third time I’ve called you two for dinner. What are you doing in here?” Liam stood in the doorway, a spatula still in his hand. I had just started to unzip the dress. His gaze landed on my bare legs, then quickly darted away, but not before I saw the tips of his ears turn a deep shade of red. The air between the three of us crackled and froze. “Get dressed. And come eat,” he muttered, turning on his heel and all but running from the room. At the dinner table, Chloe kept casually bringing up my upcoming date with Ethan. Liam, who had been silent all evening, finally spoke, his voice low and firm. “Don’t go see him this weekend.” I was taken aback. “Why not? You were always fine with it before. You said he was a gentle guy, that he’d be good to me.” He placed a perfectly peeled shrimp in my bowl. “Things are different now.” “What’s different?” “You’re not my sister anymore.” There it was again. That phrase. I put down my chopsticks and looked him straight in the eye. “So, because I’m not your sister, I don’t even have the right to date your best friend? Is that it?” He wouldn’t meet my gaze, focusing on peeling another shrimp for me. “That’s not what I meant.” “Uh… Lily, cuz… my boyfriend just called. He’s going into labor—I mean, his cat is! Gotta go!” Chloe sensed the impending explosion, grabbed her bag, and bolted. Liam sighed heavily. “If you insist on seeing him, fine. Just don’t wear that dress.” A stubborn fire ignited in me. I was going to get to the bottom of this tonight. I stormed back to my room, not only putting the butterfly dress back on but also pulling on a pair of black stockings I’d never worn before. The mirror reflected a stranger with long, slender legs. Full of newfound confidence, I flung open my door. “Liam. Open your eyes and take a good, hard look. Tell me exactly what’s so ugly about this. If you can’t find a single flaw, then this is what I’m wearing on my date.” Liam’s eyes locked onto me, his dark pupils swimming in ink. A storm of suppressed emotion churned within them, like the oppressive, heavy sky before a hurricane. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, his voice thick and hoarse when he finally spoke. “Lily, don’t push me.” The next thing I knew, I was being lifted onto his lap, the familiar scent of dark woods and spice overwhelming my senses. The dim light cast our entangled shadows against the pale curtains. His hand came to rest on my thigh. The calloused pads of his fingers were a stark, rough contrast against the smooth silk of the stockings, sending a tremor through my entire body. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Lily, the reason I don’t want you to wear this dress… is because I’m afraid he’ll hurt you.” His voice was low, pleading. “You don’t understand men.” I gathered my courage. “And you? Do you want to hurt me?” I shifted, straddling him, my arms wrapping around his neck. The move closed the already nonexistent distance between us. I could see the thick fan of his lashes, the raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes. His breathing grew heavier, hotter. “You have no idea what you’re asking for, Lily.” Riiiiip. The sound of tearing fabric filled the silent room. My stockings. My dress. He was destroying it. Seeing the loss of control in his eyes, a real sense of panic began to set in. “Brother,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Don’t call me that!” he snarled. “And don’t look at me with those eyes!” At the same time, he surged upward. The sudden, intense pain made tears spring to my eyes, hot and fast. “Liam, calm down—” My words were smothered as his mouth crashed down on mine. He wasn’t just kissing me; he was consuming me, trying to devour me whole. In the chaotic haze, the hem of my ruined dress was pushed up to my waist. The dam of my tears broke, flooding my cheeks.

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The new intern, on a crusade to “fix the workplace,” decided to make me his first target. To get back at him, my CEO girlfriend—who loved me more than life itself—devised a plan to destroy him by setting him up for a fall. She kicked me out of my VP position and promoted him instead. She bought him a luxury car for his commute and a villa for a “dorm,” insisting it was all part of the trap, begging me to be patient. Then my sister’s heart condition worsened. I begged my girlfriend for an adMarshall on my salary to cover the surgery. She agreed instantly. But on the day of the operation, I waited at the hospital from dawn until dusk. The money never came. The only thing that did was a notification—a social media post from the intern, dripping with mockery: “My CEO is too nice for her own good. An employee asked for a salary adMarshall… what if he just quits without paying it back? I rejected it on her behalf! PS: Next time you want to scam someone, at least come up with a believable excuse!” My sister died. Only then did my girlfriend finally call, her voice syrupy and sweet. “Don’t be mad, honey. We’ll just delay Annie’s surgery for a couple more days. I have to endure this humiliation. The higher I build Leo up, the harder he’ll fall. Don’t worry, his birthday is in two days. I’m going to publicly humiliate him, make him lose everything. Then, we’ll have a lavish wedding to make Annie happy!” But I already knew the truth. Her so-called “setup” was just an excuse for her blatant favoritism. I was done with her. 1 “Owen, are you sure you want to join us? This is fantastic! We leave in two days!” On the other end of the line, the HR manager from the European tech giant was ecstatic. They’d been trying to recruit me for seven years, even setting up a local branch office just to make it easier to poach me. “I’m sure,” I said. The morgue was so silent I could hear my own voice echo. I took one last look at my ten-year-old sister, Annie, her small face tinged with a deathly blue. I signed the death certificate and found the coroner. He said the cremation fee was two thousand dollars, payable in adMarshall. After Annie’s health took a nosedive, my years of savings had vanished. My life had revolved entirely around my girlfriend, Stella, leaving me with no friends to turn to. After she demoted me from my VP role, even my colleagues kept their distance. Now, I couldn’t find a single person willing to lend me money. My eyes fell instinctively to the watch on my right wrist. It was the first gift Stella had ever given me, a token of our love that had cost her three months’ salary. She’d told me I was priceless to her. I had tried to sell it earlier today, but the appraisal was only $3,000—nowhere near the $30,000 needed for the surgery. A drop in the ocean. I couldn’t bring myself to part with it then. Perhaps it was fate telling me to let it go now. I listed it online for a low price of $2,000, and a local buyer contacted me almost immediately. As I rushed out to make the exchange, I was knocked to the ground by a black-suited bodyguard. My phone skittered across the pavement, the screen cracking. When I looked up, I saw Stella pushing a wheelchair-bound Leo into the hospital, flanked by an entourage of doctors, nurses, and more bodyguards. Her face was etched with worry, a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. Our eyes met for a fleeting second before she looked away. A nurse helped me up, sighing under her breath. “Talk about different fates. That CEO’s boyfriend just sprains his ankle and the entire hospital staff is on call. Meanwhile, there’s a little girl with a heart defect who can’t even afford her surgery fee…” I shook my head, telling her I was fine. A moment later, Stella strode back towards me, her expression grim. She grabbed my arm and pulled me down to the underground parking garage. Inside her car, with no one else around, she scowled. “Are you so desperate for money you’d follow me here?!” Realizing her tone was too harsh, her features softened slightly. “Leo twisted his ankle coming down the stairs. He’s being such a drama queen, refusing to get it checked unless I’m with him.” “I know you’re still angry about him rejecting your salary adMarshall. Here, take this and go,” she said, her voice dropping. “Don’t let Leo see you. He’ll get the wrong idea.” She didn’t even realize that while her words called him a drama queen, her eyes held an unmistakable, melting fondness. She used to look at me that way. When I had a simple stomachache, she’d sit by my hospital bed all day, personally making me congee until her hands were covered in blisters. Stella took out her phone. A second later, mine buzzed. A transfer of $200. She smiled, a little too brightly. “Leo likes to check my phone. He’d be upset if he knew I was giving you too much money privately. Use this to buy Annie some nice supplements. Cheer her up, okay?” I clenched my phone. We were supposed to be the real couple, yet here we were, sneaking around like criminals. A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped me, and I transferred the $200 right back to her. She froze, halfway out of the car, finally sensing something was wrong. She turned back, patting my hand. “Owen, I know you’ve been wronged. But to make Leo fall, we have to let him have everything first. The pain will be unbearable when he loses it all. That’s how we’ll get your revenge!” But the one who was losing everything, the one whose pain was unbearable… that was me. A year ago, when Leo first joined the company, he’d swaggered in, vowing to “rectify the workplace,” and made me, the VP, his first victim. I asked him to print a document; he said he was hired to work, not be an errand boy. I asked my assistant for coffee; he snatched it and threw it in my face, telling me to do my own chores. Later, when I was on the verge of closing a multi-million-dollar deal, he refused to release the company seal, accusing me of trying to embezzle corporate assets. The client walked, and a month of sleepless nights went down the drain. I mentioned it to Stella, and she decided to get even for me, orchestrating this grand “setup.” To destroy a man, first let him swell with pride. In the beginning, whenever Stella praised Leo with backhanded compliments, she’d always shoot me a conspiratorial wink. I’d stifle a laugh and play along, pretending to be crushed, which only fueled Leo’s ego. But slowly, the act became real. Stella’s praise for Leo started to sound like genuine admiration. Her indifference and dismissiveness towards me felt less and less like a performance. A year ago, I lost my VP position. A week ago, my sister had a heart attack, triggered by the stress of seeing her future sister-in-law buying a house for another man. The surgery had a 100% success rate, but she died because her useless brother couldn’t scrape together the fee. And now, the woman in front of me, my girlfriend, had changed somewhere along the way. A wave of utter desolation washed over me. “Stella, we—” The words should break up were on the tip of my tongue when her phone rang. The caller ID read “My Dearest Leo.” Stella opened the car door, stepping outside to take the call. She never used to hide her calls from me; she’d put them on speaker to avoid any misunderstanding. Afterwards, she’d mock Leo’s arrogance and swear she only loved me. Now, she leaned against the car door, her fingers toying with the hem of her blouse, a sweet smile on her face. Then, her voice rose in feigned surprise. “Your foot is still injured! Don’t come looking for me!” The next moment, I saw a tall, thin figure limping into the parking garage. Stella rushed to meet him, catching him in her arms. Leo’s eyes found me in the passenger seat, and a cruel, triumphant smile spread across his face. He quickened his pace and yanked me out of the car. “Owen, who said you could sit in Stella’s car? Can you afford to replace the leather seats if you get them dirty? Don’t tell me you were trying to borrow money from her again. Sucking your ex-girlfriend dry… are you even a man?” As if to assert his dominance, he expertly slipped his hand into Stella’s pocket, pulled out her phone, and unlocked it. Seeing the reversed transaction, he threw the phone to the ground. “Stella! I try to be considerate of you, but you’re still hung up on your ex! Forget it, you don’t have to take me to the doctor. I’d rather my leg just break!” He turned to leave in a huff. Stella, the decisive, formidable CEO, stood there, unable to argue. She started to chase after him, then stopped abruptly. She turned back, took my hand, and gave it a gentle shake, her voice earnest. “Owen, just two more days. Please, just bear with it for two more days. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” It was her favorite way to get what she wanted from me, a display of vulnerability that used to fill my heart with tenderness. Now, it only filled me with disgust. Before I could pull my hand away, she was already gone, chasing after Leo. I stood there, motionless, wiping the back of my hand on my shirt. But Stella, in two days, I’ll be gone. And I’m not taking you with me. 2 After leaving the garage, I quickly met the buyer and got the money for Annie’s cremation. By the time I carried her ashes home, night had fallen. Stella wasn’t there. But for the first time in months, she sent me a message, telling me she was staying at the hospital to take care of Leo because his leg was hurting too much. The last time she’d bothered to tell me her whereabouts was ages ago. For the first time, I didn’t feel a pang of jealousy or demand compensation. I just opened my work software and submitted my resignation. It sat there, pending approval. I put my phone down and ignored it. With only two days left, I needed to pack. I’d go to the office tomorrow to tie up loose ends. Seven years of my life, condensed into a single 20-inch suitcase. The next morning, I was still asleep when a sharp knock woke me. It was Stella’s assistant. She saw the packed suitcase and paused. “Mr. Hayes, are you going on a trip?” “Yes.” She didn’t press further. “Ms. Marshall would like you to come with me.” I wanted to refuse, but the bodyguards behind her made it clear it wasn’t a request. Our destination was a bridal boutique. Stella greeted me with a beaming smile, pulling me into a fitting room. She held up a custom-tailored suit and began to dress me, her head bowed as she fastened my tie. Looking down at the top of her head, I felt a strange sense of detachment. To make her “setup” convincing, she had maintained a physical distance from me, claiming she had to fool herself before she could fool others. As she fastened my cufflinks, she suddenly stopped. “Where’s your watch?” Before I could answer, she chuckled lightly. “Oh, right. You probably put it back in its box for safekeeping.” “My handsome Owen looks so dashing in a suit like this!” she cooed. “I’ve already had our wedding designed. It’s a seaside ceremony, just like you always wanted, with a flower arch for Annie. She can be our flower girl, how does that sound?” Her words were soft and gentle, but they pierced my ears like needles. I clenched my fists, remembering Annie’s last moments, her tear-filled eyes as she asked me, “Brother, why hasn’t sister-in-law come to save me yet?” I remembered how Stella used to adore Annie, fussing over her health, telling her bedtime stories for hours without a hint of fatigue. Marrying Stella had once been my ultimate dream. A dream that would now never come true. “Stella, the wedding—” She smiled sweetly, placing a finger on my lips. “Our plan is almost complete. Tomorrow is Leo’s birthday. I’m going to announce his termination in front of everyone. The house, the car—all of it will be reclaimed through legal action. He’s gotten used to a life of luxury; he won’t even eat at a restaurant that isn’t five-star. I can’t wait to see what he does when he has nothing, when anyone can step on him. Let’s see him try to ‘rectify the workplace’ then!”

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