Author: Momo Chan

I had just announced our engagement dinner to my coworkers in the work group when Ethan’s childhood best friend, Vicky, dropped a bombshell in the chat. “Chloe. How dare you ask Ethan for $8 million for the wedding?” “Ethan’s parents had to sell their family home just to satisfy your greed. Aren’t you afraid of killing them?” In less than ten minutes, everyone at the office branded me as a gold-digger. I was shaking with rage. The total budget for Ethan’s and my wedding was only twenty-eight thousand dollars. I went to confront Vicky, but she immediately started playing the victim, crying in the group chat. “I’m so sorry, everyone. I shouldn’t have mentioned the $8 million at work. I didn’t think about Chloe’s reputation.” Overnight, I became public enemy number one. The internet tore me to pieces. Ethan never said a single word to defend me. My dad was harassed and bullied at his construction site. He fell from a scaffold and never woke up. In the end, consumed by depression, I jumped from the roof of our apartment building. But then, I woke up. I had been reborn. This time, I didn’t argue with Vicky. Instead, I took screenshots and screen recordings of every single message she sent. Then, I tagged Vicky in the chat: “Please show everyone the evidence that I demanded $8 million.” “If you can’t, my lawyer will see you in court.”

The moment I sent that message, the chaotic group chat went dead silent for a few seconds. Vicky was quick to reply. “Chloe, is there any need to be so hostile? I just couldn’t bear to watch this happen.” “Ethan is such a sweet guy. Look how far you’ve pushed him.” I stared at the screen. My fingers were steady, showing none of the panic of someone who had just died a horrific death. “Stop changing the subject.” “An eight-million-dollar demand, selling the house, and draining his elderly parents.” “Give me proof for these three claims.” Some coworkers started chiming in. “But seriously, eight million is insane. Chloe, did you really ask for that much?” “Trying to hit the jackpot in one go, huh?” “Ethan is too nice. He’s probably too embarrassed to say anything.” I ignored them and messaged my best friend, Mia, directly. “Someone is spreading rumors in the company chat, calling me a gold-digger. I’ve already recorded everything.” She replied instantly. “Don’t argue with them. Just keep saving every piece of cyberbullying.” I turned back to the work group and pressed Vicky. “Vicky, I’ll give you ten minutes.” “If you can’t produce a bank transfer of eight million, a house sales contract, or a prenuptial agreement signed by me, I am calling the police for defamation.” Vicky replied with a crying emoji. “I’m not the bad guy here. I just feel bad for Ethan.” “If you’re going to be this heartless, how do you expect to live with Ethan’s family in the future?” Finally, Ethan showed up. He sent only one line. “Chloe, stop making a scene. Everyone is watching.” My heart went cold, aching with a familiar pain. “Ethan, did I ever ask your family for eight million dollars?” The chat went silent again. Ethan didn’t reply. But Vicky jumped right back in. “Don’t force him! He’s caught in the middle and it’s already so hard for him! If you really love him, can’t you save him some dignity?” I laughed. What a disgusting pair. I uploaded a screenshot of my chat with Ethan’s mother, Jennifer, directly into the group. It clearly showed our conversation: The total wedding cost was exactly twenty-eight thousand dollars. Jennifer had even replied with a smiley face: “Chloe, you are so sensible. I love you.” Some coworkers immediately started changing their tunes. “Wait, the wedding only cost twenty-eight thousand?” “Then where did the eight million come from?” “Did Vicky get her facts wrong?” Vicky went silent. Ethan went silent too. But very quickly, the screenshots of our internal company chat were leaked to social media. Strangers who knew nothing about the truth started calling me a gold-digger on Twitter. Mia sent me a voice note. “Chloe, the rumor is spreading fast on social media. Make sure you back up all the chat logs.” I logged onto the company network, exported the chat history, and submitted it to an online notary for digital evidence preservation. Just as I finished, my manager, Marcus Vance, messaged me. “Come to the conference room. Now.”

Three people were waiting for me inside. Marcus, the HR Director Rachel Hughes, and Ethan. Vicky was nowhere to be seen. She was crying her eyes out online, but in reality, she was hiding safely in the shadows. Rachel closed the door and spoke in a gentle, patronizing tone. “Chloe, please sit.” “We’ve seen what happened. The company understands your frustration.” “But this is a personal matter, and it’s already affecting the team’s productivity.” “For next week’s client presentation, we think it’s best if you step back temporarily.” I looked up at her. “The liar gets to keep working, while the victim gets kicked off the project?” Marcus frowned. “Chloe, don’t make it sound so ugly.” “The company isn’t punishing you. We are protecting you.” I fired back. “Protecting me by taking my name off the project?” “Or protecting Vicky so she can keep spreading lies in the company chat?” Marcus’s face darkened. Ethan finally spoke. “Chloe, can you please grow up? Vicky just has a hot temper. She didn’t mean any harm.” I looked at him and let out a cold laugh. “And what about you? Did you mean any harm? Why didn’t you explain to everyone that I never asked for eight million dollars?” Ethan avoided my eyes. “Can’t we talk about this in private? There’s no need to corner me in the work chat.” I nodded. “Fine. Let’s make it clear right now. Did I take your money?” Rachel coughed. “Chloe, there’s no need to discuss these details at work.” “Yes, there is.” I looked directly at her. “The rumor started in the company chat.” Rachel’s expression hardened. “Are you saying you don’t trust the company?” I smiled. “Oh, I know this company all too well.” In my past life, the company was preparing for a funding round. They didn’t want the scandal of an “employee demanding a multi-million dollar for wedding” to trend on social media. They suspended me and forced me to write a public apology online. They made me sign a statement admitting that “my personal relationship issues had brought negative publicity to the company.” I had signed it back then. That piece of paper was later posted online by Vicky. It became the ultimate “proof” of my guilt, showing that I had admitted to my mistakes because I was guilty. This time, I wouldn’t sign a single dirty piece of paper. I pulled out a printed formal request for an internal investigation from my bag. Marcus spoke up. “Don’t turn a small issue into a massive scandal.” I didn’t back down. “It is already a massive scandal.” Suddenly, Rachel’s phone buzzed. She glanced at it, and her face turned pale. “Chloe, did you offend some influencer?” She handed her phone to me. On TikTok, a drama channel had already uploaded a video. The title was eye-catching and disgusting: “Tech Manager Demands $8 Million For Her Wedding; Groom’s Parents Forced to Sell Family Home.” The comment section was a toxic mess. “Another gold-digger.” “The guy needs to run fast.” “Someone expose her company. Don’t let clients support a woman like this.” Staring at those words, a strange sense of calm washed over me. I sent the video link to Mia. As I walked out of the conference room, Ethan chased after me. He lowered his voice, hissing. “Chloe, have you had enough?” “How are my parents supposed to face the world now because of you?” “They didn’t sell their house, so why can’t they face the world?” Ethan froze, his face turning pale.

At 7 PM, I got back to my apartment. There was a paper bag sitting at my doorstep. There was no return address. It only had a handwritten note: “An $8 million bride, but only worth $80 a night.” I didn’t touch it. I pulled out my phone and recorded it first. In my past life, I had been so hysterical that I tore the package to shreds and threw it away. Later, when I called the police, they asked for evidence, and all I could do was sob. This time, I called the building management and asked them to pull the security footage. The bag had been delivered by a courier wearing a face mask. The sender’s number was blocked. I posted a formal update in the company WhatsApp group: “An offensive package was left at my doorstep. I have contacted the police and secured the building’s security footage. I will prosecute anyone involved.” As soon as that message went out, several coworkers who had been mocking me immediately deleted their previous comments. Too late. I had already screenshotted everything. When Mia arrived at my apartment, she was carrying her laptop. She opened it and her fingers flew across the keyboard. “I tracked the social media source. It was Vicky who leaked the company chat screenshots to those gossip accounts.” Suddenly, my phone rang. It was my mom. “Chloe, your dad got into a fight with someone on his way home from work today.” I bolted upright. “Is he okay? Where is he?” My mom quickly explained. “He’s fine, he’s at home. It’s just… some people at the construction site gates were saying nasty things. They said you demanded eight million dollars and were driving Ethan’s parents to suicide. Your dad couldn’t stand it and got into a fight with them.” My fists clenched tightly, my nails digging into my palms. My dad had been an honest, hard-working safety officer his entire life. He hated being slandered more than anything. In my past life, under the crushing weight of the rumors, he had been distracted at work, fell from the scaffolding, and died. In this life, I would never let anything happen to him. “Mom, listen to me. Don’t let Dad go to the site tomorrow. I’ve booked a full medical checkup for him.” My mom panicked. “Chloe, what on earth is going to happen?” “Someone is trying to ruin me, and they are targeting you and Dad too.” Silence fell over the line for a few seconds. Then, my mom’s voice started to tremble. “Chloe, don’t be scared. I understand.” I immediately called Robert, the manager at my dad’s construction site. Robert had worked with my dad for over a decade. After hearing what happened, he cursed loudly over the phone. “What kind of sick bastard would do this? Don’t worry, Chloe. I’ll approve your dad’s paid leave for tomorrow.” “We have cameras at the main gate. I’ll have the security team pull the footage and see who was harassing him today.” After hanging up, I contacted the local mail distribution center near my parents’ house. I instructed them to hold any anonymous packages addressed to my parents, telling my mom to only open them while recording a video. At midnight, Ethan sent me a text. “Chloe, my mom has been crying all night. Are you happy now that things have gotten this out of hand?” I replied: “Why is she crying? Because her lies got exposed?” He didn’t reply. But ten minutes later, Vicky posted a photo on her Snapchat story. It was Ethan’s mother sitting on the sofa, wiping away tears. The caption read: “She told me that as long as her son is happy, she doesn’t care if she has to sell the family home.” Mia sneered beside me. “She’s really putting on a show.” I saved the photo and sent it to a friend who worked as a real estate agent. “Can you do me a favor and check if the Cooper family’s house has had any recent listing or transaction records?” The next morning at 9 AM, Rachel sent me an email. The company had decided to suspend me from all client-facing communications. My project was temporarily handed over to Vicky. I laughed out loud. The person who started the rumors was taking over my project.

At noon, Vicky finally posted her “evidence.” Three images. The first was a fake “prenuptial demand.” It stated: The bride, Chloe Davis, demands the groom, Ethan Cooper, pay $8 million for the wedding. If he refuses, the wedding is off. My signature at the bottom was a shaky, forged mess. The second was a fake bank receipt. Sender: Jennifer Cooper. Receiver: Chloe Davis. Amount: $8,000,000.00. The third was a fake home sales contract. The sellers listed were Ethan’s parents. Vicky sent a voice note in the WhatsApp work group. “I really didn’t want to post these. But Chloe kept pushing me.” “I just want everyone to know how hard it is for Ethan’s family.” The chat erupted instantly. “The eight million is real?!” “This is terrifying. She was scheming even before the wedding.” Looking at those three images, I almost laughed. The background of the desk in the photo of the fake agreement showed Vicky’s signature pink mousepad. In my past life, I had pointed this out in a panic. But back then, no one believed me. This time, I didn’t try to argue in the chat. I simply typed: “Received.” “To everyone in this chat, please do not delete these messages.” “I will be submitting these for forensic analysis.” After sending that, I saved the high-resolution images and uploaded them to a secure digital evidence platform. Mia was already on the move. She contacted the bank’s customer service through official means to verify the format of the receipt. My real estate friend also messaged me back: “The Cooper house has no transaction history. It wasn’t even listed on the market.” Just as I stepped out of the office building, an unknown number sent me a text. It was a photo of my dad’s identification and his construction site address. Below it was a single line: “Call off the wedding now, or your family’s personal info goes public.”

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During the category 4 hurricane evacuation, my mother completely ignored my broken leg. She pushed me off the rescue boat with her own hands, forcing me to give up my spot for my sister. “Mom, my leg is broken. I want to go with you…” “Stop being so dramatic!” “You’re the older one. You should let Chloe go first!” “You’re a grown girl, why are you being so selfish? Do you really have to fight with Chloe at a time like this?” I never showed up at the shelter. When others urged her to call me, she just sneered. “She’s just throwing a tantrum to make me worry!” “I always knew Hazel was an ungrateful brat! She’s doing this on purpose, ignoring my Snapchat messages and calls!” “If you’re so brave, don’t you dare ever call me again!” But, Mom, I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I just didn’t have the chance to answer anymore. The hurricane howled, carrying a torrential downpour that quickly flooded the first floor of our house. The crowd of evacuees huddled on the second-floor balcony, everyone desperately trying to get onto the rescue boat. My jeans were soaked in blood. Just minutes ago, when we were running downstairs, my half-sister Chloe had shoved me from behind, sending me tumbling down the steps. I grit my teeth, trying to stand by putting all my weight on my uninjured leg. But the moment I managed to crawl onto the boat, a cold, firm hand gripped my shoulder. I looked up. It was my mother, Eleanor. Without a single word, she violently shoved me off the deck. “Hazel, get off! Get off right now! Give your spot to Chloe!” Her voice was frantic, but there wasn’t a shred of warmth in it. I crashed onto the wet ground. A sharp, blinding pain shot up my spine. My injured leg went completely numb. Our neighbor, Mrs. Gable, gasped in horror and tried to stop her. “Eleanor, Hazel’s leg is badly hurt! Let her stay on the boat! Let her go!” But Eleanor didn’t hesitate. “She’s fine. Hazel is tough. Besides, she’s practically an adult. She can wait for the next boat.” She said it so casually, her voice dripping with impatience. My heart sank into a cold abyss. My vision blurred. After pushing me away, Eleanor turned around and pulled Chloe into a tight embrace on the boat. Chloe wrapped her arms around Eleanor’s waist, tears streaming down her face, refusing to let go. “Mom, please, I want to go with you too…” my voice cracked, muffled by the rain. Eleanor looked down at me, her eyes freezing cold. “You are the older sister, Hazel. You should let Chloe have this. Why are you still trying to compete with her at a time like this?” “But my leg is broken! Mom…” “Enough! Stop being so dramatic. Be responsible for once. Your leg isn’t going to fall off. Can’t you just wait for the next trip?” She gently patted Chloe’s back, soothing her like a precious baby. It was a gentle touch she had never, not once, given to me. The rescue boat’s engine roared to life. As I watched their silhouettes fade into the grey sheet of rain, my chest felt completely hollow. Mrs. Gable’s voice cut through the wind. “Ever since you divorced her father, Hazel lived with Grandma Martha. She barely comes visit you. How can you be so cruel to her?” Eleanor sighed, her voice laced with irritation. “Just looking at her face makes my stomach turn. She ruins my mood.” I stood there alone. Rain mixed with tears flowed down my cheeks. The entire world suddenly felt incredibly distant and freezing cold.

After they were evacuated, they were taken to the local high school gymnasium, which was serving as a temporary red cross shelter. The voice from the emergency radio broadcast drew everyone’s attention: “Latest update—water levels in the southeast district are rising rapidly. Debris has blocked the main roads, making it extremely difficult for rescue teams to enter…” An anxious chatter broke out in the gym. Hearing this, Mrs. Gable immediately rushed to Eleanor’s side. She lowered her voice, her eyes wide with panic. “Eleanor, did you hear that? The water is rising too fast in the southeast! Our neighborhood is right in that zone. You need to contact Hazel right now to see if she made it out!” Eleanor merely frowned. There was no panic on her face. She just waved her hand dismissively. “She’ll be fine. Hazel knows how to swim. Nothing will happen to her.” Her tone was so indifferent, as if she were talking about a complete stranger rather than her own daughter. Mrs. Gable snapped, grabbing Eleanor’s arm. “Her leg was ruined! Aren’t you worried at all? It looked broken! How is she supposed to swim like that? What if something terrible happens to her?” Eleanor let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Broken? She probably just bruised it. Kids these days are so fragile.” She rolled her eyes. “Back in my day, we went through much worse and still went to work the next day. Kids today can’t handle a single scratch.” Right at that moment, Chloe let out a tiny sneeze. Eleanor’s face instantly changed, as if an emergency button had been pressed. She immediately bent down, frantically feeling Chloe’s forehead. “Oh my god, sweetheart, did you sneeze? Are you catching a cold? Are you cold? Does your head hurt?” Her voice was trembling with anxiety, her face pale. She became a completely different person. She stood up abruptly, pulling Chloe toward the medical corner. “Come on, we can’t wait. We need to see the shelter doctor right now. A cold could turn into pneumonia!” She held Chloe’s hand tightly, walking slowly to match her pace, terrified that her precious daughter might experience the slightest discomfort. All her anxiety, care, and love were poured onto Chloe. And that was a kind of warmth I had never experienced in my entire life.

By nightfall, the shelter was brightly lit. People began to settle down on their cots, trying to get some sleep. Yet, there was still no word from me. Mrs. Gable couldn’t take it anymore. “Eleanor… maybe you should call Hazel again? It’s so late. What if she’s stranded?” Eleanor sighed in annoyance and pulled out her phone. Every movement she made showed her frustration, as if I were nothing but an annoying chore. “You guys just spoil Hazel too much. She’s definitely throwing a tantrum, hiding somewhere just to make me feel guilty,” she muttered through gritted teeth, her eyes filled with resentment. She dialed my number. But all she got was a long, endless ringing. No one picked up. Her expression darkened instantly. “See? I told you! She’s doing this on purpose. What an ungrateful brat. She has zero consideration for me! Always talking back, always trying to steal Chloe’s spotlight. She’s practically an adult and still behaves so selfishly. She is completely ruined.” Mrs. Gable wanted to say something, but Eleanor had already lost her patience. She aggressively locked her phone and threw it into her bag, as if cutting off her very last connection to me. “I am not playing her games! You think I’m going to call her again? No way! If she wants to play dead, she can go ahead and never call me again!” Just then, Chloe gently tugged at her sleeve, looking terrified. “Mom, it’s so dark here. I can’t sleep.” In an instant, the rage on Eleanor’s face vanished, replaced by a soft, loving smile. She knelt down and whispered tenderly, “Don’t worry, sweetie. Mommy is right here. I’ll stay with you.” She stroked Chloe’s hair, hummed a soft lullaby, acting as if there was nothing more important in the world than putting her younger daughter to sleep. Meanwhile, her other daughter was left alone in the freezing storm, clinging to life. My safety, my life, meant absolutely nothing to her. Her eyes only saw Chloe. Her heart only held Chloe. My existence was nothing more than an inconvenient burden.

The next morning, Grandma Martha arrived at the shelter, her face pale with worry. The moment she saw Eleanor, she didn’t even bother with a greeting. She went straight to the point. “Where is Hazel? Why is only Chloe here? Why didn’t you bring Hazel with you?” Eleanor rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with annoyance. “Look at how you spoiled her! She is throwing the most ridiculous tantrum right now. Who knows where she ran off to? She won’t even answer her phone. She’s doing this just to spite me!” Grandma Martha’s face fell, her voice shaking with repressed anger. “Hazel is not that kind of girl. She would never play games during a natural disaster. Think, Eleanor! Where could she be? Why aren’t you out there looking for her?” “Look for her? I called her last night, and she ignored me! How is that my fault?” Eleanor sneered. “She’s old enough to walk. Was I supposed to carry her onto the boat? I had Chloe to protect! I couldn’t just abandon Chloe for her. You’ve coddled her since she was a baby, and now she’s turned into this selfish, stubborn brat!” Grandma Martha’s hands trembled, her voice cracking. “I coddled her? That’s because you never wanted her! You dumped her on my doorstep. When have you ever acted like a real mother to her? And now you’re blaming me?” Eleanor looked defensive, her voice rising. “I let you raise her because you insisted! Besides, how can you say I don’t love her? She’s just difficult and always goes against me!” Just then, a police officer in a high-visibility jacket walked into the gym. He scanned the crowd, his face grave, and walked straight toward Eleanor. “Excuse me, are you Hazel Vance’s family?” Eleanor frowned, turning to Grandma Martha with a smug look. “See? I told you she was fine. She probably got herself brought here by the cops just to make a scene.” She turned to the officer, her voice filled with condescension. “What did she do this time? She always loves making a scene to get attention. Did you find her? Was she fighting with someone? Or did she cause some trouble? Just tell me what kind of embarrassing stunt she pulled this time.” She shook her head, sighing dramatically, ready to lecture me. However, the officer didn’t smile. He looked down, silent for a painful moment, before speaking in a low, heavy voice. “Ma’am, I am so sorry for your loss… We recovered Hazel Vance’s body.”

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Five years after a car accident left me paralyzed, I signed my organ donor registry form. As my heart began to fail, I called my mother, wanting to hear her voice one last time. “Chloe, why don’t you just die already? Stop ruining everyone’s lives!” “You shouldn’t even be drawing breath in this world!” When she slammed the phone down, I smiled. Because I was finally going to die, just as she wished. But when my cold corpse ended up on her operating table, she completely lost her mind. Today was my birthday. I sat alone in my wheelchair in my cramped basement apartment. Just like every other year, there was no one else here. It was just like my mother always said—my birth was a disgusting mistake. I didn’t deserve to celebrate. Staring into the pitch-black room, a crushing weight pressed down on my chest. It felt like something was expanding inside me, stealing my air. Ever since the accident paralyzed me, I had signed up to be an organ donor. Knowing my time was short, I had already notified the donor registry staff. As the suffocating pain intensified, I knew it was finally ending. It was an agonizing sensation I’d never felt before. It felt as though an invisible hand was squeezing my heart to pieces. Every breath felt like inhaling frozen needles, piercing my lungs. Yet, in that final moment, I didn’t know if I felt sad or incredibly relieved. Tragic, painful memories flashed before my eyes like a broken film reel. The feeling in my limbs was slipping away completely. With the last bit of strength in my fingers, I picked up my phone. I slid my thumb across the screen and dialed that all-too-familiar number. I knew this would be my last connection to the living world. The call connected. My heart skipped a painful beat. “Chloe, what is wrong with you? Why are you calling to annoy me again?” Eleanor’s voice crackled through the speaker, dripping with absolute disgust. “Mom… I think… I’m dying,” I whispered. My voice trembled, yet I sounded strangely at peace. Her tone didn’t soften for a second. “Chloe, what kind of sick game are you playing now? Are you not tired of lying to get attention?” “It’s real this time…” My breath hitched. The last word took every ounce of energy left in my body. “Fine! Do us all a favor and just die already! Stop being a curse on everyone!” “You shouldn’t even be drawing breath in this world!” “Beep. Beep. Beep.” The line went dead. In the final second of my life, a smile touched my lips. I finally did what she wanted. I died. Shortly after my soul detached from my body, the paramedics arrived. My lifeless body slumped in the wheelchair looked horrifying in the dark, empty basement. They bowed their heads to my corpse, covered me with a white sheet bearing the red cross, and wheeled me into the ambulance. I thought my soul would finally drift away into the afterlife. But a powerful, invisible force dragged me along, keeping me tethered to my physical body. Organ donors are sent to different hospitals depending on which facility needs the match immediately. As the streets outside the ambulance window grew familiar, my ghostly heart tightened. The ambulance pulled up to Westside General Hospital. This was a place I had visited in my nightmares a thousand times. This was where my mother, Dr. Eleanor Thorne, worked. It was the only place I knew I could ever find her. People bustled through the busy hallways. My invisible spirit floated past the doctors and nurses. And then, I saw her. The woman I couldn’t forget even in death. She was laughing. She looked happier than I had ever seen her. Beside her, another surgeon was prepping for a procedure. “Eleanor, you’re so lucky. You finally found a matching liver for Maya.” A few young nurses nearby chimed in. “I heard the donor is the exact same age as Maya. What a tragedy for the donor’s family. They must be devastated.” “Dr. Thorne loves Maya so much. She spent a fortune to bump her up on the priority list. Maya is so lucky to have a mother like you.” A nurse said while organizing the surgical instruments. “Every mother loves her child. It’s only natural to want them to be healthy,” Eleanor replied, her lips curving into a warm, gentle smile. “Every mother loves her child.” I let out a bitter, silent laugh. Even as a ghost, I could feel a stinging pain where my heart used to be. “But Mom… wasn’t I your daughter too?” Eleanor pulled out her phone and sent a Snapchat to Maya. The contact name was saved as “My Precious Angel.” As she swiped back to her main chat screen, my eyes caught another contact name. Saved right below “My Precious Angel” was “The Mistake.” That was me.

Her phone rang. The screen displayed “My Love.” Eleanor picked up the call and stepped out of the office, telling the staff to double-check everything. I followed the medical team into the operating room. Under the harsh, sterile white lights, I looked down at my own corpse. They began preparing me for the extraction. Seeing the nurses work, it finally clicked. My liver was going to Maya. I couldn’t escape that name in life, and now, I couldn’t escape it in death. Maya was the daughter of Eleanor’s high school sweetheart, Richard Vance. Back then, Richard came from a poor, troubled family. My grandparents were completely against Eleanor marrying him. My dad, Arthur, loved Eleanor deeply. He did everything to win over her family—paying off her brother’s college debt and buying them expensive gifts. Eventually, my grandparents forced Eleanor to marry my dad. Even though my dad treated Eleanor like a queen, she never loved him. My early childhood with my dad was the only happy time of my life. But then, the factory explosion happened. My dad died on the job. Eleanor didn’t hesitate. She divorced his memory, packed her bags, and left. But to my surprise, she took me with her. I used to think she kept me because she loved me. Only later did I realize the sick truth: she kept me because she wanted to make sure I was miserable. She projected all her hatred for my father onto me. She forbade me from ever contacting my dad’s side of the family. I was so desperate to make her happy that I obeyed. I never reached out to my grandparents, terrified of making her angry. Looking down at the cold metal table, I watched the surgeons make the first incision on my chest. Surprisingly, I felt a strange sense of peace. My mind drifted back to my childhood. I remembered my dad always greeting me with a big, warm hug. Meanwhile, Eleanor would stand in the corner, staring at me with icy eyes. Whenever I tried to grab her hand, hoping for a tiny bit of warmth, she would violently push me away. “Mom, why do you hate me so much?” I had asked her once with childlike innocence. She never answered. She just stared at me, her eyes filled with dark resentment. Now, I finally understood. Her heart was consumed by hatred. Hatred for my dad, and hatred for me. She poured all that poison onto me, leaving me to grow up isolated and helpless. And her hatred only grew a hundred times worse after Maya entered our lives. My legs became paralyzed during my freshman year of college. That day, Eleanor had taken Maya shopping for designer clothes. I was dragged along just to carry their heavy bags. While crossing the street, a speeding SUV came barreling toward me. The impact sent me flying. I crashed onto the asphalt yards away. The pain was blinding, and then my vision started to fade. Through the haze, I saw Eleanor and Maya slowly walking over. Maya looked at the bloody shopping bags on the ground, frowning in disgust. “Ugh, my new clothes are ruined! I can’t wear these now.” Eleanor gave me a look of pure revulsion. Then, she turned to Maya, her voice instantly turning sweet. “It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll buy you new ones.” “Honestly, Chloe, you are such a curse. Bringing you out was a mistake.” Those were the last words I heard before I blacked out. After the accident, I wasn’t kept in the hospital for long. The initial scans didn’t show any major spinal fractures. But soon, my legs began to lose sensation. Sometimes, I even lost control of my bladder. When I realized something was seriously wrong, I begged my mother to take me to a specialist. But she didn’t hesitate to scream in my face. “You useless leech! You just want to drain every penny I have, don’t you? You’re a liar! Just like your pathetic father!” She ripped my self-esteem to shreds. Maya stood right behind her, arms crossed, watching the show with a smirk. The stress made me lose control, and I wet myself right there in the living room. Maya let out a dramatic shriek, pinching her nose in disgust. In my most vulnerable moment, Maya’s scream felt like a knife slicing through my soul. Her face was twisted in mockery. Tears streamed down my face. No one comforted me. No one even came near me. Eleanor glared at me, her face pale with disgust. “This is repulsive! Mom, kick her out! She’s disgusting!” Maya yelled. Eleanor raised her hand and slapped me hard across the face. “Clean this mess up right now!” Choking on my tears and shame, I dragged my useless legs across the floor to clean up my own waste. Later, Eleanor claimed a massive settlement from the driver’s insurance. But she only threw $500 at me and forced me to move out. That $500 was barely enough to rent a damp, converted garage studio at the edge of town. And that was where I spent the hardest years of my life.

To me back then, $500 was everything. But that money didn’t bring me any warmth. It was just a brutal reminder that I was completely unwanted in this world. Fortunately, my landlord, Mrs. Gable, took pity on me. She lowered my rent from $300 to $100 a month. As the days crawled by, my condition worsened. I lost all control over my bodily functions. Every time it happened, I felt an overwhelming wave of shame and despair. I tried calling Eleanor, begging her to help me get medical care. But her response crushed the last bit of hope I had left. She told me, “You’re a leech. You brought this on yourself. You deserve it!” In my darkest moments, I wanted to die. I wondered if she would feel even a shred of regret or sadness if I was gone. But then I realized she would probably throw a party. She would finally be free of me. I tried my best to keep my dignity. I kept my tiny garage room spotlessly clean. But no matter how much I scrubbed, the heavy scent of decay and despair never left my mind. While I fought for my life in that freezing room, Eleanor and Maya lived in luxury. They lived in the spacious house my father had left behind. Maya’s room was overflowing with expensive makeup and designer clothes. I, on the other hand, wore rags and used a squeaky, second-hand manual wheelchair. Eleanor treated Maya like a fragile princess. I was treated like trash. Every time I thought about it, my heart felt like it was being pierced by needles. I remember once, about six months after my dad died. I saw Maya running around our front yard, her laughter ringing out so happily. I tried to talk to her. I thought if I made friends with her, maybe Mom would love me a little more. “Maya, do you want to play with me?” I asked, trying to sound cheerful. Maya stopped and looked at me with pure disdain. “Why would I play with a dirty rat like you? You don’t belong here.” But everything she owned, the very ground she stood on, was paid for by my dad. As my health deteriorated, I started fainting frequently. Once, I collapsed near the sidewalk and a kind stranger called 911. When the hospital contacted Eleanor, she didn’t show a single ounce of worry. Instead, she coldly told the doctor: “Why are you wasting your time saving her? She should have died a long time ago.” The doctor stared at her in utter disbelief. I lay on the hospital bed, my tears blurring the bright ceiling lights. I had prayed so hard for just a drop of love from her. But I finally knew it was impossible. During my final days, I never tried to call her again. I knew her heart only belonged to Maya. I was just a stain she wanted to scrub away. Signing that organ donor form was my final choice. I wanted to believe that a part of me could go on living, doing something good for someone else. How ironic that my liver was destined for Maya. I was so envious of her. It felt like the entire universe existed just to serve her happiness, while my life was just a sacrificial offering. I watched the surgeons carefully extract my liver and place it in the cooler to transport it to Maya’s operating room. Eleanor didn’t participate in the extraction, but she was the lead surgeon for Maya’s transplant. When the container holding my liver was handed to her, Eleanor knit her brows. She froze for a few seconds, staring at the organ container. Maybe mothers and daughters really do have a subconscious connection. But the feeling quickly passed. She threw herself into the surgery. I could tell she was incredibly nervous. When the transplant was finally completed, she let out a long sigh of relief. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, changed her scrubs, and prepared to head to Maya’s recovery room. Right then, her phone buzzed. It was Mrs. Gable. I suddenly remembered I hadn’t paid this month’s rent. “Hello, is this Chloe’s mother? Chloe hasn’t paid her rent this month. I went to check on her, but the door was locked and no one answered. I’m really worried…” Mrs. Gable’s voice was gentle and filled with concern. “Enough! What does her rent have to do with me? If she didn’t pay, throw her trash out and kick her onto the street! Stop calling me with her drama!” Eleanor snapped. Mrs. Gable tried to speak, but Eleanor hung up without giving her a chance. “Useless brat,” Eleanor muttered under her breath. She unlocked her phone and sent me a text—the first text she had initiated in years. “You worthless parasite, if you’re going to die, do it quickly. Don’t ruin my life. Pay your rent now. If your landlord calls me again, I’m cutting you off completely. You can starve on the streets for all I care!” She had completely forgotten that she hadn’t sent me a single dime in over two years. She tossed her phone onto her desk. Outside the office, a couple of nurses were gossiping. “Hey, did you hear? The liver donor for Dr. Thorne’s daughter was a paralyzed girl. She lived all alone in a converted garage. It’s so tragic. How could her parents be so heartless?” “Maybe she was an orphan. Poor girl.” Eleanor froze. Her head snapped up. She stood still for a moment, then shook her head, trying to dismiss the thought. She reached for her phone again. Underneath it lay a copy of the organ donor registry sheet that had been sent over with the organ. Her eyes accidentally grazed the bottom of the page. When she saw the signature, her face drained of color…

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My family was dirt poor. To pay for my college tuition, I worked on a construction site, but I ended up getting beaten black and blue after pissing off the foreman. To keep my parents from worrying, I went to a local Urgent Care clinic alone. But there, I saw my parents—dressed in high-end luxury brands—holding another boy, waiting to get registered. “Doctor! Our precious Ryan just cut his finger with a fruit knife! Please save him!” With that, my dad threw a stack of cash at me. “Get lost, you filthy beggar. Don’t ruin Ryan’s sight.” The boy in their arms looked at me with pure disgust, like I was piece of trash. I looked at their expensive designer clothes, and then at the luxury Rolls-Royce parked right outside the clinic. Then I looked at my own dirty, torn clothes. My throat tightened. With a broken heart, I walked straight to the Army recruiting office. I never planned to see them again. Maybe I looked too pathetic, because my parents didn’t even recognize me. I stood there, frozen, staring at the expensive designer suit on the boy in my parents’ arms. Then I looked at my own shirt. It was old, didn’t fit, and had been patched up for three years because I couldn’t bear to throw it away. My heart ached. I remembered my dad giving me this shirt for my birthday three years ago. To buy it, he worked from dawn to dusk, even fainting on the construction site a few times. I saw how hard they worked, so I grew up fast. I never caused trouble. Even when I was bullied at school or mocked at work, I kept it to myself and licked my wounds in secret. Even when the girl I liked confessed to me, I smiled and rejected her out of insecurity. I knew my family couldn’t afford any mistakes. Every step of my life had to be carefully calculated. But now, I realized my parents weren’t poor at all. The only poor one was me. They gave that boy infinite luxury, yet they wouldn’t even give me the tuition deposit I needed to change my life. Tears streaming down my face, I walked out of the clinic like a ghost. People on the street avoided me, terrified I would get too close. Of course. If my own parents treated me like trash, why would strangers be any different? I went back to our rented shack. I washed off the dirt with cold water, patched my torn clothes with old rags I found, and lay on the hard wooden bed, nursing my hurts. After what felt like hours, my parents’ voices came from outside. “Ethan, come out quick!” “Look what we brought you!” My body was in pain, my lips pale. I was running a fever. I forced myself to stand and walked out. My parents were back in their cheap, dirty worker clothes. In my mom’s hands was a jacket. “We got lucky today! Your dad and I found this jacket. It just has a little stain on it. We’ll wash it and it’ll be good as new. Try it on!” My mom handed me the jacket, completely ignoring how sick I looked. So, the clothes I had been wearing all these years were just hand-me-downs from their wealthy son? What I cherished as treasure was just someone else’s trash. “And these white sneakers. Consider them your reward for getting into NYU.” My dad pulled out a pair of shoes from behind his back, smiling. Yeah. Those were Ryan’s too. He loved white sneakers. The last pair my parents brought home was also white. Maybe because I was too quiet, my mom handed the jacket to my dad and looked at me closely. She finally realized something was wrong. “Ethan, why are your lips so pale? Do you have a fever?” “Go lie down, honey. I’ll get you some medicine right now.” My dad immediately looked panicked and carried me to my room. Actually, my parents used to be good to me. I remember once, I went to the mountains to harvest wild herbs to sell. I fell off a small cliff and passed out. My dad climbed down a thirty-foot cliff with no safety gear to save me. My mom walked fifteen miles in the dark to the next town to find a doctor. But these same parents had lied to me for years. The poor parents and the billionaire parents were the exact same people. How pathetic. My mom mixed some medicine and fed it to me. She asked anxiously why I was suddenly sick. I looked into her worried eyes, forced a smile, and said, “I got hurt at the construction site and went to the clinic. But three rich people kicked me out.” “I came home and got a fever.”

Panic flashed across their faces, but they masked it in a split second. Guilt filled their eyes, and my mom’s eyes turned red. “Ethan, it’s our fault. We made you suffer so much.” “We… we failed you.” My mom started sobbing, and my dad comforted her with red eyes. In the past, I would have comforted them like a mature adult, telling them that once I graduated from college, we would have a better life. But now, I just sat there in silence. Even if I graduated and worked for ten years, I probably couldn’t even afford one tire of that Rolls-Royce. Seeing that I wasn’t comforting them, they stopped acting. My dad cleared his throat, put on a warm smile, and took over my usual role. “Well, we might be poor, but we have a great son. Ethan got into NYU! Once he graduates, our family will be set.” He was going to be disappointed. Even if I worked for ten years, I couldn’t afford that lifestyle. My mom wiped her tears and smiled. “I can’t wait to live the good life.” Hearing this, I bit my lip and finally asked, “Mom, Dad, I still don’t have enough for the enrollment deposit. I’m short $800.” “Can you… help me out?” My heart pounded. This was the first time I had ever asked them for money. I had saved enough from my construction job, but my coworkers stole it, and the police couldn’t find them. College was my only ticket out. I couldn’t lose it. For something this important, they would surely give me the money, right? I looked at them with hope. Hesitation flashed across my dad’s face, but it quickly disappeared. He sighed. “Ethan, can you find another way? Maybe borrow it from a classmate?” “You know our situation. Your mom’s surgery cost us a fortune, and we’re still in debt. We really don’t have $800.” My mom’s eyes went red again. She lowered her head. “It’s all my fault. I’m dragging this family down. If Ethan can’t go to college because of me, I’d rather just die!” Her words felt like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. My entire body went numb. I looked at the white sneakers on the floor. Those shoes alone probably cost more than $800. In that moment, I realized Ryan wasn’t just stepping on those shoes—he was stepping on me. They knew how much college meant to me, yet they were so stingy. I forced a smile and looked down. “Okay. I’ll ask a classmate.” I climbed back into bed and pulled up the blanket. My parents exchanged a look. Finally, my mom walked over, forced a smile, and said, “Son, don’t be sad. Today is your birthday! We’ll make you a great dinner tonight.” My dad walked over too, grabbing my hand. “You’ve been wanting that smoked brisket, right? I’ll slice it up for you tonight.” I nodded. Their faces lit up with joy. Just then, my dad’s phone rang. He suddenly looked very tense. I glanced at the screen. The caller ID said: “Baby Boy”. It must be Ryan. Must be nice to have a phone. I didn’t even have one. “Ethan, get some rest. We’ll take this call outside.” My parents, who were just showing me so much love, walked out together. To make sure I didn’t overhear, they went all the way to the yard. But they forgot one thing in their rush—I had excellent hearing. I could hear them perfectly from this distance. I peeked through the door crack. My dad frowned, keeping his voice low. “Didn’t we tell you to text us? What if your brother finds out?” Ryan’s whiny voice came through the receiver: “Dad, Mom, I cut my finger today. It hurts so much~” “Can you guys come home and stay with me tonight?” My parents looked at each other, then back at our front door, hesitating. Ryan’s voice dropped. “I guess I’m just not as important as Ethan. ‘Sniff’…” My parents immediately panicked. “Of course not! Your brother can’t even compare to a single hair on your head.” “Yeah, sweetie. You’re our favorite.” Hearing this, Ryan cheered up. “I knew you loved me most! I’ll be waiting at home!” He hung up. My parents headed back inside. I quietly climbed back into bed. Maybe because of the cold, I started coughing. Hearing me, they rushed in with worried faces and patted my back. That evening, they made a feast, including the smoked brisket I loved. But they were dressed up, ready to go out. “Ethan, we just got a call for a quick gig. We can make $200 tonight.” “That means you’ll only need $600 for school. We’re sorry we can’t spend your birthday night with you.” I coughed, nodded, and smiled as I ate a piece of brisket. My parents looked relieved, walked out, and gently shut the door. I chewed the dry, salty meat, my smile turning into tears that dripped into my bowl. What was I expecting? I was never their favorite child. Under the cover of night, I walked over to our neighbor’s house and borrowed his phone to call the military recruiter who had been trying to reach me. “Sergeant Carter, if I join the Army’s Closed Training Program… will my college tuition really be fully covered?”

Hearing this, Sergeant Carter was thrilled. He told me that not only was tuition free, but room and board were covered too. It was just tougher than regular college. But I had suffered my whole life. What was a little more hard work? After hanging up, I went home and slept. I had a strong immune system, so I was mostly recovered by the next morning. My parents came back, holding a small cake. But a slice was missing, like someone had already eaten from it. “Ethan, we couldn’t get you a cake yesterday, so we got you this today!” “And here is the $200 we made last night. Take it. Don’t worry, we’ll get the rest of your tuition.” They handed me the cake and the money, but I pushed them away. “I don’t really like cake. Too sweet.” “As for tuition… I borrowed it from a friend. You don’t have to worry.” They were stunned for a moment, but didn’t push. They left the money on my nightstand for pocket money. “We met a very generous boss. We’re going to work for him for the next two weeks. Take care of yourself, Ethan.” “Oh, and watch out for scammers. If anyone tells you weird things, don’t believe them. When we get back, we have a huge surprise for you.” Then, they rushed off. Two weeks? That was exactly when I was scheduled to leave. A week later, fully recovered, I used the advance money Sergeant Carter sent me to get my military physical at the hospital. But when I got back, the yard was a mess. My few cherished belongings were scattered all over the dirt. Ryan was sitting in the yard, surrounded by several bulky bodyguards, looking at me with utter contempt. Just like he did at the clinic. I stood there, frozen. “You don’t know me, do you? I’m your brother. Our parents are actually the richest family in this city.” “But they don’t like you. That’s why they raised you like a beggar~” His words felt like glass shards grinding into my heart. “Look at this trash you cherish. It’s all stuff I threw away. My dog’s collar is worth more than all of this combined.” “I never understood how someone with such a trashy life could smile so much. Every time I see your face, I want to rip that smile off.” I did smile a lot. I smiled at my parents, at my school bullies, at the cruel foreman. Because life was hard, and smiling was my only defense. My eyes burned, and my fists clenched to stop my body from shaking. “Why? I’m their biological son. Why would they do this to me?” Ryan smirked, laughing in my face. “Why? Because they don’t love you. You were just a mistake. They wanted to drown you when you were born, but our grandparents wouldn’t let them. That’s the only reason you’re alive.” “But once they had me, grandparents finally let them dump you in the slums. I guess I’m just too lovable~” “Anyway, I’m here because the family inheritance is being decided soon. I don’t want anyone getting any funny ideas, so I’m here to warn you.” My mind went blank. I stumbled backward. So, I was abandoned by everyone from the very beginning. With a hollow chest, I forced out: “Don’t worry. I won’t fight you for the inheritance.” “You couldn’t even if you tried. Mom and Dad love me, not you.” With that, Ryan threw a few hundred-dollar bills on the ground and swaggered away with his guards. I didn’t touch the money. I just silently packed up my ruined things. Once I was done, I left the house I had lived in for eighteen years and checked into the military academy early. A week later, my parents finally returned. They were dressed in high-end luxury clothes, carrying countless expensive gifts. “Ethan, come out! We have great news!” “Actually, we are…” My dad stopped mid-sentence. The only thing waiting for them was a silent, empty house.

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The night before Prom, our class Snapchat group chat suddenly blew up. “Oh my god! Ashton, Why’d you switch your Prom partner to Hailey? Weren’t you supposed to dance the opening waltz with Chloe?” Ashton replied casually, “So I changed it. What’s the big deal? It’s not like she’ll get mad.” “She’s easy. She can just come tomorrow and be Hailey’s and my personal photographer.” My mind went completely blank. I was still clutching the designer tie I had specially bought for Ashton. I exited the group chat and threw the tie straight into the trash can, and blocked him on everything. Then I scrolled to the bottom of my contacts to find the one guy in school nobody dared to mess with—Ryder, the top-tier F4 racer. “Ryder, do you need a date for Prom tomorrow night?” **Chapter 1** Ashton’s words felt like cold knives cutting my heart to pieces. In Santa Monica High, everyone knew I was basically Ashton Miller’s “exclusive shadow.” To match his Prom suit, I had ordered a custom-made couture gown in the exact same color palette three months in advance. And now, he just changed his mind. Without even telling me to my face. Someone in the group chat asked him. “Aren’t you afraid Chloe will find someone else? You literally have to bring a date tomorrow.” Ashton replied with a mocking sneer. “No way. Chloe has been following me around since ninth grade. She’s head over heels for me.” “Giving her a spot as our photographer is doing her a favor. She’ll show up tomorrow with her camera, guaranteed.” The chat quickly filled with guys hyping him up, sending “Bro is a legend” texts. Then, someone else chimed in. “Don’t be so sure, man. What if Chloe actually finds someone else?” “She’s pretty popular in school too, you know. Plenty of guys want to ask her out.” Another text popped up immediately: “Did you guys forget about Ryder?” “He’s always had a thing for Chloe.” “He’s a US F4 racer. Half the girls in school are lining up to get his attention. You sure Chloe won’t give him a chance?” Ashton paused for a few seconds before typing back, his tone noticeably colder. “Bullshit.” “Ryder is nothing.” “Chloe would never look at him.” “She only cares about me. Just last week, she canceled all her plans just because she didn’t see me for a single day.” “In her world, I’m the only one who matters.” “Don’t worry. Tomorrow night, she’ll be there, happily taking pictures of me.” After that, the group chat went quiet. A long moment passed before someone cautiously typed. “Bro, that’s kind of messed up to do to Chloe.” “You should have at least told her first.” Ashton let out an annoyed “ugh” before replying. “Annoying. I’ll deal with it later.” The chat quickly went back to joking around. “To be honest, Chloe is a bit plain compared to Hailey.” “Ashton is living the dream.” … Those teasing words felt like they were crushing me. I scrolled to the very bottom of my contacts. Ryder—the resident bad boy of Santa Monica High, a rising star in the US F4 racing circuit, and the guy Ashton had unilaterally declared his arch-nemesis for the past three years. The phone rang twice before he picked up. “Chloe? Wow, you finally decided to call me. What’s up?” I spoke flatly. “Ryder, do you still need a date for Prom tomorrow?” On the other end of the line, I heard the sharp screech of car brakes. After two seconds of dead silence, Ryder’s voice came through: “For you… I’m always free.” I hung up and threw myself onto my bed. **Chapter 2** Staring at the ceiling, my thoughts began to drift. How could someone change so quickly? From ninth grade to twelfth grade, we spent four whole years together. We stayed up late studying for the SATs, and just a few months ago, he was excitedly planning our first dance at Prom. Back then, he said he wanted the entire school to envy him that night. But now, when the finish line we had both waited for was right in front of us, he suddenly let go of my hand and ran toward someone else. If he wanted to change dates, why couldn’t he just tell me? Was I really that insignificant to him? If he found me so annoying, what about his late-night promises when he whispered about our future? Were those all lies? Or was it just because the night was too dark for him to see who was actually standing by his side? I hugged my knees tightly, hiding myself in the dark, and let the tears flow. Honestly, it wasn’t like I couldn’t live without him. And I definitely wasn’t “head over heels” for him like he claimed. Every time our opinions differed, he would throw a temper tantrum. He only smiled when I went along with whatever he wanted. So, while I quietly kept up with my own life goals, I constantly made compromises for him. Ashton wasn’t wrong about one thing—I had built my future plans around him. As long as it didn’t cross my boundaries or hurt my self-respect, I was willing to compromise for the sake of love. But that didn’t mean I would let him walk all over me. I unlocked my phone, opened the meticulously planned “Prom Itinerary” and our reservation for two at the rooftop restaurant, and tapped **[Cancel All]** without hesitation. He made his choice, and I have my pride. From now on, we go our separate ways. Right after I washed my face, Ashton tried to FaceTime me. “Chloe, pick up! I need to see you!” When I didn’t answer, he sent several more FaceTime requests before finally texting. “We’re at our usual spot. Everyone is waiting for you. Hurry up, get an Uber.” But I didn’t want to go. “Tired. Staying in.” The moment I sent it, a reply popped up. “Are you sick? I’ll come over.” “No. Don’t come.” Just as I replied with a frown, Hailey sent me a Snapchat message. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I was the one who begged Ashton to let me come. I didn’t know it would make you upset. I’m leaving right now.” “As long as you come, I don’t mind whatever happens to me.” Before I could even reply, people started spamming my name in the group chat. “Chloe, what is your problem? You can’t stand Ashton having other friends? Your jealousy is getting ridiculous.” “You’re just jealous because Hailey is prettier than you.” I froze, instinctively wanting to explain, when a message from Ashton popped up. “Chloe, I was the one who invited Hailey. If you’re mad, take it out on me. Why are you making Hailey feel bad?” “Whatever. Stay home if you want. We’re having more fun without you anyway.” Right after, they sent a bunch of photos of them partying. Someone added sarcastically: “It’s so much more fun when certain people aren’t here.” What a bunch of psychos. I immediately left the group chat and blocked Ashton’s Snapchat. In the past, no matter how much we fought, I always accommodated him. Now, out of sight, out of mind. **Chapter 3** Honestly, when Hailey first transferred to our school, she was actually my friend. Back then, Ashton even warned me, saying Hailey seemed shady and that I shouldn’t get too close to her. To help her feel included, I brought her into my friend group and even put in a lot of effort to help her get along with Ashton. But during the Homecoming pep rally, Hailey took off her nerdy black-rimmed glasses and showed up in a stunning red dress. After that night, Ashton never told me to stay away from her again. He and Hailey got closer and closer. He even took the initiative to add her to our core group chat. By the time I realized what was happening, my old friends had all turned into Hailey’s personal bodyguards. Ashton treated Hailey way too well. Once, Ashton and I had a massive fight over it and didn’t speak for three months. I told him, “If you like Hailey, I’ll step aside.” But Ashton got so panicked his eyes went red, and he held me tight, apologizing. “You’re the only one I care about.” “Hailey comes from a broken home and gets bullied at school. I just felt bad for her and wanted to help her out.” I believed him. But Ashton was just treating me like a fool. Their interactions became more and more frequent, using the word “friends” as a pathetic cover-up. Until last night, when he officially replaced me as his Prom partner with Hailey. Making me look like a complete idiot! By the time I snapped out of my thoughts, the sun had already set. My mom had come home at some point, and she smiled as she looked at me. “Did you fight with Ashton again? He said you blocked him.” “He wants you to unblock him.” I gave a vague answer and walked out the door. Our school counselor, Mr. Davis, had asked us to come in for one final check on our college enrollment portal before the system shut down. When I arrived, there was an empty seat next to Ashton. Usually, that was my spot, but Hailey sat right down in it. Ashton didn’t say anything. Instead, he naturally took Hailey’s designer handbag and set it on his lap. He kept glancing over at me. He was waiting for me to bow my head and apologize. Too bad for him, he was dead wrong this time. I turned around and sat down right next to Ryder, far away from them. “Make sure you double-check everything, guys. The college portal closes tonight, and once it’s locked, there’s no going back,” Mr. Davis yelled from the front of the classroom. Seeing me sit next to him, Ryder stopped spinning his car keys. “Well, look who finally decided to talk to me.” “Aren’t you afraid your precious Ashton will get jealous?” I didn’t offer a long explanation. My voice was calm. “I’m done with him.” Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder. “Chloe, don’t you have anything to say to me?” I ignored him. But Ashton grabbed my arm and dragged me out into the hallway. “Chloe, are you serious right now?” “You’re throwing a tantrum and blocking me over this?” “I’m warning you, unblock me right now, or don’t ever bother texting me again.” I forced myself to look at him for a few seconds. “Okay. I wasn’t planning on texting you ever again anyway.” Ashton’s face instantly turned incredibly pale. “Fine! Don’t come crying back to me later!” I turned to walk away, but he suddenly grabbed my hand again, his eyes filled with a desperate seriousness. “Stop acting like a child. Go check your enrollment portal again, make sure you didn’t make any mistakes…” He wanted to say more, but Hailey walked up and interrupted him. “Ashton, I don’t really understand this part of the form. Can you help me look at it?” “Sure, let me see.” Ashton immediately looked down at Hailey’s tablet. I let out a sarcastic laugh and walked away. By the time he looked up to say something else, I was already back inside the classroom. “Chloe, make sure you double-check it! Carefully!” **Chapter 4** Actually, when I was checking the portal earlier, I saw the enrollment changes Ashton had made. He had secretly logged into our shared portal and changed the college preferences we had agreed on. He changed his to a school in the same city as Hailey’s. He probably thought that as long as he didn’t tell me, I would just submissively change my choice to match his, like I always did. What a joke. Since he didn’t want to bring it up, I played dumb. After all, he thought I was obsessed with him, and I found explaining things to him too exhausting. Luckily, I finally opened my eyes. Back in the classroom, Ryder saw my terrible expression but didn’t pry. He just told me to focus on getting ready for Prom tonight. That evening, I showed up at Prom as Ryder’s date. The moment we walked into the decorated venue, almost every eye in the room locked onto us. Right ahead of us stood Ashton, his face dark. I treated him like thin air, walking right past him without a second glance. When I walked past the hallway near the restrooms, I ran into Ashton and one of his friends. “Ashton, you need to tell Chloe about changing your college choice. Are you really okay with her going to a different state alone?” “Look how close she’s getting with Ryder now.” Ashton let out a dismissive snort. “What she does has nothing to do with me.” “Besides, she definitely changed her college choice already. She’s just using Ryder to make me jealous. It’s so annoying.” I froze, stepping out of the shadows and running straight into them. Ashton told his friend to leave and cornered me against the wall. “Going to Prom with Ryder without telling me? You’re really trying to test my patience, aren’t you, Chloe?” “You think this petty little stunt is going to make me jealous?” He grabbed my wrist, his voice arrogant. “Fine, I’ll let it slide. Can we make up now?” “Did you check your college portal?” Then, he added with a slight hesitation in his voice. “Did you… change yours to match mine?” I kept my mouth shut, and the silence became painfully awkward. As we stood there, Hailey walked over. “Ashton, the guys out there are teasing me. Come help me.” Then, she acted as if she had just noticed me, her voice dripping with fake surprise. “Oh, Chloe, are you here alone?” “Please don’t misunderstand, I only asked Ashton to be my date because I didn’t have one, and I’ve been looking forward to Prom for so long.” I was too exhausted to play along with her drama. Taking advantage of Ashton’s distraction, I slipped away. But before I could run off, Hailey reached out and blocked my path. **Chapter 5** “I’m so sorry, Chloe. Did I make you upset?” “I’ll leave. I just don’t want you and Ashton to fight because of me. He’s been in such a bad mood these past few days because of you, and it hurts me to see him like this.” “As long as he’s happy, I’ll do anything.” With tears welling up in her eyes, she looked like she was about to drop to her knees and beg. “What are you doing? Hailey, get up!” Ashton shoved me aside, pulling Hailey into his arms with an expression of pure worry. “Chloe, can you stop acting crazy every time you see Hailey?” “We’re going to be in the same city for the next four years. Why do you have to be so incredibly petty?” I stared at him, finding the whole thing hysterical. “Do you honestly think the way you two act is how ‘just friends’ behave?” He froze for a second, then sneered. “Oh, so you’re finally dropping the act?” “Weren’t you the one who said she was pitiful and told me to look out for her? You were the one who brought her into our circle!” I stared at his face—a face I had looked at for over ten years—and realized he looked like a total stranger. “If you love playing savior so much, why don’t you guys just date!” I turned and walked away, completely ignoring Ashton’s furious shouts behind me. “If you walk away now, don’t you ever come back!” I didn’t even look back. During the interactive game segment of Prom, the spotlight suddenly landed on Ashton and Hailey. The screen above the stage flashed the words: *“Truth or Dare / Take a Shot.”* The crowd started chanting and cheering. Hailey looked at Ashton, seemingly flustered. His friends shouted from the crowd: “Hailey, everyone is watching! If Ashton rejects the dare, you have to down three shots of tequila!” With all the cheering and whistling around them, Hailey’s face flushed red. She tried to explain, looking like she was on the verge of tears. Ashton stood there, completely still. “Ashton doesn’t want to do it. I’ll just take the shots,” Hailey said, closing her eyes and reaching for the cup. Suddenly, a hand reached out and stopped her. “You have a severe alcohol allergy. Do you want to end up in the ER?” Ashton muttered. “But what else can I do? I don’t want to ruin the vibe for everyone.” Looking at Hailey’s tearful face, Ashton lifted her chin. “You couldn’t have picked anyone else besides me?” “No.” Hailey, overcoming her shyness, grabbed Ashton’s lapels, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him. This time, Ashton didn’t pull away. Instead, he wrapped his hand around her waist and deepened the kiss. The cheers and whistles from the crowd grew deafening, but my heart felt like it had been dropped into a boiling pot of oil, burning with a searing ache. Even though I had told myself I didn’t care anymore, seeing this still hurt. Ten years of friendship and feelings can’t be ripped out without drawing blood. When I finally got home, a small pebble suddenly hit my bedroom window. It was our secret signal. For a split second, I wished I had amnesia. I leaned out the window. Standing down there was Ashton, the same guy who had just been passionately kissing Hailey at Prom. He spoke with a pleading tone. “Chloe, stop playing games. Go change your college commitment.” **Chapter 6** When I walked downstairs, I could smell the alcohol on Ashton. He was slurring his words, looking completely different from his usual arrogant self. Why couldn’t he have acted this desperate earlier? Thank God he didn’t. “Chloe, we promised we’d go to the same college.” “You’ve never been away from me. You cry if you don’t see me for a single day. I don’t want you to cry, so I’m letting you follow me…” I knew I should have slapped his face and walked away like a badass. But my feet felt glued to the driveway. I took a deep breath and shoved him away. “Let go of me.” A flash of pure panic crossed his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a clueless expression. Ashton, you are such a disappointment. Why are you still so cowardly and dishonest? “It’s almost midnight, Chloe. We need to fix this first.” He grabbed my hand, trying to use my face to unlock my phone. “Be good. The school I chose is really good. Once this is done, you can throw whatever tantrum you want.” I stood frozen. “So even now, you refuse to tell me the truth?” “You didn’t just change your Prom date. You changed the college we decided on together, too.” “Is there even a point? You already know everything anyway.” I was crazy to be wasting my time out here. I forcefully pushed him, sending him falling onto the grass. I ignored him as he screamed my name desperately from behind. “Chloe, you’re going to regret this!” Even now, he was still trying to threaten me. I turned around and waved my phone at him. “The portal is closed. It’s too late.” The expression on Ashton’s face was priceless. I went back to my room and threw myself into the darkness. One last time. I would let myself cry for him one last time. But just as the sky was turning gray, my bedroom door was pushed open by my mom. “What is going on with you two? Ashton has been waiting downstairs since dawn.”

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At noon, my online boyfriend sent me a mirror selfie from the gym. Eight-pack abs, broad shoulders, a narrow waist—the sexual tension was practically dripping off the screen. [Babe, I had a great workout today.] [Don’t you think I deserve a little reward?] I was just about to text back: [I’ll reward you with phone sex twice tonight.] But then, my eyes caught the logo printed on the gym wall behind him. Apex Tech. My heart instantly skipped a beat. Because… I worked at Apex Tech. And that gym looked exactly like our private corporate gym… I froze on the spot. No way. Was this a joke? The mature daddy I’d been having phone sex with for the past two years actually worked at the same company as me? I zoomed in on the photo. Bigger, bigger, and bigger. The logo was clear as day. [Apex Tech] It was definitely my office building. Our company gym was strictly VIP, accessible only to internal employees. My online boyfriend was actually my coworker? OMG! [Babe, why the silence?] Another photo of his abs popped up on my screen. He had casually pulled up his gym tank top. His rock-hard chest and the sharp lines of his V-taper were perfectly reflected in the mirror. The testosterone was practically suffocating. The texts kept rolling in. [I know you love this.] [Why aren’t you replying to me, huh?] [PayPal Transfer: $50,000] My brain was short-circuiting. I knew my online boyfriend lived in the same city. But I never, in my wildest dreams, expected us to be under the same roof. Talk about a twisted stroke of fate! After quickly drooling over his abs for a second, I decided to probe. “Hey babe, where do you work?” “Is it by any chance Apex Tech?” I typed the words out, then deleted them. Over and over. I didn’t know what to say. If I asked, he would definitely ask where I worked. He’d find out I was at Apex Tech, too. And then he would want to meet up. What would I do then? The mere thought of face-to-face interaction with someone I’d been dirty-talking with for two years made me want to curl up and die of embarrassment. Before I could even process this, another text popped up: [Why are you ignoring me? Is my body not doing it for you anymore? Or do you need more shopping money?] Another picture of his abs. [PayPal Transfer: $100,000] [PayPal Transfer: $100,000] To keep him from sensing my panic, I quickly replied: [Just grabbed lunch, sorry! missed your texts.] [The abs… look amazing.] Only then did the text onslaught stop. [Good. Now, where’s my reward?] I didn’t dare reply. I stood up from my cubicle and walked over to the elevators, heading straight to the gym on the fifth floor. There were plenty of guys lifting weights, but which one was him? I forced myself to calm down and organize my thoughts. Right now, I needed to figure out three things: First, who the hell is my online boyfriend? Second, is he actually a decent guy in real life? Third, if I do find him, do I confess, keep the online relationship going, or break it off? I mean, sexting a coworker is a HR nightmare. Just thinking about it made my skin crawl. Looking back at our two-year history, we had actually kept our privacy top-notch. We never traded face pics. Even during our FaceTime sessions, we never showed our faces, only our bodies. My boyfriend would only send me photos of his chest and abs whenever I begged for them. Based on that alone, it was almost impossible to identify him. I couldn’t exactly go around the office ripping guys’ shirts open to compare their ab patterns with my Snapchat archive.

Back at my desk, I looked at my male coworkers. I shuddered. We battled each other in meetings every single day like mortal enemies. If my online boyfriend turned out to be one of them, I would literally die on the spot. I scrolled through our chat history, desperately looking for clues. And I actually found something. Last month, he was struggling to choose a watch. [I’m out shopping with a friend. Want to buy a watch.] [Which one looks better? Which do you prefer? I’ll get you one too.] He had sent a few photos, and I had picked out the Rolex Daytona. To protect my identity, I had politely declined his offer to buy me one. [Whatever you choose is the best,] I had said. He bought it right then and there. So all I had to do was look around the office and see who was wearing that exact Rolex Daytona. I took a few laps around the office, secretly staring at every guy’s wrist, but I couldn’t find a single match. I messaged my boyfriend: [Are you wearing your new watch today?] He replied instantly with a photo. It showed a man’s dress shirt sleeve rolled up slightly, revealing a strong, tanned forearm. On his wrist, the Rolex gleamed with a cold, low-key luxury. Just the way he rested his hand exuded the quiet confidence of a powerful, mature man. Ah, so he had his sleeves rolled up. No wonder. But why hadn’t I spotted him? While I was lost in thought, a message popped up on my work WhatsApp from my boss, Julian Vance: [Chloe, there are some issues with the proposal. Come to my office right now!] When I walked into the corner office, Julian was smiling into his phone, on a call. “Yeah babe, I miss you too. Just come to the office tomorrow to see me.” “Oh, by the way, Ethan is coming over tomorrow. You can hitch a ride with him.” “Come on, I just don’t want you driving all that way by yourself, it’s not safe~” “Alright, alright, have it your way. Drive safe. See you tomorrow.” “Talk to you later. Kiss kiss~” I awkwardly looked away. Yikes. Major cringe. Who knew our tough CEO, Julian, had such a clingy, lovesick side? Julian hung up, cleared his throat, and offered me a professional smile. “Chloe, the investors looked at the proposal this morning. They’re mostly satisfied, but they had a few notes. I’ve marked them here. Make the edits based on their feedback.” “Sure, Julian.” I turned to leave, but my eyes caught his wrist. He was wearing a Rolex. The exact Daytona model I had picked out! In an instant, it felt like lightning had struck my brain. I froze. Seeing that I hadn’t left, Julian looked up. “Yes? Anything else?” His voice snapped me out of my shock. I took a deep breath, trying to act casual. I pointed at his wrist. “Nice watch, Julian.” Julian smiled, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. “Thanks. My girl helped me pick it out. It is nice, isn’t it?” Me: “……” Julian grinned. “Why? Do you like it?” I quickly masked my horror, waving my hand dismissively. “Oh, no. Just making conversation.” With that, I practically bolted out of his office. A wild, terrifying thought screamed in my head: Julian is my online boyfriend! But if I was his girlfriend… then who the hell was the “babe” he was just sweet-talking on the phone? Was Julian cheating on his girlfriend with me? Holy shit! And why was Julian so different online versus offline? Online, he was this dominant, mature, daddy-type protector. Offline, he was a gossipy, clingy millennial!

I was a complete zombie for the rest of the day. I didn’t even reply to my online boyfriend’s messages. Somehow, I managed to finish editing the proposal and dragged myself home, feeling absolutely hollow. My phone was buzzing like crazy with notifications from him. [Babe, what are you doing? I miss you.] [It’s been a while since we had phone sex. Tonight?] [Are you there?] [PayPal Transfer: $100,000] [Buy yourself something nice.] [Why are you ignoring me?] [You’re acting weird today.] [Still no reply? Did I do something wrong?] … My hands shook as I typed out a reply. [Are you keeping secrets from me?] He replied within seconds: [I’ve never lied to you about anything.] [Babe, is there some kind of misunderstanding?] [No.] I tried to calm my racing mind. If my online boyfriend really was Julian, my next step was to figure out if he was cheating on his actual girlfriend. And who exactly was the “babe” he was hosting tomorrow. What if I was overreacting? What if it was all a misunderstanding? Another text came in: [Help me pick an outfit.] He sent a photo of several designer suits lined up. [I trust your taste.] I intentionally chose a navy blue Tom Ford suit. It was distinct enough that I’d easily spot it. Deep down, I was desperately hoping. If Julian didn’t wear that suit tomorrow, it meant he wasn’t my online boyfriend. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about whether my digital lover was a cheating scumbag. The next morning, I walked into Julian’s office with the updated proposal. Julian was sitting on the leather sofa, sipping tea. And he was wearing the exact navy blue Tom Ford suit I had picked out last night. “Julian, here’s the final draft.” Julian nodded with a smile. “Thanks, Chloe.” “The lead investor is coming this afternoon. Get ready to present.” “Will do.” I stared at his suit and asked, trying to sound nonchalant: “I’ve never seen you in this suit before, Julian. It looks great on you.” Julian smiled. “Really? Just bought it yesterday.” My heart sank. That confirmed it. Julian was my online boyfriend. Sitting at my desk, I couldn’t focus. I kept staring at his glass-walled office. Julian had said his “babe” was coming today. I wanted to see who she was with my own eyes. If it was what I feared, then this relationship had to end immediately. Half an hour later, a stunning, well-dressed girl walked straight into Julian’s office. I grabbed my mug and pretended to go to the breakroom. As I passed his office, their laughter drifted through the cracked door. “I missed you so much! This suit looks incredible on you. Navy blue is definitely your color.” Julian’s voice was incredibly tender. “I’m glad you like it. I wore it just for you. Aren’t I meeting your parents tonight? I was worried they wouldn’t approve of me.” “Are you kidding? If I love you, my parents will love you too.” Hearing those words felt like a physical blow to my chest. So, the reason he had asked me to choose an outfit was to impress his real girlfriend’s parents. What was I, then? A dirty little online secret? A side chick? My stomach churned. I pulled out my phone and typed out a text to my online boyfriend with trembling fingers: [You are a piece of trash. We are done.] I blocked and deleted his contact immediately.

Julian walked out of his office, hand-in-hand with his girlfriend, waving her goodbye. He didn’t look sad at all. I felt like the biggest clown on earth. Thinking about all our late-night chats, a wave of bitterness washed over me. My only saving grace was that I had used a burner Snapchat account and never revealed my real name or face. Otherwise, I’d have to resign and flee the country. I took a deep breath. No guy was worth losing my career over. I was a professional. I wasn’t going to quit a great job over some online drama. In the afternoon, Julian messaged me. [Chloe, the investor is here. He reviewed the proposal and likes it. Come in and present your pitch.] I put on my best professional face, stood tall, and walked in. “Chloe, this is our lead investor, who also happens to be my best friend, Ethan Cross. Don’t be nervous. Just pitch your ideas to him.” I completely ignored Julian and looked at the man sitting on the sofa. My eyes locked with Ethan’s. Unlike Julian’s warm, approachable vibe, this man exuded pure wealth and power. He had a cold, untouchable aura. He wore a tailored black V-neck suit over a fitted black mock-neck sweater. The sweater clung to his incredibly broad chest, hinting at a powerful build that was teasingly concealed by his jacket. It was enough to make any girl’s imagination run wild. His long, pale fingers picked up a glass of water, and he took a slow sip. I was completely intimidated by his presence and swallowed hard. At Julian’s prompting, I began my presentation. Once I got into work mode, my confidence returned. I was articulate and poised. By the time I finished, Julian was clapping. “Excellent job, Chloe! Ethan, what do you think?” Both Julian and I looked at Ethan. But Ethan’s eyes weren’t on the papers—they were locked onto my collarbone. Suddenly, he said, “Miss Miller, that’s a beautiful necklace.” I looked down. My blouse had a slightly wide neckline, and my crystal pendant necklace was fully visible. Panic seized me. When I bought this necklace, I had sent a close-up photo of it to my online boyfriend. [Look at my new necklace! Isn’t it pretty?] The photo had been a close-up of my collarbone and neck. My online boyfriend had replied: [You’d look beautiful wearing anything.] Now that the necklace was on display, would Julian recognize it? I shot a quick glance at Julian, but he didn’t seem to notice anything. He was just eagerly waiting for Ethan’s feedback. Of course. Julian had a real girlfriend. To him, I was just a fun online distraction. Why would he remember a detail like that? Only a fool like me would treasure every single memory. I awkwardly covered my collarbone with my hand. “Thanks. Just a cheap piece of jewelry.” Julian sat down next to Ethan and took a sip of his coffee. “So, what’s the verdict?” Julian stared at Ethan, but Ethan kept his eyes on me. After a long pause, he slowly murmured: “It’s perfect.” Hearing this, Julian happily slapped Ethan’s shoulder. “Ethan, you’re a lifesaver! I knew I could count on you.” I let out a quiet sigh of relief. All those sleepless nights working on this proposal had finally paid off. Ethan brushed Julian’s hand off his shoulder with a look of mild annoyance, then looked back at me with a faint, rare smile. “Credit goes to Miss Miller. She’s incredibly talented.” Even though it was our first meeting, I felt an odd sensation. The intensity in Ethan’s gaze made my ears burn. Julian looked shocked. “Whoa, hold on. Did the ice king just pay someone a compliment?” “Well, to be fair, Chloe is amazing. Anyone would praise her.” “But you? Complimenting a girl? That’s a first. Did the sun rise from the west today?” “Oh, wait. I forgot about your girlfriend—actually, ex-girlfriend. She dumped you, didn’t she? My bad, big mouth.” My ears instantly perked up. Ooh, tea! The legendary billionaire investor, Ethan Cross, got dumped? Who on earth would be dumb enough to dump a guy like him? The next second, Ethan shot a dark, brooding glance in my direction. I quickly looked down, suddenly feeling inexplicably guilty. Ethan looked away, took a sip of his tea, and said coldly to Julian: “Keep talking, and I’ll pull my funding.” Julian immediately held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright! My bad. You really can’t take a joke, can you?” Trying to calm my racing heart, I quickly excused myself. “Julian, Mr. Cross, if that’s all, I’ll head back to my desk.” I practically fled the room. Back at my desk, Julian sent me another message on WhatsApp. [Chloe, are you free tonight? Mr. Cross still has a few questions about the proposal. He wants to discuss it over dinner. Our treat.] I replied coldly: [Not interested.] [If you go, I’ll double your year-end bonus.] Hey, nobody turns down free money. I replied instantly. [Deal. Send me the address.] Locking my phone, I thought about Julian meeting his girlfriend’s parents tonight. A pang of sadness hit me, but I shook it off. Well, Chloe, I thought to myself, unlucky in love, lucky in career.

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Ever since I can remember, I knew I was just a replacement for my dead sister. The day before I started elementary school, my parents took me to buy a backpack. My mom smiled warmly and asked me, “Sienna, which one do you want? The blue one or the red one?” I pointed at the blue one. Instantly, her smile vanished. She grabbed my shoulders, her grip painfully tight, and screamed hysterically in my face. “Why didn’t you choose red?! Gemma only ever chose red!” Seeing my mom having another episode, my dad slapped me hard across the face. My nose bled. The blood was red, too. From that day on, I only ever chose red things. I only dared to want what Gemma would have liked. Once, while playing with my classmates, some playdough got stuck in my hair. The teacher kindly helped me cut the tangled piece out. But when my mom came to pick me up, she lost her mind. “Gemma had long hair! You are not my daughter!” She kicked me out of the car. I ran after it, crying, chasing the car for half an hour before I finally made it home. To avoid triggering my mom, I started mimicking Gemma in every single way. This lasted until the college application season. I scored a perfect 1600 on my SATs and got accepted into Harvard, but my mom demanded that I enroll in the local community college down the street instead. “Gemma was accepted into this college before she died! You have to go!” My high school counselor called to reason with her, but my mom snapped at him, shutting him down instantly. “If Gemma hadn’t died, Sienna wouldn’t even have been born!” Looking at her hysterical face, I suddenly felt like everything was so pointless. Since I had to copy my sister in every way, then I shouldn’t miss out on her final act either. She drowned when she was eighteen. Maybe I should do the same.

When the admission package from the community college arrived, a few local reporters showed up at our door. The moment my mom opened the door, microphones and camera lenses were shoved into her face. “Are you the mother of the genius student, Sienna? Was choosing a community college really Sienna’s own decision?” “Don’t you think it’s unfair to sacrifice Sienna’s future to make up for your late daughter’s regrets?” Hearing their questions, my mom snapped. She violently pushed the reporters out and slammed the door. Then, she dragged me to Gemma’s memorial corner and forced me to my knees. “Sienna! Did you call those reporters on purpose?!” “We are letting you go to the school your sister never got to attend! How is that unfair to you?!” The wooden hanger struck my back. I bit my lower lip so hard it bled. My dad was so angry he smashed a coffee mug on the floor. “Just to rebel against us, you cheated your way to a perfect SAT score?!” “Gemma would never do something so dishonest!” Hearing my dad’s words, I felt so hopeless I wanted to laugh. Back in middle school, my brain finally clicked, and I brought home a straight-A report card for the first time. What welcomed me was a brutal beating. “Gemma was always an average student. How could you possibly get top grades? You must have cheated!” To be just like Gemma and avoid triggering them, I learned how to control my grades. I intentionally tanked my GPAs and practice tests. But on the final SAT, the most important turning point of my life, I chose to show my real strength. I never expected that instead of being proud, they would forcibly change my college applications and accuse me of cheating. “I didn’t cheat,” I said. “Just because Gemma couldn’t get top scores doesn’t mean I can’t.” I straightened my back and stood up to them for the first time in my life. Shocked by my defiance, my mom gasped. She stood there, pointing a trembling finger at me, stuttering, “You… you…” for a long time. Finally, she locked me inside Gemma’s old room and went outside to chase down the reporters. “I want to report Sienna! She cheated on her exams! I want a full investigation!” Hearing my mom’s righteous voice through the door, tears of laughter streamed down my face. In the darkness, my sister’s portrait seemed to stare down at me. When I was little and forced to kneel here alone to reflect on my “mistakes,” I would always be terrified of her picture and cry. But now, I looked straight into Gemma’s eyes and whispered, “I really envy you. You’ve been gone for twenty years, and they still love you so much.” “If I die, will they love me like this too?” The portrait remained silent, her carefree smile frozen in time. She had a deep dimple on her right cheek when she smiled. I didn’t. Because of that, my mom never allowed me to smile in front of her. Gemma was naturally hyperactive and loved running wild outside. To force me outside, my mom tore up my sketchbooks and snapped my drawing pencils. She wouldn’t let me back into the house until it was pitch black. Even on my birthdays, I could only celebrate Gemma’s birthday. The cake was always mango-flavored because it was Gemma’s favorite, even though I was severely allergic to mangoes. When it was time to blow out the candles, Gemma’s portrait was placed right across from me. My only allowed wish was to pray that Gemma was doing well in heaven. I had been my sister’s shadow for eighteen years. I didn’t even know who the real me was anymore. How could they ever love me? I don’t know how long I sat in the dark. Suddenly, the door clicked open. My dad stood in the doorway, blocking the light from the hallway. He looked incredibly exhausted. “Sienna, go apologize to your mother.”

“Ever since your sister passed away, your mom’s mental state hasn’t been stable,” my dad said. “She’s getting old. You need to be more understanding.” I didn’t argue. I walked out numbly. Like I had done a thousand times before, I spoke my lines: “Mom, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked back to you. I shouldn’t have gotten those high scores.” My mom turned to look at me, but her eyes were glassy and unfocused. She was having another episode. She was seeing Gemma again. “My sweet Gemma, what are you talking about?” “Come, sit down and eat. Mom made all your favorite foods.” She pulled me to the dining table and kept piling food onto my plate. This was a treatment I never received when she was lucid. Most of the time, I had to sit the furthest away from the dishes. My parents would sit on either side of Gemma’s framed photo. The thickest cut of the steak, the extra cherry on the pie, and the perfectly golden center of the cinnamon roll—those were always reserved for Gemma. I only got to taste them when my mom was confused. After dinner, my mom led me to Gemma’s room. She made me lie down on Gemma’s soft, queen-sized bed. She carefully tucked me in and sat by the bedside, gently patting my back. “Sleep tight, sweetie. Mom is right here watching over you.” I heard this was Gemma’s habit when she was little. She was terrified of the dark and couldn’t fall asleep alone. She needed my mom to stay with her every night. When I was six, a violent thunderstorm kept me awake. Clutching my pillow, I ran to Gemma’s room to find my mom. But my mom shoved me out of the house into the cold night. “You’re so young, yet you’re already trying to steal your sister’s spotlight! I don’t have such an ungrateful daughter!” I cried until my voice went completely hoarse. My mom didn’t let me back inside until dawn. Now, feeling this rare, borrowed maternal love, I began to count down in my head. Five, four, three, two… The moment I hit one, my mom’s eyes snapped back to reality. The warmth in her eyes instantly turned into pure hatred. “Why are you in Gemma’s bed?!” “Are you trying to steal the last piece of her left in this world?! Get out!” She dragged me off the bed. Practically on instinct, I scrambled out of the room before she could throw her slippers at me. I retreated to my bedroom, which was actually a modified utility closet. Compared to Gemma’s cozy room, this place was incredibly depressing. It got zero sunlight, and it was so damp and cold that I suffered from chronic eczema. Once, when the itching became unbearable, I begged my parents to move to a bigger house. I told them I didn’t want a big room like Gemma’s. I just wanted a small bedroom that got some sunlight. Our family could easily afford it. But my dad just slapped me. My mom’s hand shook with rage as she pointed at me. “This house is the only place your sister ever lived! If we move, she won’t be able to find her way home!” “How can you be so selfish?!” So, I had to retreat back into my tiny, cramped closet. Even this closet didn’t fully belong to me. Two-thirds of the space was packed with Gemma’s old things. Her old keyboard, her dolls, her roller skates. They were covered in thick layers of dust, but I wasn’t even allowed to touch them. Because they “preserved” Gemma’s scent. I wasn’t allowed to ruin it. After calming my mom down, my dad did something rare. He walked into my room. “The school board checked. You didn’t cheat. We misjudged you.” I didn’t say anything. I just stared at him quietly. “Sienna, your sister died the day before she was supposed to leave for college. That is the pain of your mother’s life.” “Even if you are a genius, you must go to that community college. This is your destiny. You have to accept it.” In the dim light, I let out a soft laugh. “I accept it.” Watching his relieved back as he walked away, I added silently in my heart: And I will surely follow my sister’s destiny, and drown the day before college starts.

To celebrate Gemma’s “new beginning,” my parents decided to throw a massive graduation party for “her.” And I was required to attend as her stand-in. My mom took it very seriously. She dug up some clothes that matched the style Gemma used to wear. Styles from twenty years ago, long outdated. They were cheap clothes my mom had bought from thrift stores or received as hand-me-downs from relatives. Some of the collars were stretched out, and the sleeves were fraying. They all smelled like stale mildew. When I was forced to wear them to school as a kid, my classmates would laugh at me behind my back. Now, I put them on without a word. Seeing me in those clothes, my mom’s eyes welled with tears. I knew she was looking at Gemma through me again. That loving gaze of hers had never once truly landed on me. “Don’t smile too much later, but keep your manners sweet,” she instructed. “Your sister was closest to your Uncle and Aunt Clara. Make sure you talk to them more.” She went over the details one by one, terrified I would make a mistake. If I didn’t act like Gemma, their beautiful dream would shatter. She had no idea that after eighteen years of acting, Gemma’s behavior was already carved into my bones. I knew Gemma better than anyone else did. At the party, every relative who saw me gasped. “Sienna looks so much like Gemma…” “Twenty years flew by so fast. Gemma used to wear clothes just like this when she greeted us.” “Yeah, she’s just like Gemma. Smart, sweet, and always knowing exactly what to say.” Everyone was using me to reminisce about Gemma. It had been like this since I was a little girl. “Sienna likes red too, and she wears her hair in the same pigtails Gemma did.” “Sienna can’t sit still either, just like Gemma. Always wanting to run wild outside.” In the beginning, I would silently scream in my head: No! I’m nothing like my sister! I hate red! I hate long hair! I just want to stay inside, read my books, and paint. I don’t want to go outside! But as the years went on, the lines blurred. What color did I actually like? What did I enjoy doing in my free time? What kind of food did I prefer? If Gemma had never existed, and I was my parents’ first child… What would my name have been? “Sienna!” A young male voice called out from behind me. I turned around in shock. It was Aunt Clara’s son. My cousin, Zach. He was three years older than me and was the only person present who had never met Gemma. And he was the only one who never called me “Gemma.” He insisted on calling me “Sienna.” Ever since he left for college out of state three years ago, we hadn’t seen each other. “Long time no see, Sienna.” He reached out and ruffled my hair, just like he used to do when we were kids. Then, he handed me a gift box. “This is your graduation present.” I took it numbly and opened it. Inside was a complete set of expensive, professional art supplies. Zach rubbed the back of his neck, looking a bit embarrassed. “I remembered you loved drawing when you were little. I hope you can still use these.” He then handed me another shopping bag. “This is from my mom.” “You’re going to college soon, so she picked out a couple of outfits suitable for a young girl.” “Hope you like them.” I looked down into the bag. Inside was a light blue sundress and a simple white t-shirt. Very basic, but my eyes welled up instantly. The fake, “Gemma-like” smile was still plastered on my face. What would the perfect “Sienna” say right now? What would she do? My mind went completely blank. I realized I didn’t even need to wait until the day before college to drown. The real Sienna had died a long time ago. The person standing here was just a cheap, broken copy of Gemma.

I stood there like a frozen robot. Seeing my silence, Zach started to panic. “What’s wrong? Do you not like them?” He looked at me, then glanced over at Aunt Clara. “If you don’t like them, we can go exchange them for something else after dinner.” I sniffed, shaking my head with a smile. “No, I love them. Thank you, Zach.” Noticing the redness in my eyes, Zach sighed softly. “Sienna, my mom told me about what’s been going on.” He patted my shoulder. “Your mom’s mental health is… really bad. You’ve had to suffer so much just to keep her happy.” “Once you start college, focus on your grades. You can apply for grad school later. Your life is just starting, Sienna. I know you’re going to have an amazing future.” Hearing Zach’s words, I could barely keep my smile from cracking. Did I really have a future? Could I really shed Gemma’s shadow and just live as myself? I got my answer that very night. As soon as we got home, my mom grabbed the art supplies Zach had given me and threw them right out the window. The paint bottles shattered on the concrete driveway below. They looked like splatters of colorful blood from someone who had just jumped. I rushed to the window, but before I could react, my mom pulled the blue dress out of the shopping bag. She flicked a lighter, and the flame instantly licked the fabric. The fire illuminated her twisted face. “Who allowed you to accept these?!” “Gemma never had things like this! What are you trying to prove by bringing them into this house?!” Recalling my cousin’s words, something inside me finally snapped. “Gemma is dead! She’s dead!” “I am Sienna! I am a living, breathing human being! I have my own tastes! I have my own life to live!” “She died at eighteen! I’ve played her ghost for eighteen years! Isn’t that enough?!” My answer was a stinging slap that cut through the air. The force knocked me to the ground, my back crashing into the memorial table. Gemma’s portrait fell with a loud crash, the glass shattering. Her hollow eyes stared straight into mine. My mom pointed a shaking finger at me, her voice trembling. “How dare you… how dare you…” “If Gemma hadn’t died, you wouldn’t even have a life to live!” “My daughter never got to have a future! What makes you think you deserve one?!” Even though I had always known she didn’t love me, hearing those words out loud made my heart shatter into a million pieces. I lay on the floor, my palm sliced open by the shards of Gemma’s frame. Blood pooled under my hand. My mom sank to her knees, crying hysterically as she cradled Gemma’s portrait in her arms. “My Gemma… my sweet Gemma…” “Does it hurt? Mommy will find a better place for you.” She walked right past me, carrying the portrait, without giving me a single glance. My dad grabbed his jacket and rushed out after her. The front door slammed shut. I closed my eyes. I’m sorry, Zach, I thought. That beautiful future you talked about… I won’t be able to see it. The hem of the burnt dress was charred black, looking like a withered flower. I pulled it over my head, put it on, and looked at the wide-open window. At this moment, I suddenly changed my mind. I didn’t want to drown like Gemma anymore. In my final moment, I wanted to end it as Sienna. This was the only tiny rebellion I had left. I climbed onto the windowsill and took one last look at this house. Then, I closed my eyes and let myself fall backward into the night.

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Before we got married, Ethan Carter insisted on buying two apartments right next to each other. I asked him why he had to take on an extra mortgage. He said, “Your parents are getting older, so it’ll be convenient whether they come over to take care of you in the future or you want to take care of them.” I believed him. For those two apartments, I put in all my savings. But before we registered our marriage, when we went to file the property records, the staff member looked at the documents and frowned. “Miss, are you sure the apartment next door is also for your parents to live in?” “But the pre-registered owner is named Mia Hayes, do you know her?” I froze. Mia Hayes was my best friend. Ethan quickly pulled me aside and coaxed me in a low voice. “She just broke up and has nowhere to stay, so she’s only borrowing the place for a few days, don’t be so petty.” The next second, Mia posted on Ins. [Thank you to him for finally giving me a home.] I stared at that line for a long time, then turned around and put my documents back into my bag. That day, I did not go to the city clerk’s office, and I simply canceled the wedding.

Ethan chased after me. “Listen to me, I’ll handle Mia’s side, and we just need to change the owner, it’s a five-minute thing.” I raised my hand and called an Uber, then immediately got inside. He bent down and leaned against the car window. “If you leave like this, how am I supposed to explain it to our parents?” I glanced at him. “You can explain it to Mia.” I opened the SnapChat of our wedding planner, Claire, and sent one sentence: The wedding is paused. Claire replied almost instantly with a voice message. “Miss Harris, why is it suddenly paused?” “Your fiancé was still discussing the new plan last night.” “What new plan?” “You don’t know?” Claire’s tone was a little hesitant. “Mr. Carter said he wanted to add a special memory video at the wedding and make a photo wall.” My fingertips froze. “What photo wall?” A few seconds later, Claire sent over a picture. I opened the full-size image, and my whole body stiffened in the seat. The most eye-catching spot on the so-called wedding photo wall was not me and Ethan. It was Mia. She was wearing a white dress and standing by the ocean, smiling brightly. And Ethan stood beside her, gazing at her with endless tenderness, looking so romantic and relaxed. I stared at the screen and suddenly found it so absurd that I wanted to laugh. “Who picked these photos?” Claire’s side went quiet for a moment. “Mr. Carter sent them over.” “He said Miss Hayes is your best friend and that you two are close, so putting her photos at the wedding would also count as witnessing your friendship.” “He also said Miss Hayes hasn’t been doing well lately, and he wanted to use this chance to cheer her up a little.” I held my phone and slowly lowered my eyes. The details of wedding planning over the past few months suddenly surfaced one by one. For the flowers I chose, Ethan said Mia was allergic to pollen, so they were later changed to artificial flowers. For the wedding music I picked, Ethan said Mia thought it was tacky, then turned around and changed it to an obscure French song. Every single time, he told me in a tone that made it sound completely natural. “Mia understands these things, and she’s also doing it for our wedding, so don’t be so sensitive.” It turned out that in this wedding that was supposed to belong to me, I had already been pushed to the side. “Miss Harris?” “Are you listening?” “I am.” I closed my eyes for a moment. “The wedding is canceled, and none of this is needed anymore.” Claire sucked in a sharp breath. “But the penalty fee is not a small amount, do you want to discuss it with Mr. Carter again?” “There’s no need to discuss it, and I’ll pay the penalty according to the contract.” “Okay, Miss Harris, then I’ll need you to come to the studio when you have time to sign.” “Okay.” After hanging up, my phone lit up again, and it was a message from Ethan: “Don’t tell your parents yet, I’ll explain the apartment situation to you tonight.” I did not reply and went straight to my parents’ house.

When I pushed open the front door, my dad was wearing reading glasses and tending to his potted orchid on the balcony. My mom was making soup in the kitchen, and when she heard movement, she poked her head out. “Olivia?” “Aren’t you supposed to be getting your marriage license with Ethan today?” “Why are you back so early?” I did not rush to answer and only walked to the dining table and sat down. “We didn’t get it.” “I also canceled the wedding, and I’m planning to return those two apartments.” My dad quickly walked over, and my mom also wiped her hands and ran out of the kitchen. “What happened?” “Did you two have a fight?” My mom was so anxious that her face changed. I pushed a document envelope toward them. “When we went to the property transaction center today to file the records, the staff told me that for the apartment Ethan bought next door, the pre-filled owner was Mia Hayes.” “Mia Hayes?” “That friend of yours?” My dad frowned. I nodded. “Yes.” The air fell silent at that moment. My mom stood frozen in place, her lips moving, but she could not speak for a long while. My dad grabbed the document envelope from the table. “That bastard!” “Back then, he swore up and down that he was buying it for us to retire in, and that was why we agreed to let you put in your savings!” “What is this supposed to be?” “Using our Harris family’s money to support another woman?” He turned to get his phone. “I’m calling Attorney Lewis right now, and this apartment must be returned!” “He has to spit out every cent!” Just then, the doorbell suddenly rang. Ethan’s anxious face appeared outside the door. He was still holding a bouquet of roses. “Olivia, let’s go back and talk about this.” “Can you let me in?” “This really isn’t as serious as you think, so don’t act on impulse.” I did not move. My mom walked over with a cold face and pressed the call button. “Ethan, how do you still have the nerve to come here?” Ethan froze for a second, and the expression on his face instantly turned awkward. “Mrs. Harris… you’re here too.” “Did Olivia say something to you?” “She told us everything.” My mom stared at the screen, her voice as cold as ice. “I only have one question for you.” “For the apartment you said you bought for us two old people to live in, why is someone else’s name on it?” Ethan became guilty. “Mrs. Harris, that’s a misunderstanding.” “Mia really has been going through a hard time recently, and I was just helping her as a friend…” “A friend?” My mom sneered. “You took my daughter’s money to help your friend settle down, do you think the Harris family runs a charity?” “Mrs. Harris, please listen to me explain…” Ethan still wanted to say something, but my mom directly cut off the call. The screen went black. I looked at the dark screen and thought of the night I decided to take out my savings. My dad had once advised me to keep some money for myself, saying that a woman only has confidence when she has money in her own hands. At the time, Ethan held my hand tightly and swore while looking into my parents’ eyes. “Mr. and Mrs. Harris, please don’t worry, I will never make Olivia regret this.” Looking back now, that vow was only laughable. I sat at the dining table and admitted my stupidity in front of my parents for the first time. “Dad, Mom, I’m sorry.” “I regret it.” My mom hugged me, and her tears fell onto my shoulder. “Silly girl, what do you have to be sorry for?” “It’s a good thing you saw him clearly before you got the license.”

The next morning, my parents and I showed up on time at the sales office of Meadowbrook Residences. The customer service woman at the front desk was very polite. “Miss Harris, you previously made an appointment for a consultation about canceling the purchase, and we’ve already pulled up the purchase files on our side.” I stared at the words on the screen. [Client request: Miss Hayes prefers quiet and needs to be close to the east-side elevator, but must avoid the equipment room.] [Follow-up record: Already took Miss Hayes on-site to measure the balcony dimensions.] The date was from six months ago, the month when we had just started looking at apartments. I sat on the sofa and felt all the blood in my body rushing to the top of my head. So even the part about her having just broken up and having nowhere to stay was fake. As early as six months ago, Ethan had already brought Mia here to choose an apartment. “Olivia…” My mom held my hand, her eyes full of heartache. I patted the back of her hand to signal that I was fine. “Excuse me,” I looked at the customer service rep, “if I request to cancel one of the apartments now, what is the process?” The customer service rep looked troubled. “Miss Harris, because you received a ten percent discount for purchasing both apartments together, if you cancel only one apartment separately, the price of the other apartment will need to be recalculated at the original price.” “Also, the loan plan will need to be approved again, and the penalty fee is about five percent of the total price.” I nodded. No matter how much I lost, I could only accept this result now. “Then cancel it.” Just then, the glass door of the sales office was pushed open. Ethan ran in, out of breath. “Olivia!” He strode up to us, glanced at the page on the customer service computer, and his face instantly changed. “You really came to cancel the purchase?” “Olivia, an apartment isn’t a joke, how can you be this impulsive?” He once again used that gentle voice. “The penalty is so high, and canceling isn’t worth it.” “Come back with me first, and let’s talk properly, okay?” I looked up at him. That face was clearly so familiar, but at that moment, I only felt he was a stranger. “If an apartment isn’t a joke, then is marriage a joke?” I stood up and looked him straight in the eyes. “You brought her here to view the apartment six months ago, Ethan, how long exactly were you planning to hide her next door to me?” Ethan’s eyes dodged for a moment. “That was because… because she understands renovations, and I only asked her to come help with references!” “Is that so?” “Olivia.” Suddenly, a soft female voice came from behind Ethan. Mia stood there in an off-white knit sweater, her eyes red. She looked at me, her voice full of grievance. “You really misunderstood.” “I really just had nowhere to go, and Ethan kindly took me in.” She walked forward and tried to take my hand. “Please don’t ruin your relationship of so many years because of me, okay?” I stepped sideways to avoid her. Before I could speak, the customer service rep beside us froze first. “Huh?” “Miss Hayes, how do you have time to come over today?” The customer service rep flipped through the notebook in her hands and smiled warmly. “You came last week to choose curtain measurements, and you also said you wanted to change the master bedroom wall color to dusty pink before move-in, and we’ve already confirmed with the engineering department that it can be changed.” The surroundings instantly went quiet. The grievance on Mia’s face instantly froze, and all the color drained from it. I looked up at her. “Aren’t you just staying temporarily?” “Why are you already renovating my apartment?” Mia bit her lip and could not squeeze out a single word for a long while. “Please,” I turned to look at the customer service rep, my tone calm, “help me cancel the apartment.”

Because of Ethan’s repeated obstruction, the apartment cancellation was not settled for the time being. To keep my parents from worrying, I asked them to go home first. Then I took an Uber to the wedding studio by myself. When Claire saw me, she froze for a moment, then quickly revealed a professional smile. “Miss Harris, please sit.” She handed me a thick file, and the cover said “Wedding Schedule Confirmation Form.” I opened the first page, and my gaze stopped. In the upper right corner of the document, several words were printed boldly: Miss Hayes Confirmed Version. “Sorry, I took the wrong one.” Claire quickly pulled the document back, looking a little embarrassed. “This was the draft left from when Mr. Carter and Miss Hayes came to communicate before.” I pressed down on the document and did not let her take it away. “Do they often come together to communicate?” Claire hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Actually… every time they came to go over the schedule, Miss Hayes basically made the decisions.” She glanced at me, and her voice lowered. “Our team even thought in private that Miss Hayes was the bride.” “After all, every time you came, you were only responsible for looking at the budget details.” I felt as if my heart had been viciously squeezed by something. So in other people’s eyes, I had long since become a side character who was responsible for paying the bill. I picked up the pen on the table and flipped to the last page of the cancellation agreement. “Has the penalty been calculated?” “It has been calculated, and aside from the deposit being deducted, you still need to pay an additional twenty thousand for material losses.” I signed my name and paid without hesitation. Just as I walked into the studio lobby, I ran straight into Ethan, who had hurried over. When he saw the cancellation agreement in my hand, his eyes turned red. “Olivia Harris!” “Have you made enough of a scene?” He rushed over and tried to snatch the document from my hand. “The wedding invitations have already been sent out, and all the relatives and friends have been notified, so if you cancel the wedding now, are you trying to embarrass both families?” I looked at his sanctimonious face and suddenly felt disgusted. Then I took out my phone and notified the friends and family in the wedding SnapChat group. [Everyone, I’m sorry to inform you that Ethan and I are officially canceling our wedding, and I apologize for the trouble.] Ethan’s eyes widened, and he reached out to snatch my phone. “Are you crazy?” “Unsend it!” “Unsend it now!”

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I have been able to smell people’s emotions since I was a child. Sweetness meant love. Bitterness meant grief. And a sharp, spicy sting meant anger and disgust. During my ten years with Julian, his scent had never changed. It was always a sweet, comforting vanilla—so sweet it could rot your teeth. The only time it changed was the night my sister, Jasmine, moved abroad. When Julian came home late that night, the scent radiating from him was so bitter it made my stomach turn. But back then, I didn’t connect the two events. It wasn’t until three years later, when Jasmine came back to get married. That day, Julian’s scent was a suffocating mix of bitterness and a sharp, stinging spice. It was a smell I had never encountered on him before. Frowning, I followed him out of the reception hall. In the quiet stairwell, I heard his voice—low, choked, and dripping with agony. “Enough, Jasmine! Just to make me give up, you’d rather marry a total stranger?!” Jasmine sobbed, her voice cracking. “What else was I supposed to do?! You’re Chloe’s fiancé, and Chloe is my sister! We can’t keep making this mistake!” I froze at the entrance. My entire body trembled with shock. It felt as if my heart was being slowly crushed in a fist, squeezing the air out of my lungs until I couldn’t breathe. Right then, my phone buzzed. A calendar notification popped up: Wedding with Julian next week. I stared at the screen for two seconds. Then, I called the venue and canceled the wedding.

Through the crack in the door, I saw the two of them wrapped in a painful, desperate embrace. The scent of grief radiating from them was so thick it was almost physical. Jasmine covered her face, her shoulders shaking violently. “Julian, let it go. We have to stop.” She looked up at him, her eyes filled with unspeakable sorrow. “I’m getting married today. Next week, you’re marrying Chloe. Chloe and I only have each other. Since our parents passed away, she’s my only family. Don’t hurt her, I beg you.” I leaned heavily against the cold wall. My chest throbbed with a million tiny needle pricks. The sheer absurdity of the situation made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. I stood there like a lunatic, not knowing what expression to put on my face. Jasmine. Julian. I had never once connected them in my mind. For the past few years, they had kept such a polite, distant boundary. They behaved like strangers, and I was the only bridge between them. During holidays, Julian would bring gifts to our house and greet her with polite formality. Jasmine would nod distantly and say nothing more than, “Please, make yourself at home.” Every time Julian left, Jasmine would stroke my hair, her emotions tightly suppressed. “Chloe must be happy,” she would whisper. Back then, I didn’t understand the deep sadness in her eyes. But now, I did. Inside the stairwell, Julian shook his head. His hands shook as he desperately tried to grab hers. “Don’t do this to me, Jasmine. Please.” Jasmine closed her eyes and slapped his hand away. “I said it’s over! Julian, we were just never meant to be.” Julian punched the concrete wall. His hand—the hand of a brilliant surgeon—was instantly covered in blood, but his eyes were redder than the blood dripping from his knuckles. “I don’t care about fate! Jasmine, let’s run away. Let’s leave this place together!” She tore herself from his grip, her gaze hardening. “I won’t hurt Chloe. If you dare do anything, I will never speak to you again.” He froze. His spine went rigid, like a bowstring stretched to its absolute limit. Then, with a bitter, defeated laugh, all the strength drained from his body, and his shoulders slumped. “Fine…” “You win, Jasmine. You win.” “I will stay with Chloe. For the rest of my life.” I closed my eyes, a mocking smile on my lips. It was all a joke. I stumbled away from the stairwell. My steps were hollow, and every drop of color had drained from my face. A short while later, Julian returned to the banquet hall and sat down next to me. “What’s wrong, babe?” He gently touched the corner of my reddened eyes, his voice dripping with concern. “Have you been crying?” I looked up, digging my fingernails into my palms. He was back to his usual self—warm, gentle, and perfect. It was as if the scene I had just witnessed was nothing but a hallucination. I instinctively shrank back from his touch. “I’m fine…” He didn’t press. The lights in the ballroom dimmed, and his attention was immediately drawn to the grand doors at the end of the aisle. “And now, please welcome the beautiful bride!” As the host spoke, Jasmine walked down the aisle in her white wedding gown. She looked at me first. When her gaze briefly brushed past Julian, it was filled with a lingering, quiet sorrow. As for Julian… His fists were clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. I watched it all play out. Taking a soft breath, a wave of cold desolation washed over me. Because out of the three of us in this room, not a single one smelled sweet. Up on the stage, Jasmine was reciting her vows to her new husband. Soon, it was time for the family speeches. The host walked over with the microphone. “Now, we invite the bride’s only sister, Chloe, to say a few words of blessing!” I reached out to take the mic. But Julian, who had been silent the entire time, suddenly stood up and snatched it first.

I froze. The host froze. Everyone in the room looked on in confusion. On stage, Jasmine’s body went completely rigid. She gave Julian a subtle, pleading shake of her head. Julian kept his eyes lowered, looking down at me with practiced tenderness. “Let me do it. I’m afraid if you start speaking, you’ll cry too hard, and my heart can’t take that.” Without waiting for my response, he raised the microphone. His voice echoed through the speakers, flat and devoid of real emotion, like he was delivering a business report. “Chloe wants to tell you that you look beautiful today. She hopes you will be happy forever, and always stay true to yourself.” “If you ever feel tired or unhappy out there, you can always come home. I… we will always be there for you.” Jasmine forced a small smile. “I know. Thank you.” They looked at each other from across the room, then quickly averted their eyes. Only I could smell the suffocating bitterness hanging in the air between them. The speeches ended, and the wedding proceeded smoothly. I turned my head to look at the man sitting beside me, whose mind was clearly miles away. “I didn’t want to say any of those things,” I said quietly. “Didn’t you hear me practicing my speech at home?” “And besides, I could have said it myself.” Julian snapped out of his daze. Hiding the complex emotions in his eyes, he reached out and playfully pinched my cheek. His smile was doting. “The wedding hasn’t even started and your eyes are already puffy from crying. I was just worried you wouldn’t make it through a single sentence.” He chuckled softly. “Chloe has always been so sensitive.” He pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. It was no different from how he used to hold me. If… If I hadn’t smelled that the sweetness in his emotions had completely evaporated, I would have truly believed he loved me. “Is that so…” The corner of my mouth twitched into a strained smile. “Then thank you.” He didn’t notice the edge in my voice. Jasmine had walked over to our table, raising her champagne glass to toast us. “Chloe, you’re getting married next week.” She gently patted my head. “My little sister is all grown up.” I kept my eyes down, feeling a sickening wave of nausea rise in my chest, accompanied by a dull, throbbing pain. She turned to Julian. “Take… take good care of my sister. I hope you keep your promise.” Julian, who rarely drank, downed his entire glass of champagne in one gulp. “I will.” They quickly broke eye contact. Jasmine moved to the next table, and laughter rippled through the hall. But Julian kept drinking, one glass after another. I watched him the whole time. I didn’t stop him. There was no point anymore. That night, Julian got dead drunk. The moment we got home, he collapsed onto the living room sofa. “Jasmine…” “Why… why couldn’t it be us? Tell me why…” I sat on the armchair nearby, listening quietly. I sat there and listened to my fiancé call out my sister’s name in his drunken slumber. Suddenly, my phone rang. It was the coordinator from the wedding venue. “Hi, Chloe. We noticed you canceled the wedding on our portal. Is everything okay?” “We just wanted to remind you that according to the contract, the deposit is non-refundable.” I gave a soft hum. “Yes, it’s canceled.” “Keep the deposit. It’s fine.” After I hung up, Julian muttered, “Chloe… my throat hurts. Get me a glass of honey water…” I ignored him. I went straight to the bedroom and locked the door. I canceled the catering orders, returned the wedding decorations online, and then booked a one-way ticket to Iceland. I had always wanted to go there. Julian had always claimed he was too busy with hospital shifts. Well, now I could go alone. Lying in bed, sleep eluded me. I began to mentally retrace the steps of our ten-year relationship. The more I looked back… The more I saw the glaring red flags I had previously ignored. Like the time Jasmine moved abroad, and his mood had plummeted for weeks for no apparent reason. Or the year Jasmine graduated, and he insisted on flying across the country with me just to congratulate her. Or the way that, in every single photo of the three of us, his head was always slightly tilted toward Jasmine. I didn’t know when it had started. But I knew. It was time for it to end. The next morning, when I woke up, Julian was already in the kitchen making breakfast. He had cooked for me for years, never letting me lift a finger. “Morning.” He set the plates on the table and asked casually, “I drank too much last night. Did I say anything stupid?” I stared at the strawberry jam on the table. I hated strawberry jam. Jasmine loved it. “No,” I replied flatly. He quietly let out a breath, but then frowned slightly. “You didn’t even put a blanket on me last night, and there was no honey water. I woke up freezing, and my head is splitting.” I looked him dead in the eye. “I am not obligated to take care of you.” He froze. Julian pressed his lips together, swallowing his sudden irritation. A flicker of anxiety crossed his eyes. “What’s wrong? Did someone upset you? Or are you stressed about the wedding preparations?” I didn’t answer. I grabbed the toast smeared with strawberry jam and threw it directly into the trash can. “I hate strawberries.” Looking at his bewildered face, I let out a cold laugh. “The one who loves strawberries is Jasmine.”

I walked out of the apartment and wandered aimlessly down the streets. A light drizzle was falling. It wasn’t heavy enough to need an umbrella, but it was enough to knock the dead leaves off the trees, letting them rot in the mud. I stopped outside our old high school. Julian and I had been classmates here. Jasmine was a grade above us. Back then, she would always wait for me after school so we could walk home together. At some point, Julian started walking with us. Jasmine used to tease me, saying Julian was doing it because he had a crush on me and wanted to walk me home. But even though we were in the same class, we barely spoke. Yet, from that day on, my eyes couldn’t help but follow him. After the SATs, Jasmine encouraged me to confess my feelings to him. So I did. I remembered the shock on his face when I asked him out. But the rejection that had been on the tip of his tongue was swallowed back down. Instead, he had said, “Okay.” And just like that, Julian became a permanent fixture in my and Jasmine’s lives. I kept walking, my hair soaked by the rain, my feet growing heavier with every step. I couldn’t help but wonder… What if he only agreed to be with me so he could be closer to Jasmine? What if the sweet scent of love I had smelled on him all these years was just a lie he forced himself to project? I didn’t dare go down that rabbit hole. Thinking like that would drive me insane. I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath, and hailed a cab. Just as I got into the backseat, Julian’s black Mercedes sped past us. “Sir, follow that Mercedes,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. That direction didn’t lead to his hospital, nor did it lead to his parents’ house. Where was he going? The answer was screaming in my mind, but my heart clenched, too terrified to believe it. The cab took several turns and finally stopped in front of a small, charming cottage in the quiet suburbs. I never knew he owned a house here. I got out of the cab. As I walked closer, the muffled sound of an argument reached my ears. Jasmine sounded like she was on the verge of a breakdown. “What did Chloe mean by that comment this morning?!” “Julian! You promised me she would never find out! You promised you wouldn’t hurt her!” Julian’s jaw was clenched tight. “She won’t find out. She was probably just in a bad mood. I asked her if I said anything stupid last night, and she said no.” Only then did Jasmine seem to calm down. She wept softly. “In any case, this is the last time I’m coming here. We cannot contact each other ever again.” Julian’s voice was a soft, desperate whisper. “Really? Can you really let go of this place?” “We bought this cottage five years ago. We have so many beautiful memories here. Can you really just wipe them away?” “Jasmine, stop lying to yourself.” Then, Jasmine threw herself into his arms, and they held each other tightly. It was so picturesque. It made me look like the cruel villain standing in the way of their true love. I couldn’t hear what else they said. A loud buzzing filled my ears. As I leaned against the gate, I noticed the archway of the cottage was covered in climbing jasmines. Every corner of this place was a testament to their love. And I was nothing but a pathetic clown. A flood of memories rushed into my mind. Four years ago, on New Year’s Eve, both of them claimed they had to work late shifts. I spent the countdown alone. Three years ago, on Valentine’s Day, both of them said they had business trips. The romantic dinner I prepared ended up in the trash. Two years ago, on Jasmine’s birthday while she was still abroad, Julian suddenly told me he had to fly out for an emergency surgery. That same night, Jasmine’s phone went unanswered. Piece by piece, the puzzle came together. The truth wrapped around my throat like a poisonous vine, cutting off my air. I went home. I didn’t confront them. Not yet. I quietly packed my bags. When Julian came home later, his scent was miserable, but the moment he saw me, he forced a bright smile. He pulled me into a tight embrace. There wasn’t a single trace of sweetness on him. “Chloe, I’m so sorry about the strawberry jam this morning. My brain was still foggy from last night.” “Are you mad at me?” I stared at him, then let my lips curve into a wide, cheerful smile. “Of course not.” He let out a sigh of relief and headed into the bathroom. My smile instantly vanished, replaced by cold indifference.

Three days after her wedding, Jasmine brought her new husband, Luke, to visit. She took my hand, her smile warm and sisterly. “Chloe is getting married.” “I can’t be your maid of honor next week, but being able to hand you over to Julian is enough for me.” I looked down at our joined hands. “Is that so? You don’t feel any regret?” She stiffened for a fraction of a second, then laughed it off. “Why would I regret seeing you happy?” “Mhm,” I murmured, pulling my hand back. She didn’t notice my coldness. “I’m going to see what delicious food Julian is whipping up,” she said cheerfully, heading into the kitchen. The table was set with an incredibly lavish feast. Julian was supposed to have a surgery scheduled for today. He was the kind of doctor who put his patients above everything else. But this morning, I heard him call his chief to swap shifts. All so he could cook a meal for Jasmine. At the dinner table, the two of them sat diagonally from each other. The maximum distance possible. “Chloe mentioned you like seafood, Jasmine, so I made a seafood feast today. But don’t eat too much cold seafood, it’s not good for your stomach.” Julian said casually. I listened in silence. Every detail he knew about Jasmine’s preferences felt like a slap in my face. Because I had never told him those things. Jasmine gave a cold, polite nod, then turned to cut a piece of steak for Luke. Julian’s scent turned bitter and dejected. I watched it all, feeling completely numb. Except for Luke, who was happily eating, everyone at the table was drowning in their own thoughts. In the afternoon, Luke had to head back to work. Jasmine and Julian accompanied me to my final wedding dress fitting. I stood in front of the mirror, staring at the glittering gown. I was dazed. This dress was designed by Julian himself. It was intricately embroidered with delicate white petals. I remembered the day he had proudly shown me the sketches like a boy presenting a treasure. “Chloe, I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” he had said, eyes shining. “Even when we’re old and gray, I want to hold your hand and look at the beautiful things we built together.” I never could have imagined that in just six months, the truth would be laid bare. I lost my parents at eight. And now, at twenty-three, I was losing my sister and my fiancé. I wondered if I was cursed. Why was I destined to lose everything? Why could I never keep the people I loved? The boutique assistant smiled warmly as she adjusted the train of the gown. “This gown is called ‘Pure Jasmine,’ Chloe. I’m guessing your sister’s name inspired it?” My body went completely rigid. So that was the name of the dress. Those embroidered petals weren’t cherry blossoms. They were jasmines. A wave of pure disgust and absurdity washed over me. I ripped the veil off my head. The assistant gasped, startled. “Chloe? Is there something wrong with the dress?” I stared at the crumpled veil on the floor, my voice hollow. “No. It’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.” I changed out of the dress and walked out of the fitting room. Jasmine and Julian were standing far apart, looking like polite strangers. Julian blinked in surprise. “Babe? Why didn’t you show us? I wanted to see you in it.” I forced a smile. “If you see it now, where’s the surprise on the wedding day?” Julian smiled tenderly, and Jasmine patted my head affectionately. It made my skin crawl. According to tradition, the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other the night before the wedding. So, Julian checked into a hotel. Before he left, he held me tightly, his heart hammering against his chest. “Tomorrow, you’ll finally be my wife, Chloe. I’m so happy.” I nodded expressionlessly. At midnight, I packed the last of my things and headed to the airport. My flight was scheduled for 2:00 AM. Before boarding, I took a photo of the suburban cottage and sent it to our three-person Snapchat group. I didn’t say a single word. I turned off my phone, stepped onto the plane, and left. Twelve hours later, the plane touched down in Iceland. By then, the wedding was already over. The moment I turned my phone back on, a barrage of missed calls and notifications flooded in, making my phone vibrate violently.

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That day, while waiting to pick up my daughter from school, a viral interview clip popped up on my phone. A woman on the screen was smiling, bragging about how she had once convinced her boss not to rescue his kidnapped fiancée from the wilderness. “It was good for her to suffer a bit,” she said smoothly. “Otherwise, once she married into the family, who would be able to keep her in her place?” In the video, her hand, with its bright red nails, brushed past her ring finger. Inside the band of her ring was a tiny, custom wave pattern—a design I had handdrawn myself. It turned out that behind my back, my husband had already hooked up with his secretary. It turned out that the three days I spent kidnapped and terrified didn’t even compare to one of his business deals. My life was nothing compared to the profit in his eyes. I didn’t want to love Julian Vance anymore. Vivian Sommers’s POV On my way to pick up Chloe from her afterschool art class, I saw a viral interview clip on TikTok. The caption was eyecatching: What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done but never admitted to? The camera didn’t show the woman’s face. It only focused on her hand resting on the rim of a coffee cup. Her nails were painted a striking scarlet red. She spoke in a casual, airy tone, as if she were telling a harmless story from the past. “I used to work for this billionaire CEO.” “He had a fiancée. She came from a wealthy family and had a pretty fiery temper.” “Once, she was kidnapped and held in the mountains. My boss was right in the middle of signing a massive merger. I convinced him not to go save her right away.” “I told him, ‘Let her suffer a bit. It’ll humble her. Otherwise, how are you going to manage her once she wears your ring?’” Someone in the studio let out a soft laugh, but the room quickly fell quiet. The woman laughed too. “Who knew she was so fragile? She completely broke after that night. They had to send her to a private psychiatric facility, locked away for years. Looking back, I don’t think I did anything wrong. If she hadn’t gotten out of the way, I wouldn’t be where I am today.” I pulled over at the intersection. The wind was howling outside. Dead leaves scraped across my windshield. I stared at the screen, my eyes locked on the ring on her finger. That ring wasn’t from a luxury brand. I had drawn the sketch myself years ago. Inside the band, there was a tiny, delicate wave pattern. I had designed it specifically for Julian to wear on our wedding day. But that ring never made it to the altar. Instead, it ended up on Mila Hayes’s finger. The comment section was already in chaos. Some called her evil, some demanded to know who the CEO was, and others dug up old news articles, remembering a highprofile kidnapping of a wealthy young heiress in Boston years ago. I didn’t click on those articles. I already knew what was under those old headlines. There would be photos of me running into Julian’s press conference, wrapped in a dirty, torn coat. There would be pictures of the raw, unhealed bruises on my wrists and ankles. People would be speculating if I had lost my mind, wondering why I chose that exact day—Julian’s biggest triumph—to ruin his moment. Back then, I was a broken mess, while Julian stood under the bright lights, with a perfectly styled Mila standing right by his side. Even after all these years, I still remembered the way he looked at me that day. It wasn’t pity. It was embarrassment. The car behind me honked loudly. The light had turned green. I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and started the car. As I turned the corner, my phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number popped up: Vivian, are you okay? The only person who would call me that had lost the right to ask that question a long time ago. I deleted the message and parked in front of the art school. Chloe ran out with her little backpack bouncing on her shoulders, her cheeks flushed, holding a drawing tightly in her hand. “Mommy! I drew the wind today!” I knelt down to catch her in my arms, smiling. “How do you draw the wind, sweetie?” Chloe nodded seriously. “You can! See, the trees are bending, and the girl’s dress is flying. That means the wind is here.” I held her close. Yes. The wind is invisible, but it always leaves a mark. Just like the past. Chloe kept talking excitedly in the back seat about how one classmate drew a purple sun, and another drew a dog that looked like a potato. I listened quietly, watching her in the rearview mirror. A child’s world is so small. A single piece of paper is their entire sky. Sometimes, I felt so grateful that Chloe didn’t know how easily adults could lie about love, or how quickly they could throw you away. My phone was on silent, but it kept vibrating inside my bag. I didn’t answer. I used to rush to answer Julian’s calls the very second they rang. I was always terrified of making him angry, terrified of him thinking I was spoiled, terrified of losing my chance to hear his explanation. But now, the phone was buzzing, and I could still drive, still pick up my daughter, and still put dinner on the table. My world didn’t end. When we got home, Chloe taped her “wind” drawing to the fridge. Looking at the crooked trees and the flying dress, I smiled. If the wind had to blow, I hoped this time, it would blow the old dust far, far away.

Vivian Sommers’s POV Before I turned twenty三, I believed my life would always be perfect. I was the treasured daughter of the Sommers family. I played the violin, performed at solo concerts, and had a private driver to take me everywhere. Julian Vance was a young, ambitious guy my father had brought into the company after the Vance family went bankrupt. He was smart, resilient, driven, and extremely handsome. Everyone said we were a perfect match. I was the crown jewel of the Sommers family, and he was the brilliant young man who would run our business one day. I believed that too. Until the day before our engagement rehearsal, when I stepped out of the bridal boutique and was dragged into an unmarked van. Those men hadn’t planned it on a whim. They knew exactly who I was. They knew Julian was about to sign a massive, careermaking logistics deal, and they knew the Sommers family was backing him. They didn’t just want a simple ransom. They wanted Julian to freeze the deal and pay a massive deposit to secure my safety. I wasn’t scared at first. I believed my parents would save me. I believed Julian would come for me. But the first day passed, and nobody came. The second day passed, and still, nothing. On the third night, I heard my captors cursing outside the door. “That bastard Julian Vance used her to climb to the top, and now that she’s in trouble, he doesn’t give a damn. He’s holding his press conference right now. He hasn’t sent a single dime. He’s coldblooded.” I curled up in the corner, my hands completely numb from the ropes. I wanted to scream at them. Julian wouldn’t do that. He just doesn’t know yet. But the guard threw his phone in front of me. On the screen was a live broadcast of the signing ceremony. Julian, wearing a sleek, dark suit, was standing on the stage, accepting applause. Mila stood right behind him, adjusting his tie. She did it so naturally, as if she had done it a thousand times. The reporter asked him if today was the most important day of his life. Julian looked directly into the camera and said, “Yes.” My heart shattered. The captor told me to make one last call. When the line connected, Mila’s voice came through first. “Vivian? Julian is busy right now.” My voice shook. “Put him on the phone.” Mila let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Stop making a scene, Vivian. This deal can’t wait. Julian said he’ll handle your situation once this is over.” I was trembling with terror. “I’m going to die!” The line went silent for a second. Then, Mila lowered her voice. “Then learn your lesson. Stop acting like the entire world revolves around you.” The call went dead. The kidnappers’ faces turned dark. They thought they had a winning card in their hands, but all they got was Julian’s silence and my family’s hesitation. I only found out later why my parents had hesitated. On that very same day, they had received a secret DNA test report. I wasn’t their biological daughter. Julian was the one who had handed them that report. He told them their real daughter had died in infancy, and that I was just a child mixed up in a hospital error years ago. Arthur and Evelyn Sommers felt like their sky had fallen. They still loved me, but the grief of losing their real daughter paralyzed them. While they were drowning in shock, Julian naturally stepped in and took full control of the situation. And he chose to sign his deal first. During those terrifying days, I heard my name mentioned constantly by the guards. Sometimes they said the Sommers heiress was worth millions. Sometimes they said she wasn’t worth a dime. They said men like Julian Vance knew exactly how to play the devoted fiancé, but when it came down to choosing between a woman and his career, he was as cold as ice. Those words felt like a physical blow to my chest. At first, I was angry, but eventually, I didn’t even have the strength for anger. I started counting the cracks on the wall. One, two, three. I counted until dawn, and then I started over. I was terrified that if I stopped, I would see Julian standing on that stage, saying “Yes” to the camera. That wasn’t the man I thought I was going to marry. That wasn’t the man who held an umbrella over me in the rain, or the boy who promised he would never leave me. It doesn’t take years for a person to become a stranger. It only takes one choice.

Vivian Sommers’s POV I was held in an abandoned wedding venue deep in the mountains. The walls still had faded, peeling “Just Married” banners. At night, the cold wind howled through the broken windows, rustling the plastic ribbons. It sounded like someone was laughing at me in the dark. The kidnappers had been careful with me at first. But when they realized no money was coming, their patience wore thin. I was beaten, and they forced me to pose for terrifying photos. The physical pain was nothing compared to the agonizing realization that I had been abandoned. I found a moment of chaos during a shift change and ran. It was pouring rain. The mountain paths were pure mud and rock. I didn’t know how long I ran. I only remember the sharp rocks slicing open the soles of my feet. The pinky finger on my left hand was broken, and it would never fully straighten again. In the distance, I saw bright lights. I ran toward them. It was the venue for Julian’s celebration party. Large screens lined the hall, reading: A New Era: Strategic Partnership. The room was filled with reporters, investors, and employees. I was wearing a torn, dirty plastic tarp I had found in a shed. When I stumbled into the bright hall, the entire room fell dead silent. Every single camera turned toward me. I saw Julian. And I saw Mila standing right next to him. I reached my hand out to him, my voice barely a whisper. “Julian… save me.” Julian’s face turned incredibly dark. He stepped down from the stage, but he didn’t hold me. Instead, he stood in front of the cameras, blocking their view of me, and whispered, “What are you doing here?” I froze. I was covered in blood and mud, barely able to stand. And his first question was why was I here. Mila walked over with a polite, gentle smile, offering me a blanket like a saint. “Vivian, please don’t ruin the press conference. You’re making things very difficult for Julian.” I grabbed Julian’s sleeve. “They beat me, Julian. They threatened me. I called you… why didn’t you come?” A flash of irritation crossed Julian’s eyes. “I sent Mila to negotiate with them,” he said. “You could have just waited. Why did you have to crash this event today?” It felt like a knife twisting in my chest. “Wait?” My voice shook violently. “How long was I supposed to wait?” Julian lowered his voice, hisswhispering so the mic wouldn’t catch it. “Vivian, you used to be so sensible. Why can’t you just behave?” Behave. There it was again. I finally understood. Mila hadn’t come up with that phrase on her own. The press conference quickly descended into absolute chaos. Though Julian managed to scrub the internet of the worst stories, some photos still leaked. People whispered that the Sommers heiress had lost her mind, that she was throwing a tantrum to ruin her fiancé’s big day, and speculated about what had happened to me in the mountains. Nobody asked if I was hurt. Later, in the dressing room, Mila handed me the DNA test results with a smug smile. “Do you really think the Sommers family will still burn the world down for you?” she mocked. “You’re just an outsider who got swapped at birth. Julian is being incredibly generous by keeping you around.” That was the moment I realized the ground beneath my feet had been completely swept away. My parents remained silent. Julian was cold. And Mila stood by, watching me fall from grace. That night, they kept me in a small holding room next to the venue. Outside, the staff were packing up. Trash cans clattered, and damp footsteps marked the carpet. I sat in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in the blanket, but I couldn’t stop shivering. Outside the door, people were gossiping. “Was that really Vivian Sommers?” “Looked like her. But how did she end up looking like a street dog?” “Julian is so unlucky. His biggest night completely ruined by her.” I listened to their whispers, feeling a deep, hollow absurdity. I had almost died in those mountains, but their first reaction was that Julian was unlucky. When you are broken enough, even being the victim makes you an embarrassment. Julian came in once. He stood near the door, keeping his distance, and told his assistant to take me to the hospital. I looked up at him, hoping he would come with me, but his phone rang, and he turned around to answer it. In that second, I stopped pretending he was just too busy. He simply didn’t care about me anymore.

Vivian Sommers’s POV They took me back to the Vance estate. Julian publicly claimed I was “recovering from trauma.” My adoptive parents never came to see me. They only sent a lawyer with a trust fund agreement, stating it was the final settlement they could offer for my future. Money. By then, I didn’t know what money could possibly buy back for me. I ate on time, slept on time, and sat through sessions with the therapists they brought in. Julian told me not to look at the news, so I didn’t. He told me never to mention the kidnapping, so I kept my mouth shut. Everyone said I was finally “behaving.” Only I knew the truth. I was terrified. I was terrified of being locked away again, terrified of being abandoned, terrified that my screams would be treated as another dramatic scene. But the hardest part was Julian’s touch. Whenever his hand brushed mine, my entire body would shake violently. Even though I knew he wasn’t one of the kidnappers, my body remembered the dark cabin in the mountains. Julian put up with it at first. But eventually, his patience ran out. One night, after a celebration dinner, he came home smelling heavily of alcohol. I was sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to massage my crooked pinky finger. He stared at my bandaged hand, and his first words were, “How much longer are you going to act like this?” I looked up. “I’m trying to get better.” “Better?” Julian let out a cold laugh. “I’ve waited long enough, Vivian.” He reached out to pull me toward him. Panic seized me. I scrambled back, knocking over the bedside lamp. The ceramic shattered with a loud crash. In the blinding panic, I grabbed a heavy bronze paperweight from the nightstand and threw it at him. It struck his forehead, drawing blood. Mila was the first to burst into the room. She didn’t ask what happened. She just screamed for the guards. “Call the doctor! She’s having another episode!” The next day, I was sent to a highsecurity private psychiatric facility. Julian signed the papers himself. He looked at me through the glass and said, “Vivian, when you’re stable, I’ll take you home.” I stood behind the locked doors, watching the heavy metal gates slam shut. I knew he was never coming back. From the moment I crashed his press conference, Julian didn’t see me as his fiancée. He saw me as a problem that needed to disappear. I stayed in that facility for a very long time. Seasons changed. I finally accepted that I would never be the happy twentythreeyearold girl again. And then, the doctor delivered another piece of news. I had been pregnant. But the baby didn’t survive. When the doctor told me, it was raining outside. I lay on the cold white bed, the red marks from the leather restraints still visible on my wrists. When I heard “we couldn’t save the baby,” I didn’t cry. I was just numb. I hadn’t even known I was pregnant. I didn’t know that during my darkest nights, a tiny life had been quietly keeping me company. Then, the grief hit me like a tidal wave. It froze my hands and feet, choked the air out of my lungs, and finally broke through my chest in a scream. I thought I had already lost everything. My identity, my parents, my fiancé, my violin. But fate wasn’t done with me. It took the one tiny soul I never got to hold. That night, for the first time, I sobbed so hard the entire ward could hear me. When the nurses rushed in, I curled into a ball, whispering, “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” I didn’t even know who I was apologizing to. For a long time after that, I couldn’t bear to hear the sound of a baby crying. Whenever a visitor brought a baby down the hall, I would pull the blanket over my head and dig my nails deep into my palms. The doctor didn’t force me to recover quickly. He only made me write one sentence every day: I am still alive today. At first, my broken finger made the handwriting look like chicken scratch. But eventually, I was able to fold the paper neatly and place it in my drawer.

Vivian Sommers’s POV I saw Julian again years later, right outside Chloe’s school. Years had passed since those dark events. I had cut my hair short and opened a small antique restoration workshop, fixing old jewelry, instruments, and picture frames. Since my left pinky wasn’t fully functional, I had learned to work at a much slower pace. I thought I had built a quiet, invisible life. Until Mila’s TikTok interview went viral. Julian stood outside the crowd of parents, wearing a long dark coat. He looked much thinner and more exhausted than I remembered. When he saw me holding Chloe’s hand, he froze. Chloe hugged my leg. “Mommy! I wasn’t the last one picked up today!” I stroked her hair. “Good job, sweetie.” Julian’s eyes drifted to Chloe’s face. His voice was cracked and hollow. “Is she… yours?” I pulled Chloe slightly behind me. “She has nothing to do with you.” “Vivian.” Hearing my name from his mouth felt strangely familiar, yet it stirred absolutely nothing in my chest. Just a dull, heavy tiredness. Julian took a step forward. “I saw Mila’s interview. I swear, Vivian… I didn’t know she did that to you back then.” I looked him dead in the eye. “You didn’t know she told you not to come? Or you didn’t know I was actually being hurt?” Julian choked on his words. “I thought the guards were keeping an eye on you, that nothing serious would happen,” he stammered. “I thought you were just shaken up. I never imagined…” “You never imagined it because you never bothered to ask.” My voice was quiet, but Chloe felt the tension and gripped my hand tighter. Seeing her reaction, Julian’s eyes welled with tears. “How old is she?” “None of your business.” “Is she… mine?” “No,” I cut him off. “Chloe is adopted. You can run a background check if you want, but stay away from her.” Julian stood frozen on the sidewalk. He stared at me, finally seeing the hollow spaces those painful years had left on my face. “Why didn’t you contact me after you were discharged?” I almost laughed. “Julian, you signed the papers to lock me away, and you didn’t visit me once in years. Now you’re asking why I didn’t call you?” Julian’s face went entirely pale. I helped Chloe into her car seat and buckled her in. Julian instinctively reached out to block the door, scraping his knuckles against the metal frame. I looked at the thin line of blood on his hand and said coldly, “Move.” Julian whispered, “I just want to make it up to you.” “Then stay away from me.” I made sure Chloe was safe inside, slammed the door, and locked the past outside. Chloe was very quiet in the back seat. After a few blocks, she whispered, “Mommy, did that man know you?” My knuckles were white against the steering wheel. I didn’t want to drag my daughter into the mess of my past, nor did I want her to know how cruel people could be in the name of love.

Vivian Sommers’s POV “Yes,” I said softly. “But we haven’t spoken in a very long time.” Chloe thought about it. “He made you sad.” My heart softened. “You could tell?” “Yeah,” Chloe nodded. “Your smile didn’t look real.” I pulled over to the side of the road, turned around, and adjusted her scarf. “Mommy’s okay. We’re going to have dinner at Maya’s house tonight, okay?” Chloe’s eyes lit up instantly. “With strawberry cupcakes?” “Yes, with strawberry cupcakes.” Dr. Maya Sterling was the therapist I had met at the recovery center. Over time, she became my closest friend. She was the one who helped me navigate the adoption process after I got out. Back then, my doctor had suggested I get a pet to help with my anxiety. But during a volunteer trip to an orphanage, I met Chloe. She was a tiny, quiet thing, holding a stuffed rabbit that was missing an eye, standing far away from the other kids. I fixed the rabbit’s eye for her. After that, she followed me everywhere, quietly calling me “big sister.” Eventually, she started calling me “Mommy.” I knew that when I first brought Chloe home, it wasn’t entirely selfless. I had lost a child, and I had lost the ability to ever have another. Chloe was like a tiny nightlight, illuminating the dark, empty corners of my broken heart. But over the years, I realized she was never a replacement. Chloe was Chloe. She was picky about her food, hated waking up early, drew weird pictures of the wind, and would clumsily offer me tissues whenever I woke up from a nightmare. I would never let Julian Vance near her. That night, I dropped Chloe off at Maya’s place and went back to my workshop alone. As expected, Julian was waiting by the door. He looked like he had been drinking, his eyes bloodshot, clutching a dusty wooden box in his hands. “These are your things from back then,” he said, his voice trembling. “I kept them.” I didn’t reach for it. The box probably held old photos, the brooch from my engagement dress, and invitations to a wedding that never happened. Julian believed that if he could just gather the broken pieces, he could glue the past back together. But the thing that broke wasn’t a photo. It was me. Julian cracked the lid open. I saw a glimpse of a pale gold wedding invitation and an old brooch. It was a butterfly brooch, studded with tiny diamonds, that I had worn for my twentieth birthday. I used to love it so much. I thought butterflies were beautiful and light, as if they would never have to touch the dirt. Now, looking at it, I felt absolutely nothing. “I’ve kept them all these years,” Julian repeated. I looked at him. “When you were hoarding these trinkets, did you ever stop to think about how I was surviving in that facility?” Julian’s hand froze. He kept those beautiful things to pretend I was still unbroken. As long as he didn’t look at the real, shattered me, he could pretend we had just had a misunderstanding, that we were just victims of Mila’s lies. Julian began talking rapidly, his words stumbling over each other. He said the DNA report had shocked my adoptive parents so deeply they collapsed, and he had to take charge of the company to keep things stable. He said the logistics deal affected thousands of employees’ livelihoods, so he couldn’t stop it. He said Mila told him the kidnappers were just trying to scare the Sommers family, and that they wouldn’t actually hurt me. I listened to him, entirely detached.

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