Author: Momo Chan

My father was a raging alcoholic. Every time he got drunk, he’d abuse me and my brother, Leo. Afterward, he’d always throw a few hundred dollars at me as compensation. I accepted it calmly, sometimes even buying him his favorite greasy burger and a cheap bottle of whiskey. The neighbors tried to call the police for me, but I shook my head. I touched my bruised arm and smiled faintly. “If he hits me twice more, Leo will be hit twice less.” Until that night, when he got drunk again and pushed Leo off a tall building at a construction site. Robert’s slap landed, and I heard the crisp snap of teeth colliding. One side of my face burned. My mouth filled with the taste of iron. A banknote fluttered to my feet. “Take it! Take the damn money!” “This is your old man’s generosity, go buy something good to fix yourself up!” Robert’s neck was thick and red, his chest heaving, spittle flying onto my face. I said nothing, bending down to fumble for the money on the ground with fingers still swollen from being stepped on. The money was stained with my and Leo’s blood. But I knew, money was the only thing that could buy us what we needed. I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with my sleeve, lifted my eyelids, and stared fixedly at him. “What are you staring at?! Stare at me like that again, and I’ll gouge your eyes out and pickle them in booze! Now, go get me my alcohol!” He roared, then slumped onto the blackened wicker chair. The chair groaned under the strain. In the corner, Leo cowered behind the old kitchen counter, trembling. His arm was red and swollen, covered in purple belt marks. I walked over, squatted down, and touched his burning wound with my cold fingers. Leo flinched sharply, lifting his head. His eyes were filled with hatred. “Sarah… it hurts…” he squeezed out a groan. “Bear with it,” I whispered into his ear, my voice icy. “It will be over soon.” I stood up, clutching the fifty-dollar bill in my hand, and walked out into the dusty wind. The convenience store had a strange smell. I slapped the money onto the counter. “Mr. Henderson, I need a gallon of the nastiest rotgut.” “The kind that feels like it’s burning a hole through your gut.” The owner looked at the slap mark on my face. “Oh, Sarah, child, why do you put yourself through this?” “Your father beats you like this, and you still serve him?” “Yeah, that Robert is an animal.” “If I were you, I’d have put rat poison in his drink long ago.” The men hanging around were just spitting and talking loudly. I ignored them, watching expressionlessly as Mr. Henderson poured the murky liquid into a plastic jug. Next door, I bought two pounds of fatty cuts of pork. When I returned home, Robert was already passed out on the table, snoring like a freight train. I slammed the jug of liquor onto the table. The dull thud startled him awake. He suddenly sprang up. “My booze! Where’s my booze!” “Did you, you wretched girl, steal my liquor?!” He snatched the jug, pulled off the cap, and guzzled it down. The murky liquid streamed down his stubble, wetting his greasy undershirt. “Dad, here’s some braised pork, eat it while it’s hot.” “It’s all fatty, smells delicious.” I pushed the plate of pork in front of him, my voice submissive. Robert grabbed a piece of fatty meat and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing until his chin was dripping with grease. “Mmm… Sarah’s so devoted… much better than that bastard brother of yours…” “That bastard is nothing but a burden…” As he spoke, he suddenly raised a hand and slapped himself hard across the face. The sharp crack echoed in the empty shack, making Leo in the corner flinch. “Dad’s at his wit’s end… Dad truly is at his wit’s end…” “Sarah, don’t blame your old man…” He burst into tears, snot and tears smearing his face. I stood in the shadows, watching him with cold eyes. I pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper from my pocket – an accident insurance policy. In the dim light, I checked the effective date over and over, a cold smile playing on my lips. Three more days. Just three more days, and his life would be worth something. Robert cried enough, then took another large gulp of alcohol, letting out a burp that sprayed onto my face. “Sarah… you drink too… it won’t hurt anymore if you drink…” “You’ll see your mom if you drink…” He held the bottle out to me, his bloodshot eyes staring. I quietly watched the vein in his neck throbbing wildly. I calculated in my mind how much longer that vein would beat. “I won’t drink, Dad. I don’t hurt.” I said softly. The shack was damp and stuffy, filled with a foul smell. I rubbed balm on Leo’s back wounds. With each stroke, his muscles tensed, but he bit his lip and didn’t utter a sound.

“Sarah, I want to kill him.” Leo suddenly spoke, his voice cold. My hand froze, the balm dripping onto the sheet, spreading a dark red stain. “Don’t be silly,” I reprimanded in a low voice. “Murder means prison, we still need to live our lives.” “Then how much longer do we have to wait?” He turned his head, his eyes fixed on mine. “Soon.” I pulled up his shirt, covering his scars. “Once that day comes, we’ll be free.” Outside the shack, Robert’s loud voice drifted in, him bragging to his coworkers. “I tell you, having a daughter is like having a goldmine!” “When she gets married, the dowry will be at least fifty grand!” “Robert, you’re full of it. Your girl’s as skinny as a rail.” “Who’d pay that much money?” “Bullshit! My girl’s slender!” “Besides, she’s obedient! If I tell her to go east, she won’t dare go west!” A burst of laughter followed. My heart remained unmoved. That evening at dinner, I crushed a bottle of disulfiram, an alcohol deterrent, and mixed it into Robert’s blood pressure medication bottle. The book said disulfiram, if consumed with alcohol, would trigger violent psychotic episodes within 5-10 minutes. Robert suspected nothing, grabbing a handful of pills and shoving them into his mouth, washing them down with a large gulp of the rotgut. “Why does this medicine taste a little bitter?” He smacked his lips, frowning. “Good medicine tastes bitter, Dad. This is imported, it works really well.” I lied without batting an eye. After a few more drinks, the medication kicked in. Robert became agitated, pacing around the room, his eyes bulging. “Ghosts! There are ghosts! That dead bitch is back!” “She’s here to claim my life!” He pointed at the empty corner, screaming and waving an empty liquor bottle. Leo and I huddled in the corner of the bed, watching him go mad with cold eyes, calculating that the medicine was indeed working! The next morning, Mr. Jenkins from the neighboring village came knocking. He was a local contractor and also a pimp. “Robert, Sarah’s not getting any younger, I see.” “That limp Mr. Davies from the next town is offering ten thousand dollars as a dowry…” My hand, washing clothes, abruptly stopped. To my surprise, Robert suddenly flew into a rage, smashing the bottle of liquor Mr. Jenkins had brought. “Get out! You old scumbag!” “Who said I’m selling my daughter?! My daughter is going to college!” He grabbed a shovel and went after Mr. Jenkins. Mr. Jenkins scrambled out of the shack. I was stunned. Late that night, I was woken by grinding teeth. I saw Leo sitting on the bed. Moonlight shone on his face. He held a rusty pair of scissors, hovering them over Robert’s head. I scrambled up, snatched the scissors, and clapped my hand over his mouth. “Are you crazy?! Didn’t we agree I’d be the one to do it!” I hissed into his ear. Leo turned his head to look at me, his face full of grievance. “Sarah, I don’t want to wait anymore. I’m afraid he’ll sell you again.” “I don’t want to be separated from you.” I hugged his frail body, tears streaming uncontrollably. “It won’t happen. I’ll never abandon you.” The next day, Robert sobered up. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at a photo of Leo and me. We were smiling happily in the picture; it was taken when Mom was still alive. A tear dropped onto the photo, landing on Mom’s face. “Sarah… take good care of your brother from now on… Dad’s a piece of trash…” “Dad’s sorry for you both…” He mumbled, his voice hoarse. I stood outside the door, listening to his repentance, my mind solely on that spiked bottle of liquor. The sky was gloomy, storm clouds gathered. On the construction site, the wind howled through the scaffolding. A thirty-story building, with only a few steel pipe railings. Robert was on the night shift today, guarding building materials on the rooftop. I used the excuse of bringing him food, and with Leo, slipped into the construction zone, avoiding all cameras. After climbing thirty flights of stairs, my legs were trembling. “Sarah, it’s here.” Leo pointed to the railing near the edge, his voice calm. Leo pulled an adjustable wrench from his backpack and handed it to me.

“Sarah, do it. Just two turns.” “No one will ever find out. It’ll just be an accident.” I took the wrench, my palms slick with sweat. I squatted down, gritting my teeth, and jammed the wrench onto the nut fixing the railing. The nut was rusted solid. I used too much force, and my fingernail snapped, bleeding. “My turn.” Leo pushed me aside, picked up a crowbar, and inserted it into the steel pipe’s connection point. With a soft “CRACK,” the weld snapped, and the steel pipe wobbled. We then poured a layer of used engine oil onto the steel pipe. Leo looked at the trap, a faint smile on his face. After all this, we packed up, ready to head back the way we came. As we reached the second-floor stairwell, a cough suddenly came from a dark corner. “Cough, cough… Who’s there! Trying to steal my rebar, huh?! Stop right there!” It was Robert’s voice. I grabbed Leo’s hand and was about to run for the exit. “Sarah? Leo? What are you two doing here?” Robert emerged from the shadows, holding a flashlight. The bright light blinded me. I instinctively tried to hide the backpack behind my back. “Dad… I… I saw it was going to rain today, so I brought you some warm clothes.” I stammered an explanation. Robert looked at us suspiciously, his gaze lingering on our muddy shoes. “Why didn’t you call me if you were bringing clothes?” “This construction site is full of hazards, what if you fall?” He grumbled, pulling a plastic bag from his pocket and stuffing it into my hand. “Take it! These are calcium supplements, for Leo.” “The kid’s too short.” I clutched the bag of calcium, still warm from his body heat. “Thank you, Dad. You… be careful up there, the wind’s strong.” “Don’t drink too much.” “Alright, alright, now hurry home and do your homework!” “You two just annoy me! You two burdens!” He waved a hand, turned, and walked upstairs, his back stooped. I watched his silhouette disappear, the cold wrench in my backpack digging painfully into my back. Late that night, the heavy rain arrived as expected, lightning tearing across the sky. Thunder shook the construction site, all sounds drowned out by the rain. Leo and I, wrapped in raincoats, climbed to the top floor. In the shack, Robert sat by the railing, holding a liquor bottle. I had spiked that bottle with half a bottle of disulfiram, and with the liquor’s strong taste, he hadn’t noticed. After drinking half a bottle of the doctored liquor, Robert’s eyes bulged, his face contorted in madness. “Drink! All of you, drink!” “Tonight, us two men won’t stop until we’re drunk! Hahaha!” Seeing us enter, he slammed the bottle onto the table. “Sarah! Leo! You’re just in time!” “Look, your mom’s here to pick us up! She’s flying in the sky!” He pointed at the night sky outside, a twisted smile on his face. Suddenly, his expression changed. “No! You bitch! How dare you bring another man here!” “You’re making a fool of me!” He grabbed a wooden stool and smashed it fiercely into the air. Wood chips flew. He turned, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Leo. “It’s you! You bastard!” “You’re the one who led your mom astray! You must be her and that other man’s bastard! You want to hurt me, don’t you!” He lunged forward, clutching a broken stool leg. “Run! Run!” I shouted, pushing Leo toward the railing. Leo screamed, turning to run, his steps faltering. “I’ll cleanse this family today!” “I’ll kill you two dogs! Die, both of you!” Robert ran wildly on the muddy ground, chasing Leo. Leo reached the railing, stopping abruptly. He turned to look at Robert, then leaned backward. Half his body instantly hung in the air. “Ah! Help!” Leo let out a scream. Robert reached him, saw Leo falling, and his expression froze. The murderous intent in his eyes instantly turned to terror. “Leo!” He roared, threw away the stool leg, and lunged without hesitation. He grabbed Leo’s collar tightly, trying to pull him back. The railing couldn’t bear the weight of two people. “CRACK!” A muffled snap. The steel pipe came loose, and the railing instantly collapsed. Robert lost his balance and tumbled over with the railing. Leo, however, using Robert’s push, flipped back onto the platform. He lay on the ground, panting, his eyes calm. Robert didn’t fall immediately; he grabbed onto the rebar at the edge of the platform. He hung suspended in mid-air, the heavy rain washing over his face. “Sarah… save me… pull your old man up…” “Please, pull your old man up…” He saw me, and desperation exploded in his eyes. I walked to the edge of the platform, looking down at him. Rainwater ran from my hair into my eyes, stinging. I slowly squatted down, reached out my hand, and placed it over his. “Dad, didn’t you say living was too tiring?” I said softly. Robert was stunned: “Sarah… what are you doing… I’m your dad…” “I’m your own father…” “I know.” I nodded, forcing a smile. “So, I’m sending you to see Mom. She’s been waiting for you down there for a long time.” With that, I exerted force, one by one, prying his fingers open. Just as he was about to fall, a sudden chill ran down my spine. Behind me, in the rain, I heard extremely faint footsteps. Robert stared intently at the shadow behind me, his face contorted with terror. “Run!!” The next second, before I could act, he actually let go of the hand he was using to save himself!

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My mother always said that people don’t learn from being told; they learn instantly from experience. When I was little, I reached for a kettle of boiling water, and she just stood by and watched coldly. I screamed and cried when I got burned. “Good, it hurts,” she said. “If it doesn’t hurt, you won’t remember.” I didn’t know how to read traffic lights, and she didn’t warn me; instead, she urged me to walk faster. I got hit by an electric scooter and was thrown flying, needing seven stitches. But she told me, “Getting hit once will teach you a lesson for life. It’s a good thing.” I became cautious and composed. To escape my toxic family, I studied hard and got into a top university. My mother, however, believed it was a testament to her successful parenting. She’d tell everyone that this was how you had to raise kids – talking sense was useless; they’d understand once they suffered a loss. Later, when she made a spectacle of herself in our upscale neighborhood, I stayed silent. When she got completely taken in by a scamming group, I watched her fall right into their trap with cold eyes. Doesn’t she love learning from experience? Then let her have her fill!

After my dad passed away, my mom packed up bags and bags, saying that after raising me for so long, it was time for her to come enjoy the good life in the big city. But she didn’t even make it into the complex before security mistook her for a thief and detained her. When I arrived, my mom was being pinned against a wall by a security guard. Her hair was disheveled, and she was flailing wildly. “Let me go! My daughter lives here! What right do you have to grab me?!” People around us were holding up their phones, pointing and whispering. “That lady was climbing over the fence just now, acting so shady. She definitely looks like trouble.” “No decent person would do that. I heard thieves these days target fancy neighborhoods.” “She’s pretty quick on her feet, probably a veteran.” “Bullshit! I’m not a thief!” My mom struggled violently, spitting on the ground. “Get my daughter! I want my daughter!” I walked over. The security guard saw me and looked like I was his savior. His neck and face were covered in bleeding scratches; she’d clearly put up a fight. “Are you family?” the guard asked me. I nodded. “She didn’t have an access card and insisted on forcing her way in. I told her visitor registration was an option, but then she refused when I asked for her ID!” The guard’s face was flushed with anger. “She took a detour to climb the fence and was mistaken for a thief by patrol. Not only was she foul-mouthed, but she hit me!” “So what if I hit you! You worthless security guard, who do you think you are! How dare you stop me? I’m going to report you!” My mom yelled, her face pressed against the wall, twisting her head back. The guard’s face darkened. “Call the police,” I told the guard. “You shouldn’t have to put up with this for nothing.” The guard was stunned. “After all, experience teaches you instantly.” I shrugged indifferently. “So let’s make sure she learns her lesson.” That’s when my mom finally spotted me. “You little brat, say that again?!” Her voice shot up, piercingly sharp. “Your own mother is being bullied like this, and you’re siding with an outsider! Do you have no conscience?” “Do you know how hard it was for me to raise you? Your dad just died, and you treat me like this? If you’d come out and picked me up earlier, would I have had to climb the fence? Did you even give me an access card?” “I did.” My mom didn’t react immediately. “I gave it to you on Dad’s funeral day. It was on your nightstand.” She opened her mouth, her eyes blank, then a look of sudden realization dawned on her. “You ungrateful girl! You didn’t even remind me! I thought it was just some useless ad flyer and already threw it away!” “Remind you?” I chuckled. “Mom, don’t you always say that you only learn when you suffer a loss? I was just trying to help you develop your organizational skills. Experience teaches you instantly; next time, you’ll remember to put things in their proper place.”

Some people around us snickered. “That lady is something else, so unreliable and still blaming her daughter.” “Poor girl, stuck with a mom like that.” My mom’s face flushed then paled, her lips trembling for a long time before she finally managed to blurt out, “Don’t give me that nonsense! Just make them let me go!” “Alright, two choices.” I pulled out my phone. “First, you apologize to the security guard and pay for his medical expenses. Second, the police take you in, and you face detention and fines. You choose.” “You ungrateful wretch! I gave birth to you, I raised you…” “Choose.” She glared at me, her eyes bloodshot. More and more people gathered to watch the scene. The security guard lowered his restraining device, also waiting. Seeing her delay, I lost patience and started dialing numbers, ready to call the police. “Wait!” She finally lowered her head, squeezing out through gritted teeth: “I’m sorry.” The security guard didn’t say anything. She gritted her teeth, pulled out a handful of crumpled bills from her pocket, and shoved them into the guard’s hand without counting. “That’s all?” I frowned, turning to the guard. “If that’s not enough, maybe you should scratch my mom a couple of times too. Otherwise, she won’t learn her lesson.” “I’ll get it! I’ll get it, alright?!” My mom shrieked, shooting me a furious look, and pulled out a few more bills. I nodded, and only then did the security guard accept it. I swiped my access card, and my mom dashed inside as if escaping. Once inside the apartment, she started yelling obscenities. “You unfilial daughter! You sided with an outsider to make your mother suffer! And you made me apologize to that worthless security guard? Does he deserve it?” “That rotten security guard looked down on me! This isn’t over; I’ll make him pay!” I nodded. “Go ahead and do whatever you want. After all, you learn your lesson when you suffer a loss.” She was choked into silence by my words and stormed back to her room in a fit of rage. The next day, I was at work, my phone bombarded with messages. My mom sent a pile of photos, all of the persimmon trees in the complex. “Can I pick these?” she asked me. I ignored her. “If you don’t answer, I’m picking them.” A while later, she added, “Watch how I get back at that rotten security guard. I’ll make sure he loses his job.” I smirked coldly. Go ahead and cause more trouble. Let’s see how big a fall you take this time. When I got home that evening, I opened the door and froze. The living room was completely filled with persimmons; there was nowhere to even step. My mom sat on the couch, legs crossed, happily munching on snacks. Several empty persimmon peels were on the table. “You’re back.” She beamed with triumph. “Today I finally got my revenge.” “You picked all the persimmons?” “Yes! Not a single one left!” My mom gloated. “Today I saw that security guard watering the trees, so these persimmons must be his. I’ll let him grow them! I’ll let him act all smug! I picked them all bare, I’ll infuriate him!” I was silent for two seconds. “These are ornamental persimmons. You can’t eat them.” My mom’s hand, cracking snacks, paused. “And he didn’t plant them; it’s his job to water and maintain them.” “Bullshit!” She slammed down a snack peel. “His job? Why would he be so dedicated, watering them so carefully? I’m telling you, he planted them!” “Rich people are so stuck up! They look so good, but you can’t eat them? Who are you trying to fool?” She grabbed a persimmon, rubbed it on her clothes, and took a big bite. “These are all pretty sweet, aren’t they?” Chewing on the persimmon, she grew smug again. “Even if he didn’t plant them, with the persimmons gone, his boss will definitely chew him out. That’s called increasing his workload!” I looked at her, saying nothing. “You little brat, why are you staring at me?” “The complex has surveillance cameras,” I reminded her. She paused, then waved a dismissive hand. “So what about cameras? What’s the big deal about picking a few rotten persimmons? Are they going to arrest me?” No sooner had she spoken than the doorbell rang. I went to open the door. The property manager stood at the entrance, next to a police officer in uniform. “Hello, Officer,” the officer said, flashing his badge. “Is your mother home?”

My mom heard the commotion and sprang up from the couch. Seeing the police, she panicked. “What’s wrong?” Her voice trembled. The officer walked in, saw the floor covered in persimmons, and frowned. “Did you pick these persimmons?” My mom’s face instantly went white. “I… I just picked them for fun.” “For fun?” The property manager scoffed. “Those are Japanese Sweetheart Persimmons, a valuable ornamental variety. One plant costs over four hundred dollars! They finally bore fruit, and you picked every single one, not a single one left!” My mom’s legs went weak, and she leaned on the couch to steady herself. “The surveillance cameras clearly captured everything,” the property manager pulled out his phone. “You were picking from one in the afternoon until five, running back and forth over a dozen times!” “Destroying other people’s property, a significant amount, constitutes a criminal offense. You’ll have to come with us.” The officer pulled out handcuffs. “I didn’t know!” My mom’s voice was shrill and piercing. “I really didn’t know! I thought they were just ordinary persimmons!” She sharply turned her head and glared at me. “You! You knew all along, didn’t you? I asked you if I could pick them, why didn’t you answer me?” I said nothing. “You did it on purpose! You deliberately set me up!” She lunged at me, trying to hit me, but the officer quickly intervened. “No hitting!” A crowd of neighbors had already gathered at the door, craning their necks to look inside. “Isn’t that the one who climbed the fence yesterday?” “It really is her. Now she’s picking ornamental persimmons? That’s wild.” “Take her away, take her away, stop her from causing more trouble here.” My mom’s face turned a deep crimson, and she roared, “You dare lay a hand on me?! Taking someone away just for a few rotten persimmons? What kind of world do we live in?!” No sooner had she finished speaking than her face suddenly changed. She clutched her stomach and slowly bent down, squatting. “Ow…” Her face was pale. “Stop faking it!” The property manager frowned. “You were just trying to hit someone, and now you’re putting on an act again?” “I’m not faking it, my stomach hurts so bad…” Her body went limp, and she collapsed directly to the ground, writhing and clutching her stomach. Then a terrible stench filled the air. The neighbors covered their noses and backed away. “Oh my God!” “What is that awful smell?!” “She had an accident!” A puddle spread on the floor, and my mom was curled up in it, her face pale and yellowish, forehead covered in sweat. “Eating seven or eight persimmons in one go, and ornamental ones at that,” I looked down at her. “It’s a miracle she didn’t get sick earlier.” She gasped for air, her mouth open. “Quick… take me to the hospital.” The officer also covered his nose and retreated to the door. “Let’s call an ambulance first.” The property manager made the call. My mom lay in that mess, in pain and reeking, trembling all over. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with hatred. “Mom,” I leaned against the doorframe, “didn’t you say that experience teaches you instantly?” She glared at me, her lips trembling. “This time, that should be enough to remember for a lifetime, right?” The ambulance arrived. As the stretcher was carried out, everyone in the hallway tried to get out of the way. When she was lifted into the ambulance, she was cursing. “You heartless monster, you conspired against your own mother, may you be struck by lightning! Ow… you just wait, I won’t let you off…” My mom was taken to the emergency room. She had her stomach pumped and was put on an IV drip. Because I insisted on not paying for her, saying it would help her learn her lesson, she had to use her own retirement savings to cover the cost of the persimmons and medical bills. After this incident, my mom was quiet for a few days. But soon, I noticed she seemed to be plotting something. A few times I saw her whispering with Linda, the neighbor from the next bed. Both of them immediately stopped when they saw me. I knew Linda; she lived in our complex too. Her daughter supposedly ran some investment business and was always dressed in flashy jewelry. Every time she came to the hospital, she carried bags and bags of tonics, and my mom’s eyes would light up.

One day, I came home from work and found she had already been discharged. My mom stood in the middle of the living room, dressed neatly, with a suitcase beside her. Linda had her arm linked with my mom’s, and they were as close as sisters. “You’re back?” My mom’s face held a smug, triumphant smile. “I’m not living here anymore.” “I raised you all this time, only to raise an ungrateful wretch.” She took two steps forward, pointing her finger at my nose. “Let me tell you, I’m not relying on you anymore. I’ve found a way to make money, and when I get rich, don’t come crying and begging me!” Linda chimed in, “Exactly, relying on yourself is better than relying on anyone else. It’s never too late for a strong woman to start her own business! I told you, this kind of daughter, we can just pretend we never had her!” I almost laughed out loud. “What kind of opportunity could you possibly have?” My mom, however, became even more smug. She pulled out her phone and shoved it in front of my face. “See? Invested a hundred bucks yesterday, cashed out a thousand today! Linda’s daughter is a big boss, helping people get rich, a 10x return on investment!” I looked at the phone, then at my mom’s excited face. “10x return?” “Yes! With a little effort, it can even double!” She grinned, her eyes narrowing into slits. “I’ve finally figured it out. What’s the point of all that education? Still unmarried at your age, nobody wants you. Look at Linda’s daughter, how capable she is!” Linda patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t rush, dear. I’ll introduce you to a wealthy businessman later; you can start a new chapter in life. You look so young, not like you’re over fifty, someone will definitely want you.” My mom was grinning from ear to ear. “Alright,” she picked up her suitcase. “I’m leaving. Don’t come looking for me anymore.” I stood at the door, watching her walk out. “Mom.” She turned back. “If you keep this up, you’re going to regret it.” Her face darkened. “Bullshit! You’re just jealous, aren’t you?” Linda pulled her along. “Don’t mind her, let’s go.” The two of them stepped into the elevator. Before the doors closed, she was still smiling. After moving out, my mom seemed like a changed person. My Ins feed was flooded by her posts every day. Yesterday, she posted her bank balance: fifty thousand dollars. Caption: Follow the right people, do the right things, and money will practically throw itself at you. The day before yesterday, she posted photos from a fancy party. She was wearing an ill-fitting evening gown, arm linked with an old man’s, smiling with a face full of wrinkles under the crystal lights. Caption: Happiness, it’s never too late to pursue. Three days ago, she posted gifts. A pile of fake designer bags and watches, obviously bought wholesale, with flashy, sparkly packaging. Caption: Linda is too generous! I told her not to, but she insisted. This is a true friend! Below every post, she’d leave comments mocking me: Some people’s education went to waste, they don’t know how to respect their parents! People with narrow vision are like this, making a meager salary every month, they’ll never get rich in their lifetime! So laughable! A couple of days later, the HOA called me. “Your mom brought someone to look at the apartment today, saying she wanted to sell it urgently, even twenty thousand dollars below market price was fine. I asked her where she’d live after selling, and she said in a mansion. Is… are you aware of this?” I said, “Don’t worry about her. Let her sell it.” The person on the other end paused. “You’re not going to try to convince her otherwise? That’s your family’s old apartment.” “I can’t convince her,” I said. “Besides, she’s determined to self-destruct, and I can’t stop her.” Three days later, the apartment was sold. My mom sent me a voice message, background noise loud, like she was at a celebratory banquet. “You little brat! The money’s in my account! This time I’m investing two hundred thousand, and in a couple of days, it’ll be two million! Then I’ll buy a mansion and hire a maid, and you can get on your knees and beg me, I still won’t let you in!” I didn’t reply. I blocked her. My cousin, Taylor, called. “Chloe, your mom told me to tell you that she’s hosting a dinner at a five-star hotel the day after tomorrow. She’s invited all the relatives and said you absolutely have to come. She wants to publicly embarrass you.” “Tell her not to worry; I’ll definitely be there.” Taylor’s tone was worried. “You’re really going? Aren’t you afraid she’ll cause a scene?” I chuckled. “How else can I watch the show?” After all, the police were also ready to make their move. Not only was I going, but I was also preparing a big surprise for her. Since she loved having experience teach her, I would give her a lesson she’d never forget.

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1 On the night of our fifth wedding anniversary, Tristan slipped my wedding ring off my finger and slid it onto the hand of his childhood friend, Isla. I reached out to take it back, but he placed his hand over hers, holding her still. “It is just a ring. What is the big deal if she tries it on?” Isla said softly, “If Evelyn is upset, I will take it off right now.” Tristan frowned. “Don’t be so petty, Evelyn. Isla is just trying it.” The cold chime of the system rang in my head. [Target Favorability: 100.] [He is waiting for you to get jealous.] [Please comfort him immediately.] In the past, I would have swallowed my pride, pushed down my hurt, and walked over to soothe him. After all, I was a system task completer. As long as his favorability remained at max, I would be allowed to stay in this world forever. But this time, I looked at my bare ring finger and spoke softly in my mind: “System, I abandon the mission.” [Confirm abandonment of all rewards?] “Confirmed.” [Departure sequence initiated.] [Countdown: Seven days.] As the cold voice faded, a row of semi transparent numbers floated before my eyes: Seven days. This was all the time I had left in this world. Tristan was still holding Isla’s hand. Perhaps sensing that I was unusually quiet, he finally looked up at me. “Evelyn, what is with that look on your face?” The system screen glowed above his head. [Favorability: 100.] [Current Emotion: Anxious.] [Inner Desire: Wants the host to snatch the ring back.] Staring at those maxed out numbers, a sudden wave of absurdity washed over me. Seven years. For seven years, I relied on those three digits to endure Tristan’s endless cold shoulders. He abandoned the birthday dinner I spent all day preparing just to go to Isla. He told his friends that marrying me was nothing more than a habit. Every single time, I comforted myself with the thought that his favorability was at one hundred. But no matter how high that number was, it couldn’t warm my bare finger. I drew my hand back. “It is nothing.” Tristan’s frown deepened. “If you really dislike it, I will tell Isla to take it off.” Isla’s eyes instantly welled with tears. “Tristan, it is fine. Really.” She reached up to slide the ring off. But Tristan held her hand, his voice growing even colder. “Keep it on. I want to see just how long some people can pretend to be generous.” The system chimed again. [Target safety levels dropping.] [Host is advised to show possessiveness immediately.] I stood in silence. A flash of triumph crossed Isla’s eyes. I picked up my glass of warm water and took a quiet sip. Tristan’s expression darkened by the second. In the past, I would have demanded answers with teary eyes. He would have mocked me with biting words, and when I turned to leave, he would say something even harsher to force me back. Through this game, he reassured himself of my love, and I reassured myself of his favorability. We wasted seven years in this endless loop. But today, I was simply tired. When the dinner ended, Tristan walked ahead. Isla followed closely at his side, wearing my wedding ring. Walking a few paces behind them, I heard the system whisper: [Departure countdown: Six days and twenty three hours.] Tristan turned to look at me. “Aren’t you coming?” I spoke softly. “Tristan, she can keep the ring.” His steps came to a sudden halt. 2 When we got back to our apartment, Isla followed us inside. She claimed the ring was too valuable and wanted to return it to me face to face. Yet, as she stood in the hallway, her fingers kept stroking the band. It was obvious she didn’t want to take it off. Tristan sat on the sofa, watching me with cold eyes. “Evelyn, stop throwing a tantrum and take the ring back.” Isla bit her lip. “Evelyn, Tristan was just teasing you. Please don’t be mad at him because of me.” I walked into the closet and pulled out my suitcase. Tristan’s face paled instantly. The system’s warnings blared in my mind. [Target Favorability: 100.] [Current Emotion: Panic.] [Host must stop packing immediately.] Yet when Tristan spoke, his voice was like ice. “Who are you trying to threaten by packing? If you leave me, do you really think you can survive in some cheap rental outside?” I folded my clothes one by one. Actually, I didn’t own much. Our home was filled with items Isla had brought over. The scented candles, the paintings, even Tristan’s ties were all chosen by her, cluttering up half our space. My belongings were tucked away in a single corner drawer. I used to pick fights over this. Tristan would call me dramatic, and the system would whisper: [He loves seeing you jealous for him.] And so, I swallowed my hurt over and over again. But I didn’t want to swallow it anymore. Seeing me ignore him, Tristan lunged forward and grabbed the handle of my suitcase. “If you want to leave, fine. But you leave behind everything I ever bought you.” Isla quickly intervened. “Tristan, don’t. Evelyn will be heartbroken.” Tristan’s jaw tightened. “She was acting so generous a moment ago. Let her return everything then.” I nodded. “Okay.” I reached into the suitcase and pulled out a pale gray scarf. It was the first gift Tristan had given me when his favorability reached max. Years ago, he had been burning with a fever so high he couldn’t recognize anyone. I carried him on my back through a snowy night for two blocks before I managed to hail a cab. When he woke, he scoffed and said I was being nosy, but the next day, he sent me this scarf. The system had told me: [Target Favorability: 100. He is thanking you.] I cherished that scarf for years. Even when the edges began to fray, I couldn’t bear to throw it away. Now, I placed it gently on the sofa. Tristan’s eyes flickered with a sudden tremor. Next, I took out my watch and an old keychain, placing them all before him. Finally, I unclasped the necklace from around my neck. The small silver pendant contained the screenshot of the system’s first notification of a successful milestone, my only physical proof of existence in this world. Tristan’s voice went hoarse. “Evelyn, what are you doing? Are you really trying to draw such a clean line between us?” I kept my eyes down. “It was always meant to be clean.” A brief smile touched Isla’s lips before she quickly masked it. She picked up the scarf. “This is so old and worn out, Evelyn. Tristan, you really had terrible taste back then.” She gave it a careless tug, causing the loose threads along the edge to unravel. I watched the scarf I had protected for seven years get ruined in her hands, yet my heart remained perfectly still. Tristan frowned. “Isla, put that down.” Isla gasped, her eyes turning red. “I just thought since Evelyn doesn’t want it anymore, there is no point keeping it around.” Tristan looked at me. He seemed to be waiting for me to explode with anger. The system flashed: [Target is waiting for the host to show that she cares.] I simply zipped my suitcase shut. “If she likes it, she can have it.” Tristan’s face drained of color. In that exact moment, the system screen flickered: [Departure countdown: Six days. Host emotional connection severed: 20%.] 3 The next morning, I went to the office to finalize my transfer documents. The relocation order to the southern branch had been approved two weeks ago. I had planned to tell Tristan on our anniversary, but then he slipped my wedding ring onto Isla’s finger. There was no longer any need to discuss it. The HR manager looked at me with concern. “Evelyn, are you sure about this transfer? The southern branch is just starting up. It is going to be incredibly difficult.” I signed my name. “I am sure.” The system chimed: [Host signed long term relocation agreement. Departure sequence stable.] I packed my files and stepped out of the meeting room. Tristan’s name flashed on my screen. I let it ring until it stopped. He called a second time, then a third, until the phone finally fell silent. Staring at the screen, I felt a strange sense of detachment. Usually, the system would warn me: [Target safety levels dropping. Please reply immediately.] I used to be so afraid of his mood swings, terrified he would lose control or lock himself in his study again. But later, I realized he knew perfectly well how to care for someone. He could speak softly to comfort Isla, he remembered her fear of the dark, and he would hand her water the moment she frowned. All of his gentle, human warmth was reserved for others. For me, there was only that hollow one hundred favorability score. In the afternoon, Isla sent me a photo. In the picture, she was sitting on our marriage bed, wearing my wedding ring on her finger and my silver pendant around her neck. Evelyn, please don’t misunderstand. Tristan said these things were just eyesores, so he asked me to put them away. I stared at the silver pendant. That was my system anchor. If it was destroyed, the physical pain of my departure would be severe. I typed back a simple reply: Put it back. Isla sent a voice message almost instantly, her tone dripping with distress. “Evelyn, I had no idea this was so important to you. I will take it off right now.” The next second, my phone rang. As soon as I answered, a sharp shattering sound echoed from the other end. My chest tightened. Isla sobbed, “Tristan, I am so sorry. I just wanted to return the necklace to Evelyn, but the chain snapped.” Then, Tristan’s voice cut through the receiver. “Evelyn, is there no end to this? It is just a cheap necklace. Did you really have to terrify her over it?” I held the phone, my fingertips turning cold. Red warning screens flashed in my mind: [System anchor damaged. Departure pain index rising. Host must retrieve the fragments immediately.] I spoke quietly. “That necklace is very important to me.” Tristan let out a harsh laugh. “What of yours isn’t important? The ring is important, the scarf is important, and now this cheap necklace is important too. Evelyn, does the entire world have to revolve around you before you are satisfied?” I closed my eyes. “I am coming back to get it.” Tristan paused. “You are coming home?” His voice softened slightly, and his emotional panel lit up: [Target Favorability: 100. Current Emotion: Anticipation. He thinks the host is willing to turn back.] I didn’t bother to explain. When I reached the apartment, Isla was crying on the sofa. The broken silver pendant lay on the coffee table. Tristan stood beside her. His eyes lit up for a fraction of a second when he saw me, but he quickly masked it. “Apologize to Isla.” I bent down to gather the fragments. Isla suddenly reached out, placing her fingers over one of the sharp pieces. “Evelyn, it cut my hand.” I looked up at her. Tristan grabbed my wrist in a tight grip. “Didn’t you hear her? She is hurt. Apologize.” I looked into his eyes. “Tristan, this belongs to me.” Anxiety flashed in his eyes. “Your thing hurt her, so you must apologize.” The system chimed: [Departure countdown: Five days. Host existence index weakened: 10%.] The framed photo on the coffee table flickered. In the picture, the details of my face grew slightly blurry. Tristan didn’t notice. He kept his eyes locked on me, waiting for me to bow my head. I picked up the last fragment. “I am sorry.” Isla froze. Tristan stared at me, dumbfounded. In the past, he feared nothing more than this quiet, empty tone. I clenched the sharp shards in my palm, letting the edges pierce my skin. The phantom pain of the damaged anchor shot straight to my chest, but I didn’t even flinch. 4 By the fourth day, my body began to feel lighter. It wasn’t an illusion. Standing before the mirror, I saw that my reflection had faded slightly, looking almost transparent. The system chimed: [Departure countdown: Four days. Erasure of host existence from this world commencing.] I packed my transfer documents into my bag and headed to the hospital to pick up my medical records. On my way, my phone rang. It was my doctor. “Evelyn, your test results are back. The long term use of those physical stabilizers has caused severe damage to your system. If you still hope to have children, you need to come in for a thorough checkup as soon as possible.” I held the phone, standing in the hospital corridor for a very long time. I had once desperately wanted a child. Spending seven years in this world, I wanted to have a connection that truly belonged to me. But a task completer’s body was altered by the system. To conceive, I had to take bitter, experimental medications. I had hidden them from Tristan, taking them faithfully for two years. Every time the system told me his favorability was at one hundred, I would tell myself to wait just a little longer. Wait for him to learn how to love me. Wait until we were a real husband and wife. But now, I was leaving. There would be no child. I tucked my phone away and walked toward the clinic entrance, but Tristan’s car screeched to a halt right in front of me. He stepped out of the vehicle, his face pale and tense. “Where are you going?” “The hospital.” Tristan’s gaze darkened. “The hospital again?” Isla climbed out of the passenger seat, a clean white bandage wrapped around her wrist. She said softly, “Evelyn, I know you are still angry with me, but please don’t use your health to guilt Tristan.” Tristan’s expression hardened. “Evelyn, you threw a tantrum over a necklace yesterday, and now you are faking an illness today?” I looked at him, feeling a bone deep exhaustion. “Move.” Tristan grabbed my wrist. “You are going nowhere today. I will call your manager and handle your leave. You are staying home to clear your head.” I met his gaze. “Tristan, I really need to go to the hospital.” The system chimed: [Target Favorability: 100. Target is waiting for the host to yield. Host is advised to comfort him.] Isla spoke with tears in her eyes. “Tristan, is Evelyn trying to run away again?” Tristan’s breathing hitched. His greatest fear was my departure. He roughly pulled me into the car. “Since you love disappearing so much, you can stay right where I can see you today.” I stopped fighting. I watched the hospital fade into the distance. In four days, I would leave this world. Perhaps I would never need to know the results of those tests anyway. When we got back, Tristan confiscated my phone and my documents. He locked me inside the master bedroom, his voice harsh. “You can come out when you have learned to behave.” Through the wooden door, I heard Isla’s hushed voice. “Tristan, won’t this just make Evelyn angrier?” Tristan snapped, “She has simply been spoiled.” I sat down against the door. The blue screen floated before my eyes: [Departure countdown: Three days and twenty three hours. Erasure of host existence in progress.] Outside, Tristan’s phone lit up. He glanced down. On his lock screen, the wedding photo of us had changed, the outline of my shoulder beginning to dissolve into empty space.

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1 Chris chose white camellias for my veil three years ago. He had bred the hybrid himself and would name it after me. It was his way of showing his commitment was a one-of-a-kind promise. On our wedding eve, I went to the nursery, eager to see the blooms I had waited three years for. But when I pushed open the greenhouse door, I froze. The branches that should have been heavy with white blossoms were bare. The gardener looked away. “Mr. Chris took them all this morning. He needed them for the bridal suite. Miss Rosemary is pregnant and cannot stand the smell of raw soil, so he wanted her to get used to the scent of the cut flowers first.” I stood there, the air catching in my throat. Rosemary was his first love, the woman he had adored years ago. She had returned less than two months ago and was the reason he had broken his promises to me repeatedly, leaving me behind without a second thought. Seeing my face, the gardener offered a quiet word. “Mr. Chris said they will bloom again next month.” I looked down and let out a soft laugh. Some things, once severed by the person you trust, never grow back. My phone buzzed. It was the email confirming my overseas transfer. I wiped a stray tear and smiled. It was fine. Camellias would bloom just as beautifully in the winter of another country. … I should have gone straight to my car after leaving the nursery, but my feet carried me toward the old conservatory anyway. That was where Chris had first started cultivating those camellias. Three years ago, when he brought me there for the first time, he had smiled and promised that the space would be redesigned. He said the best spot would be reserved for our wedding photos. He had promised a white bench, a glass-walled flower room, the vintage string lights I loved, and that single bush of camellias grown only for me. He called it our secret garden. Even then, a small, foolish part of me clung to a sliver of hope. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding. Maybe the flowers were just being moved temporarily. Maybe he had a logical explanation. But as I drew closer to the conservatory, the sound of a woman’s laughter drifted through the glass. I stopped. Through the window, I saw Rosemary. Her long hair was pinned half-up, and one hand rested gently over her slightly rounded stomach. Chris stood right behind her, holding a single, perfect white camellia. He leaned down and carefully tucked it behind her ear. It wasn’t just one flower. Several freshly cut stems lay on the table beside them. The very flowers meant to grace my wedding veil were now being placed, one by one, into another woman’s hair. Rosemary touched the blossom at her temple, smiling up at him. “Is it too much?” Chris looked at her, his eyes soft. “Not at all.” She glanced down at her stomach, her voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “But you cut all of them. Won’t Audrey be upset when she finds out?” Chris paused for a fraction of a second. “These flowers were always meant for you.” I stood outside in the cold, watching the scene play out in absolute silence, before I turned and walked away. Back in my car, I sat for a long time. I pulled up the transfer offer from headquarters on my phone. I had left the email sitting in my inbox since last week. The branch in Adelaide needed a new regional creative director, and they wanted to know if I could step into the role within three days. Before, I had been trying to figure out how to balance my life after the wedding. I had been hesitant to leave everything behind. Now, there was nothing left to weigh. I tapped reply and typed a single line: I accept the position. As the email sent, a sudden emptiness settled in my chest, accompanied by a strange sense of relief. I had finally carved out a way out for myself. I remembered how Chris had looked at me three years ago when he named that camellia. He had looked so sure when he said I was the only one he would ever marry. It turned out that when someone falls out of love, they can forget their own promises with terrifying ease. And I was finally done trying to keep those promises alive for him. 2 The day before the wedding, I still showed up at the venue. It wasn’t because I couldn’t let go. It was because I had personally designed, structured, and managed every single detail of this event. The vendors, the guest list, the timeline, they were all my responsibility. I refused to let my professional integrity fall apart. But the moment I walked into the ballroom, I realized just how humiliating the day was going to be. The door to the bridal suite was wide open. Several stylists stood in a circle, and a designer was carrying the main bridal gown toward the mirror. I recognized that dress instantly. I had spent six months customizing it. And the woman standing in front of the mirror, wearing it, was Rosemary. She stood in the place that belonged to me, trying on the veil, the necklace, the bouquet. Everyone in the room knew I was the lead coordinator for this wedding, and they all knew my history with Chris. Nobody dared to speak, but their eyes followed me. That heavy, knowing silence was far worse than any whispered gossip. Rosemary turned around just as Chris walked in. “Is it too tight?” he asked, bending down to adjust the waistline of the dress. “A little,” Rosemary said. Chris immediately looked at the designer. “Loosen it here. She needs to be comfortable.” Then he knelt to smooth out the train, asking if she was tired and needed to sit down. I stood near the edge of the stage, my fingers gripping the clipboard so hard the paper began to tear. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to be romantic, and it wasn’t that he didn’t know how to care for someone. He simply chose not to give those things to me. Soon, the jewelry consultant arrived with the wedding ring. When the black velvet box was opened, my breath hitched. It was a camellia-shaped diamond ring, the delicate petals wrapping around a brilliant center stone. One glance was all it took to recognize it as an exact realization of a sketch I had drawn for Chris three years ago. At the time, I had jokingly told him that if we ever got married, I wanted a ring shaped like a camellia. He had simply smiled and said he would remember. I thought he had forgotten. He hadn’t. He had just saved the design for someone else. The people around Rosemary were whispering about how lucky she was, praising Chris for being so thoughtful and involved in the design. Listening to them, I suddenly remembered last winter when I suggested we get a pair of simple silver bands, costing no more than fifty dollars. Chris had dismissed the idea, saying rings were nothing but an empty, performative gesture. Now, the truth was glaringly obvious. The rings weren’t the problem. I was the one who wasn’t worth the effort to him. Our friends began to arrive. At first, a few of them instinctively called out to me as the bride-to-be. But a second later, they saw Rosemary walking out of the suite in the bridal gown, wearing the camellia ring, her hand clasped firmly in Chris’s. The expressions on their faces shifted from confusion to awkward realization. Before long, everyone silently accepted the new arrangement. Rosemary was the bride, and I was left standing behind the soundboard, looking like a complete stranger at my own wedding. During a brief lull in the schedule, I finally managed to pull Chris aside. “Whose wedding is this, Chris?” He looked at me, showing neither panic nor guilt. “The wedding is still happening,” he said calmly. “We’ve just changed the bride.” My clipboard slipped from my fingers, clattering to the floor. With those few words, he shattered whatever dignity and hope I had left. To him, this wedding wasn’t a sacred promise, an identity, or the culmination of our seven years together. It was just an event, a production where the lead actress could be swapped out at the last minute. I stared at him. “So you expect me to stand here as the coordinator, watching her wear my dress, my ring, and celebrate my wedding?” Chris frowned. “Rosemary just wants to experience what a wedding feels like. Her situation is delicate right now, and she’s emotionally unstable. Once she gets this out of her system, you and I will still get married later.” I didn’t say another word. 3 On the morning of the wedding, I arrived earlier than anyone else. I checked the lights, the sound system, the guest list, and the floral arrangements. I refused to let my personal grief interfere with my work. But the smoother the preparation went, the more bitter it tasted. I was using my own hands to send another woman down the aisle. In the dressing room, Rosemary called out to me as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Audrey, could you help me adjust the clasp on this necklace?” I walked over and fastened it for her. “My shoes are rubbing a bit,” she added, looking down at her feet. “Can you check if we need to put some blister pads on the heels?” I knelt down and applied the pads for her. Once the stylists and assistants left the room, Rosemary asked me to step out onto the balcony with her. As soon as the glass door shut behind us, a small, triumphant smile spread across her face. “I know this wedding was supposed to be yours.” I remained silent. She gently ran a hand over her stomach. “And I know about the camellias in the greenhouse. Chris used to guard them like treasure, telling everyone they were grown just for you.” She paused, her eyes locking onto mine. “But what of it? Flowers are just objects, and people change. I’m the one standing at the altar today, so everything here belongs to me.” “What is your point, Rosemary?” Her voice grew even softer, carrying a sharp, quiet edge. “The wedding is just the beginning. The marriage license will be mine, too.” My heart skipped a beat. Satisfied with my reaction, she continued. “The baby needs a legal father, and Chris won’t leave us without status. He’s taking me to the courthouse at nine o’clock this Friday morning to sign the papers.” Nine o’clock on Friday morning. Those words rooted me to the spot. Just a few days ago, Chris had casually reminded me that we were going to get our marriage license this Friday morning. It had never been a promise to me. It was nothing but a stalling tactic to keep me quiet while he handed my entire life over to Rosemary. Seven years of devotion, and in the end, I was left with absolutely nothing. It was almost comical. Over the last few months, he had constantly asked me to be more understanding, telling me that since I had already been with him for seven years, I shouldn’t throw a fit over a single day. To him, my seven years of loyalty weren’t love, they were just a sunk cost. The more reluctant I was to walk away, the more leverage he thought he had over me. Chris walked out onto the balcony a moment later, looking for her. He didn’t notice the tension in the air. His immediate instinct was to check on Rosemary. “Why are you out here in the cold?” he asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to support her. “It was getting a bit stuffy inside,” Rosemary replied sweetly. Chris nodded, then glanced at me, giving orders as if it were second nature. “Make sure there are no mistakes during the vows and the ring exchange.” He spoke to me as if I were a hired hand, not the woman he had spent nearly a decade with. I looked at him and realized I didn’t want to ask any more questions. The answers were written clearly on the wall. The wedding wasn’t mine, the marriage license wasn’t mine, and perhaps my place in his life had never been truly irreplaceable. When the ceremony began, I stood at the side of the stage, watching Chris take Rosemary’s hand and lead her down the aisle that had been decorated according to my dreams. The guests clapped, cheered, and took photos, while I felt entirely detached from the world around me. Right before the vows, Chris pulled me aside one last time. He looked at me with the same familiar expression he always used when trying to placate me. “Don’t ruin this. The wedding is just a show; the license is what matters. If you don’t make a scene today, I’ll take care of everything else afterward.” That final sentence crushed the last lingering speck of hope in my heart. Even now, he genuinely believed I would continue to endure, continue to wait, and continue to let him drag me along. But he was wrong. This time, I was done. 4 As the vows began, I remained at the edge of the stage. The officiant asked the groom for his pledge. Chris looked at Rosemary, and without a single moment of hesitation, he spoke the words. “I do.” The room erupted into applause. Standing just outside the warmth of the spotlights, the sound faded into a dull hum. The words I had waited seven years to hear had finally been spoken, but they weren’t meant for me. I couldn’t watch another second of it. While everyone’s attention was fixed on the altar, I quietly slipped away to the dressing room. I didn’t cry, and I didn’t fall apart. I simply gathered my things with absolute calm. I took off the uncomfortable high heels that had begun to blister my feet, leaving them on the floor alongside the veil and the bouquet I had prepared for myself. Then, I pulled a document from my bag, a signed authorization form to put the townhouse up for sale. It was supposed to be our marital home. Now, it was just an asset to be liquidated. The price didn’t matter, as long as it sold quickly. With that final task complete, I grabbed my suitcase and slipped out through the back exit of the hotel. No one noticed my absence. Inside, the new couple was exchanging rings to the sound of cheers and flashing cameras. When you finally decide to walk away from a relationship, it can be so quiet that not a single soul notices your departure. Once I was in the cab, I sent a message to the real estate agent, telling them to proceed with the listing immediately. Then, I headed straight for the airport. At the hotel, the celebration continued. It was only after the ring exchange, when Chris went back to the suite to retrieve some documents, that he finally realized I was gone. The listing agreement for our townhouse sat on the vanity, a silent goodbye more devastating than any screaming confrontation. I later heard that the moment he saw those papers, he turned completely pale. He ran out of the room like a madman, searching the venue, but my car was already gone from the parking lot. By the time the plane taxied onto the runway, I was sitting by the window, looking down at my phone. There were over a hundred missed calls. Without a trace of emotion, I popped the SIM card out of the tray, snapped it in half, and dropped it into the waste bin.

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1 Five years after my biological mother finally brought me home, a text message suddenly popped up on my phone. Now that you have the family you’ve longed for, are you very happy? The sender was me, five years ago. Back then, I was still lying in a narrow bed at the orphanage, completely consumed by the sudden, overwhelming joy of finally having a family. I remember holding the little welcome gift my mother had given me, carefully typing out my hopes for the future, word by word. But right now, my mother was busy punishing my younger sister for her dropping grades. In front of my sobbing sister, she slapped my face until my skin turned a bruised purple and my eardrum ruptured. Then, she forced me to the floor, grinding the heel of her boot over my fingers, crushing them against the cold hardwood. She stared down at my sister, her voice cutting through the room like ice: “I can’t bring myself to hurt you, Hailey, so I am using her as your example. If you don’t study hard, this is the pathetic, trampled life you will live. Anyone will be able to step on you.” Terrified by the violence, Hailey wept hysterically, begging and swearing that she would never neglect her studies again. Only then did our mother finally lift her foot off my bleeding hand. I swallowed the copper tang of blood in my mouth, using my broken, trembling fingers to slowly type a reply. Don’t go home with her. Not all reunions are born out of love. … The blood was pooling in the back of my throat. Unable to hold it back any longer, I let out a harsh, ragged cough, splattering red across the polished floor. Hailey shrieked, clutching our mother’s sleeve in desperation. “Mom, please! I’ll study, I swear I’ll study! Stop hurting Alicia! She… she’s coughing up blood!” Margaret’s expression remained terrifyingly gentle as she pulled Hailey’s hands away. In one swift, brutal motion, she grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my swollen, distorted face up so Hailey was forced to look directly into my eyes. “If you feel sorry for her, then you had better remember this pain,” Margaret whispered, her voice smooth and venomous. “The next time you fail an exam, the punishment your sister receives won’t be as simple as a few slaps.” Hailey nodded frantically, her eyes darting away from me in sheer guilt. Seeing that her message had been properly beaten into her younger daughter, Margaret’s face softened into a satisfied smile. I kept my head bowed, fighting back the choking bitterness in my chest, and pressed send on the message I had just written. Five years ago, Margaret had walked into the orphanage, weeping as she wrapped her arms around me. She told me she had spent years searching for me, that she wanted to bring me home and make up for every single day we had lost. But by then, Hailey had already been spoiled into a rebellious, untouchable terror. She skipped classes, talked back, and caused chaos wherever she went. No one could control her. Until the day Hailey was caught shoplifting at a local grocery store and refused to apologize. Faced with her daughter’s stubborn defiance, Margaret had forced me to wear a cardboard sign that read “THIEF” around my neck, making me kneel outside the store entrance to apologize in Hailey’s place. It was only when Hailey saw me humiliated in public that she panicked, crying as she finally begged the store owner for forgiveness. Having tasted the success of this twisted method, Margaret began to use me as a tool to train my sister. Whenever Hailey talked back or lied, Margaret would pierce my lip with a sewing needle. Whenever Hailey got into fights at school, Margaret would tie my hands to the school gates, making me stand there in the freezing rain to humiliate her into obeying. Slowly, Hailey became the perfect, obedient daughter. And slowly, my body became a canvas of scars. Gently wiping the tears from Hailey’s cheeks, Margaret cooed, “There, there, don’t cry anymore. Were you scared, my darling? Mom booked a table at your favorite restaurant. Let’s go have a wonderful dinner, alright?” Hailey nodded tearfully, then looked back at me, her voice trembling. “Can we bring Alicia with us?” Margaret’s face instantly hardened. She cast a cold, repulsed glance in my direction. “Alicia still has to pay for your mistakes. She will remain on her knees until tomorrow morning. From now on, whenever you do your homework, she will kneel beside your desk. She will only be allowed to stand when your grades improve.” Hailey’s head drooped, her shoulders shaking with silent guilt. I bit my lip, my nails digging into my palms until the skin broke, but I couldn’t feel the physical pain anymore. My heart was already numb. “Go on, change your clothes,” Margaret urged, her voice light again. “If we’re late, we’ll lose our reservation.” Hailey turned back, giving me one last look filled with sorrow and helplessness, before she walked out. As they opened the front door, they ran into our next-door neighbor. The neighbor smiled warmly at Hailey before turning to Margaret. “Oh, Margaret, you really know how to raise a child. Hailey used to be so wild, but look at her now, she’s so polite and disciplined.” She leaned in closer, dropping her voice to a low whisper. “Is that your older girl inside? She’s incredibly tough. I could hear the blows from my living room, but she didn’t make a single sound.” Margaret didn’t show a hint of shame. Instead, her chin rose with pride. “Hailey is still young and reckless. Someone has to show her the real cost of making mistakes.” With a light laugh, the heavy front door slammed shut. Kneeling on the freezing floor, I felt as though an invisible hand was squeezing the remaining life out of my chest. Just then, my phone vibrated. A new message flashed on the screen. Why are you lying about Mom? You have no idea how much she wanted me back. She already had a daughter, but she told me I was the one she missed the most. I stared at the glowing screen, my mind spinning. I was actually speaking to my past self across time. It felt like holding the key to my own destiny. My hands shook as I frantically typed a response. I am you, five years in the future. Please, listen to me. Do not go home with her. You are not her daughter. You are just a whip she uses to keep your sister in line. 2 A few minutes later, the screen lit up again. I don’t believe you. Mom loves me. She told me so. Love? I stared at the word, a hollow ache spreading through my chest. It was true. When she first brought me home, Margaret really did seem to love me. She had wept when she saw how painfully thin I was. She cooked elaborate meals every single day, and within a few months, I had gained ten pounds. She blamed herself for losing me, trying to make up for my lost childhood by taking me to amusement parks on every holiday. She bought me pink cotton candy, took beautiful portraits of me on my birthday, and stayed by my bedside without sleeping a wink whenever I ran a fever. “Alicia, sweetie, don’t be scared,” she would whisper, stroking my hair. “Mom is here. I’m never going to leave you again.” Even Hailey, spoiled as she was, used to pout and complain that I had stolen all of our mother’s affection. That brief period of my life had felt like a beautiful, fragile dream. So when Margaret used me to punish Hailey for the first time, I was devastated, but I forced myself to believe she had no choice. I told myself she was just desperate. It was only much later that I realized her love came with a hidden price, a weapon that would eventually destroy me. My tears dripped onto the glass screen, blurring the text. I forced my shaking fingers to type one last warning. Her love is a knife. And she is going to use it to carve you to pieces. I lost track of time before the front door clicked open again. When Margaret walked in and saw me still kneeling but holding my phone, her face contorted with rage. Without a word, she lunged forward and kicked me squarely in the shoulder. My head collided violently with the sharp edge of the dining table. A blinding flash of pain tore through my skull, and a warm, thick crimson began to obscure my vision. Margaret’s screaming voice echoed in my ears. “I told you to kneel and reflect, and you’re playing on your phone?” “Because of your pathetic attitude, Hailey will never understand the weight of her actions!” My vision swam, and I reached out blindly, trying to explain. “Mom, please, I wasn’t… I was just…” Before I could finish, a resounding slap delivered with full force struck my other cheek. “So you’ve learned to talk back to me now, have you?” Margaret sneered. “Clearly, you haven’t learned your lesson. Slap yourself until both sides of your face are even. Maybe that will help you remember.” Hailey, shrinking back in the corner, grabbed Margaret’s arm, her voice trembling. “Mom, stop! I get it now, I really do! Please don’t make her do this!” Margaret shook her off, her voice cold and unyielding. “If she treats her punishment like a joke, how will you ever learn? Alicia, start. If you don’t hit yourself a hundred times, you won’t be allowed to stop.” Swallowing the bitter tears, I raised my hand and let it fall against my own face. Margaret let out a sharp scoff. “Are you starving? You hit like a coward. You’re completely useless.” She stepped forward, swung her arm wide, and delivered a blow so heavy my head spun, my left cheek instantly swelling. Rubbing her palms with a sigh of irritation, she muttered, “Keep that exact level of force.” Under her watchful eye, I raised my hand again and again, striking my own flesh until my eyes were swollen shut, my lips split and bleeding, and my face turned a sickening shade of purple. Only then did she signal me to stop. Looking down at the ruin of my face, Margaret finally seemed satisfied. She knelt down beside me. My entire body tensed, my eyes shutting tightly in anticipation of another blow. Instead, she opened a tube of ointment she had prepared beforehand and began gently dabbing it onto my bruised skin. My body shuddered at her touch. She paused, letting out a long, weary sigh. “Alicia, you have to understand why I do this. We are a family. We rise and fall together.” “You are the sensible one. You have to help me guide your sister. Only when she becomes disciplined and successful will our family finally have peace.” She took an alcohol wipe and began cleaning the cut on my forehead. The stinging pain was agonizing, but I didn’t pull away. Summoning the last shred of my courage, I looked at her through my swollen eyes and whispered, “Mom… can you please stop using me to teach Hailey?” “Every night, the pain keeps me awake. And… I can barely hear anything out of my right ear anymore.” Margaret froze for a brief second. Thinking I had finally reached her, I reached out and gently took her hand. “Mom, you brought me back because you loved me, right? So please…” Slap! Another sharp blow struck my right ear, sending a deafening, high-pitched ring through my head. “How dare you try to manipulation me?” Margaret spat, her face twisted in anger. “I thought you were the good daughter, but you’re just trying to play the victim to ruin this family!” I opened my mouth to speak, but my voice was gone, drowned out by the torrent of her familiar, venomous curses. I was forced to kneel there for the entire night. When morning arrived, my phone screen flickered to life. I still don’t want to believe you. Unless… you can prove it to me. 3 I raised the phone camera, capturing a photo of my bruised, unrecognizable face. But my thumb hovered over the send button, paralyzed. My mind kept betraying me, drifting back to the early days. I remembered the warm bowls of soup she used to cook for me, the comfort of her embrace when I was sick, and the soft smile on her face when she told me I was her good girl. Those memories were fading, but I clung to them like a lifeline. I looked at the calendar on the wall. There was only one month left before Hailey’s college entrance exams. Maybe once she passed her exams, this nightmare would end. Maybe Margaret would go back to loving me the way she used to. With a heavy heart, I deleted the photo. Suddenly, my phone rang. Margaret’s voice on the line was devoid of any warmth. “Alicia, get to Hailey’s school right now.” Terrified that something had happened to my sister, I ran out of the apartment as fast as my legs could carry me. When I reached the principal’s office, I found Margaret sitting with a dark, furious expression, while Hailey stood in the corner, her eyes red from crying. My chest tightened, and I instinctively took a step back, trying to slip away. “Alicia, get in here,” Margaret’s cold voice cut through the air. The homeroom teacher, Mrs. Gable, looked shocked when she saw my swollen face, but she quickly masked her concern and turned back to Hailey. “There is only a month left before the final exams. This is the most critical period of her high school career, and yet, Hailey was caught in a romantic relationship on school grounds.” “If this ruins her chances at college, the consequences will be devastating.” “We weren’t dating!” Hailey cried out, her voice cracking. “I just didn’t understand some of the study questions, so I asked him for help!” Mrs. Gable sighed, pulling up a photo on her phone and showing it to Margaret. “She is still lying. Look at how close they are. Their faces are practically touching. This is clearly a physical relationship, and she is using studying as an excuse.” Due to the angle of the photo, the two teenagers did indeed look as if they were kissing. “No, that’s not true!” Hailey sobbed, shaking her head wildly. “I swear we weren’t…” “Silence!” Margaret roared, her voice cutting Hailey off. “Is this the real reason your grades have been slipping?” Without warning, Margaret lunged forward, grabbed me by the hair, and began dragging me toward the door. Mrs. Gable jumped up in alarm. “Mrs. Chen, what are you doing? Please, let’s discuss this calmly!” Margaret kept her grip on my hair, her voice tight with controlled fury. “Don’t interfere, Mrs. Gable. The only way to make Hailey understand her mistake is to make an example out of her sister.” Mrs. Gable looked at my bruised face, opened her mouth to speak, but ultimately remained silent. Hailey ran after us, sobbing as she clawed at Margaret’s hands. “Mom, please! I wasn’t dating him! Just leave Alicia alone!” Ignoring her cries, Margaret dragged me all the way to the school gates, where students were walking by. In the middle of the crowded pavement, she began tearing at my clothes. I clung to her legs, begging for mercy, while Hailey fell to her knees, weeping hysterically. But Margaret remained entirely unmoved. I curled my body into a tight ball, trying desperately to cover myself, as waves of pure humiliation and despair washed over me. Pointing her finger at me, Margaret glared at Hailey, who was shaking on the ground. “Do you see this? This is what happens when you don’t value your own dignity!” “If you keep seeing that boy, this is exactly how cheap and ruined you will end up!” Hailey slowly pushed herself up from the ground, her face streaked with tears. The pressure she had carried for years finally snapped. “I hate you!” she screamed, her voice echoing across the courtyard. “Why do you always use Alicia’s body to punish me? I told you, we weren’t dating! Why do you have to ruin her to prove your point?” “This family is a living nightmare!” Without looking back, she bolted out of the school gates and ran down the street. Margaret stood frozen, staring at the empty space where her daughter had just been. “Why… why didn’t she listen this time?” she muttered to herself. “It must be because the punishment wasn’t severe enough.” She pulled out her phone and dialed a number. “Find me one of the vagrants from the streets near the old district.” 4 A few minutes later, a beat-up van pulled up beside us. Terrified, I begged Margaret not to let them take me, but she dragged me into the back of the van without a hint of remorse. The vehicle rattled down the road, eventually stopping outside an abandoned, desolate factory on the edge of the city. Margaret hauled me out of the van by my hair, throwing me onto the dirt floor before turning to the disheveled man who had climbed out after us. She held up her phone, her voice completely flat. “He’s all yours. My younger daughter is behaving like a cheap delinquent. I want her to see exactly what happens to girls who lose their way.” The man grinned, revealing a row of rotted, yellow teeth, and began stepping toward me. I scrambled backward, my voice raw from screaming. “Mom, please! Don’t do this to me! Please!” Margaret switched her phone to video mode, her face completely blank. “Alicia, if Hailey doesn’t learn her lesson today, her entire life will be ruined.” But what about my life? In the next second, rough, dirty hands tore away the last of my clothing. I screamed, fighting with every ounce of strength I had left, but I was no match for him. Every inch of my skin was bruised, subjected to a sickening violation that made it hard to breathe. A few yards away, Margaret watched through her screen, a faint, cold smile playing on her lips as she captured every single detail. Finally, she nodded. “That’s enough. Let her go, I have what I need.” The man grumbled, reluctantly pulling away, and took the cash Margaret held out before leaving the factory. I lay on the filthy floor, shivering violently, my chest hollowed out by a pain so deep it felt like a physical wound. The last lingering shred of love I had held for my mother shattered into dust. I reached out, picked up my phone from the dirt, and took a picture of my broken, ruined self. I sent it to the number from five years ago. This is the hell she will build for you. Don’t come back. Then, I dragged my broken body toward the stairs, slowly making my way up to the roof of the factory. Margaret didn’t even notice I was gone. She was busy sending the video to Hailey, typing out a message with frantic excitement. Look closely, Hailey. If you don’t want to end up like your sister, break up with that boy immediately. Your mother only wants what’s best for you. If you keep defying me, I will let him finish what he started. Be a good girl and come home to apologize. I stood at the very edge of the concrete roof, looking down at her. My heart felt completely empty. I wondered, if I had refused to go home with her five years ago, would any of this have happened? I closed my eyes and let myself fall backward into the empty air. As the wind rushed past my ears, my phone vibrated one last time in my hand. I understand now. I won’t go with her. Down below, Margaret’s phone rang. It was Hailey’s homeroom teacher, her voice filled with deep regret. “Mrs. Chen, I am so incredibly sorry. It was a misunderstanding.” “We checked the security cameras. Hailey and the boy were indeed just looking over a textbook. There was no relationship.” Margaret froze. “Really? That’s… that’s wonderful.” “It’s fine… Alicia’s punishment will just serve as a warning for the future. It will keep Hailey on the right path.” She hung up the phone and looked around, realizing the space around her was empty. “Alicia?” She ran out of the factory doors, but the yard was quiet. The only thing she found was a shattered phone lying in the dirt, its cracked screen still glowing.

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1 I have a secret. Whenever I touch someone, I can see the face of the person they love most in their heart. Ever since Petter moved next door when I was seven, his heart held only me. At eighteen, when he first took my hand, it was me. At twenty-two, when he proposed, it was me. On our wedding night, when he kissed me, it was still me. On the morning of our third anniversary, I was adjusting his collar. As my fingers brushed his Adam’s apple, I habitually closed my eyes. I saw two faces. One was mine. The other belonged to a complete stranger. That night, Petter’s phone screen lit up on the nightstand: Thanks for spending the day with me, Petter. Twenty-one years. One hundred thousand touches. This was the first time my gift had ever shown me another face. … For our anniversary, I had booked a table at a quiet restaurant a month in advance. I wore the red dress he had once praised, and the pearl earrings he had given me. At six in the evening, just as I was putting on the second earring, my phone rang. “Last-minute business trip, Valerie. I won’t make it back tonight,” his voice was rushed, and he hung up before I could reply. It was the first time in our entire relationship that he had ever hung up on me first. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. One earring was in, the other hung loosely between my fingers. My best friend, Serena, called a few minutes later, offering to keep me company. She drove over, picked me up, and took me to a steakhouse downtown. But as she pulled into the parking lot, my hand froze on the car door handle. Through the large glass window of the restaurant, I saw Petter. He was sitting at a table by the window. Opposite him sat a young woman, perhaps twenty-five, with deep dimples when she laughed. Petter reached across the table, his thumb gently wiping a smudge of cream from the corner of her mouth. It was a gesture he had done for me since we were eighteen. Serena saw them too, her grip tightening on the steering wheel as she prepared to storm inside. I held her back. “Don’t,” I said softly. “Who is she, Valerie?” “I don’t know.” At eleven that night, Petter came home. He brought a bouquet of red roses, just as he did every year. After his shower, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I’m so sorry about today, Valerie. I promise I’ll make it up to you soon.” I closed my eyes. Two faces flickered back and forth in my mind: mine and that other woman’s. Fifty-fifty. For the first time in twenty-one years, I saw someone else in his heart. Once he fell asleep, I picked up his phone. The password was still my birthday. A contact named Sienna was pinned to the top of his chat list. The messages began six months ago, slowly shifting from formal work updates to daily banter, from simple acknowledgments to quiet “goodnight” texts. I’m in a bad mood today, I want something sweet, she had written in one message. I’ll bring you a Napoleon pastry from the bakery downstairs, he replied. Another message from her read: The restaurant you recommended wasn’t very good when I went alone. Next time, you have to come with me. The latest text was the one from that evening: Thanks for spending the day with me, Petter. I put the phone back and lay down in the dark. Petter rolled over, instinctively pulling me into his chest, murmuring something half-asleep. “Who did you spend the day with?” I whispered into the quiet room. “A client,” he mumbled, tightening his grip around me. I didn’t ask anything else. The next morning, he kissed my forehead before leaving for work. “I really couldn’t get away yesterday, sweetheart. I’ll take you to the hot springs this weekend.” He smiled, looking exactly like the man I had always known. I watched him for a moment before replying, “Okay.” After he left, I folded the red dress and placed it at the very bottom of my closet. Serena called me at noon to check on me. The line was quiet for several seconds before she spoke. “Valerie, you’ve only ever looked at him since you were seven.” “I know.” “What are you going to do now?” I looked out the window. The autumn sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue. “I don’t know.” 2 Later that afternoon, I went to his office. In the elevator, I ran into Sienna. She recognized me instantly, offering a polite, easy smile as she extended her hand. “Hi, Mrs. Petter. I’m Sienna, Mr. Petter’s assistant.” She was poised and entirely natural. She pressed the button for our floor, stepping back to stand beside me. Her phone rang, and she answered it with a quiet laugh. “Petter? Oh, he rarely eats lunch. Just coffee, usually. It’s a habit of his.” After hanging up, she smiled at me. “Are you here to have lunch with him?” The elevator doors slid open, and I didn’t answer. In his office, Petter was buried in paperwork, his head bowed. I placed the thermal lunchbox on his desk. “Do you really skip lunch?” “Sometimes, when it gets busy,” he said, not looking up. Sienna knocked and walked in with a folder. Glancing at the lunchbox, she smiled. “You’re so thoughtful, Mrs. Petter. He mentioned wanting braised ribs last week, and you made them.” My hand froze as I was serving him the food. Petter kept eating, his head still down. Once Sienna left, the office fell quiet. “She seems to know you very well,” I observed. “Who?” “Your assistant. She knows you skip lunch, and she knows you only drink coffee.” He set his chopsticks down. “Valerie, she’s my assistant. Knowing my daily habits is literally her job.” “Is it?” “What is going on with you lately?” he sighed, looking tired. “You’re the only one in my heart.” He picked up his chopsticks and went back to his meal. That night, he worked late in his study. When I brought him a glass of milk at ten, his phone screen was glowing with a selfie Sienna had just sent him. The moment he noticed me, he flipped the phone face down on the desk. “Just work stuff,” he said. “I didn’t ask,” I replied, setting the glass down and walking out. My hand lingered on the doorknob for a moment, but he didn’t call after me. On Sunday, he tried to make up for our missed anniversary. When we arrived at the restaurant, the hostess smiled warmly. “Mr. Petter, your usual table?” It was the second booth by the window, the exact spot I had seen him with Sienna. As we sat down, I stared at the empty chair across from me. “Do you bring other people here?” His hand tensed as he poured my water. “Just clients. Why do you ask?” “Nothing. It’s a nice view.” When he returned from the restroom, he placed a piece of food on my plate. “Petter, do you ever feel like there’s another person standing between us?” His hand paused mid-air as he was peeling a shrimp, but he quickly recovered. “Who would be between us? Why are you saying things like this?” “No reason. Just a thought.” After dinner, his phone buzzed. I caught a glimpse of the screen as he tilted it away. See you tomorrow, Petter, Sienna had written. He sent a quick emoji in response, locked the screen, and took my hand. “Let’s go home.” I let him lead me down the street, looking down at our joined hands. The streetlights cast our long, overlapping shadows on the pavement. I remembered when he first held my hand at eighteen. Back then, if I closed my eyes, my mind was filled with nothing but his face. I closed my eyes and lightly touched his wrist. The two faces were still there, mine and Sienna’s, perfectly equal. He turned to look at me, noticing I had stopped walking. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I said, catching up to his pace. He squeezed my hand, a gesture that felt entirely natural, exactly as it always had. But I knew everything had changed. 3 At eleven that night, I went to his study with another glass of milk. The door was slightly ajar. I could hear him on the phone, his voice carrying a soft, tender tone I hadn’t heard in a very long time. “Yeah, go to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow. I miss you too.” He hung up, looking startled when he saw me standing in the doorway. “Why are you still awake?” “Do you always speak to your staff so gently?” “It was just a normal conversation, Valerie. Don’t let your imagination run wild.” Without a word, I turned and walked away. A moment later, I heard the heavy click of his study door closing. He had never closed that door before. I waited in our room for twenty minutes. When he finally walked in and saw me sitting up, I looked at him. “Petter, there’s something I need to tell you. I’ve had a secret since I was a child. Whenever I touch someone, I can see the face of the person they love most in their heart.” He froze, his jacket half-off. “When I touched you at seven, I saw myself. When you held my hand at eighteen, it was me. When you proposed, it was me.” “But on our anniversary, when I adjusted your collar, I saw two faces: mine and Sienna’s.” The silence in the bedroom was deafening. Then, he let out a dry, nervous laugh. “You have quite the imagination, Valerie. Have you been spending too much time alone lately?” “I am telling you the absolute truth.” The smile vanished from his face. “Are you feeling alright? Maybe we should schedule an appointment with a doctor.” I stood up and reached for his hand. “Let me touch you right now. Close your eyes and think of the person you love, and I’ll tell you who it is.” He snatched his hand back. It wasn’t a violent gesture, but it was incredibly deliberate. “Valerie, enough! If you have a problem with Sienna, talk to me. She has a boyfriend, and this kind of baseless suspicion is incredibly unfair to her.” He grabbed his jacket and walked out of the house. I stood in the center of the room, my hand still empty in the air. He didn’t return until two in the morning, smelling of cold wind and cigarette smoke. I pretended to be asleep as he quietly climbed into bed and pulled me into his arms. I closed my eyes. Only one face remained. It was Sienna’s. My face was completely gone. His arm was draped over my waist, his warm breath brushing against my neck, but for the first time in twenty-one years, I couldn’t find myself in his heart. I gently slipped out of his embrace. He murmured something in his sleep, but didn’t wake. Once his breathing evened out, I packed a small bag and moved into the guest room. At breakfast the next morning, he noticed my slippers by the guest room door. “Why did you sleep in there?” “I had insomnia, and I didn’t want to keep you awake.” “Oh,” he murmured, his eyes already returning to his phone screen. He didn’t ask anything else. 4 Three days after moving into the guest room, I stared at the two pink lines on a pregnancy test. A blood test at the clinic confirmed I was six weeks pregnant. I slid the ultrasound photo into the pages of my journal, writing a single sentence on the blank page: By the time you arrived, your father’s heart was already empty of your mother. Later that afternoon, I went to his office building. Just as I arrived, I saw his car parked near the entrance. Petter was opening the passenger door for Sienna, holding his hand over her head to protect her from the low frame as she climbed inside. That seat had always been mine. That gentle gesture had once belonged only to me. “Let’s go back,” I told the taxi driver. I clutched my bag, the ultrasound report inside pressing against my fingers, but I didn’t call him. When he came home that evening, I was waiting in the living room. “I went to your office today.” He didn’t stop untying his shoes. “Why didn’t you come up?” “If I had, what would I have said?” He looked up at me, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “What is it now, Valerie?” “I saw you open the passenger door for her. I saw you protect her head. You used to only do that for me.” He let out a heavy, frustrated sigh. “She’s my assistant, Valerie. Opening the door is basic courtesy. You never used to be like this. You used to be so understanding, so mature.” “Understanding? So the things you did for me can be handed to anyone, and if I care, I’m being immature? Is that what you mean?” He rubbed his temples. “I’ve had a long, exhausting day. I don’t want to fight about this.” He walked into his study and shut the door. The next day, I sent him a text asking him to make time to accompany me to a doctor’s appointment. Sure, he replied. But at seven the following morning, a message popped up on my phone: An urgent business trip came up, I’ll be back the day after tomorrow. Have the driver take you if you’re not feeling well. Love you, Petter. I tried calling him, but his phone was switched off. When I called his secretary, the young woman sounded confused. “Mr. Petter doesn’t have any travel scheduled for today, Mrs. Petter.” I took a cab to the hospital alone. Sitting in the corridor, I watched the couples around me: a husband kneeling to tie his wife’s shoes, another supporting his wife as they walked slowly down the hall. I sat in my seat, utterly alone. The doctor reviewed my charts with a frown. “Your progesterone levels are dangerously low, and there’s a significant risk of miscarriage. Is your husband here?” “He’s out of town on business,” I said quietly. She didn’t press further, handing me the consent forms to sign myself. While waiting for my hormone injections, I scrolled through social media and saw Sienna’s latest post: a series of photos of a sunset on a beach. The caption read: Someone said he wanted to see the ocean when he was stressed, so he dragged me along. It’s so nice to be pampered by the boss. In the corner of the last photo, there was a man’s hand resting on the table. On his ring finger was the white-gold band that matched the one on my left hand. That night, the severe cramping began. I took a cab to the emergency room alone, and the nurses rushed me straight into the operating room. “Is it gone?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “The pregnancy has terminated, we need to perform a quick procedure to clear the tissue. Is your husband on his way?” “I’ll sign the forms myself.” By the time the surgery was over, it was three in the morning. I sat in the cold hallway, calling his number repeatedly, but it went straight to voicemail. Finally, I sent him a text: Petter, something happened. Please come back. He didn’t call back until the following afternoon. Through the receiver, I could hear the sound of crashing waves and a car engine starting. “I just landed, Valerie. What’s going on?” Ignoring the sharp ache in my body, I kept my voice flat. “It’s already been taken care of.” “Oh, good. I’ll be home tonight, and I’ll bring back some fresh seafood.” He arrived later that evening, placing a bag of crabs on the kitchen counter. “I got these for you. I’ll steam them tomorrow.” I didn’t say a word. Noticing my pale face, he stepped closer, reaching out to touch my forehead. I stepped back, evading his hand. “I have something to tell you. I was preg—” Before I could finish, his phone rang, playing the custom ringtone he had set for Sienna. His expression softened instantly, a look I knew all too well. He held up a finger, asking me to wait, and quickly answered. “Sienna? What’s wrong?” Even though his phone wasn’t on speaker, the quiet room allowed me to hear her trembling voice clearly. “Petter, I think I have a fever. My whole body aches, and I don’t think I can…” “Have you taken your temperature? What is it?” “101.3.” He was already walking toward the door, reaching for his keys. “Stay there. I’m coming over.” Only as he reached the door did he remember I was standing there. “Valerie, Sienna has a severe fever and she’s entirely alone. I need to go check on her, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. We’ll talk about whatever you wanted to say when I get back.” The words died in my throat. The front door clicked shut, and his footsteps faded down the hall. The apartment was dead silent. On the counter, the bag of crabs sat in its plastic wrapping. The very last spark of love I had for him finally went out.

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1 The private thermal spa party was in full swing, but my fiancé was nowhere to be found. I headed toward the VIP wing to look for him. Suddenly, glowing lines of text flashed across my vision. [Why is the tacky side character at the sauna? The male lead is busy making out with the fake heiress in there!] [Watching her use her own money to book a luxury sauna, only for it to become a love nest for our main couple, is just so satisfying!] [Hehe! That is what she gets for hogging the fiancée title. Let her choke on it!] Simon, my fiancé’s assistant, stepped into my path, blocking the hallway. “Miss Harrington, Mr. Davenport said he went to fetch your fresh towels. He asked you to wait back in the private cabana.” [Look at the assistant being an absolute bro, covering for them!] [Our sweet, beautiful Cassey belongs with the male lead. If I were there, I would help trick this trailer trash too.] [Jim is so wild. He slammed the door so hard he jammed the safety lock. They literally cannot open it from the inside!] I glanced at the blistering wave of heat visibly seeping through the cracks of the heavy glass door. Then, I looked at the yellow “Out of Order” sign hanging on the handle. I pulled out my phone and dialed the local resort town locksmith. “Hi, the sauna door lock is jammed. Just take your time driving the golf cart up the mountain. Anytime within the next hour is fine. I will be waiting right outside the door.” [No way! If they wait an hour, the main couple will be boiled alive!] … “Tara, what are you just standing around here for?” A group of Jim’s trust-fund friends strolled down the corridor. Leading the pack were Madison and Carter. They were part of Jim and Cassey’s inner circle, the kind of old-money snobs who never hid their absolute disdain for me, the biological daughter who was only brought back to the Harrington estate a year ago. Madison rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with mockery. “Didn’t Jim tell you to wait in the cabana?” “Are you scared of getting lost? Never seen a luxury alpine resort before?” Carter chimed in with a cruel smirk. “Tara, even if you technically hold the title of fiancée, try not to be so clingy. Jim deals with enough corporate stress as it is. He finally gets a weekend to unwind, and you are sticking to him like a leech. It is pathetic.” [Exactly! This side character is so gross. Tell her to get lost!] [Do not interrupt the main couple making babies in there!] [The temperature inside is spiking. The side character needs to leave so the assistant can figure out a way to break the door and save them!] I ignored their taunts. Instead, I turned my attention to a passing resort attendant. “You. Bring a velvet lounger over here.” “And two heavy-duty electric fans. Point them directly at me.” “I also want iced watermelon, frozen grapes, and the most expensive gelato you have in the kitchen. Bring it all right here.” The attendant blinked in surprise but quickly hurried off to follow my orders. Madison scowled. “Tara, what kind of psychotic break is this?” “This is the VIP corridor. What are you doing setting up a picnic here?” I paid her no mind, settling comfortably onto the plush lounger the staff had just wheeled over, and scooped a spoonful of rich vanilla gelato into my mouth. “I bought out this entire wing for the night. I will eat wherever I please.” “If my face offends you, the exit is right behind you. Feel free to roll your way out.” “You!” Madison gasped, her face turning a blotchy red. Simon was visibly panicking now. His eyes kept darting toward that tightly sealed sauna door. The heat leaking from the seams was already making the hallway unbearably stuffy. “Miss Harrington, it is incredibly humid out here. Resting in this heat is terrible for your skin.” “How about I escort you to the facial spa downstairs?” I took my time, speaking in a slow, deliberate drawl. “No need. I just noticed the lock on this sauna is broken.” “What if someone is trapped inside?” “I am a good Samaritan at heart. I simply must stay right here and stand guard until the locksmith arrives.” All the color drained from Simon’s face. He knew exactly who was inside. His boss and his boss’s precious little secret. [Ahhh I am so mad! This toxic bitch is doing this on purpose!] [Wait, does she know something?] [No way, she is just a brainless cannon fodder. How could she know?] [We are doomed. Cassey has a fragile constitution, and it has to be over 120 degrees in there by now! If they do not get out, someone is going to die!] Madison stomped over, pointing a manicured finger right at my face. “Tara, stop being such an attention whore!” “There is an ‘Out of Order’ sign on the door. Why would anyone be inside?” “You are just throwing a tantrum to get Jim’s attention, aren’t you?” “Newsflash. Even if you pull these pathetic stunts, Jim will never look at you twice!” Carter nodded in agreement. “Exactly. Look at how vulgar you are acting. You do not even compare to a single hair on Cassey’s head.” “The Harringtons only took you in out of pity. Do not start thinking you actually matter.” I shot them a freezing glare. I was the biological Harrington heiress, lost to the foster system for twenty years. I was brought home barely a year ago. But my biological parents and my older brother had already poured all their love into Cassey, the imposter they raised in my place. They hated that I spoke bluntly. They hated that I did not know how to play the sweet, submissive debutante. Even my fiancé, Jim, a man I was betrothed to since childhood, was completely obsessed with Cassey. I had tried so hard to fit in, to please them all. All I got in return was endless cold shoulders and vicious mockery. So, I was done playing nice. I tossed the leftover watermelon rind onto the silver tray. The sharp clatter echoed in the hallway. Madison and Carter bristled, their pride wounded. “Who do you think you are throwing an attitude at?” Madison crossed her arms, glaring down at me. “Do you think just because you have the Harrington last name, we are scared of you?” “In our circle, Cassey is the only Harrington girl we recognize!” “You are just a piece of trash who showed up halfway to steal her life!” I let out a dry, mocking laugh. “Steal her life? Madison, did your daddy buy your high school diploma? You really lack basic comprehension skills.” “Cassey stole my identity and spent twenty years burning through my parents’ bank accounts.” “How exactly did I steal anything from her?” [The side character is so stubborn! Blood means nothing, emotional bonds are what truly matter!] [Cassey is so kind-hearted. If she was not worried about protecting this bitch’s fragile ego, she would have gone public with Jim ages ago!] [Someone figure out how to save them! The temperature is hitting 140 degrees!] [Jim stripped all his clothes off, and Cassey is getting delirious! Any longer and they will severely dehydrate!] Simon was sweating bullets, gripping his two-way radio but terrified to openly call for backup. “Miss Harrington, I am begging you. Please just leave. I will handle things here.” “If Mr. Davenport comes back and sees you acting like this, he will be furious with you again.” I leaned back into the velvet cushions, entirely unbothered. “Furious? What do I care if he throws a fit?” “Nobody touches that door today without my permission.” Realizing playing nice would not work, Carter’s face darkened into a nasty scowl. “Tara, you are already a laughingstock in high society, and now you have the nerve to act arrogant?” “If you do not get up and leave right now, you can forget about ever being invited to our parties again!” “Yeah! We will completely blackball you!” Madison shrieked in agreement. I looked at them, finding the whole situation utterly hilarious. The old me would have swallowed her pride and taken the abuse just to squeeze into their elite little bubble. I used to force a smile through their sneers. I paid for all their lavish tabs just for an excuse to spend a few extra minutes with Jim. But now? Why the hell should I? “Deal.” The word slipped effortlessly from my lips. Madison and Carter exchanged confused glances, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily. “What did you just say?” Madison’s eyes widened. “I said deal. I was getting sick of dealing with you freeloading parasites anyway.” “I already closed the tab for today. If you want to keep partying, open your own wallets.” “Oh, and do not forget to Venmo me for the fans and the drinks. We are splitting the cost.” [Is the side character insane? How dare she speak to the male lead’s friends like that!] [Wasn’t she terrified of being isolated?] [Forget about her! Cassey just collapsed into Jim’s arms in there! SOS!] [Jim tried to ram the door, but he has no strength left! It is heavy-duty reinforced glass, he cannot break it!] Simon finally snapped. He gritted his teeth and lunged forward. “Forgive me for this, Miss Harrington!” He reached out to physically shove my lounger out of the way. I locked eyes with him, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper. “Touch me, and see what happens.” “You are nothing but Jim’s lapdog. You really think you can put your hands on me?” Simon froze mid-step. Right at that moment, a deeply displeased voice boomed from the end of the hallway. “Tara, what kind of ridiculous scene are you causing now!” I looked up. It was my biological brother, Blake Harrington, flanked by a detail of private security. Seeing her savior arrive, Madison instantly morphed into a weeping victim, running up to him. “Blake, thank god you are here!” “Look at Tara! She is blocking the hallway like a maniac, insulting us, and even screaming at Jim’s assistant.” Blake’s brow furrowed in disgust. He marched right up to me, demanding answers. “Where is Cassey?” “We have been looking everywhere for her. And here you are, hiding out and stuffing your face?” Looking at his blatantly biased, angry face, I forced down the familiar sting of betrayal. “She is a grown woman. How would I know where she wandered off to?” Blake stood over me, his tone dripping with condescension. “Watch your attitude! Cassey has a delicate constitution. If something happens to her, can you bear the consequences?” “Get off your ass right now and go find her!” I took a slow sip of my iced fruit juice, perfectly composed. “Not going. I am waiting here for the locksmith.” “What damn locksmith? Are you out of your mind!” Blake violently swiped his hand across my table, knocking over my glass. The crystal shattered against the marble floor, splashing sticky, freezing juice all over my dress. He didn’t show a shred of guilt. Instead, he stared at me with pure revulsion. “Tara, when will you stop this?” “Every time we go out, you have to ruin the mood for everyone.” “Do you have any idea how cheap and pathetic you look when you act like this!” [Tell her, brother! He has such good taste!] [This toxic bitch needs to be kicked out of the Harrington family!] [Make him drag her away! It is 160 degrees in there! Cassey is losing consciousness!] [Jim is gasping for air, his skin is completely red! Get that door open!] “Blake, that was the absolute last time I ever let you physically touch me.” I glared at him with dead eyes, standing up to brush the sticky fruit pulp off my designer dress. “If you do not want to wait for the locksmith, then smash the door down yourself.” “If you actually have the guts to do it, I might actually respect you as a brother.” Blake laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “Tara, you are a completely unreasonable lunatic!” “Guards, drag her out of here. Do not let her embarrass us any further!” Two burly security guards immediately stepped up, grabbing me forcefully by both shoulders. [Yes! Amazing job, brother! Throw this annoying woman out!] [Once she is gone, the assistant can finally break the door and save them!] [Hold on, my precious Cassey! You will be out soon!] [Jim is getting heat spasms! Oh my god, my heart is breaking for him!] “Let me go!” I thrashed violently, digging my fingernails desperately into the decorative wooden pillar beside me. Blake waved his hand impatiently. “Pry her fingers off!” The guard aggressively twisted my knuckles, pulling a sharp hiss of pain from my lips. Reacting on pure adrenaline, I ducked my head and sank my teeth deeply into the guard’s hand. “Argh!” The guard howled in pain, instinctively dropping his grip. Thick drops of blood splattered onto the pristine marble floor. [What the fuck! Is this crazy woman part dog? She bites!] [Zero class! Who cares if she has biological ties, she is absolute trailer trash to her core!] [Call the cops on her! Do not let her delay the rescue any longer!] Seeing the blood, Blake roared in fury. “Tara, you dare assault someone!” “I am going to teach you a lesson today. You are going to learn your place!” Madison shrieked from the sidelines. “Call security! Call the police!” “She committed assault! Let the cops lock her up!” Within minutes, two local resort police officers arrived on the scene. Blake pointed a rigid finger at me, his voice strictly authoritarian. “Officers, my sister is mentally unstable. She has been causing a massive disturbance and just violently bit my security guard.” “Please take her down to the station. Process her however you see fit.” Madison and Carter eagerly nodded along. “Yes! We saw the whole thing!” “She is violently unhinged. Keeping her here is a public safety hazard!” The two officers looked at the guard’s bleeding hand and frowned heavily. “Ma’am, you are suspected of physical assault. Please come with us.” Cold metal handcuffs snapped around my wrists. I let out a low, chilling laugh. “Alright, officers. I will go with you.” “But I highly recommend you do not wander too far. Because the biggest scandal of the century is about to blow wide open right here.” “What kind of garbage are you spewing now!” Blake yelled. Right at that moment, the elevator doors down the hall chimed open. “Blake! Did you find Cassey yet?” An elegantly dressed older woman in stilettos practically sprinted out of the elevator. It was my biological mother, Beatrice Harrington, her face tight with panic. Trailing behind her were several high-society wives from her country club. Blake hurried over to steady her. “Mom, why are you up here?” “How could I not be? Cassey said she was going to change her swimsuit, and it has been half an hour! No one has seen her!” Beatrice was frantic, but then her eyes landed on me in handcuffs. She froze for a second before her face twisted into pure, unadulterated rage. “Tara, you absolute disgrace! What kind of mess are you making now!” “Your sister is missing, and you are sitting here stuffing your face and fighting with the police?” “I should have never brought you back! You are a stain on the Harrington name!” [Yes, Mom, tell her! This evil side character does not deserve the Harrington name!] [Only our sweet Cassey is worthy of being the heiress!] [Take her away! Officers, drag her out of here!] [The metal door handle is literally scorching hot! Cassey and Jim are dying!] The officer tried to de-escalate. “Mrs. Harrington, your daughter bit someone. We need to take her in for questioning.” Beatrice curled her lip in disgust. “Take her! Get her out of my sight!” “Lock this uneducated savage up for a few days so she learns some manners!” “Do not let her stand here and distract me from finding Cassey!” I looked at the woman who gave birth to me, watching how desperately she wanted me to vanish, and I just laughed out loud. “Mom, aren’t you looking for your precious Cassey?” “You can stop searching. She is right behind that door.” I gestured with my chin toward the heavy glass door with the “Out of Order” sign. Beatrice followed my gaze, her expression faltering. Blake immediately snapped back. “Bullshit! There is a maintenance sign on it. Why the hell would Cassey be in there?” I raised an eyebrow. “Do not believe me? Just ask Jim’s assistant.” “He has been standing guard outside this door since the very beginning. He hasn’t moved an inch.” Every single pair of eyes in the corridor snapped toward Simon. Simon stammered, his entire body trembling. “N-No… Boss and Miss Cassey… they aren’t in there…” I smirked coldly. “Oh? Then who cranked the sauna dial to the absolute maximum?” “And who jammed the safety lock from the inside?” “Mom, your precious little Cassey is in there right now, rolling around naked with my fiancé…” Smack! Beatrice lunged forward and slapped me across the face with all her strength. Half my face went numb before burning hot. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. “You filthy-mouthed little whore!” Beatrice was shaking with rage, pointing a trembling finger at my nose. “Knowing what kind of trash you are, you dare spread malicious rumors about your sister and Jim?” “Cassey is pure and innocent! She would never do something so shameless!” “You are just jealous that she is better than you, that everyone loves her! You are just trying to ruin her reputation!” The country club wives behind her shook their heads in disapproval. “Tara, this really crosses the line. What kind of sister makes up lies like this?” “Exactly. We watched Jim grow up. He is a gentleman. He would never do such a thing.” I touched my burning cheek, my eyes turning completely devoid of warmth. Smack! A second, infinitely louder slap echoed through the hall as my handcuffed hands swung up and cracked fiercely across Beatrice’s face. The entire corridor gasped in horror. Blake’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief. “Tara! You hit Mom!” Beatrice clutched her cheek, screaming as she tried to claw at me. “You animal! I gave birth to you, and you dare strike me!” The officers quickly stepped in, shoving themselves between us. “Mrs. Harrington, contain yourself. No physical violence.” Shielded by the police, I watched her act like a rabid dog. “You gave birth to me, but you never spent a single day raising me.” “If you are so convinced I am lying, then open the damn door and look for yourself!” “Look and see if your perfect little daughter is in there stealing another woman’s man!” Pushed to the brink of insanity by my words, Beatrice completely lost it. “Fine! Open it! Let’s see how you talk your way out of this when it’s empty!” “If nobody is in there, I will beat you to death with my bare hands today!” She stormed up to the sauna and aggressively grabbed the metal handle. “Ah!” She violently recoiled, clutching her hand. The metal was scalding hot. Right at that moment, the resort locksmith came jogging up the hallway with his heavy tool bag. “Excuse me, coming through! Make way!” The locksmith worked fast. He pulled out an industrial drill, and within seconds, he shredded the jammed lock cylinder. Click. The heavy tempered glass door finally pulled open.

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1 In Capital high society, there were two famously useless heirs: me, Toby Lockwood, and my autistic, fragile childhood sweetheart, Mia Kensington. While my sisters ruled as a crime queen and a billionaire, her brothers dominated as a legal titan and a miracle surgeon. One night, over poker and scotch, the four decided it was easier to marry us off than manage us separately. So, we did. Married life was a blur of maxed-out black cards and lavish parties. That ended at a Mercer gala in Boston. The arrogant heir, Dominic Mercer, cornered me with a blurry photo, accusing me of sleeping with his wife. When I denied it, he raised a hand to strike. Mia didn’t hesitate; she threw herself in front of me, taking the slap, blood trickling from her lip. Dominic sneered at the “retard” and the “gigolo.” He ordered his guards to teach us a lesson. Heart aching, I pulled Mia close and dialed my sister. “Christine,” I said, “someone is hurting us.” These fools didn’t know: crossing the four titans might earn you mercy. Hurting their useless babies meant death. … “Oh, running to your mommy when things get tough? Calling your big sister? Please, she’s probably just another sugar mommy.” Dominic snatched my phone right out of my hand and shattered it against the marble floor. “What, is one brain-dead wife not enough for you? How many sugar mommies do you have on speed dial?” I stared at the broken screen, taking a slow, deep breath. “Mr. Mercer, I am going to say this one last time.” “You have the wrong person.” “Walk away right now, take your goons with you, and I might forget this ever happened.” Dominic burst into a cruel, mocking laugh. He turned to the crowd of wealthy onlookers, who were watching the drama unfold like vultures. “Did you all hear that? A cheap gigolo living off rich women is telling me to get out of my own gala?” A wave of snickers and whispers rippled through the hall. “These low-life gold-diggers really don’t know their place anymore, Dominic.” “Using a disabled wife as a shield while he plays around… absolutely pathetic.” Dominic stepped closer, his polished leather shoes clicking against the stone floor. He pointed a finger directly at my face, nearly touching my nose. “In Boston, I am the law.” “Beat them!” The bodyguards closed in, their fists clenched. I braced myself, shutting my eyes. But the blows never came. Mia had wrapped her fragile body entirely around mine, shielding me. “No… hurt… Toby…” Her voice was soft, her pronunciation slow and slurred. Severely autistic, she didn’t fully comprehend the politics of the room. All she knew was that she had to protect me. She held me with a strength I didn’t know she possessed. Heavy fists rained down on her back. Thud. Thud. Every heavy impact felt like a knife twisting in my chest. “Sera!” I struggled wildly to break free of her grip. “Let me go! Your heart can’t take this! Let me go!” Mia just shook her head, her stubbornness unbreakable. Her face grew deathly pale, but her arms remained locked around me. “Toby… not hurt…” “Won’t let… Toby get hurt. I block it.” She even tried to squeeze out a weak, reassuring smile. That beautiful, stubborn fool. She was trembling from the pain, yet her only concern was keeping me safe. “Stop! Stop hitting her!” She had a fragile heart condition; this kind of trauma could kill her. My eyes burned with raw fury as I glared at Dominic. “Tell them to stop! She has heart failure! She’s going to die!” The nearby serving staff began to whisper nervously. “Look at his suit… that tailorship is incredibly high-end. He doesn’t look like a cheap gigolo.” “Shh, do you want to lose your job? Mr. Mercer is furious. Keep your head down.” The Mercer family’s head butler wiped the sweat from his forehead and stepped forward, whispering. “Young master, that girl looks very ill. She might have a serious medical condition.” “If something happens to her here…” Dominic slapped the butler across the face. “Shut up!” “She’s just a brain-dead stray. Why are you treating her like she’s made of gold?” He pointed at Mia with utter disgust. “I don’t care about her pathetic life. Even if she dies ten times over, my family can pay off the damages!” “Drag this cheating trash and his brain-dead wife into the main ballroom!” “I want everyone in Boston to see exactly what happens when someone tries to mess with my woman!” The security guards grabbed us roughly, dragging our bodies across the floor toward the grand ballroom. Mia clutched my hand. Her fingers were ice-cold. Her chest heaved violently, and beads of cold sweat rolled down her forehead. I fought back with everything I had, my shoes scraping uselessly against the polished floor. “Get your hands off her! She has a heart condition!” “You’re going to kill her!” Dominic walked ahead, not even bothering to look back. “Then let her die.” We were thrown onto the plush red carpet of the main ballroom. Dominic marched up to the stage at the center of the hall. “Everyone, quiet down!” The chatter of hundreds of wealthy guests died instantly. Every eye in the room locked onto Mia and me. Dominic snapped his fingers. The massive LED screen behind him flickered to life. It displayed a blurry photo of a man’s back. The man was wearing a light-gray suit, getting into a red Maserati. Dominic pointed at the screen, then pointed aggressively at me. “This pathetic loser right here is the bastard who’s been sleeping with my wife!” “He’s married, yet he’s out here ruining other families, using his disabled wife as a cover-up.” “Did he really think he could get away with it in my city?” “Look at him! Doesn’t he look exactly like the guy in the photo?” I happened to be wearing a light-gray suit tonight. But anyone with a shred of sense could tell the difference. The fabric, the fit, and the bespoke tailoring of my suit were lightyears beyond the mass-produced luxury in the photo. My second sister, Molly, had commissioned it directly from a Parisian haute couture house for me. But in this room, no one dared to cross the host. “The suit looks identical. Even the hair matches. It has to be him.” “Tsk, tsk. He looks so respectable, but he’s just a shameless home-wrecker.” “Poor girl. She’s completely oblivious, protecting her cheating husband like an idiot.” The vicious whispers swirled around us like a toxic cloud. Mia, highly sensitive to bright lights and loud noises, began to tremble violently, covering her ears. The glaring spotlights and the hostile murmurs were throwing her into a sensory overload. “Toby…” She curled up on the carpet, her breathing shallow and frantic. The color drained from her lips, leaving them a terrifying shade of blue. Panic surged through me. I pulled her tightly against my chest. “Sera! Look at me! Just breathe, okay? Deep breaths!” My hands shook uncontrollably as I tore open her purse. Her emergency medication and her portable oxygen regulator were always with her. The compact medical device was a custom prototype designed specifically for her by her brother, Simon, to stabilize her during severe episodes. Just as my fingers brushed the medicine bottle, a heavy boot slammed down. Dominic had walked down from the stage. He ground his heel into the back of my hand, pinning it to the floor. He reached down and snatched the medicine and the oxygen regulator away. “Oh, is this what you need to keep her alive?” Dominic tossed the small device lightly in his palm. “Beg me.” “On your knees. Admit to everyone here that you’re a home-wrecking parasite, and maybe I’ll let her have it.” “Toby… don’t… beg…” Mia gasped out, her eyes pleading with me. “Dominic Mercer!” I looked up, my eyes burning with a cold, lethal promise. “My sister is Christine Lockwood. The Lockwood family of the Capital.” “If you touch a single hair on Mia’s head, my family will wipe yours off the face of this earth!” Dominic stared at me for a split second, then roared with laughter. “Christine Lockwood?” “The underground sovereign Christine Lockwood?” He laughed so hard tears pooled in his eyes. “Have you been reading too many cheap thriller novels, kid?” “If you’re a Lockwood, then I’m royalty! Do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” “If you’re going to lie, at least do your research. The Lockwood family didn’t even RSVP to this event!” It was true. Christine had zero interest in this second-rate gala. I had simply found myself bored while visiting Boston, and since Mia and I wanted a change of scenery and a decent meal, we decided to crash the party on a whim. Seeing my silence, Dominic’s grin grew even more venomous. “What’s the matter? Can’t keep your story straight?” He tilted his chin up, dripping with arrogance. “If a member of the Lockwood family actually set foot in this building, my father would have cleared the entire street to roll out the carpet himself!” The head butler, watching Mia’s deteriorating condition, couldn’t help but step forward again. “Young master, she needs that oxygen regulator immediately. She looks like she’s going into shock.” The smug grin vanished from Dominic’s face, replaced by raw irritation. He glared fiercely at the older man. “I said I’ll pay for it if she dies!” In front of the entire assembly of Boston’s elite, he threw the custom regulator down and stomped on it. The intricate device shattered into a dozen useless plastic and metal pieces. “No!” I screamed, throwing myself forward, but two heavy-set guards pinned me back down, forcing my face against the floor. Dominic reached down, grabbing my collar and pulling my head back sharply. “Does it hurt to watch?” “Then get on your knees and apologize to me on camera! Let the whole city watch you crawl!” “Admit you’re a disgusting, home-wrecking piece of trash!” “Bow down, beg for my mercy, and maybe I’ll let someone call an ambulance for your brain-dead wife.” Mia forced her eyes open, searching for mine. She weakly shook her head. “Toby… don’t kneel…” But how could I not? This was my Mia. The girl I had protected and loved my entire life. Her life was slipping away right in front of me. Just as I began to yield, steeling myself to sink to my knees to save her. A thunderous, metallic crash echoed from the heavy mahogany doors at the entrance. Boom. Boom. The entire wall shook with rhythmic, violent impacts. “Young Master Toby! Are you in there?” a booming voice roared from the other side. Panic rippled through the guests as they turned to stare at the vibrating entrance. Relief washed over me like a tidal wave. It was Christine’s local tactical team. They had arrived. I fought against the grip of the guards, screaming toward the doors with every ounce of air left in my lungs. “I’m in here!” “I’m here! Save Mia! Get her medical help, fast!” “Help her! She can’t breathe!” Dominic’s expression faltered for a fraction of a second, before twisting back into a sneer of pure arrogance. “So your sugar mommy actually has the guts to show up?” He smoothed the wrinkles from his clothes and let out a cold laugh. “Do some street-level thugs honestly think they can crash a Mercer event? Out of their minds!” “They must have a death wish.” He unclipped his walkie-talkie, his voice dropping into a harsh bark. “Security! Riot squad! All units, move to the main entrance!” “Break their legs! Beat them until they can’t crawl!” “Activate the level-one security lockdown. Seal every single electronic door in this building!” “Not even a fly leaves this room alive tonight!” At his command, heavy steel security shutters rolled down over the exits with a deafening rattle. The outside world was completely cut off. Thick steel bolts shot into place, locking the mahogany doors from the inside. The distant sounds of shouting and slamming metal slowly faded into a terrifying silence. The spark of hope that had just flared in my chest died as the steel shutters sealed us in. “No! Open the doors! Open them!” I tore myself away from the guards and lunged toward the steel shutter, pounding against the thick metal with my bare fists. My knuckles split open, coating the metal in crimson, but I felt absolutely nothing. “Mia doesn’t have time!” “Open the damn doors!” Dominic walked up behind me, grabbing my collar and throwing me violently onto the floor. “Keep screaming! Let’s see who hears you now!” He stood over me, savoring every drop of my despair. “Do you see this?” “This is your big backup? Pretty pathetic, don’t you think?” “In Boston, if I say someone doesn’t get in, even God himself has to wait at the gate!” He pointed a lazy finger at Mia, who was now barely conscious on the carpet. “Looks like she’s on her last breath.” “And it’s all your fault.” “If you had just got on your knees and confessed earlier, she wouldn’t be suffering like this.” “But now that the room is sealed, begging won’t save her anyway.” I stared at Mia’s blue lips, and tears finally spilled over my cheeks. I had never felt this kind of pure, unadulterated hatred in my life. Back in the Capital, when arrogant trust-fund kids threw snide remarks my way, I would just laugh it off. Why would I care? I had four terrifying older siblings who loved me unconditionally. I didn’t need to fight, or scramble for power. I only had to enjoy my life as their pampered little brother. But now, the person who meant more to me than my own life was dying right in front of me. And I was completely powerless to stop it. “Dominic Mercer…” I rasped, my voice sounding like gravel. “If she dies tonight, I will tear down the entire Mercer empire and burn it to ashes.” Dominic let out another booming laugh. “Oh, look at me, I’m shaking.” Just then, the head butler hurried back into the room. His face was pale as he leaned in to whisper into Dominic’s ear. Dominic’s eyes lit up instantly. “Celeste is here?” Hearing that name, a desperate spark of hope flared in my chest. If Celeste came in and cleared up the misunderstanding, admitting she didn’t even know me, this nightmare would end. Mia could finally get to a hospital. “Celeste!” Dominic hurried over to meet her, his expression softening into an aggrieved pout. “Look at this trash! He actually had the audacity to crash my gala and make a scene!” “He even brought his brain-dead wife here to mock us!” Celeste’s eyes scanned the tense ballroom, finally landing on me. I forced myself up from the floor, pointing directly at the massive screen. “Celeste!” “Tell him the truth! Tell him we’ve never met!” “Tell him that man in the photo isn’t me!” Celeste bit her lip. Her gaze darted between me and the giant projection. All she had to do was say two words: I don’t. That was it. But Celeste remained silent. She lowered her eyes, deliberately avoiding my gaze. When she finally looked up, her face was a mask of calculated heartbreak and disappointment. “Toby.” She sighed, her voice sweet, yet dripping with poison. “I told you so many times that there could never be anything between us.” “Why do you keep stalking me?” “Did you really have to follow me all the way to my husband’s private gala to cause a scene?” My eyes widened in sheer disbelief. A freezing chill swept through my veins. “What did you just say?” My voice trembled with rage. “Are you insane? I have never set eyes on you in my life!” Celeste ignored my outbursts entirely. She turned back to Dominic, gently taking his hands in hers. “Dominic, I’m so sorry.” “He’s been relentlessly pursuing me. I was too soft-hearted to completely shut him down, and it’s my fault.” “But I swear to you, he means nothing to me. You’re the only one I love.” “Let me handle this. Please don’t be angry with me, sweetie.” Dominic’s expression twisted into something monstrous. “You bastard!” He spun around and launched a brutal kick directly into my stomach. Caught completely off guard, the impact sent me sliding across the polished floor, crashing hard. A sharp, agonizing pain flared through my abdomen, making my entire body curl up in a violent spasm. “What do you have to say for yourself now?” Dominic roared, completely consumed by jealousy and fury. “My own wife just confessed! How dare you keep lying!” I clutched my stomach, cold sweat dripping down my face. But as I caught Celeste’s fleeting, anxious glance, the pieces finally clicked together. She knew exactly who I was: a perfect, unsuspecting stranger. She was using me to shield her actual lover. She was throwing me to the wolves to save her real affair. “Celeste… you’re going to burn in hell for this…” I hissed, locking my eyes onto her. A flicker of guilt crossed her features, but she quickly masked it with cold indifference. “Drag him up,” Dominic ordered coldly. “Make him kneel!” Several heavy guards grabbed my shoulders, forcing me onto my knees and pushing my head toward the giant screen. Dominic pointed a finger at Mia, who lay motionless on the floor. “Drag her over to that display stand!” The nearby pedestal, designed to showcase floating levitating jewelry, generated a powerful electromagnetic field. “No! Don’t touch her!” My eyes widened in absolute terror, and I struggled frantically. “She has an implantable defibrillator in her chest! The magnetic field will short-circuit it and stop her heart!” “Please! Leave her alone!” Dominic didn’t even blink. The guards dragged Mia’s limp body right next to the display. The moment she entered the field, the emergency cardiac patch on her chest began to emit a shrill, continuous alarm. Her limbs began to twitch violently, her eyes rolling back. “Sera!” I screamed her name, my voice cracking under the raw terror. Dominic walked up to me, raising his right hand. Slap. A stinging slap cracked across my cheek. My cheek burned and swelled instantly, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. Dominic massaged his wrist, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. “That one was to teach you some manners.” He raised his hand again. Slap. “And that one was for being a shameless home-wrecker.” The screeching of the medical monitor grew louder and more frantic. I watched the color drain completely from Mia’s face, my soul fracturing into pieces. I clenched my teeth so hard they threatened to break, staring into his eyes. “You had better pray that we both die tonight, Dominic. Because if we don’t, I will make you regret the very day you were born.” Dominic just laughed. “Regret? I don’t think so. But I’m definitely going to make you regret trying to steal my wife.” “Let’s see how many women you can charm once I ruin that pretty face of yours.” He reached out and took a sharp steak knife handed to him by a bodyguard. The polished silver blade glinted under the chandeliers, slowly descending toward my cheek. As the cold edge of the metal touched my skin, I closed my eyes, bracing for the worst. CRASH! The reinforced steel security shutter was violently ripped open. “Touch my brother, and I’ll tear your head off!”

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1 Three years after my death, Vanguard Enterprises matriarch Eleanor Kensington appeared on a popular daytime reunion show. Her hair turned all silver and her designer outfit stayed flawless, yet red, puffy eyes made her seem out of place; she fidgeted anxiously under studio lamps. When the host asked who she sought, Eleanor wiped tear-streaked cheeks with a shaky, rough voice, saying she searched for a girl named Hazel, her son Kurt’s first love. Kurt met Hazel during his runaway, rebellious years, and the two leaned solely on one another. After Eleanor found him and pulled him home to take over the family business, Kurt knelt and pleaded to wed Hazel. Obsessed with pairing him with a wealthy socialite heir instead, Eleanor paused, overcome with emotion. As the host passed a tissue, she squeezed her eyes tight and confessed she’d faked Hazel’s prenatal paternity paperwork, tricking Kurt into thinking the baby was not his. Her lie split the lovers apart; Kurt bore lifelong resentment toward Hazel and would not pardon her still. Burdened by guilt, she hoped to locate Hazel and amend her grave mistake. Shortly after broadcast, this interview snippet blew up across all social media. Netizens raged in anger, countless sympathizing with the ruined young woman. Meanwhile, the story’s male protagonist Kurt Kensington knew nothing of the uproar. Fresh from a board meeting in a tailored fine suit, he left the firm’s high-rise to visit his privileged, well-born fiancée. … The Maybach glided smoothly through the chaotic city traffic. Inside the cabin, a soothing cello sonata played softly. Kurt leaned back into the plush leather seat, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off the exhaustion of the week. His phone screen lit up, displaying the bright, flawless face of his fiancée, Valerie Sinclair. Valerie pouted her lips, her voice dripping with sweet, practiced affection. “Kurt, where are you? Someone else is eyeing this custom diamond necklace. You need to get here and swipe your card right now!” Kurt’s sharp, icy features softened, a completely indulgent smile touching his lips. “I am almost there. The avenue is a bit backed up. Go wait for me in the VIP lounge and have some coffee.” “I had Carter drive down to the artisanal bakery you love to get those imported macarons. You have been stressing over the wedding plans and losing weight. You need to eat.” Valerie giggled, shaking her porcelain coffee cup at the camera. “I know, I know. You treat me too well.” “Honestly, I will never understand how your ex could cheat on a man like you. But I guess I am the lucky one who got to pick up the prize she threw away.” The second those words left her mouth, the warmth vanished from Kurt’s face, replaced by a layer of impenetrable frost. He took a deep breath, his tone hardening into absolute authority. “Valerie, I have told you a dozen times. Never bring her up in front of me.” I floated just above the roof of the Maybach, looking down at the scene unfolding inside with quiet detachment. I understood why he reacted that way. That forged paternity test had not only shattered every illusion Kurt ever had about love, but it had also turned him into the ultimate laughingstock among the trust-fund elite. Carrying the humiliation of being publicly cheated on, he threw himself into corporate finance like a man possessed. He took over Vanguard Enterprises, cutting down rivals and stepping over bones to climb to his current throne. Finally, he secured a merger masquerading as a marriage with the Sinclair family. Right now, he was standing at the absolute pinnacle of his life. Naturally, he refused to let anyone remind him of the dirtiest stain on his past. Sitting in the passenger seat, Carter, his executive assistant, noticed the shift in mood. He quickly ended his own call and turned to look at Kurt with careful respect. “Mr. Kensington, your mother just appeared on a television broadcast looking for… looking for a figure from your past. The public backlash online is escalating rapidly. Should I have the PR department step in and suppress the trending tags?” “Madame Kensington represents the face of Vanguard. This kind of scandal could cause a dip in our stock prices. Judging by the comments, the public sentiment is heavily turning against you.” Kurt rolled down his window, letting the freezing city wind flood the cabin and mess up his perfectly styled hair. He scoffed coldly, reaching up to loosen his silk tie. “Ignore her. She is getting old and suddenly has a taste for cheap melodrama.” “Let her make a fool of herself. As long as it doesn’t interfere with the engagement party next week, the PR department doesn’t need to waste resources on tabloid garbage.” Kurt arrived at the luxury boutique, stepping into the top-floor VIP suite amid a flurry of flashing cameras and bowing staff. Valerie lifted the hem of her designer dress and ran over to loop her arms around his neck. “You are finally here! I thought I made you mad and you were going to stand me up.” “Never. Why would I be that petty?” Kurt wrapped a casual arm around her waist and handed a sleek black titanium card to the store manager. “Whatever she was looking at, wrap it all up.” Watching Kurt throw millions around without blinking, a dense, suffocating phantom ache spread through my chest. I used to have Kurt’s unconditional devotion, too. But that was a lifetime ago. The atmosphere inside the VIP lounge was buzzing. Several wealthy heirs from Kurt’s inner circle were lounging on the velvet sofas, supposedly there to help Valerie pick out jewelry. A guy with dyed red hair took a sip of his champagne, leaning close to Kurt with a testing smirk. “Hey man, I was just scrolling online. I saw your mom on TV looking for someone. Looked like she was talking about your first love.” “It is blowing up everywhere. The group chats are going crazy saying your mom forged some medical papers to drive her away. Is that actually true, or is she just pulling a PR stunt with the network?” The noisy room instantly went dead silent. You could hear a pin drop. Every single pair of eyes was secretly tracking Kurt’s reaction. He slammed his empty crystal glass onto the glass table. The sharp crack made everyone flinch, but his smile was entirely nonchalant. “It is fake, obviously.” “There is nothing to talk about regarding the past. She cheated on me, plain and simple.” “My mother is just trying to drum up some fake sympathy and media heat because Vanguard is preparing for a new IPO. It is just marketing.” He spoke with such breezy detachment, as if the story belonged to a complete stranger. The heirs exchanged glances, smartly taking the hint. They immediately pivoted the conversation to a yacht party happening the following weekend. After the gathering ended, Kurt declined Valerie’s invitation for a private dinner and got into his car alone. The interior of the car was suffocatingly quiet until a jarring ringtone shattered the silence. The word “Mother” flashed on the dashboard display. Kurt frowned in irritation, tapping the screen to answer on speakerphone. “Kurt, you need to come home right now!” Eleanor’s frantic, trembling voice instantly filled the cabin. “The network producers just called me… they found out where Hazel is!” Before Kurt could even speak, her voice broke into suppressed, hysterical sobs, her words spilling out in a panicked rush. “Everything that happened back then wasn’t what you thought… I have to tell you the truth. I have been praying and doing charity for years, but my conscience is eating me alive! You have to come back… you have to see her, at least once…” Kurt leaned heavily against the leather seat, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on his knee. “The truth?” “What truth is left to tell?” “The truth is she slept around behind my back!” “I tore my relationship with this family to pieces for her, and she was carrying another man’s bastard child!” He gritted his teeth, his eyes turning venomous. “Mom, stop wasting your breath. So what if they found her? I have zero desire to ever look at her face again. Even if she crawled here and begged on her knees, I would only feel sick to my stomach!” Hearing that, the other end of the line plunged into a deathly, heavy silence. It felt like an eternity passed. Finally, after several long seconds, Eleanor spoke in a hollow whisper. “And what if… what if she is already dead?” Kurt froze entirely, his hand hovering mid-air. I didn’t know what was going through his head right then, but I couldn’t help but wonder. Yes, Kurt. What if I am dead? Would you still hate me this much? In the long stretch of his silence, my mind involuntarily drifted back to our memories. I remembered the first time we met. I was a sophomore in college, working a grueling shift as a promoter at a dive bar. Kurt had just cut ties with his wealthy family. He was sitting on a dirty curb, completely broke, chewing on a stale piece of bread. A group of junkies noticed the luxury watch on his wrist and jumped him in an alley, beating him until his head was covered in blood. I grabbed a metal trash can from the sidewalk and hurled it at the attackers. I grabbed his hand and dragged him through the dark, winding alleys until we lost them. He leaned against a brick wall, panting heavily. Then, very gently, he pulled a crumpled, expensive handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the cold sweat off my forehead. Under the flickering orange streetlamp, our eyes met. From that night on, the untouchable, elite heir became a poor boy who only had me to rely on. To take care of me, he would run across half the city in the freezing rain when I had a fever, desperately searching for a 24-hour pharmacy, dripping with sweat and panic. On nights when the roof of our cheap apartment leaked, he would use his own body to shield me from the freezing drips, smiling down at me in the dark. “Hazel, once I save up enough money, we are going to buy a tiny house by the ocean. We will adopt a dog.” Back then, Kurt’s eyes held the entire universe. They were bright, burning, and completely sincere. The year I graduated, I found out I was pregnant. Kurt was ecstatic. He dragged me to a jewelry store to buy cheap matching silver bands, swearing he would give me and the baby a real home. But before we could even finish dreaming, Eleanor kicked down the door of our apartment with a dozen bodyguards. She was there to drag Kurt back to his empire. Kurt fiercely refused. He demanded I come with him. But by then, his family had already arranged a perfect, highly profitable marriage for him. A brutal standoff ensued. Watching Kurt get torn apart between me and his blood relatives, my heart physically ached for him. I swallowed my tears, gently trying to pry his fingers off my wrist. “Kurt, just go home. Don’t destroy your family over me…” “What the hell are you talking about!” Kurt violently gripped my hand, holding on so tight it hurt. He shielded me behind his back, staring his mother dead in the eye, and swore he would sever every single tie to the Kensington name forever if she touched me. Weighing the total loss of her heir, Eleanor finally backed down. She offered one single condition. A prenatal DNA test. She promised that as long as the child was confirmed to be a Kensington, she would nod her head and let him marry me. I was so full of hope. I thought we had finally survived the darkest storm. But the printed medical report declared the child was not his. Eleanor smiled. She slapped the paper directly into Kurt’s chest and pointed a manicured finger at my face, screaming every vile insult she knew. “You shameless little whore!” “He was ready to throw away a billionaire empire for you! Was it worth it!?” I completely broke down. I begged, I cried, I swore to the heavens he was the only man I had ever touched. But Kurt didn’t believe a single word. He crushed the forged report in his fist, his eyes shifting from sheer shock to a bottomless, hollow despair. Finally, he delivered my sentence. “Hazel, do you have any shame at all?” “You didn’t just betray me, you played me for an absolute fool!” “I must have been blind to ever look at a piece of trash like you.” He slammed the door and walked out of my life, leaving me alone in a room with Eleanor’s cruelty. Eleanor demanded I abort the baby. When I refused, she had her guards lock me in a bedroom. I waited until they weren’t looking and threw myself out of the second-story window. My leg shattered on the pavement, but I kept my arms wrapped tightly around my stomach to save my child. Dragging my broken leg, I crawled through a torrential downpour to the Kensington estate, just wanting to look him in the eye and explain. I knelt outside those massive iron gates, screaming his name until my throat bled. The butler eventually walked out with an umbrella. He looked down at me and said the young master never wanted to see my face again. On my way back, dizzy from massive blood loss, I collapsed on the side of the highway. A speeding cargo truck struck me. When I woke up in the ICU, my baby was gone. My uterus had been surgically removed due to catastrophic hemorrhaging. I permanently lost my right to be a mother. And I permanently lost Kurt. After recovering enough to walk, I took my shattered body and left that city, vanishing into a decaying rust-belt town out west. With no degree, no connections, and a ruined body, I could only take the most grueling, filthy jobs available. In my third year working the assembly line at a textile mill, the stomach pains and coughing up blood became a daily routine. The clinic gave me the paper. Terminal stomach cancer. Stage four. The moment I held that diagnosis, a bizarre sense of relief washed over me. I was just so tired. This life had been far too bitter, for far too long. Now, I was finally going to be set free. But there was one last knot in my heart I couldn’t untie. Kurt. I just wanted to see him one last time. To explain what really happened back then. I couldn’t bear the thought of the man I loved most spending the rest of his life fueled by hatred for me. So, I gathered every ounce of courage I had left and dialed his number. To my shock, he actually picked up. We agreed on a time and place to meet. But when the time came, the person who walked into the private cafe room wasn’t Kurt. It was Eleanor. She sat across from me, looking down her nose, and proceeded to list all of Kurt’s recent triumphs. She told me he held absolute power now. He controlled Vanguard, standing at the absolute peak of the pyramid, and was preparing to marry a brilliant heiress who would multiply his empire. His future was golden and flawless. Then, breaking her usual cruelty, she softened her tone. “Hazel, I know I wronged you terribly back then. But I am a mother. To secure my son’s future, I had to be ruthless.” She slid a twenty-million-dollar cashier’s check across the table. “Consider this my compensation. If you still have even a shred of love left for Kurt, don’t tell him the truth.” “Think about it. If you tell him everything, what good will it do? It will only make him despise his own mother, tear his family apart, and destroy the flawless life he has built.” I stared at that thin piece of paper, listening to her paint a picture of Kurt’s happy, perfect life. Suddenly, everything clicked. She was right. What was the point of telling him the truth? How much longer did I even have to live? But Kurt was different. If I told him, he would carry a suffocating guilt for the rest of his life. He would go to war with his mother, plunging from the brilliant, untouchable CEO back into a miserable, broken man deserving of pity. He fought so hard to climb out of the dark. I couldn’t be selfish enough to drag him back into the mud. I couldn’t do it. Our story was always meant to end here. Not long after, the door to the cafe swung open violently. Kurt walked in. He scanned the room and locked eyes with me instantly. “What exactly did you want to explain to me?” His tone was carved from ice, but I could see the microscopic flicker of anticipation in his eyes. He was desperately hoping to hear a different answer from my lips. Unfortunately, I was about to crush him. I exhaled slowly, making my choice. “Nothing, really. I just wanted to tell you that your mother’s DNA test wasn’t wrong. That child wasn’t yours. I slept with someone else.” “I only came to say I was sorry.” Hearing those words, Kurt physically locked up. His fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned bone-white. His chest heaved violently. A full minute of agonizing silence passed before he let out a harsh, self-deprecating laugh and viciously kicked a wooden chair across the room. “Hazel, and here I thought you actually had some tragic secret.” “My mother was right about you all along.” “You make me violently sick.” Accompanied by the deafening slam of the door, Kurt walked away without looking back. Staring at the empty doorway, a massive mouthful of dark blood rushed up my throat and spilled onto the table. I knew he was finally, completely done with me. This was for the best. Let him hate me. Hating a woman who betrayed him was infinitely easier than hating himself for the rest of his life.

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1 As the only high-altitude search and rescue operative in the country capable of traversing the Black Wind Gap without artificial anchors, I just received a private rescue contract worth thirty million dollars. The missing person was trapped down a glacial crevasse at an altitude of 23,000 feet. A massive blizzard had completely sealed the mountain, and his oxygen tank had less than sixteen hours remaining. Seven years ago, I too knelt just beyond the snowline and begged for a rescue. My daughter was trapped in a snow cave during a winter camp. The rescue rope team had already reached the base of the mountain, but they were abruptly diverted by my husband, Arthur Rauch. He redirected them simply to rescue a wildly expensive poodle belonging to his childhood sweetheart’s son. He told me the boy had severe trauma, and that dog was his entire life. But my daughter was my entire life. My daughter eventually froze to death in that snow cave. I divorced Arthur, plunged into the snow-capped mountains like a woman possessed, and spent the next seven years saving countless people who didn’t deserve to die. Until today. The exact same mountain, the exact same wind corridor, the exact same countdown to fatal hypothermia. And the person trapped at the bottom of the crevasse was his sweetheart’s son. Arthur offered thirty million dollars for me to head up the mountain immediately. I looked at the dossier and smiled. “I can’t walk that path.” … “Boss, look at it again.” Cole slid the tablet across the table, his fingertips tapping the screen so hard they turned white. “North face glacial crevasse, 23,200 feet. The GPS beacon is still moving, which means he is alive.” “The client is offering thirty million. The deposit is already sitting in the Association’s escrow account. If you just nod your head, the chopper will be here in thirty minutes.” I kept my head down, wiping the rust spots off my ice axe. I didn’t reach for the tablet. “Return it.” Cole froze, thinking he had misheard me. “What?” “I am not taking this job.” The room plunged into absolute silence. Cole had been with me for six years. He had seen me drag pregnant women out of avalanche trenches. He had seen me hang off a cliff at thirty below zero for seven straight hours. He had seen me almost lose half my foot to frostbite just to save a kid I had never met. So he didn’t understand. “Boss, you never cherry-pick your jobs.” “I am picking this time.” “Why?” He flipped the tablet around, his voice dropping low. “Look at the photo. Oliver Vance. Twenty-three years old. Stepped into a blind void while trekking with a team. He only has one backup oxygen cylinder left with him.” “The weather station says a whiteout gale is going to hit tonight. After midnight, no one will be able to get in.” My hand paused on the ice axe. Twenty-three. When my daughter, Josephine, died, she was only seven. She never got the chance to live to twenty-three. Cole kept talking. “You are the only one who can cross the Black Wind Gap. Any other team going up there wouldn’t be rescuing him, they would just be throwing more bodies into the void. Boss, I know you don’t care about the money, but that is a living person.” I looked up at him. “Cole, you have been with me a long time. When have I ever backed down from a job because of the payout, or because I didn’t think the person was worth saving?” He didn’t have an answer. I hung the ice axe back on the wall and turned to inspect my climbing ropes. “Then you should know, if I say I am not taking it, there is a damn good reason.” “But you have to tell me what that reason is.” Cole’s eyes were practically bloodshot with anxiety. “Thirty million could buy the team two brand-new snowcats and fully fund our gear for an entire year. And more importantly, there is a guy waiting down there.” I didn’t answer. The screen was still lit, displaying the client’s profile. Arthur Rauch. It had been seven years, but the eyes in his photograph were just as sharp, looking like a man who would never bow his head to anyone. He just looked colder, and much more expensive. Behind him was his Rauch Alpine Resort Group, a massive corporate machine capable of packaging an entire mountain range into a commercial commodity. I used to think those eyes would protect me and Josephine for the rest of our lives. Until Josephine was trapped in that snow cave. I knelt in the snow outside the rescue station, begging him not to pull the rope team away. But he just held his phone to his ear and said, “Kia, Chloe’s situation is more urgent. Oliver cannot lose that dog.” To this day, I remember Josephine’s final voice message. “Mommy, I’m not cold anymore. I’m just a little sleepy. Did Daddy go get my rescue rope?” No. Her daddy went to get someone else’s dog. I closed my eyes and pushed the tablet away. Cole stood there for a long time before finally asking in a low voice, “Boss, do you know the client?” I pulled on my insulated gloves, my voice completely flat. “I don’t just know him.” “Then who…” “He owes me a blizzard.” 2 At nine o’clock that night, the satellite phone rang. Cole stood in the doorway, his expression complicated. “The client is demanding to speak directly to the team captain. If you don’t want to talk, I’ll block it.” I looked at the number flashing on the screen, stayed silent for a few seconds, and finally reached out. “I’ll take it.” The second the call connected, a man’s voice came through, heavily suppressing his anger. “Are you Captain Ziskie?” Hearing that voice, my fingers unconsciously tightened around the receiver. Seven years had passed, but Arthur’s voice hadn’t changed at all. It was the same deep baritone he used to whisper in my ear when he coaxed Josephine to sleep. It was the same cold, rational tone he used when he ordered the rescue team to pack up and leave us in the snow. “I am.” “You should have read the brief. Money is not an issue. I just want him brought out alive.” “I can’t take this job.” The line went completely dead for a second. Then, he let out a short, cynical laugh. “Can’t take it? Captain Ziskie, I am not asking for your willingness. I am giving you the floor to set your price. If thirty million isn’t enough, make it fifty.” “It’s not about the money.” “One hundred million.” He answered instantly, tossing the number out like it was pocket change. “Captain Ziskie, I have run a background check on your base. Your equipment is outdated, your funding is bleeding out, and your team’s insurance premiums are about to default. A hundred million is enough to keep your operation alive for decades.” “Mr. Rauch, I said no.” His breathing grew heavy over the static. “Do you even know what you are saying? There is a human life on that mountain. The Black Wind Gap has a window open until tonight. If we miss it, he freezes to death.” “I know.” “You know, and you are still refusing?” His voice plummeted to absolute zero. “Don’t you professional rescue climbers preach about saving lives all day long? I have offered you enough money, the boy is still breathing, on what grounds are you refusing to save him?” I looked out the window. The ice pellets were violently lashing against the glass, dense and deafening, just like the sound that battered my heart seven years ago. “On the grounds that I am a human being, not a dog you can buy with a checkbook.” Arthur paused. “What is that supposed to mean?” “It means exactly what I said,” I replied. “Find someone better.” “There is no one better.” He gritted his words. “I already checked with the Association. You are the only person who can cross the gap tonight. Captain Ziskie, I don’t care what personal issues you have. If you aren’t wheels up in two hours, your team will never see another commercial rescue permit again.” Cole’s face changed drastically. He opened his mouth to speak, but I raised my hand to stop him. “Mr. Rauch, you are welcome to try.” “Are you threatening me?” “I am just warning you.” My voice was ragged, ground down by years of wind and snow. “Instead of wasting your time on me, you better start looking for someone else. If you wait any longer, forget about bringing Oliver back alive, you won’t even be able to find his beacon.” A suppressed, heavy exhale came through the line. “Do you know Oliver?” “I don’t know him.” “Then why do you sound so full of hate?” I lowered my eyes, looking at the brutal, jagged scar across my palm. It was left from when I dug through the avalanche with my bare hands until my fingernails ripped off. “Because there is a path I have walked once, and once was enough.” I hung up the phone. Cole stared at me, his lips moving before he finally spoke. “Boss, who is Arthur Rauch?” I placed the satellite phone back on the desk. “My ex-husband.” Cole froze entirely. I turned back to sort my carabiners, letting a long silence stretch before I added one final sentence. “He is also Josephine’s father.” 3 At 1:00 AM, the heavy metal door of the base was violently hammered open. When Cole rushed in, all the blood had drained from his face. The zipper of his down jacket wasn’t even pulled up. “Boss, something happened.” I shot up from the cot. My first instinct was to check the radar. “Did the mountain signal drop?” “Not the mountain. It’s my sister.” He shoved his phone toward me, his hands shaking violently. The screen displayed a text message from his younger sister, Maya. [Cole, the company suddenly transferred me to the North Face supply station as a temporary comms operator. They said it is an emergency corporate project and I had to report immediately. The wind out here is terrifying. It is just me and two guys I don’t know at the station. Don’t worry about me, I will call you in the morning.] The message was sent forty minutes ago. Reading it, my stomach completely dropped. Maya was fresh out of college, working an administrative desk job at a resort hotel owned by the Rauch Group. She had zero alpine certifications and absolutely no experience operating high-altitude comms at night. The North Face supply station was situated dangerously close to the Black Wind Gap. Once the whiteout hit, that station would be an isolated death trap. Cole’s eyes were bloodshot. “I tried calling her, but it won’t connect. Boss, it’s Arthur, isn’t it? He found out I’m your second-in-command, and he is using my sister to force your hand.” I grabbed my heavy parka. “Don’t panic yet.” “How can I not panic?” Cole’s voice cracked. “She is the only family I have left. My mom told me to protect her before she died. Maya doesn’t even know what snow blindness is! They sent her to that station, they are basically killing her!” He suddenly dropped to his knees, slamming against the concrete floor with a heavy thud that struck me right in the chest. “Boss, I know you hate Arthur, and I know I shouldn’t be asking you this. But Maya is innocent. I will do whatever you want. If you want me to save Oliver for you, or if you want me to go in your place, I will go. Please, save my sister.” I crouched down and hauled him back to his feet with all my strength. “Cole, look at me.” He looked up, tears mixing with the melting snow on his face. “Your sister is going to be fine.” “But…” “Arthur wants to force me to bow my head. He doesn’t actually want Maya dead.” I stared into his eyes. “I will bring her back, but I am still not taking the contract for Oliver.” Cole stared at me blankly, looking as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Right at that moment, the deafening roar of helicopter rotors ripped through the air outside the base. The snow was violently whipped into a cyclone, and the blinding white glare of searchlights swept across our windows. Cole snapped his head around. A sleek black helicopter touched down on our landing pad, its fuselage emblazoned with the silver mountain crest of the Rauch Group. The cabin door slid open, and Arthur stepped out. He wore a heavy tactical winter coat over a black windbreaker, flanked by two bodyguards. Trailing closely behind him was Chloe. Arthur held her arm to steady her. As her snow boots hit the ground, she stumbled slightly, looking fragile enough to be blown away by the wind. Seven years had passed, but she still perfected that delicate, helpless aura. Her eyes were rimmed red, as if the entire world owed her its pity. I stood in the doorway, watching them walk toward my base. Arthur’s eyes swept over my face, pausing for less than a second. He didn’t recognize me. Makes sense. The Kia Ziskie from seven years ago was Mrs. Rauch, the woman who wore elegant gowns to accompany him to galas. The woman standing here now had half her face windburned, a jagged avalanche scar cutting through her left eyebrow, and a voice ground down to gravel by years of shouting over sub-zero blizzards. Of course he didn’t recognize me. Because he never truly looked at me in the first place. Arthur stopped in front of the door. His gaze flicked over to Cole, and he spoke with freezing authority. “You must be Cole.” Cole’s fists instantly clenched tight. Arthur let out a faint smile. “Your sister is currently in my supply station. She is safe for now. As for how long she remains safe, that entirely depends on the choice your captain makes.” 4 The moment Cole lunged forward, I slammed my hand onto his chest, pinning him back. “Stand down.” His shoulders were shaking under my palm, strung tight like a bow about to snap. Seeing this, a flicker of satisfaction crossed Arthur’s eyes. “It seems Captain Ziskie values loyalty. That makes this much easier.” He walked into the base, scanning it like an inspector evaluating a condemned warehouse. His eyes swept over the frayed rope bags, the blunted crampons, and the heavily patched tents. A microscopic frown touched his brow. “I will say this one last time. One hundred million, wheels up immediately. Once Oliver is brought back alive, I will fund a complete gear overhaul for your team, and I will ensure Maya leaves the supply station unharmed.” I stood my ground, unmoving. “I’m not taking it.” Chloe finally stepped forward, unable to hold back. Her voice was breathy, hovering on the edge of a sob. “Captain, I know you think we are being cruel, but Oliver really doesn’t have much time. He was always a sickly child. He is terrified of the dark and the cold. It must be so narrow down there in that crevasse. He has to be so scared.” Tears began to fall as she spoke. “I am begging you. You are a woman too. Can’t you understand the heart of a mother?” I looked at her. Seven years ago, she had cried exactly like this over the phone with Arthur. “Arthur, Oliver refuses to leave. The poodle fell into the trench. He says if the dog dies, he won’t survive it. I don’t know what to do.” A dog. While my Josephine sat shivering in a snow cave on the other side of the mountain ridge, gripping her last hand warmer with tiny, freezing fingers, waiting for her daddy to come save her. “Do not use the word mother to manipulate me,” I said. Chloe’s face went completely pale, acting as if she had just suffered a massive injustice, and immediately shrank behind Arthur’s back. Arthur’s eyes turned lethal. “Captain Ziskie, my patience has a limit.” “My answer hasn’t changed.” “Fine.” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number right in front of my face. “North Face supply station. Send the new comms operator out to check the exterior perimeter lines. Yes, alone. Tell her to go read the anemometer right now.” Cole completely lost his mind. “Arthur! You son of a bitch!” A bodyguard immediately stepped in to block him. Cole was shoved backward, slamming into the sharp corner of a metal desk. The skin above his eyebrow split open instantly, and blood poured down his face. He didn’t even bother wiping it. He scrambled up and dropped to his knees right in front of me, his voice entirely broken. “Boss, please. Forget about me, just save Maya. I’ll bash my head against the floor for you if you want.” I looked down at him, suddenly remembering myself from seven years ago. I had knelt exactly like this. I knelt in front of Arthur, in front of the rescue crew, in the blinding snow, begging them not to leave, begging them to leave just one rope, begging them to give Josephine just a little more time. Nobody listened. Arthur hung up the phone and looked at me. “It’s really quite simple. You go up the mountain, and everyone lives. You refuse, and Maya becomes a tragic little accident in tonight’s blizzard. Captain, are you really going to let your second-in-command’s sister die just to protect your so-called principles?” I slowly raised my head. “Arthur, you really don’t want to force me down that path.” He froze slightly. “What did you just call me?” I took a slow step forward, locking eyes with him. “Because if I cross the Black Wind Gap and I actually reach Oliver, I can’t guarantee I won’t just take a knife to his safety rope.” Chloe let out a piercing scream. “Don’t you dare!” I didn’t even look at her. I kept my eyes locked on Arthur, spitting out every word with absolute precision. “After all, seven years ago, you personally ordered my daughter’s lifeline to be cut.”

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