Author: Momo Chan

1 When I returned from studying abroad, my childhood sweetheart had already become a billionaire tycoon, passionately involved with my lookalike stand in. His mother came to me and said, “Ten million dollars. Get back with my son.” I politely declined. “Ma’am, you of all people should know. A proper lost love should remain like the dead, thoroughly buried.” “One hundred million. Do we have a deal?” “Absolutely, ma’am! Customer satisfaction guaranteed!” On the day I landed back in the country, my phone rang with a long lost number. Looking at the caller ID, which I had saved as “Sugar Mama,” I smiled and picked up. “Hello, Mrs. Montgomery.” Indeed, my ex boyfriend’s mother was my biggest investor. She was the angel sponsor who had funded my entire education abroad. “Sally, I will give you ten million dollars. Get back with my son.” “What are you talking about, Mrs. Montgomery? Oliver and I broke up three years ago. Besides, have you checked the market lately? Even inflation has driven up the price of basic goods.” “Thirty million. Just get rid of that little girlfriend of his.” “Ma’am, you of all people should know. A proper lost love should remain like the dead, thoroughly buried. How could I possibly interfere with their beautiful romance?” Knowing my true colors, she went silent for a few seconds before gritting her teeth. “One hundred million. Do we have a deal?” As expected of my primary investor, she was incredibly generous. I agreed instantly. “Absolutely, ma’am. Customer satisfaction guaranteed.” Having secured my promise, she hung up immediately, as if spending another second talking to me would shorten her lifespan. Two minutes later, my phone pinged with a bank alert. A deposit of thirty million dollars had cleared. What a wonderful loyal client, so efficient with the upfront retainer. I tapped on my account balance, beaming at the long string of zeros. It was absolutely beautiful. Meanwhile, the massive screen at the airport terminal was broadcasting the entertainment news: [Montgomery Group’s CEO Splashes Fifty Million on Luxury Mansion for Actress Giselle.] I looked up and caught sight of a very familiar face. Three years had passed, and Oliver had somehow grown even more handsome. The boyish softness had completely faded, replaced by the sharp, commanding aura of a mature man. His features were colder and more defined than before, and that rare, gentle warmth only flickered in his eyes when he looked at the woman beside him. Standing next to him was Giselle. Her striking, glamorous face bore at least a fifty percent resemblance to mine. I could not help but chuckle. So, Oliver, you resorted to the classic lookalike substitute trope too. 2 Three years ago, my parents died in a car crash. The family business collapsed, and I, barely an adult, was left an orphan, ruthlessly kicked out of my home by a pack of greedy relatives. In the pouring rain, Oliver had held me tight against his chest. “Sally, do not be afraid,” he had promised. “I will protect you.” I had clung to him, desperately soaking in his warmth. Back then, he was too young. He had nothing to his name, nothing but a raw, honest heart. And he had offered that heart to me on a silver platter. But a pure heart is often the most fragile currency. So, when his mother cornered me and slid a ten million dollar check across the table, demanding that I walk away, I barely hesitated before accepting. The day I left, Oliver called me countless times, begging over and over. “Sally, please do not go. I can take care of you, I swear! Please, do not leave me!” For a guy who had always played the protective older brother figure, his voice cracked with tears for the very first time. I comforted him gently, telling him to be a good boy, and then immediately blocked his number. 3 After sending my resume to the jewelry design firm under the Montgomery Group, I rented an apartment nearby. Then, I opened my laptop to catch up on everything that had happened over the last three years. What I found blew my mind. For the first two years, Oliver had fought his way through the corporate ranks. He went from a dismissed rookie to the undisputed, iron fisted CEO in record time. My childhood sweetheart had transformed into a ruthless tycoon, even managing to strip his own mother of any real power in the company. As for how he met Giselle, it was a classic, melodramatic story. A year ago, before Giselle hit the big time, she was tricked by a shady agent into attending an upscale cocktail party. The agent wanted to trade her for favors, and some sleazy executive wanted a fresh young starlet. Clueless and vulnerable, Giselle became their prey. Enter Oliver, who swooped in to play the hero, saving the damsel and effortlessly winning her heart. Since then, the famously stoic and aloof CEO seemed possessed. He escorted Giselle to every high profile gala, throwing prime roles, sponsorships, and connections her way without an ounce of secrecy. Though they had never officially confirmed their relationship, the public already treated them as an item. “The billionaire and his starlet,” I muttered, scrolling through fanfictions written by netizens. “Wow, these bloggers really know how to spin a tale.” Though exaggerated, most of the rumors held a grain of truth, aligning with the high society gossip everyone whispered about. Take Giselle’s background, for instance: an orphan who graduated from a second rate college but worked her way up from an extra to a leading lady. A truly inspiring rags to riches story. Then there was Oliver’s doting nature: buying her rare gems, designer gowns, and villas, while securing top directors for her projects. And finally, the drama: Oliver’s mother despised Giselle, prompting him to openly clash with his mother several times for his girlfriend’s sake. Reading all this, I finally understood why my loyal investor had contacted me the moment my plane touched down. Back then, when Oliver merely wanted to stay with an orphaned heiress like me, his mother had treated me like dirt and paid me to disappear. Now that he was actively defying her for a rising actress, she probably wanted to erase Giselle from the face of the earth. 4 I settled into my new place with the golden retriever puppy I had just bought from the pet store, stroking his fluffy head. “Cash! Cash! Who is a good boy?” My phone rang, breaking the quiet. “Miss Sally? Your resume has cleared our screening. When can you start working with us?” “Tomorrow morning works perfectly.” Hanging up, I planted a kiss on the puppy’s snout. “My lucky charm! Cash is really coming in!” The next morning, I dressed in a sleek power suit and walked confidently into the Montgomery Group headquarters. “Oh my gosh! Are you Sally?” The second I stepped into the design department, a girl with a bouncy ponytail rushed over, her eyes sparkling. “I am Sophie! I am absolutely obsessed with your work! Especially the Rose Sonnets collection! I cannot believe I get to work with you! I am screaming!” I smiled. “Thank you. That collection is my personal favorite too.” After all, the muse behind the Rose Sonnets was none other than Oliver. Sophie was incredibly warm, immediately filling me in on the office dynamics and the juicy workplace gossip. Slowly, I began to adjust to my new environment. Two days later, Sophie rushed back to my desk, whispering frantically, “Did you hear? The big boss is coming down for an inspection this morning!” I raised an eyebrow. “Which big boss?” “Mr. Montgomery! Word has it he is bringing his little actress girlfriend along too.” Oliver and Giselle? Hearing this, I grabbed my makeup bag and headed straight for the restroom. I thought it would take a while to cross paths with Oliver, but the opportunity had presented itself on a silver platter. When meeting an ex, one must never lose the battle of style. 5 As the news of Oliver’s arrival spread, the entire floor buzzed with nervous energy. But the moment the department head led a striking man and woman out of the elevator, the room fell dead silent. Oliver held Giselle’s hand, their fingers tightly intertwined, projecting an undeniable aura of intimacy. Sophie nudged my back. “Hey, don’t just stand there! The manager wants the design team in the conference room!” Snapping out of it, I followed her inside. Oliver sat at the head of the table, his posture immaculate, the sharp lines of his tailored suit accentuating his commanding presence. As we walked in, his gaze drifted toward the door. When our eyes met, I wondered what his reaction would be. Instead, he merely spared me a cold, indifferent glance before looking away. It was as if he were looking at a complete stranger. A sudden pang of bitterness flared in my chest. Suppressing the feeling, I took a seat. Our department head bowed politely. “Mr. Montgomery, Miss Giselle, the design team is all here.” Oliver arched an eyebrow at Giselle. “Take your pick.” Giselle turned to us with a radiant smile. “Sorry to bother you all. Oliver insisted on having a custom piece designed for our anniversary, so I will be relying on your talents.” What a lovely public display of affection. “Ugh, the stench of romance is suffocating,” Sophie muttered in my ear. “Wait, is it just me, or do you and his girlfriend look strikingly similar? Am I seeing things?” Before I could answer, Giselle spoke up. “I heard that Sally recently joined the team. May I meet her?” Under the collective gaze of the room, I stepped forward with a polite smile. “Hello. I’m Sally.” Giselle looked at me, her eyes widening in mock surprise. “I adore your work! I didn’t realize we not only share the same taste but also look so much alike!” 6 A provocation? It certainly felt like one. I had not expected Oliver’s little actress to be so bold. But that was fine, I was not exactly a saint either. “Yes, and I’m equally surprised,” I said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Meeting Oliver’s burning gaze, I smiled. “Three years later, and your taste hasn’t changed a bit, Mr. Montgomery. No matter how much you shop around, you always end up choosing the same model.” Giselle’s smile faltered. Oliver stiffened, his dark eyes locking onto mine, filled with mock hostility. “Well, unlike some people, I don’t change my mind like the weather, heartless and cruel.” The surrounding colleagues began to sense the underlying tension, exchanging looks as their inner gossip mongers practically screamed with excitement. “You certainly have a sense of humor, Sally.” Eager to cut the conversation short, Giselle stepped between us, blocking Oliver’s view. She forced a tight smile. “Then it’s settled! I’ll leave Oliver’s anniversary gift in your capable hands!” She emphasized the words anniversary gift heavily, as if to remind me of her secure position. Too bad for her, I did not feel provoked in the slightest. “My pleasure,” I replied coolly. “Just remember to wire the thirty percent retainer first.” Business was business. If she wanted my expertise, she had to play by my rules, and the boss’s girlfriend was no exception. The conference room went dead silent. Our balding department head shot me a look of pure horror. I could practically read the words written across his forehead: Are you insane? Oliver stood up, his towering figure casting a heavy shadow over the room. He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Don’t worry. You’ll get your money.” With that parting shot, he turned on his heel and strode out. The department head sighed heavily, turning to me. “Sally, what did you see in Mr. Montgomery’s departure?” I played dumb. “That he is tall and handsome?” “Wrong! You saw a man ready to murder someone!” the manager barked in frustration. “A golden opportunity was handed to you, and you threw it right back in his face!” As the manager stormed off, my coworkers cast pitying or mocking glances my way. Only Sophie looked genuinely worried. “Sally, being honest isn’t a crime, but in corporate life, you need to watch your back.” “Me?” I pointed to myself, amused. “Oh, don’t worry about me. I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve.” Before Sophie could reply, my phone vibrated on the desk, displaying an unknown number. I offered an apologetic smile and stepped away to answer. A man’s voice spoke. “Miss Sally, I’m Mr. Montgomery’s assistant. The boss would like a word with you.” I scoffed. “Are billionaires always this arrogant? Can’t even make his own phone calls?” Silence stretched on the other end. Two seconds later, a familiar, gravelly voice cut through the receiver, sounding thoroughly annoyed. “Sally, if you want your retainer, take me off your block list.” 7 I tapped my forehead, realizing I had completely forgotten about that. Come to think of it, Oliver’s number and social media profile had been sitting in my blocked contacts for three whole years. It was high time to let him breathe. As soon as I unblocked him, I looked up to see Sophie staring at me with pure curiosity. “Was that the boss? I’ve been dying to ask, what is the history between you two?” I closed my eyes and summarized it in three words: “My ex. We loved.” Sophie’s jaw dropped so low it could have hit the floor. That evening, while I was out walking Cash, my phone buzzed with a bank transfer. I tapped it. A new message sat at the top of my chat screen, sent from a contact labeled simply with the letter O. His deep blue profile picture looked vaguely familiar, stirring up distant, hazy memories. That summer had been incredibly hot. I had been obsessed with a melancholy love song about star crossed lovers. I used to walk around with my headphones on, humming about how a bird and a fish falling in love was just a beautiful tragedy, while frantically sketching ocean views on my tablet. Whenever I was buried in my work, chewing on the end of my stylus, Oliver would come over to pester me. Back then, I still had some baby fat on my cheeks, and he loved to pinch them. “Do you really love the ocean that much? I will buy you an island one day so you can look at it every single second.” I would glare at him. “How many times do I have to tell you? Hands off the face!” The boyish teenager would grin, looking absolutely smitten. “But you’re so chubby, like a cute little woodchuck.” That wasn’t exactly flattering. In a fit of pique, I had sketched a drawing of a boy sitting alone on a deserted island, pointing to the figure to threaten him. “Call me a woodchuck again, and I’ll dump you on a deserted island!” Pulling myself back to reality, I stared at the image on my screen. Oliver was actually still using that very sketch as his profile picture. But wasn’t he terrified of deep water? A sudden tug on the leash snapped me out of my thoughts. Cash barked twice toward a storefront, then looked back at me with big, pleading eyes. I looked up to see the pet store where I usually bought his kibble and treats. “You greedy little thing, you have an incredible memory,” I laughed, stroking his head as he leaned into my hand, panting happily. “Lucky for you, your mama just came into some money. Come on, let’s go on a shopping spree!” Cash bolted forward, and I struggled with the leash, using my free hand to accept the transfer and send Oliver a playful sticker. [Thanks, big boss!] 8 Since the responsibility of designing the gift for Oliver’s girlfriend fell entirely on me, the department head generously granted me paid leave. I did not even have to come into the office, allowing me to focus on the project and communicate directly with Oliver. I slept in until I woke up naturally, lounging on the couch and cuddling my puppy. Suddenly, a text alert chimed, showing a deposit of five million dollars. I stared at the zeros in utter disbelief. Since when was my investor this generous? Was she worried about my slow progress and sending a subtle financial push? Nothing motivates quite like money. I propped my chin in my hand and typed out a message. [Mr. Montgomery, are there any specific design elements your girlfriend prefers?] Five minutes later. Oliver: [Can’t discuss this over text. Come to my office.] Just what I wanted! I bounded off the couch, picked out a stunning outfit, and applied some natural looking makeup. When I walked into Oliver’s office, he tried his absolute best to look professional, but I caught the sudden spark of warmth in his eyes the second I entered. Oh, please. You’re not fooling anyone. His assistant escorted me in before quietly slipping out, closing the door behind him. The massive office was left entirely to the two of us. He was wearing a crisp black shirt today, buttoned all the way to the top, radiating an aura of cold restraint. He looked incredibly handsome, and highly respectable. Noticing my gaze, Oliver raised an eyebrow. “What are you looking at?” I lied smoothly. “Just admiring how remarkably handsome and dignified you look, Mr. Montgomery.” He scoffed, a look of disapproval on his face. “Flirtatious.” I rolled my eyes. If you’re so displeased, why are the corners of your mouth twitching upward? I took out my tablet and showed him a few concept sketches. “What kind of jewelry are we thinking? A bracelet or a ring is simple enough, we can just incorporate some meaningful symbols. A necklace would allow for more elaborate details.” Oliver, acting like a true tycoon, replied, “How about a full set?” I flashed a professional smile. “Of course.” He spared me a cool glance, his long fingers tapping slowly on the mahogany desk. “Design it with the Rose Sonnets aesthetic in mind.” My smile vanished completely. Staring at his calm expression, a sudden wave of anger surged in my chest. “Absolutely not.” I gripped my tablet. “The Rose Sonnets collection belongs to my memories with my ex boyfriend. I doubt your girlfriend would appreciate her anniversary gift being a recycled memory of another woman.” “Is that so?” Oliver’s voice dropped, his gaze turning dark and intense. “You seem to care quite a lot, Miss Sally. It sounds like you still hold deep feelings for your ex.” I nodded slowly. “Of course. After all, the dead cannot rise, and this collection is my only remaining tribute to him.” Oliver’s smug smile froze instantly. He stood up and walked toward me, his presence suddenly suffocatingly cold. “I had no idea I was no longer among the living.”

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The day Fred and I walked out of the courthouse with our finalized divorce papers in hand, his billionaire father finally tracked him down. His old man was sitting on a multi-billion dollar empire. We are talking about a sprawling three-story estate and a subterranean garage packed to the brim with luxury cars. Fred was his one and only heir. Suddenly, his future was blindingly bright, and I had just been officially reduced to the role of the ex-wife. Damn it. What kind of joke was this? I had dragged myself through the mud and starved right alongside him for ten long years! 1 I never in a million years imagined I was only one signature away from becoming a billionaire’s wife. The regret was eating me alive. I was furious! How could fate be so endlessly cruel to me? What did I do to deserve this? Fred and I had been together since we were eighteen. He was dead broke for a solid decade. Even the ring he proposed to me with was fashioned out of a pull-tab from a soda can! When things were at their absolute worst, we were crammed into a tiny, two-hundred-square-foot studio apartment, surviving on ten dollars a day and washing down stale bread with tap water. But look at him now. Fred had hit the ultimate jackpot, and we were legally strangers. If my best friend Brooke had not come running over to congratulate me on becoming a filthy rich socialite, I would have never known. I still had Fred’s social media blocked. That very afternoon, barely a month after our divorce, this bombshell news blew my entire reality to pieces. It was also that same afternoon when Fred rolled up in a sleek black Maybach just to rub it in my face. He stepped out of the luxury ride looking like a magazine cover, decked out in a tailored suit and tie. Dark aviators covered half his face, leaving only his sharp jawline and tightly pressed lips visible. He looked ridiculously, devastatingly handsome. I will admit it right now. A huge reason I agreed to marry him back then was simply because he was gorgeous. A one-in-a-million kind of gorgeous. Just picture it. A fresh-faced, fiercely passionate eighteen-year-old boy handing his entire heart over to you. How could anyone resist that? Not to mention, given his legendary high school track record of taking down every tough guy across five neighboring districts without losing a single fight, his stamina was absolutely incredible. Look, I am only human. The attraction was intoxicating. You would have fallen for it too. But who could have guessed that ten years of grinding poverty would shatter that rose-tinted filter into dust. And yet, here he was again, tall and commanding and gorgeous, because money had just given him the ultimate glow-up. As he handed me a manila folder, the heavy luxury watch on his wrist caught the afternoon sun. The diamonds were so blindingly bright they almost seared my retinas. So my question is, under these specific circumstances, can I take him back to family court and petition for a brand new division of assets? Asking for a friend. It is urgent. 2 “Allie, I came over today because I want to renegotiate custody of Toby.” I stared at him blankly. The folder in my hands suddenly felt like it was on fire. I practically threw it back at his chest. “In your dreams!” Internally, I was panicking. If Fred really wanted to fight me for custody now, I would lose without a shadow of a doubt. I just wanted a little bit of his newfound cash, but this guy was coming for my actual life! “In my dreams?” Fred let out a dry, mocking chuckle. “With my current resources, Allie, I assure you it is very much a reality.” My heart did a terrifying stutter. “Don’t you dare! Fred, Toby is only three years old. He needs his mother.” “He needs his father too.” Fred took a step forward. His presence was completely overwhelming. I instinctively shrank back. “And as his actual flesh and blood, I will obviously treat him better than whatever new stepdad you try to bring into the picture.” I rubbed my nose awkwardly, forcing the most pathetic smile I could muster. “If you are worried about my dating life, I will break up with him. I will break up with him right now! Tomorrow! It is done!” Fred clearly had not expected me to offer up a breakup so easily. He froze, completely thrown off guard. I immediately took advantage of the silence, keeping that sickeningly sweet smile plastered on my face. “I heard your biological parents found you. Congratulations.” Fred let out a soft scoff through his nose. It was the absolute truth. His sudden transformation into a trust-fund heir felt like a wild hallucination. He reached up and pulled off his sunglasses. Those deep, expressive eyes stared down at me for a long moment before he let out a contemptuous laugh. “What, are you regretting it now?” “Regretting it so much I could die.” I nodded, laughing softly. “So Fred, how about we go down to City Hall and get remarriage papers?” “Keep dreaming.” His face instantly went ice-cold. He turned his back on me, walking straight into the apartment to scoop a sleepy Toby right out of his bed. He announced he was taking Toby out for the day. Obviously, I was not going to let that happen. If the man had motives to steal my custody, I was not letting my kid out of my sight for a single second. Thankfully, Toby was on my side. He rubbed his little eyes and instantly burst into tears the second he saw me. “Mommy! I want Mommy!” Toby always seemed to naturally clash with his dad. Ever since he was born, Fred found the little guy mildly annoying. He complained Toby took up too much space in bed and made too much a fuss at dinner. It was almost as if Fred was just a slightly older kid, constantly throwing a jealous fit because his exclusive attention had been stolen away. So Toby thrashed in his arms, reaching out to me with big, watery eyes full of tears. Left with no other option, Fred let out a defeated sigh and shoved the boy into my arms. Sitting in the backseat of Fred’s luxury car, Toby looked up at the roof with massive confusion in his tiny eyes. “Mommy, the car lost its hair.” He pulled a chubby little finger out of his mouth to point. Fred scoffed from the driver’s seat. He pressed a button, and the convertible roof smoothly slid into place. “Whoa!” Toby scrambled up from my lap, his eyes sparkling like stars. “Daddy, Daddy!” Fred finally cracked a smile. “At least you remember how to call me Daddy. Good to know someone in this car has a conscience.” He let the words hang in the air for a second before adding quietly, “Unlike some people.” My smile faltered. I knew Fred just needed to take a few jabs at me to feel better, so I let it slide. It did not matter. His words barely had any real sting to them anyway. Honestly, I knew exactly what today was about. Fred just wanted to make me uncomfortable and flash his wealth in my face out of pure spite. Whatever Toby pointed at, Fred bought without blinking. Snacks, toys, anything the kid desired. He even rented out an entire floor of a high-end steakhouse right in the middle of the day. Look at me, Allie. I am filthy rich now. Every single movement he made screamed that exact sentence. It was incredibly annoying. That money was not mine, and it was stressing me out. I propped my chin on my hand, frantically trying to brainstorm a game plan. Right in the middle of my scheming, a terrible sense of dread washed over me. My chest tightened for absolutely no reason. And then I looked up and saw my supposed rich boyfriend standing in the restaurant lobby, screaming his head off at the manager while his current girlfriend stood right beside him. In that exact moment, Fred stiffened up like a cornered beast. 3 The ex-husband meets the current fake boyfriend. If this was not a catastrophic disaster, I do not know what is. I ducked my head, desperately trying to shrink into the upholstery, but Fred was already moving. He lunged forward and threw a brutal punch, catching the rich kid square in the jaw. The guy stumbled back, barely missing the wall. “Are you insane!” The rich kid, Cole, was completely stunned by the ambush. His body reacted faster than his brain, and he immediately swung a heavy kick right back at Fred. In seconds, the two of them were locked in a vicious brawl. Cole’s girlfriend was standing off to the side, having an absolute meltdown. “Stop fighting! We are leaving! We do not even want to eat here!” The saddest part was that neither of the guys fighting even fully understood why they were getting hit. I let out a heavy sigh of pure exhaustion and threw myself between them, looking like a martyr. “Stop it!” My kid was sitting right there. This was terrible parenting! Fred held a hand to his bruising jaw and screamed at me, completely betrayed. “You are two-timing him, and you are still trying to protect him?” Cole’s girlfriend caught onto that immediately. “What do you mean, two-timing?” Oh God. Before I could even attempt damage control, Cole completely lost his mind. “Who the hell is two-timing who? Who the hell are you?” He snapped his head toward me, his face red with fury. “And who the hell are you?” The amount of cursing coming out of his mouth was spectacular. I swore the guy was a walking bleep machine. But wait a minute. He definitely was not this clueless the last time we met. He had a garbage temper, sure, but he at least knew how to play along. Why was his brain completely short-circuiting today? “Cole, what are you doing here?” I asked loudly, hoping the hint would land. But Fred was standing right there, glaring at us with laser focus. I could not even risk making a facial expression. I knew my face probably looked like absolute death. Thankfully, Cole was not entirely stupid. He swallowed whatever string of insults he was about to spit out next. It was like a lightbulb finally clicked in his head. In that moment, he just stood there with his mouth hanging open like a fish gasping for air. Silence. Dead, agonizing silence. The awkwardness was so thick I wanted to dig a hole through the marble floor and bury myself. But surprisingly, a tiny sliver of petty joy bubbled up in my chest. Was I the only one suffering in this nightmare scenario? No. Cole was drowning right beside me. Thinking about that made me feel significantly better. “Cole, you better explain this right now. What does he mean, two-timing? Who is she?” Now it was the girlfriend’s turn to explode. “Do not forget all the pretty words you said when you were begging me to date you!” Cole was sweating bullets. “Sienna, let’s talk about this at home. Just wait until we get home!” “Why should we wait? You explain it right here, right now! Who is she?” She thrust a manicured finger so close to my face it almost poked my nose. Off to the side, Fred crossed his arms and watched the chaos unfold with a freezing, cynical sneer. Did you think Fred was the only one enjoying this? Absolutely not. I was having a fantastic time. Turns out karma comes fast for jerks like Cole. But I knew one thing for sure. He would never dare explain the real situation in front of Fred, no matter how bad this blowup got. If the vibe was not so dangerous, I would have crossed my arms and smirked just like Fred. But I could not. I had to drop my gaze, pivot on my heel, and play the victim to get both of us out of this mess. “I should go.” As I lowered my head, I forced my eyes and brows into an expression of profound sorrow and quiet heartbreak. Self-deprecating and painfully lonely. Fred was staring right at me. I knew he saw it. I did not say a single word until I was entirely out of the restaurant. Holding that in was exhausting! “So, Allie. Is this the incredibly wealthy, deeply devoted man you traded me for?” Apparently, holding it in was exhausting for Fred, too. He walked up holding Toby, flashing a massive, brilliant smile. “Serves you right.” He was enjoying my misery way too much. Half of his face was swollen from where Cole had clocked him, but his eyes were curved into bright, gleaming crescents. It was like the sun breaking through heavy clouds. Stunning. 4 I have to hand it to Fred. The man knows how to look good. You do not punch a guy in the face! Cole really was a piece of trash. I let out a long sigh and threw my hands up. “Men. Always chasing the next shiny thing. The novelty wears off eventually.” Fred jumped like he had been burned. “Stop making stuff up. I am not like that, and you know it.” That shut me up instantly. Alright then. I reached over and took Toby back into my arms. The little guy was already whining from hunger. “I want meat!” Fred leaned in, his smile returning. “Daddy is going to take you to get fried chicken!” He walked around with a bruised face, completely unbothered by the weird stares we were getting from the people on the street. He did not look like a guy who just got beat up. He looked like a guy wearing a badge of honor. I had no idea what he was so proud of. He spent the entire day showering Toby with two things he never had before: unlimited free time and unlimited cash. By the time we headed back, Toby was so exhausted he was dead asleep against my shoulder. Toby was usually a very easy kid. Back when Fred was killing himself trying to get his startup off the ground, he worked late into the night. I raised Toby practically on my own. But I never realized that having a quiet, ridiculously cute kid would actually make me a hot commodity on the dating market. At least, that is what the overly enthusiastic neighbor lady told me. She explicitly said she was only offering to set me up with her highly successful nephew because Toby was such a well-behaved boy. Of course, she made sure to remind me multiple times that being a divorced single mom was a huge disadvantage, whereas her nephew owned three fully paid-off properties in the city and drove a Mercedes. Just for context, the apartment building we lived in was practically crumbling. Anyone with real money would never step foot in this neighborhood. I politely declined every time she brought it up. Eventually, her patience wore thin, and she hit me with a brutal parting shot. “You really think you are such a catch, huh?” I just gave her a tired smile and mentally cursed Fred ten thousand times. When you fall in love with someone truly breathtaking in your youth, it ruins you. Because for the rest of your life, no matter who you meet, your brain will unconsciously compare them to him. 5 The year Fred and I got married, I sneaked my birth documents out of my parents’ house. He grew up in the foster system. My parents thought he had no family, no backing, and no future. But I was incredibly stubborn. I firmly believed that without the nightmare of dealing with awful in-laws, Fred and I would never have any real problems. By the time my parents realized what happened, the ink was dry. They were so furious they refused to attend our little wedding. I brushed it off. I was convinced that with enough time, they would eventually see how amazing he was. After we got married, Fred treated me like gold. He was desperate to make something of himself so he could give me the life I deserved, so he threw himself into starting his own company. Building a business from scratch is pure torture. But he never complained once. The only thing that changed was that his time with me shrank, and his overtime hours stretched deep into the night. I did not mind. That is just how life works. If a man gives his woman happiness, she will gladly stand behind him and hold down the fort. And that is exactly what I did. Except our bank accounts were always empty. His company bled money constantly, and since I was a full-time stay-at-home mom, my own savings vanished entirely. So honestly, what good is love? Money is the only thing that actually matters. With money, you can do whatever you want and buy whatever you want. Just look at Fred now. He has money, which means he gets to have his success. So who cares about pride? I was lying on my bed, debating whether I should swallow my pride and text him goodnight. The moment I picked up my phone, I saw a missed video call notification sitting on the screen. Toby was sprawling on the mattress, kicking his little feet in the air and blowing bubbles with his saliva, looking incredibly pleased with himself. “Did you call your dad on video?” “Yep.” Toby giggled and threw himself at me for a hug. I was amazed he figured out how to use the buttons. I leaned in, super curious. “What did you and Daddy talk about?” “Mommy is finding Toby a new daddy.” Toby dropped the bomb effortlessly. I froze. “What?” “Finding a new daddy.” I was speechless. Are you kidding me? Out of everything I told that nosy neighbor lady to reject her nephew, the only words this kid retained were “new daddy”? And he spent five minutes repeating that to Fred? 6 Fine. Toby was officially a little traitor. I had to do damage control immediately. What if Fred completely misunderstood? I frantically typed out a message, only to see the bright red exclamation point pop up. He had blocked my number. Great. Absolutely useless. Now I had to wait a whole week until Fred came to pick up Toby again. I was sitting at home, restless and waiting, when someone finally showed up at my door. Except it was not Fred. It was the fake boyfriend. Cole looked absolutely furious. He literally kicked my front door. “Allie!” I jumped off the couch in a panic. “What?” “You are going to come with me and explain this mess!” Cole’s brows were knotted together, his face a picture of pure frustration. It clicked immediately. He wanted me to go do damage control with his girlfriend. “I can explain it, sure.” I crossed my arms and sat back down on the couch, finally holding the upper hand. “Fifty grand. I will make everything crystal clear for her.” Cole looked like he had just swallowed a bug. “My sister already gave you three hundred grand, and that wasn’t enough? Are you absolutely obsessed with money?” “That was a completely separate transaction.” “How is it separate?” Cole scoffed. “Does my sister know you are still secretly going on dates with Fred?” “Get lost.” My patience was gone. “If you are not paying, get out.” Cole scowled. “I have never met a woman as incredibly greedy as you!” I just shrugged. He kept swearing under his breath, thoroughly agitated. “Fine, fine, I will pay! Just hurry up and come with me!” Honestly, clearing the air was not that hard. A fake relationship is a fake relationship, and a misunderstanding is just a misunderstanding. But Sienna was not just any girl. Cole had spent months putting her on a pedestal and worshiping the ground she walked on. She was way out of his league, and she knew it. The second any real drama or red flags popped up, a girl like her cuts her losses and walks away without looking back. She had a line of guys waiting for her anyway. So I spent twenty minutes talking until my throat went dry, only to secure front-row seats to their official breakup. Cole’s face was beet red. He begged, pleaded, and apologized, but it was completely useless. I almost felt bad for the guy. He was young, rich, and handsome, yet he was playing the pathetic puppy dog. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. I clutched my purse tightly, ready to slip out while they were distracted. Thankfully, I made him wire the money before we even left my apartment. That cash was securely in my account, and there were zero refunds. The two of them were engaged in a screaming match, so neither of them noticed me inching away. I had just taken a step toward the exit when a hand suddenly clamped down hard on my arm. The veins on Cole’s forehead were bulging. He yelled at the top of his lungs, “Fine, Sienna! You think you are so great? We are done!” He yanked me forcefully to his side, his fingers wrapping tightly around my hand. “You were completely right! I have been messing around with her this whole time! Who do you think you are? You think I was going to stay loyal to you?” I was paralyzed. What the hell was happening? Why was he dragging me down with his sinking ship? I stomped hard on his foot, kicked him away, and bolted. Whatever. I already got my money. Taking part in his theatrical revenge plot would require an entirely different hourly rate. I practically sprinted out of the restaurant, feeling fantastic. Making fifty grand in one afternoon was better than robbing a bank! Cole was such an easy target. That is what he gets for having a sister like his. Serves him right! Tonight, I was going to buy Toby the expensive shrimp he loved, and maybe even a whole box of those fancy cheese sticks. “Allie!” The second I stepped onto the pavement, someone called my name. The voice was painfully familiar. I froze in my tracks. My neck felt like rusted metal as I slowly turned my head. Unsurprisingly, Fred was standing right there. He was leaning against his car, smoking a cigarette. The afternoon sun was blinding, making his sharp face look pale and exhausted. “What are you doing here?” I frowned, my eyes fixating on the cigarette in his hand. I hated it. “What? Am I interrupting your date?” Fred’s lips curled up slightly. “Crazy coincidence. I happened to be eating here too.” The corners of his eyes were slightly red, probably irritated by the smoke. He took the cigarette from his lips, dropped it onto the concrete, and crushed it out violently beneath his shoe. The look he gave me was pure venom. “How dare you leave Toby home alone?” “I didn’t.” I stared at him, exhausted. “I dropped him off at Brooke’s place.” “He was getting in the way, right? You were just so desperate to go out and secure your next husband.” Fred took a step forward. I took a step back. His face was terrifying. His eyes were even worse. I swallowed hard, too afraid to fire back. He was never this volatile in the past. Even when his company was failing and people were humiliating him left and right, he always kept his temper perfectly in check. “Fred, I am not on a date,” I explained softly. He turned his head away. “I do not care if you are on a date. It has absolutely nothing to do with me.” His words hit me like a physical blow. When it comes to tearing someone apart, the people who know you best know exactly where to slip the knife. “Allie, I am taking Toby. That is a promise.” He spun around, yanked his car door open, and slammed it shut with terrifying force. The sound echoed like a gunshot straight through my chest. The thrill of getting the cash vanished instantly. I had no idea why I was suddenly so upset. I was the one who dumped him first. He was right—I had nothing to do with him anymore. Why was I feeling so heartbroken? I was being pathetic. I deserved this. But seeing Fred look so deeply hurt while saying such incredibly vicious things completely broke me.

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Friday night, we sat down to dinner. Halfway through, Lisa looked up. “Daddy, when are we moving into the new house?” I froze. “What house?” Teri forced a smile. “Just a nice neighborhood we drove past.” “No!” Lisa insisted. “Silas took us. He said it was built for me and Mommy. I get a princess room with glowing stars!” My fork hit the bowl with a sharp clink. Teri went white. “He said I can call him Daddy,” Lisa added, eyes wide. “He bought me dresses. They’re already in the closet.” She slapped her hands over her mouth. “Mommy said not to tell you.” Teri yanked her up. “Go brush your teeth!” “Wait.” My voice stopped her cold. “Who is Silas?” “A colleague,” she whispered. “A colleague who buys my daughter houses and tells her to call him Daddy?” Lisa peeked out, voice small. “He’ll be so good to me, Daddy.” She wasn’t scared of losing me. She was already looking forward to the day I was gone. 1 “When exactly were you planning to let me in on this?” Teri’s hand was still clamped onto Lisa’s shoulder. Her knuckles were white. Lisa shrank back, wincing. “Mommy, you are hurting me. Did I say the wrong thing again?” Teri immediately dropped to a crouch, her voice dropping into a sickly sweet, soothing register. “No, sweetie. You go to your room for a bit. Mommy needs to have a grown up talk with Daddy.” Lisa glanced at me. In the past, whenever she looked at me like that, she was waiting for me to swoop in and rescue her from trouble. But today, that look was different. She was terrified I was going to ruin her shiny new princess room. “Daddy, please do not yell at Mommy.” I just looked at her. “I have not even raised my voice.” Lisa’s bottom lip trembled. “Silas says men who raise their voices have no manners.” Teri’s face morphed into absolute horror. “Lisa. Go to your room. Now.” The bedroom door clicked shut, leaving only the two of us in the dining room. I looked at my wife. “I want Silas’s full name.” She avoided my eyes. “Silas Vance.” “Who the hell is Silas Vance?” “He is the behavioral consultant for the new pediatrics project at the hospital.” “And your hospital consultants make a habit of taking other men’s wives and children on real estate tours?” Teri furrowed her brows, pivoting to defense. “Nolan, do you have to make it sound so dirty?” A dry, humorless laugh escaped my throat. “Then enlighten me. Tell me how I should phrase it. Silas Vance prepares a brand new home for you and my daughter, teaches my kid to call him Daddy, and I am supposed to praise him for his charity work?” Her expression darkened. “You are incredibly emotionally unstable right now.” “Another man is walking my daughter through a house he bought for her, and I am supposed to be stable enough to give you both a standing ovation?” Teri snapped, her patience apparently exhausted. “So what do you want to do? Terrify the child? Tear this house apart and scream until the cops show up?” I stared at her. “You are terrified of me making a scene, but you were not terrified of him crossing the line?” She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her phone buzzed on the table. She instinctively reached for it. I was faster. I slammed my hand down over the screen. Caller ID: Silas. Her eyes widened, a flash of genuine panic settling in her pupils. “Nolan, give me the phone.” “Answer it.” “Stop acting like a child.” “Answer it and put it on speaker.” Teri took a deep breath, wearing the exhausted expression of a woman dealing with a lunatic. She tapped the screen. A man’s voice floated through the speaker. Smooth. Warm. Cultivated. “Teri? Did Lisa let the secret slip?” The dining room plunged into a suffocating silence. Teri squeezed her eyes shut. Silas let out a gentle, forgiving chuckle. “It is alright. Do not panic. If Nolan is upset, I am more than happy to explain it to him. Lisa likes me because I offer her genuine presence and companionship. It does not mean I am trying to replace anyone.” I kept my eyes locked on Teri. She did not hang up. Silas continued, his tone dripping with pseudo psychological wisdom. “Honestly, I have always believed that family dynamics should not be held hostage by biology. If a child naturally gravitates toward someone, it simply means that person provides her with a deeper sense of safety.” I finally spoke. “If you are such an expert on safety, Silas, why did you not consult the girl’s actual father before playing house?” A brief pause on the other end. When he spoke again, his voice was even softer, dripping with condescension. “Nolan, I completely validate your feelings of inadequacy right now. It is very common for traditional fathers to struggle when they realize they are being outpaced in their child’s heart.” “You take my kid house hunting, and you call that outpacing me?” “I am simply allowing Lisa to experience the standard of living she actually deserves.” Teri finally broke her silence. “Silas. That is enough.” But Silas ignored her entirely. “Teri, you do not have to keep covering for his shortcomings. You told me yourself how exhausting these past few years have been. If a husband’s only contribution is cooking dinners and doing school drop offs, but he cannot provide his wife with actual emotional value, the marriage is bound to fracture.” The words hung in the air like a toxic cloud. I looked at Teri. She could not meet my gaze. I asked, “You told him that?” Her throat bobbed. Her voice was tight. “I was just venting. Everyone vents.” “You vented so thoroughly that he went out and bought a house for you and my kid?” Teri lunged forward and ended the call. “Nolan, fine. I admit I failed to maintain proper boundaries. But do not look at me like I am some kind of whore.” “Where is the house?” “What?” “The house Silas mentioned. Where is it?” She stayed quiet for a long moment. “It is just a model home that belongs to a friend of his.” I picked up my car keys from the counter. “Let’s go see it. Right now.” Total panic finally shattered her composure. “Lisa needs to sleep.” “She has already been there. The route should be familiar.” “Nolan!” She hissed my name, her tone thick with warning. “Do not push me.” I stared her down. “What are you so terrified of?” She did not answer. The door to the children’s room cracked open just an inch. Lisa stood in the gap, clutching her stuffed bunny. She whispered, “Daddy, the keys to the new house are in Mommy’s purse. Silas said the front door is going to have a scanner for my fingerprint.” Teri whipped her head around. “Lisa!” The little girl flinched and vanished back into the room. I looked at Teri’s designer handbag resting on the back of the dining chair. Teri practically threw her body in front of it. “Nolan, if you go through my bag, that is a violation of my privacy.” My hand stopped mid air. That word used to work like magic. She asked for respect, so I backed off. She asked for space, so I gave it. She asked me not to let the child see us argue, so I swallowed every ounce of my pride and kept the peace. Today, I was done backing off. “Fine. Get them out yourself.” She glared at me, her eyes slowly filling with tears. “You are treating me like a criminal in an interrogation room.” “Think of it however you want. I am just reading my own execution order.” She froze. I reached past her and grabbed the bag. She panicked, her fingers wrapping frantically around my wrist. “That house has absolutely nothing to do with you.” I looked down at her hands gripping my skin. “My daughter’s fingerprints are programmed into the door, and you are telling me it has nothing to do with me?” She bit her lip so hard it turned white. I tipped the bag. Contents spilled across the hardwood floor. A heavy keychain hit the ground. The metal tag flipped over, catching the light. Four words were elegantly engraved into the steel. Val & Lisa’s Haven. My name was nowhere to be found. From the bedroom, Lisa’s tiny voice called out. “Mommy, did Daddy find the keys?” I bent down, picked up the keychain, and held it right in front of Teri’s face. “Tomorrow night, you are taking me to see this haven.” She stood there, paralyzed, refusing to take the keys. “If you do not take me,” I said, my voice dead calm. “I will just have Lisa give me the directions.” All the blood rushed out of Teri’s face. It took her a long time to force out a single sentence. “You are going to regret this, Nolan.” 2 “Daddy, I do not want you to take me to school today.” The next morning, Lisa stood in the entryway with her little pink backpack. Her voice was barely a whisper. I was kneeling on the floor, tying her shoelaces. My hands stalled. “Why not?” She threw a nervous glance toward the bathroom. Teri was leaning against the sink, applying her lipstick. She acted like she heard nothing. Lisa looked down, picking at the straps of her backpack. “Silas said he was driving right past my school today. He said he could take me.” I pulled the laces tight and tied a perfect knot. “Did your mother say yes?” Teri finally spoke up from the bathroom. “It is on his way to work. After the terrifying stunt you pulled last night, it is perfectly normal that she does not want to sit in a car with you.” “Terrifying stunt?” She capped her lipstick with a sharp click. Her voice was ice. “Nolan, Lisa had nightmares all night. She dreamt about you throwing things. She dreamt you did not want her anymore.” Lisa immediately chimed in, backing up her mother. “Daddy, your eyes looked really scary yesterday.” I looked at my six year old daughter. “And when Silas took you to see that big new house, did his eyes look scary when he told you to keep it a secret from me?” Lisa’s mouth opened and closed. Teri walked out of the bathroom, cutting her off. “Here we go again.” “I am asking my daughter.” “She is barely six years old, Nolan. Why are you forcing her to pick a side?” Tears instantly welled up in Lisa’s eyes. “Daddy, I do not want to pick sides.” I stayed kneeling on the floor. “Then just tell Daddy the truth. What else did Silas say to you?” She took a step backward, bumping right into Teri’s legs. Teri leaned down and wrapped her arms protectively around the girl. “He did not say anything. Stop interrogating a child. She does not remember.” The doorbell chimed. Teri let out a visible sigh of relief and practically sprinted to open it. Silas stood on the porch. He was dressed flawlessly in a crisp white button down. A sleek onyx bead bracelet was wrapped tightly around his left wrist. He held a brown paper bag from an upscale bakery. Poking out of the top was Lisa’s absolute favorite brand of strawberry milkshake. “Morning.” He said it so casually. Like he belonged here. Like he did this every single day. Lisa’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Silas!” She threw herself forward and wrapped her little arms around his waist. Silas smiled, resting a hand on her hair. “Did my little princess sleep well last night?” Lisa shook her head tragically. “No. Daddy was really mad.” Silas lifted his gaze and locked eyes with me. That perfectly practiced, serene smile never left his face. “Nolan. Children are incredibly sensitive to negative energy. As adults, it is our responsibility to process our emotional baggage maturely.” Teri stood right beside him. She said absolutely nothing to defend me. I asked him, “Did you come to my front door just to teach me how to be a father?” Silas acted like he was completely immune to my hostility. “I am simply looking out for Lisa’s well being. Teri texted me last night. She said she was genuinely frightened of your behavior.” I shifted my gaze to Teri. Her face tightened awkwardly. “I just said you were acting erratic.” Silas handed the breakfast bag down to Lisa. “Eat up, sweetie. I have a brand new pack of Disney princess stickers waiting for you in the car.” Lisa snatched the bag eagerly. “Thank you, Silas!” He chuckled warmly. “No need to thank me. Soon enough, we are all going to be family anyway.” I took a step forward. Teri immediately stepped directly into my path, using her body as a shield. “Nolan, stop. The child is right here.” Silas lowered his voice into a soothing, patronizing hum. “It is alright, Teri. I fully empathize with Nolan’s defensiveness. It stems from insecurity.” I stared at the onyx beads on his wrist. Every time he dropped another piece of pseudo intellectual garbage, his thumb would slowly rub against one of the stones. He looked like a judge handing down a sentence from a moral high ground. “Your empathy is remarkably cheap, Silas.” His smile lost a fraction of its warmth. “There is no need for the passive aggression, Nolan. If you truly loved your daughter, you would not view her as property. You would respect her autonomy to choose the environment where she feels most loved.” Lisa, chewing on her straw, mumbled quietly, “Daddy, stop being mean to Silas.” That single sentence cut deeper than every psychological buzzword Silas had thrown at me combined. I looked down at her. “Do you really want to ride in his car today?” Lisa hesitated for a split second. Teri immediately intervened. “Lisa, it is completely your choice.” She said the words, but her hand rested flat against Lisa’s back, giving her a gentle, unmistakable push forward. Lisa nodded. “Yes.” I stood up straight. “Fine.” Teri blinked, clearly caught off guard by how quickly I surrendered. Silas smiled in triumph. “It is a sign of personal growth that you know when to let go, Nolan.” I kept my eyes on him. “Drop her off at the front gates.” He raised an eyebrow. “Naturally.” Lisa slipped on her shoes and reached out to grab Silas’s hand. In the past, her tiny fingers always sought out my palm. When it was cold, she would demand I tuck our joined hands into my coat pocket. Today, she walked out the door without a second glance. Just before the elevator doors slid shut, she suddenly looked back. “Daddy, are you going to pick me up after school?” Teri turned to look at me too. I said, “Ask your mother.” The smile vanished from Lisa’s face. “But you always pick me up.” “Silas dropped you off today. You can ask Silas to pick you up too.” Silas’s expression faltered for a microsecond. He recovered instantly. “If my meetings wrap up early, I would love to.” Teri frowned at me. “Nolan, stop being petty.” I grabbed my car keys from the console table and dropped them right into the drawer. “I am not being petty. You two clearly have it all figured out. I would hate to intrude on your perfectly blended family.” The elevator doors closed. Lisa was still staring at me. Teri called me exactly thirty minutes later. I answered. Her voice was dark and heavy. “What exactly is your problem, Nolan?” “Did you not say I was emotionally erratic? Stepping back is what is best for the child.” “You know damn well Silas was only offering a ride this morning because it was on his way.” “What about you?” She paused. “Can you do the afternoon pickup?” “I have back to back consultations at the hospital this afternoon.” “Right. So all those other afternoons over the last three years, you did not have a job?” Dead silence on the line. Teri’s voice dropped. “You are a freelance designer. Your schedule is flexible. Mine is not.” I stared at the architectural blueprints scattered across my desk. Last night, until three in the morning, I was redrafting the structural plans for a client’s commercial space. In her mouth, the word ‘flexible’ was just a cheap excuse. A rag she used to plug whatever holes she created in our lives. “Figure it out yourselves today,” I said. Her tone turned hostile. “Are you seriously going to do this, Nolan?” “Yes.” “Lisa is going to be heartbroken.” “She looked ecstatic this morning.” Teri’s breathing hitched. “You are using our daughter to punish me.” I gripped the phone tightly. “Is that not the rule you both established this morning? The child chooses whoever makes her feel safe.” She had no response. Right before she hung up, I heard Silas’s voice bleeding through the background noise. “Teri, do not beg him. He is just weaponizing his title as a father to manipulate you.” Teri did not defend me. She did not disagree. I listened to the dial tone for a long moment before setting the phone face down on the blueprints. At noon, Lisa’s kindergarten teacher sent a photo to the parent group chat. Lisa was standing in front of the school gates, holding up a crayon drawing. It featured a massive house with a huge yard, a dog, and a beautiful princess bedroom. Standing in front of the house were three stick figures. Mommy. Lisa. Silas. Written in messy, uneven letters at the top: My New Home. I stared at that photograph until my eyes burned. A private message from the teacher popped up. [Hi Lisa’s Dad! Lisa wanted me to tell you she drew this for you today. Will you be picking her up this afternoon to see it?] I typed back: [Please contact Lisa’s mother for pickup today.] The moment I put the phone down, a text from Teri came through. [Are you really so stubborn that you refuse to even look at your own daughter’s artwork?] I replied: [I am not in that drawing.] She did not text back. At exactly 5:00 PM, my phone rang again. This time, it was Lisa. She was sobbing hysterically. “Daddy! Silas said he got stuck in a meeting, and Mommy is not here! The teacher is making me sit in the security office all by myself!” I squeezed my eyes shut. “Tell your teacher to call Mommy.” She cried harder. “Daddy, please come get me! Please!” My hand hovered over the drawer where I put my car keys. I slowly pulled it back. “Lisa. This morning, you and Mommy chose Silas to be the one who takes you to school.” “But he did not come back!” “Then you wait for Mommy.” She choked on her tears. “Do you not love me anymore?” I did not answer immediately. In the background, I could hear the security guard trying to comfort her. After a long time, I spoke. “I love you very much, Lisa. But I am not the spare tire you keep in the trunk for when your real plans fall apart.” The crying stopped for a split second. Then Teri snatched the phone. Her voice was trembling with absolute rage. “You are a monster, Nolan.” 3 “You are going to apologize to her right now.” Teri walked through the front door at 9:00 PM. Those were the very first words out of her mouth. Lisa was practically glued to her shoulder, her eyes swollen red from hours of crying. I was sitting at the dining table. Resting perfectly flat in front of me was a printed copy of the drawing the teacher had sent. Teri saw it. Her expression faltered. “Why did you print out a child’s drawing?” “To keep a record.” She set Lisa down on the couch, her voice rising in pitch. “A record of what? A six year old’s crayon doodle? Are you really going to build a conspiracy out of a piece of paper?” Lisa whimpered softly. “Daddy, the teacher just told us to draw our future home.” I looked right at her. “And in your future home, where exactly am I?” She lowered her head, avoiding my eyes. Teri immediately stepped between us, shielding the girl. “You already completely shattered her heart today by abandoning her at school. Is that not enough for you?” I asked, “Why did Silas not pick her up?” Teri’s face darkened. “He had an emergency meeting.” “He stood right in my house this morning and promised he would be there.” “Nolan, you are being ridiculous. The man runs a business. Things change at the last minute.” “Did I not have a business to run?” She frowned deeply. “Why are you so obsessed with comparing yourself to him?” I laughed. A cold, bitter sound. “Me? You are the ones who turned this into a competition. Competing over who provides better emotional value. Competing over who can buy a princess room. Competing over who makes a better father.” Teri’s remaining patience snapped. “Nolan, we have been married for seven years. Is this truly how low your opinion of me is?” I stared at her. “How low is your opinion of me?” She froze. Lisa suddenly spoke up from the couch. “Silas says Daddy has a persecution complex.” The air in the room evaporated. I slowly turned my head to look at my daughter. Realizing she had crossed a massive line, Lisa shrank back into the cushions. Teri bit the inside of her cheek. “He was just joking.” “What else did he say?” Lisa was too terrified to speak. Teri answered for her. “He said you have been under an immense amount of pressure lately. He suggested you look into professional therapy.” [Billing Point] I pushed the printed drawing across the table toward Teri. “Let me get this straight. He takes my wife on private real estate tours, coaches my daughter to call him Dad, and now he is officially diagnosing my mental health?” Teri kept her voice low. “Nolan, Silas is a behavioral specialist. He knows what he is talking about.” “So his professional expertise involves auditioning to be a stepfather while the husband is still in the house?” She slammed her hand against the table. “Can you stop being so incredibly toxic for one second?” The loud noise terrified Lisa. She burst into tears again. “Mommy, I do not want to be here anymore! I want to go to the new house!” That sentence paralyzed Teri. I looked at Lisa. “How many times have you been there?” She sobbed louder. “Three times.” “Did you scan your fingerprint into the lock?” “Yes.” “Are there dresses waiting in the closet?” “Yes.” Teri squeezed her eyes shut. I kept going. “Are there glowing stars on the ceiling?” Lisa nodded frantically. “Silas told me if I sleep in that room, I will never have bad dreams again.” I stood up and grabbed my coat from the back of the chair. Teri immediately blocked my path. “Where are you going?” “To the new house.” “You are not going anywhere.” “Give me the address.” “Nolan, I am warning you.” “The address.” She suddenly let out a shaky laugh, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “The way you are acting right now… you are genuinely terrifying me.” I just looked at her. She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen a few times. A few seconds later, my phone rang. It was Silas. When I answered, his voice was even more composed and clinical than last night. “Nolan. Teri is in an incredibly fragile emotional state right now. I highly advise against stimulating her further.” “Give me the address.” “What address?” “The house you built for my wife and daughter.” He let out a long, heavy sigh, like a disappointed parent. “Look at yourself, Nolan. This is textbook controlling behavior. That property is a personal asset of mine. Teri simply brought the child over for a playdate.” “The keychain literally says Val & Lisa’s Haven.” “I bought a personalized gift for a friend. Is that a crime?” Teri stood a few feet away, listening in complete silence. Silas continued. “Nolan, I am giving you professional advice. Calm down. If you continue to harass and intimidate Teri, I will have no choice but to advise her to file a restraining order.” I listened to his smooth, practiced voice. I could practically hear the soft click of those onyx beads rolling against each other through the speaker. He was not just trying to steal my family. He was methodically setting the stage to have me thrown out of my own home like an abusive lunatic. “Silas,” I said slowly. “Have you already picked out a lawyer for her too?” Teri flinched. The phone line went dead silent for a full second. Then, Silas chuckled. “Part of being a mature adult, Nolan, is anticipating risk and mitigating it.” I looked right at Teri. “Are you planning to divorce me?” Her lips parted, trembling slightly. “I was just looking at my options.” “Options that leave me with absolutely nothing?” “Who said anything about taking everything?” I reached over to the couch and picked up the manila folder she had dropped when she walked in. All the blood drained from her face. She lunged forward to rip it out of my hands. Papers scattered across the floor. The top page read: Strategy for the Isolation of Marital Assets. Halfway down the page, a specific paragraph was highlighted in bright yellow ink. If it can be demonstrated that the husband exhibits emotional instability or tendencies toward domestic violence, the client can petition for exclusive rights to the primary residence and full custody of the minor child. I stared at that highlighted sentence. Lisa’s crying stopped abruptly. Teri was on her knees, frantically scrambling to gather the papers. “This is just some boilerplate garbage a friend of Silas sent over. It means nothing.” I asked, “Tendencies toward domestic violence?” She refused to look up. “You threw my keys across the room last night.” “They fell out of the bag.” “You terrified Lisa.” “And what? You were planning to put a six year old on the stand to testify against me?” Lisa’s face went completely white. “Mommy, I do not want to go to a courtroom.” Teri instantly dropped the papers and wrapped her arms around the girl. “No, baby. Mommy would never make you do that.” But when she said it, she could not meet my eyes. The phone call was still active. Silas’s voice drifted through the speaker, calm and unbothered. “Nolan, let’s not make this ugly. If you truly care about the child, you will step aside gracefully. You can walk away with your dignity, maybe keep a piece of the assets, and retain visitation rights. Fight this, and you lose all three.” I picked up the phone. “You really have my entire execution mapped out, do you not?” Silas laughed softly. “I am not mapping anything out. I am simply reading the reality of your current psychological state. This is the best outcome you can hope for.” Teri looked up at me, her eyes red and pleading. “Nolan, just sign a temporary separation agreement. Pack a bag, move out for a few weeks, and let everyone cool down.” I looked down at the legal documents clutched in her hand. In that exact moment, the horrifying truth clicked into place. The princess bedroom was not the worst part. The worst part was that they had already rehearsed my total destruction behind my back. “Where is the agreement?” I asked. Teri let out a massive breath, her shoulders sagging in relief. She spoke softly. “Silas is bringing his attorney over tomorrow morning.” I nodded slowly. “Fine.” She blinked, stunned. “You agree?” I knelt down, picked up the scattered papers one by one, and set them neatly on the coffee table. “Tell him to bring the paperwork tomorrow.” Over the phone, Silas sounded incredibly smug. “Knowing when you are beaten is a highly valuable life skill, Nolan.” 4 “Daddy, can you please move out for a few days?” The next morning, Lisa sat at the dining table, clutching a glass of milk, her tiny voice filled with a practiced earnestness. Teri was in the kitchen, toasting bagels. Her hands paused for a second, but she did not turn around. She did not stop the child. I looked at Lisa. “Who told you to say that?” She looked down, chewing on her plastic straw. “Mommy said Daddy needs a time out to calm down.” Teri walked out of the kitchen, setting a plate on the table. “I did not put words in her mouth. She can feel the toxic energy you are bringing into this house.” I looked at the bagels on the plate. The edges were burnt to a crisp. For the last six years, I made breakfast every single morning. Lisa refused to eat anything with burnt edges, and Teri hated cold milk. Today, neither of them touched their food. Teri slid a thick folder across the table toward me. “This is the temporary separation agreement.” I flipped open the cover. Page one explicitly stated that I was voluntarily vacating the marital home and temporarily surrendering primary physical custody of the child. Page two contained a clause where I formally acknowledged that my recent “emotional instability” had caused undue psychological distress to my family. Page three was a blanket authorization handing over control of our joint finances. I looked up. “You call this a separation agreement?” Teri pressed her lips together. “It is just a transitional document.” The doorbell rang. Lisa instantly abandoned her chair, her face lighting up. “Silas is here!” She sprinted to the door and yanked it open. Silas stood on the porch alongside a sharp looking man in a tailored suit. Silas was holding a massive, beautifully wrapped pink gift box. Lisa grabbed it instantly, completely forgetting that just two minutes ago, she was asking her father to pack his bags and leave. “Is it another dress?” Silas smiled that infuriatingly perfect smile and patted her head. “My little princess needs to be brave today, okay?” I stared at him. “Brave about what exactly?” Silas stepped into my house. He smelled faintly of expensive cedar cologne. The onyx beads were still wrapped securely around his wrist. The man in the suit set a sleek leather briefcase on the dining table. “Mr. Lu, my name is Brooks. I am acting as legal counsel for your wife.” I looked at Teri. “You brought a shark into my dining room.” She looked away, her voice dropping. “I just want this to be peaceful.” Brooks adjusted his wire rimmed glasses. “Nolan, we highly advise you to sign the temporary agreement. Teri is generously offering to maintain your visitation rights. This is the most dignified exit available to you.” “And if I refuse?” Silas pulled out a chair and sat down at my table, completely at home. “You are free to refuse. But remember, Lisa was sobbing in the security office yesterday. Both the teachers and the guards can testify that you explicitly refused to pick up your own child. Combine that with your aggressive behavior in the home, and how do you think a family court judge is going to view you?” Lisa stood in the corner clutching her pink box. She did not know what a family court judge was, but she recognized the threat in the air. “Daddy, Silas said if you sign the paper, the fighting stops.” I looked at my little girl. “Do you want me to sign it?” She hesitated. Teri quickly interjected. “Lisa, Daddy is just going to stay in a hotel for a little while.” Silas leaned back in his chair, adding the final nail to the coffin.

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1 For our third anniversary, three-year-old Nate brought home an alpaca. “Her name is Sugar!” he chirped. “I bought her for you!” Garrick smiled. “He spent hours picking her out. He said she’d keep you company.” The alpaca tilted its head, its dark eyes sweeping over me with a cold, calculating stare. The moment I thanked my son, it opened its jaws. Pfft! A thick, foul gob of spit hit my face. I calmly wiped it away. I had been reborn. In my past life, the abuse started the same way. I spent two years trying to win it over while it spat at me constantly. Yet Garrick and Nate received nothing but affection. My husband called me petty; my son accused me of being mean. I developed auditory hallucinations and nightmares before swallowing a bottle of pills. As my soul drifted toward the ceiling, I heard the truth: the alpaca housed the soul of Archie, my fragile adopted sister who had stolen my life for twenty years. She had been sickly since childhood, the pampered darling of my biological family. When I was finally brought back to the mansion, everyone treated me like an uncultured, dirty intruder. Only Garrick seemed to love me. He married me and gave me a home. I thought it was true love. In reality, he just needed a healthy vessel to house Archie’s soul. Even the son I had carried for nine months was created from Archie’s harvested egg, secretly swapped during my IVF treatment. My own parents were in on the plot. Their cruelty toward me was designed to isolate me, forcing me to cling desperately to Garrick. Every time that alpaca spat on me, Archie’s soul pushed a little deeper into my body. After two years of torture, they had finally succeeded in erasing me. But now, my eyes flew open. I was back on our wedding anniversary. Garrick’s smile faltered, a hint of awkwardness crossing his face. Nate’s little face darkened, and he slapped my hand away. “Mommy! You scared Sugar!” He threw his arms around the alpaca’s neck, cooing softly. The alpaca leaned into him, rubbing her head against his cheek. At the same time, it cast a sly, triumphant glance at me. I smiled. “Since she doesn’t seem to like me, I probably won’t be a good owner. Why don’t we send her back?” 2 Nate panicked, screaming, “No!” Garrick’s expression shifted, and he quickly intervened. “Sugar is just nervous because it’s her first day. Give it some time. This is Nate’s special gift to you. Don’t throw away our boy’s sweet gesture.” I watched their faces. Both of them were incredibly tense, terrified their perfect little plan was about to fall apart. I nodded slowly. “You’re right. I love the gift. Sugar is her name, right? I’ll make sure to take very good care of her.” Nate let out a sigh of relief, and the tension left Garrick’s shoulders. I crouched down, ruffling my son’s hair with a smile. “Go on and set up her room. Since she loves you both so much, she’ll definitely love whatever space you arrange. Let me spend some quiet time with her to build a connection.” I nudged them toward the study, then led the alpaca out to the courtyard. Before we even reached the grass, she opened her mouth to spit. I dodged easily. The glob of green bile hissed as it hit the stone tiles, bubbling faintly. That wasn’t normal animal saliva. It was the concentrated malice of Archie’s rotten soul. Garrick peeked through the door one last time before shutting it, satisfied. Now, it was just me and the beast. She tilted her head, her eyes flashing with pure defiance. She opened her mouth to try again. But I was prepared. I reached behind my back and pulled out a long aluminum catch pole with a sturdy U-shaped collar at the end. With practiced precision, I pinned her neck to the grass. She thrashed wildly, her hooves kicking at the dirt, but she couldn’t break my grip. I leaned down, my voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Listen to me, you miserable parasite. I’m the one who’s going to be home with you all day. If you push me, I will make your life a living hell.” “I could drive this metal pole straight through your neck right now and claim it was an accident. Do you want to test me?” Terror flashed in her eyes, and she let out a desperate, wheezing shriek. Hearing the commotion, Garrick and Nate rushed outside, their faces pale with anger. “Audrey! What the hell are you doing?!” Garrick roared. Nate charged like a little cannonball, shoving me aside. “You mean woman! Don’t hurt Sugar!” I stepped back smoothly, retracting the pole. The alpaca scrambled to her feet, running straight to her protectors, her eyes locked on me in sheer terror. I raised my hands, looking entirely innocent. “Why are you both so upset? I was just playing with her.” “Look, the collar is padded with soft foam. It doesn’t hurt her at all.” The two of them froze, their mouths agape, completely speechless. I smiled gently. “I told you, I wanted to build a connection with our new family member.” It took Garrick a moment to find his voice. He patted Nate’s back. “Apologize to your mother, Nate. You shouldn’t speak to her like that.” Nate mumbled a reluctant apology. I turned and walked back into the living room, masking the freezing cold in my eyes. This time, I was going to make Archie pay back every single drop of torment she owed me. 3 That night, Nate didn’t ask for his usual bedtime story. “I want Sugar to sleep with me, Mommy,” he declared, hopping onto the alpaca’s back and riding her into his room. Garrick watched their retreat, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never received. Seeing how tightly Nate clung to that animal, a sharp pain pricked my heart. But then I reminded myself: he wasn’t my child. No matter how much I loved him, he would always be Archie’s spawn. Half an hour later, Nate fell asleep. The alpaca trotted casually out of his room. I reached out to lead her to the study, but she leaped back, dodging my hand. Instantly, she spat another wet glob onto my blouse. Garrick walked up, placing a hand on her neck. “Audrey, Sugar doesn’t want to sleep in the cold study. Why don’t we let her sleep in our room?” He stroked her head lovingly. “Come on, Sugar. Be sweet to Mommy.” The alpaca tilted her head and delivered another wet pfft right at me. I grabbed a few tissues, calmly wiped my shirt, and headed to the bedroom. “I’m a light sleeper. If she keeps spitting at me in the middle of the night, I’ll never get any rest. Put her in the study.” My expression must have been terrifyingly cold because Garrick didn’t push further. “Fine. I guess Sugar will have to make do tonight.” Before he closed the study door, the alpaca glared at me, her eyes dripping with pure venom. In the middle of the night, I drifted into a light sleep. Suddenly, I felt a warm, wet breath on my face. Then, a freezing sensation. I snapped my eyes open. The alpaca was standing right by the mattress, her face hovering inches from mine, her throat working as she prepped another blast. I didn’t know how she had unlocked the doors, but I was ready. The moment I woke up in this new life, I had traveled to the outskirts of the city to St. Jude’s Hermitage. There, Reverend Silas had given me a powerful spiritual warding talisman. I reached under my pillow and gripped the paper amulet tightly. Instantly, the alpaca froze. It was as if an invisible, iron hand had clamped around her windpipe. She tried to scream, but only a wet rattle came out. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor, trembling violently as the dark light in her eyes faded significantly. I grabbed a wet wipe and slowly cleaned my skin, staring down at her. “How does that feel?” She couldn’t answer. She could only shiver in agony. The next morning, Nate ran straight to the study, only to find the alpaca slumped on the floor. Her fleece was dull, and her eyes were half-closed. “What’s wrong with Sugar?!” he shrieked. Garrick rushed over. The alpaca weakly raised her head, looking at him with desperate, pathetic eyes. He whirled on me, his face contorted with rage. “Did you beat her because she snuck into our room last night?” Nate glared at me, tears of anger in his eyes. “You’re a bad mom! You made Sugar sick!” I knelt down, looking calmly into Nate’s eyes. “Nate, I slept the entire night. I didn’t touch her. She’s probably just struggling to adapt to a new home.” “But don’t either of you find it strange? How did an alpaca manage to open two locked doors to get into our bedroom?” My question caught them off guard. Their expressions tightened in panic. Sensing the shift, the alpaca summoned the last of her strength to spit right onto my knee. Nate threw his arms around her, sobbing. “Look! She’s so sick and she still hates you! You must have done something horrible to her yesterday!” Garrick sneered. “Audrey, when did you become so incredibly petty? Picking fights with a helpless animal? She only spits at you because she senses your malice. You need to look in the mirror and reflect on your own toxic behavior!” The last spark of warmth in my heart died completely. In my past life, it was always the same. Whether it was the alpaca or Archie, whenever there was a conflict, I was always the villain. But Archie was the fake daughter who had stolen my identity. While she grew up wrapped in luxury, I was digging through trash to pay for my school supplies. While she was pampered, my adoptive parents tried to sell me to a remote village for a dowry. They had even used my body to bear her child. Yet, to them, Archie was always the fragile victim, even while she was actively stealing my life. I wiped the spit from my knee and walked away. This time, I wouldn’t give them a single inch. 4 I locked myself in the bedroom, pulling a small vial of consecrated elixir from my drawer. Reverend Silas had blessed it. If the alpaca consumed it, the soul-transfer would backfire. Every time she spat, Archie’s soul would tear away from my body and dissipate. The more she spat, the faster she would fade. But the beast was clever. Whenever I tried to feed her, she kicked the bowl over. She would only eat when Garrick or Nate offered the food. “You have no patience,” Nate complained. “That’s why she hates you!” Garrick chimed in. “You need to try harder to win her over. Stop looking so miserable around her. If she doesn’t like you, do something sweet to please her. Our son went to so much trouble for this gift.” I laughed inwardly, but kept my expression perfectly submissive. “I understand. I’ll be more gentle.” I knelt down, offering a handful of clover to the alpaca. “Come on, sweet girl. Just take one bite.” She didn’t even look at the food. Instead, she kicked me hard, sending me sprawling to the ground, before spitting on my shoulder. Nate didn’t even check to see if I was hurt. He snatched the clover from my hand and fed it to her himself. The alpaca cast a smug, mocking look at me as she chewed slowly. Nate glared at me. “Sugar is sensitive. She knows you’re secretly evil!” I hid my smile as I watched her swallow every last bite of the clover. I knew she wouldn’t take it from me. I had intentionally provoked Nate to feed her myself. Because that entire batch of feed had been thoroughly soaked in the elixir. That evening at dinner, Garrick made an announcement. “The preschool has a week-long trip to Europe next week. I’ll take Nate.” Nate cheered happily. I set my fork down, looking at them. In my past life, I was the one who went on every school trip. Garrick was taking him this time for one reason: to leave me entirely alone with the alpaca. He wanted Archie to finish taking over my body. I smiled warmly. “Have a wonderful trip. Don’t worry about Sugar. I’ll take great care of her.” Garrick nodded, satisfied, and Nate actually gave me a rare smile. The next morning, I waved them off at the gate. The alpaca stood by my side, whimpering as she watched the car disappear. She rubbed her head against Garrick’s hand and nuzzled Nate’s cheek before they left. The moment the car cleared the driveway, my smile vanished. Sensing the shift in the air, the alpaca whipped her head around to spit. I dodged easily, swinging the metal catch pole to pin her neck to the gate. I bound her tightly to the post. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I had saved days ago. “Hello, is this the Apex Circus? I heard you recently imported a new male alpaca.” The director laughed over the line. “Oh, yes! A massive beast from South America. He’s incredibly strong, but he’s in constant heat and tearing up the enclosures. We’re at our wits’ end.” The alpaca locked her eyes on me, her body stiffening with dread. “I have a female here,” I said smoothly. “She’s ripe for breeding. I’ll donate her to your program.” The director gasped in delight. “Really? When can you bring her over?” “Today.” I hung up and looked down at the trembling animal. She understood every word. I tightened the rope around her neck, offering her a sweet, merciless smile. “Don’t worry, sweet girl. Your best days are just beginning. And don’t you dare complain if your new husband spits too much.”

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On the day of my agonizing labor, I fought with everything I had to bring my husband’s child into the world. Ben wept with relief, pressing his forehead against mine, his eyes full of deep, aching tenderness. “Jess, he is perfect. He is healthy, and he looks just like you. The doctor gave you a sedative, sweetheart. Just close your eyes and rest.” I squeezed his hand, a weak smile brushing my lips. The Monroes had struggled with fertility for generations. After years of painful injections and endless medication, I had finally delivered a healthy baby boy. But just before the darkness claimed me, the muffled voices of my husband and my brother, Nate, drifted through the heavy haze of the sedative. “Do it, Nate. Rainey might have been adopted by our family, but she has always been fragile and insecure. She compares herself to Jess in everything.” “This time, because her own baby was born with a dark birthmark, she has been completely devastated. If she finds out Jess gave birth to a perfectly healthy boy, it will break her.” Nate’s hands trembled as he held the surgical shears. “Ben, are you sure? This might be the only child you ever have. You really want to clip his finger and make him disabled?” My heart constricted violently. The blood in my veins turned to ice. “Don’t talk about it, Nate.” Ben’s voice wavered, but then it hardened with terrifying resolve. “We already agreed. Rainey has suffered too much. Protecting her is our responsibility. If I wasn’t bound to Jess by that childhood arrangement, well, forget it. I’ve already failed Rainey in this life. Nothing matters more than keeping her happy from now on.” I tried to wake up, screaming inside, but my limbs felt like lead. 1 But my body betrayed me. Under the heavy weight of the sedative, I could not even flutter my eyelids. A sharp, piercing wail of a newborn shattered the quiet of the room. Nate’s voice drifted over again, carrying a faint, relieved chuckle. “It’s done. Go tell Rainey the good news. This should cheer her up.” Ben’s response was eager and hurried. “Thanks, Nate. I’ll leave the rest to you.” I lay there, my body frozen, feeling as though I had been plunged into an abyss. That desperate cry echoed in my mind, refusing to fade. “No!” I jolted awake, gasping for air. Looking around the unfamiliar recovery room, my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I threw off the blanket, desperately trying to get out of bed, but a pair of strong, familiar hands caught my shoulders, pinning me down. “What’s wrong, Jess?” Ben looked down at me, his eyes wide with concern. “You just gave birth. You are incredibly weak. The doctor said you cannot get out of bed yet.” “Where is my baby?” I stared at him, my gaze cutting like a knife. Ben’s eyes rimmed with red. He hesitated, looking away before speaking in a low, choked voice. “Jess, I am going to tell you the truth, but you have to stay calm.” “The baby, he was born with a congenital defect. His middle finger is missing half its length. Nate took him to a specialist right away to see if there is any way to reconstruct it.” “Don’t worry.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest. “No matter what it takes, no matter the cost, I will find a way to fix our son.” Listening to his shameless lie, my chest tightened. It felt as though a thousand needles were piercing my heart over and over, suffocating me. I pushed him away with all the strength I could muster. “I want to see my baby. Now!” I stumbled toward the door, my legs trembling. Just as I reached the hallway, I ran headfirst into Nate. He was cradling a sleeping infant in his arms. A gasp of relief escaped my throat. I snatched the baby from him, immediately unwrapping the blanket to check his tiny hands. Ten perfect fingers. Not a single scratch. Wait. Something was wrong. My hands shook, and I nearly dropped the child. Nate quickly took the baby back, glaring at me with deep disapproval. “You are a mother now, Jess. How can you be so careless? Rainey’s baby is the pride of our family. What if you had dropped him?” Ignoring his scolding, I gripped his arm. “Where is my baby, Nate? Ben said you took him. Where is he?” Nate blinked, a sudden look of guilt crossing his face. “Oh. I ran into Rainey on the way, and she needed to use the restroom. I just left your baby on the plastic chairs by the elevator.” The world seemed to spin. I pushed past him and ran down the corridor. Ben chased after me, calling my name. But then, a soft, delicate voice echoed from behind us. “Ben.” The hurried footsteps behind me stopped instantly. Mercifully, my baby was still on the bench. Two kind strangers were standing guard over him. I wept as I thanked them, cradling my son against my chest. Looking down at his tiny, bandaged hand, a fresh wave of agony washed over me. When I carried my baby back to the room, sound of laughter drifted through the half-open door. Ben and Nate were huddled around Rainey, eagerly playing with the baby in her arms. They looked like a perfect, happy family. And I felt like the stray they had accidentally brought home. I wiped a tear from my baby’s soft cheek, turned around, and walked to the nurse’s station to borrow a phone. I dialed a number I hadn’t called in years. “I’ve decided to join the classified research project.” The voice on the other end lit up with excitement. “Jess! I am so glad you finally realized how much the department needs you. But this project is a ten-year commitment in a secure, isolated facility. Are you sure you can leave your family behind? What about the baby?” “I am bringing my son with me,” I whispered, my voice thick with unshed tears. “But I have one condition.” “Name it.” “Help me find the best pediatric reconstructive surgeon in the world. We need to leave within the week.” The line went quiet for a moment, the tone shifting to one of serious concern. “Jess, what happened?” “Please don’t ask. Just help me.” A heavy sigh came through the receiver. “Alright. Consider it done. I will have everything arranged within seven days.” 2 “Jess.” Rainey was the first to notice me standing at the door. Her soft call made the two men freeze, the cheerful smiles on their faces instantly turning into awkward grimaces. Ben quickly hurried toward me. “Jess, is the baby okay?” I didn’t say a word. I walked past him, heading straight for my bed. “Please don’t be sad, Jess.” Rainey handed her baby to Nate, then reached into her bag, pulling out a delicate gold bracelet and a matching lock charm. “Ben and Nate got these for my baby. They had them blessed at a temple to keep him safe and healthy.” “But I want your baby to have them instead. I am sure your little boy will get better soon. Don’t worry.” I looked down at the gleaming gold pieces. Before Rainey’s baby was even born, I had watched Ben spend weeks meticulously choosing these exact gifts. At the time, I foolishly thought they were for our child. It was all a lie. “No, thank you,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “Since it was a gift of love from them to your child, my son doesn’t deserve to wear it.” Rainey’s hand hovered in the air, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the gold. “Jess, are you still angry with me? Do you still think I am trying to steal what is yours?” Her lower lip trembled, and her face grew pale. I wanted to laugh. Had she ever stopped? From the moment she was adopted into our home at ten years old, she had taken over my life. On her very first night, she claimed she was afraid of the dark, and my parents gave her half of my bedroom. Later, when she caught a mild cold, she said she was afraid of making me sick, and I was permanently moved to a tiny, drafty spare room down the hall. When I was thirteen, I scored the highest marks in the city. Nate bought me a limited-edition Lego set as a reward. Rainey cried in her room for an hour, and by evening, my Lego set belonged to her. My new dresses became her dresses. Even the university I fought so hard to get into, she entered right alongside me, riding on the coattails of my family’s connections. And then there was Ben. He was my childhood friend. When he knelt and proposed to me, I finally believed there was something in this world that belonged solely to me. But it was only because of a stupid childhood arrangement between our parents. How blind had I been? It took the mutilation of my own son to finally wake me up to the truth. Seeing my silence, Rainey stuffed the gold lock into Ben’s hand. “Forget it, Ben. Since Jess is unhappy, you should take it back.” Ben’s face darkened instantly. “Jess, it is just a gold lock. If you want one, I will buy you another. There is no need to make a scene and ruin everyone’s day.” I turned away, too exhausted to argue. My body was still aching, and my energy was rapidly draining. I placed my baby gently into his bassinet, intending to lie down and rest. But Rainey suddenly lunged forward. Seeing her hands reaching directly toward my baby’s bassinet, right toward his injured hand, panic surged through me. I threw my weight forward, pushing her away. The next second, a stinging slap cracked across my face. The force of the blow made my ears ring. I turned my head slowly, looking at Ben. His hand was still raised in the air, his expression icy and furious as he held a trembling Rainey in his arms. “Jess, how can you be so vicious?” “Over a gold lock, you would put your hands on your own sister?” “Do you have any idea how bad Rainey’s back injury is? If I hadn’t caught her, she would have slammed into the sharp edge of that table!” Nate stepped forward, his eyes cold. “I saw the whole thing, Jess. Rainey just lost her balance, and instead of helping her, you shoved her.” “You grew up in the same house, ate the same food. How did you turn out so incredibly selfish and cruel?” “Apologize to Rainey. Now.” 3 I was the cruel one? Rainey had targeted my baby’s bandaged hand on purpose. She had been standing perfectly fine, yet somehow, she managed to lose her balance on a flat, even floor. Looking at the two of them shielding her like she was a fragile glass doll, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I am sorry, Rainey.” Rainey sniffled, leaning into Ben’s chest before stepping back. “It’s okay. I know Jess didn’t mean to.” Ben’s expression softened slightly. “I will have my assistant buy another gold lock and send it over. You don’t need to be jealous of Rainey.” I didn’t even bother to smile. My child would never need anything from him again. On the day I was discharged, Ben had promised to pick me up. But by the time I took a taxi back to the Taylor residence, he was nowhere to be found. Instead, I saw Rainey’s latest social media update. “Taking the baby for his vaccinations. I am so terrified of needles, but thankfully, I have someone here to keep us safe.” The post was accompanied by a photo of a man’s back, a baby resting on his shoulder. I didn’t even need to zoom in. I recognized the slope of those shoulders instantly. It was Ben. The ringing of my phone broke my train of thought. “Jess, I have managed to contact a world-class reconstructive surgeon. But he is currently in Europe and cannot travel here. You will need to bring the baby to him.” “Okay,” I said, a weight lifting from my chest. “I will pack our things and leave tomorrow.” “Going where?” Nate’s voice startled me. He was standing near the doorway, his brow furrowed in disapproval. I quickly locked my phone, my voice returning to a neutral calm. “A friend recommended a private wellness retreat. I am going to check it out.” He didn’t press further, his tone turning indifferent. “Rainey is coming back to stay for a few days. If you don’t have any pressing business, you should leave early.” My grip tightened on the phone. Ten years of secure, classified research meant I would not see this place again for a very long time. Before leaving, I simply wanted to spend one last night in the house where my parents had raised me. Five years ago, I refused to give up my research assistant position to Rainey. In a fit of tears, Rainey had run out of the house. Our parents had chased after her into the rainy night, only to be hit by a truck. Since that day, Nate had hated me. He believed I was the one who killed them. “I will be gone tomorrow morning,” I said quietly. “Good.” Before dinner, Ben walked through the door, carrying Rainey’s bags. “Ben, when that needle went into the baby’s arm, I couldn’t even look. I am so glad you were there,” Rainey said, her voice dripping with sweet affection. Ben gave her a gentle smile, but then his eyes found me, and he quickly walked over. “Jess, I spent the afternoon consulting with several specialists about our son’s hand. That’s why I couldn’t pick you up. Nate told me you came here. Why didn’t you call me?” Rainey’s eyes flashed with a sudden spark of jealousy, though she quickly masked it with a sweet smile. I tested the temperature of the formula on my wrist, gently placing the bottle into my baby’s mouth. “I forgot,” I replied, not looking up. He hesitated, reaching out to touch the baby. “You must be exhausted, sweetheart. Let me hold him.” I subtly shifted my shoulder, shielding my baby from his touch. His hand froze in midair, his face tightening as he slowly drew back. That night, my baby’s soft whimpering woke me. Before I could even open my eyes, low whispers from the hallway drifted through the door. “Ben, can my baby call you Daddy?”

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For ten agonizing years, I was stalked by my former middle school classmate, Aria. She had absolutely zero concept of boundaries. She would show up uninvited to my basketball games with sports drinks, or wait outside in the freezing winter snow just to hand me a thermos of hot soup. She single-handedly ruined two of my relationships. Worse, she somehow brainwashed my coworkers, my friends, and even my own family with her sickening brand of “deep devotion.” They constantly lectured me, saying no one in this world would ever love me as much as she did. They told me I should just man up and put a ring on her finger. Finally, after I rejected her confessions for what felt like the millionth time, she turned around and started dating my buddy, Liam. “Derek, I don’t want to have a crush on you anymore,” she told me. My friends secretly placed bets on how long it would take for me to realize my true feelings and start crawling back to her on my hands and knees. They had absolutely no idea that I was thrilled. I was practically throwing a party in my head. I was finally free from that suffocating nightmare. 1 Aria and I went to the same middle school. We were in different grades and different classes, so we rarely ever crossed paths. But one afternoon during my eighth-grade year, I was walking home and stumbled upon Aria being harassed by some local street punks. I had inherited my dad’s genes and was already hitting six feet tall. Just standing there with a heavy scowl was enough to scare off those scrawny losers. Back then, Aria didn’t even look like a middle schooler. She was tiny, frail, with dull, stringy blonde hair. She was crying so hard her knees were buckling, so I figured I might as well just walk her to her front door. Later, Aria would tell me, “No one has ever been that nice to me.” I didn’t think much of it. It was just a random act of kindness. I had no idea I had just planted a ticking time bomb that would blow up my entire life. After that day, every time I glanced over my shoulder on my way home, I would see Aria trailing silently behind me. I figured we were walking in the same general direction anyway, and maybe she was just terrified those punks would come back. So, I silently allowed it. I even chased off a few creeps who tried to bother her again. When high school hit, I moved into the dorms at a prep academy across town. I thought my paths with Aria had permanently severed. I was dead wrong. On the very first day of my sophomore year, Aria materialized right outside my homeroom door. She had grown taller. She looked entirely different. She shoved a sickeningly sweet-scented pink envelope into my chest and sprinted away down the hall. Over the roaring cheers and catcalls of my classmates, I chased her down, shoved the letter back into her hands, and looked her dead in the eye. I told her I only cared about my GPA and getting into a good college. I had zero interest in dating. I thought I was being brutally clear. I thought a rejection that blunt would instantly sever whatever romantic delusion she had cooking in her head. It didn’t. She began weaving herself into every microscopic crack of my existence. If I played ball, she was on the bleachers with water. If I went to the cafeteria, she was fiercely guarding a seat for me. Even on holidays, she would stand like a statue outside my classroom, waiting to walk to the bus stop with me. I told her over and over again. I told her I didn’t need a stalker. I told her she was suffocating me. At first, she would just stare at the floor in silence. Then her eyes would turn bloodshot, and heavy tears would splash onto the back of her hands. “But I have feelings for you. I want us to be together. I want to do these things for you.” But I didn’t want it! Since polite declines and harsh warnings bounced right off her, I resorted to throwing the water she brought right into the trash. I treated her like she was invisible in the cafeteria. I started taking massive detours through town just to shake her off my trail before going home. But barely half an hour after I arrived, Aria would magically appear at the front doors of my apartment complex, her knees scraped and dripping blood from tripping on the pavement. She had actually tracked down my exact address and apartment number. My dad brought her upstairs and chewed me out relentlessly. My mom cleaned her wounds, applied bandages, and demanded to know why I was bullying a defenseless girl. I was practically screaming in frustration. “I didn’t touch her!” “Then why did she drag herself all the way here looking like this? If you didn’t do this, who did?” I was completely defenseless. Aria just sat on my family’s couch, letting the tears stream down her cheeks in silence, allowing my parents to rip me to shreds without offering a single word to clear my name. I stopped caring about saving her pride. I spilled the entire twisted truth right then and there. My dad just burst out laughing. “Damn, son. You’ve got some serious charm.” My mom just sighed in exhaustion. She pulled Aria aside for a private chat, and then she and my dad drove the girl home. When my mom got back, she told me Aria had promised never to pull a dangerous stunt like that again. I exhaled a massive breath, genuinely believing the nightmare was over. But I was naive. She just stopped coming to my house. At school, she was still a parasite, constantly finding ways to latch onto my side. It was impossible to describe the sheer disgust I felt during those years. The entire student body knew Aria was obsessed with me. My buddies would poke me in the ribs, joking about how relentlessly devoted she was, asking when I was finally going to cave. And those were the nice comments. Aria, on the other hand, became a prime target for severe bullying. When someone tipped me off and I pulled her out of a pitch-black gym storage closet, she buried her face in my chest and sobbed hysterically. I didn’t want to give her even a sliver of false hope. I physically pried her fingers off my shirt, ignoring her pathetic weeping, and shoved her an arm’s length away. “Aria, stop obsessing over me. Stop doing things that only ruin your own life. It’s embarrassing. It’s pathetic.” I glared at her. “Put all this psychotic energy into your grades, alright?” It was like she was physically incapable of understanding human speech. “If I get my grades up… if I get accepted into the exact same college as you, you’ll finally date me, right?” I stared at her tear-drenched, desperately hopeful face, and I felt sick to my stomach. I spun on my heel to walk away, but I stopped, whipped back around, and spat out the harshest words I could find. “Get this through your head. I will never have feelings for you!” “I don’t care what you do. I don’t like you! I will never, ever be your boyfriend!” “Do you understand me?” Aria stared at me like I had just shot her. She collapsed onto the gym floor, wailing. I pulled out my phone, called the dean of students, and walked away. When it came time to apply for colleges, I guarded my list like a state secret. Everyone around me finally started to realize that I genuinely despised this girl. When I finally moved out to the East Coast for a prestigious university in the city, I tasted the first breath of pure, unadulterated freedom. That freshman year was the absolute best year of my life. Then sophomore year started, and my personal hell resurrected. Aria had actually gotten accepted into my university. She even declared the exact same major. During the fall welcome ceremony, I was on stage giving a speech as a student representative. The second the crowd broke apart, Aria darted out from the masses and blocked my path. “Derek! You promised me back in high school. You said if I got into your college, you’d let me be your girlfriend.” “Well, I’m here now. So are we making this official?” She was grinning from ear to ear, staring at me like I was the center of the universe. My entire body went rigid. I was in full panic mode, turning to explain the situation to the girl standing next to me. But my girlfriend’s face had already turned to stone. She ripped her hand out of mine and walked away without looking back. 2 Yeah. I had a girlfriend. When Aria realized I was already taken, she started sobbing like I had committed some ultimate betrayal. “You promised me! You said you would wait for me!” “I love you so much! How could you do this to me?” I swear to God, I was losing my mind. When did I ever utter those words? I denied it repeatedly. I told everyone in earshot I never said anything remotely like that, and I never would. But Aria refused to listen. “I spent all these years studying just to keep my end of our promise! How can you just back out?” I forced my voice to stay level. I asked her exactly when, where, and how I had supposedly made this promise. If I said it, there had to be context. Aria just clammed up. She dropped into a crouch on the campus lawn, hugging her knees, crying so violently her shoulders shook. I felt the burning stares of dozens of students. I heard their whispers. For a second, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I knew my peaceful college life was officially dead and buried. My girlfriend dumped me that very night. I really liked her. I didn’t want my first real relationship to end in a fiery trainwreck, and I definitely didn’t want Aria destroying the peace I had fought so hard to build. I tried to explain the stalking to my girlfriend. I swore on my life I never made any pact with Aria. She said she believed me, but the damage was done. “I just wanted a normal college romance. I don’t want to be dragged into this insane toxic drama, and I definitely don’t want people calling me a homewrecker.” Her eyes were red when she apologized and handed back every gift I had ever bought her. I was completely hollowed out. I went to a dive bar off-campus and drank until my vision blurred. When the nausea finally hit, I opened my eyes and realized the blurry figure wiping my face with a damp towel in the booth was Aria. I stared into her obsessively infatuated eyes, and a flood of pure, unfiltered malice breached my sanity. Since she was so desperately obsessed with me, why not just date her? Everyone on campus already thought I was a toxic trashbag anyway. Why not lean into the role? I could date her, use the title of ‘boyfriend’ to completely shatter her, and inflict every ounce of pain she had caused me right back onto her. Maybe once her heart was entirely pulverized, she would finally leave me alone. But the twisted thought vanished as quickly as it came. I didn’t even understand the root of her delusion. If it was because I scared off some punks years ago, my endless cruelty since then should have snapped her back to reality. The only thing I knew for sure was that Aria was dangerously relentless. I had rejected her a thousand times, and she still lived in her own warped reality where her sacrifices mattered. If I actually gave her the title of a girlfriend, she would just dig her claws in deeper. The thought of spending my future chained to someone I violently resented made my skin crawl. When I sobered up, I sat her down. I told her I didn’t like her. I would never like her. I told her to stay the hell out of my life. I had recited that exact script countless times over the years. Her reaction was identical. She sat completely still. Her massive, hollow eyes stared at me with sickening sorrow as the tears dripped off her chin. “Why can’t you just like me?” “I’ve tried so hard. I’ve spent years doing everything for you. Why can’t you just give me a chance?” “Even just a tiny bit.” She looked incredibly pitiful. But all I felt was a raging inferno tearing through my chest, making me want to physically shatter her pathetic facade. What did she mean, ‘why’? You either click with someone, or you don’t. You can’t just forcefully grind your way into a romance like it’s a video game achievement. But Aria was immune to logic. She possessed a terrifying, infinite stamina when it came to stalking me. No matter how many times I broke her down, she would lick her wounds and throw herself right back into the fire. I stopped trying to reason with a psycho. I treated her like she didn’t exist. Thanks to my ex-girlfriend clearing the air, the rumors about me being a manipulative jerk slowly fizzled out. Aria’s reputation shifted, too. In less than six months, she went from being the tragic victim of a broken promise to the campus laughingstock, a desperate girl with zero self-respect. “She’s having a hard time. She’s a good girl, Derek. Even if you don’t want her, you don’t have to stomp all over her feelings.” That was Liam. He had been my closest friend back in high school. He went from understanding my misery to suddenly being completely captivated by Aria’s “undying loyalty.” He had tried to lecture me multiple times back then, telling me to go easy on her because she was a girl. I had distanced myself from him before graduation specifically because of that. But I never expected him to take a bus all the way to New York just to advocate for her. I looked at his deeply disappointed expression, catching the faint flicker of frustration and jealousy buried in his eyes. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces snapped together. “Liam. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” He didn’t panic. He just hesitated for a split second before owning it. “Yeah. I like her. She’s amazing. She…” “You’re the one who told her I promised to date her in college. Aren’t you?” Liam’s face hardened. “She was getting bullied every day because of you. Her grades were tanking. I just needed to give her a reason to keep fighting.” I drove my fist straight into his jaw. “If you wanted her to fight, you should have manned up and asked her out! Why the hell did you use my name?” “Do you have any idea that your little motivational lie cost me my relationship?!” Liam staggered back, then lunged at me, swinging wild. “So what?! You owe her!” Aria came sprinting out of nowhere to break us up. When she grabbed Liam’s arms, I used the opening to land three solid hooks to his face. Liam roared and tried to charge me again, but Aria threw herself right in front of me, shielding my body. “Liam! Don’t you dare touch him!” I saw the absolute heartbreak shatter Liam’s eyes, and I actually burst out laughing. What an absolute circus. I shoved Aria out of my personal space and laid it out bare. “I never said I’d date you. Ever. Liam made that up to motivate you, using my name as bait.” Aria froze. I chuckled bitterly. “Aria, he’s in love with you. Are you blind?” “I genuinely hope you two end up together. Go ruin someone else’s life. Really. Best of luck.” I turned and walked away. Aria screamed after me, sobbing, “Derek! You’re a monster!” And Liam just muttered, his voice cracking, “Aria…”

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At the grand annual academic summit, I projected the surveillance footage of my fiancé and his graduate student in his private laboratory. The screen filled with their passionate, tangled embrace. The crowded auditorium erupted into absolute chaos. A week ago, I had been browsing an obscure international academic forum, lurking under an anonymous account, when I stumbled upon a thread: “Is it normal for my advisor to hold me while we do experiments?” Beneath it, someone had replied: “What kind of experiments?” The original poster answered: “He teaches me how to use the pipette hand-in-hand. He holds me from behind, his body so warm against mine that my hands shake and I can’t even align the pipette tip with the multi-well plate.” Another user quickly commented: “That definitely sounds like it exceeds the boundaries of professional teaching.” She immediately defended him: “But he told me I’m the most special student he has ever taken. He said I’m nothing like that boring, clinical bookworm of a fiancée he has, who only cares about raw data and papers. He said she has absolutely no romance in her, and he is sick of her. He told me that being with me is the only time he feels truly alive.” The post was accompanied by a blurry, candid photo. In the frame, a man in a white lab coat had his sleeve rolled up, revealing a silver watch. On the bezel of that watch was a tiny, distinct scratch. It was the exact same watch I had gifted Arthur. 1 He had scratched the bezel while personally hauling heavy equipment into our new laboratory. At the time, he had laughed, gently stroking my hair, and told me that even with the scratch, it was his favorite timepiece because it served as a monument to our shared beginning. Even more glaring was the chromatography machine in the background of the photo. Engraved on the side of its metal casing were our joint initials. I had traveled to nine countries to secure that exact, state-of-the-art model. It was a rare import, and I had personally wheeled it to his private workstation as an engagement gift. The blood in my veins turned to ice, and my throat tightened until I could barely breathe. Arthur had betrayed me. But the bitter irony was that once, I had been his student too. With trembling fingers, I refreshed the thread. Several users had begun to criticize her: “Are you actually looking for advice, or are you just bragging about sleeping with your advisor?” She shot back instantly: “It is not just an affair. It is a meeting of minds. He brought me into his lab right under his fiancée’s nose. He is even taking the breakthrough project from the Chief Scientific Officer and giving it to me so I can publish it and secure my career.” Another comment read: “I despise academic nepotism. That is not giving, that is theft! Aren’t you two ashamed of what you are doing to that Chief Scientist?” She replied: “Why should we be? He simply loves me more. He needs an understanding muse, not a cold, sterile research machine.” Every single word felt like a poisoned needle driving straight into my heart. Just ten days ago, Arthur had sat me down in his office, his face full of grave sympathy. “Giselle, someone in Europe just published a paper with your exact concept. Your current project is dead. You will have to start over and find a new direction.” It had been a lie. He had taken my blood, sweat, and tears, and handed it to his mistress as a stepping stone. Arthur had always been the epitome of professional distance. In our industry, he was considered as pure as distilled water, an intellectual monk devoted solely to science. When I was his student, he would always maintain a strict half-arm distance whenever we discussed data. When he first showed me how to use the pipette, his fingers had briefly brushed my wrist, and his ears had flushed a deep, bright red. He had told me back then that I was his most brilliant, most special student. Even after we realized our feelings were mutual, he was so terrified of rumors damaging my reputation that he waited until I graduated, until I stood beside him as an equal, before he ever dared to hold my hand in public. That disciplined restraint, that quiet integrity, had made me fall hopelessly in love with him. On the night he proposed, he told me that scientists value absolute devotion, and his devotion belonged entirely to me. Now, staring at the diamond ring on my finger, and then looking at the blurry photo of their bodies pressed together in our lab, a wave of pure nausea washed over me. Every vow he had ever whispered to me had been recycled into cheap, filthy lines to seduce a graduate student. The passion and dedication I poured into my research, which he had once cherished as my greatest quality, had now become the traits of a boring, clinical machine. I scrolled down further, and a newly uploaded photo appeared. It showed Arthur leaning down, his lips pressed against her neck. My stomach churned violently. I ran to the bathroom and retched until my chest ached. 2 As the criticism on the forum grew louder, the girl only became more arrogant. “I have to go now,” she posted. “His boring fiancée is sick, and he is terrified I might catch whatever she has. He is taking me abroad to help me relax.” Just that morning, before he left for the airport, Arthur had cradled my feverish body in his arms. His voice had been thick with tender concern. “I am going to use this international symposium to look for new research ideas for you, Giselle. Rest at home, sweetheart. Don’t overwork yourself. Seeing you sick breaks my heart.” He knew this was the final year for my tenure and promotion evaluation. Yet, he had stolen my project and handed it to another woman. To meet the year-end deadline, I had been working day and night, surviving on black coffee to draft a new proposal from scratch, completely ruining my health in the process. When I watched his taxi leave for the airport, I had felt so guilty for being too ill to accompany him, blaming myself for letting him carry my burdens alone. I had no idea he was jetting off to a tropical resort with his mistress. The sudden ringing of my phone broke the silence. It was Arthur. He always called the moment his flight landed. “Giselle, why is your voice so raspy? Have you been resting and taking your medicine?” his voice flowed through the receiver, dripping with warmth. When I didn’t reply, he sighed, as if making a grand sacrifice. “I have been thinking. Even if you can’t finish the new proposal in time, I will use my entire professional network to guarantee your promotion this year.” I let out a silent, bitter laugh. He knew exactly what that meant. If he did that, I would be branded a fraud for the rest of my career, a woman who climbed the ranks through nepotism rather than merit. “Arthur, you once told me you never wanted my talent to be overshadowed by gossip. You said you wanted me to stand on my own feet.” He cut me off with a soft sigh. “But I cannot bear to watch the woman I love suffer. To me, you are the best. Even if people accuse me of playing favorites, I don’t care.” He sounded incredibly devoted. But then, in the background, I heard the faint, sweet giggle of a woman. I gripped the phone tightly. “Who is at your door, Arthur?” He let out a quick, forced cough. “Just room service. I asked them to bring up some extra writing pads and pens.” “Alright, sweetheart, I need to get to the conference. Take care of yourself. I bought your favorite pastries and left them in the fridge. Eat them even if you don’t have an appetite.” I stared at the blank screen after he hung up. His prompt check-in calls upon landing were never about love. They were preemptive strikes, designed to keep me from calling him at an inconvenient moment and interrupting his vacation. That night, I opened the forum again. She had updated her status. “The unapproachable god has finally been brought down to earth. He knows exactly what I like to eat, and he guides my research hand-in-hand. Being with him feels so natural. He told me tonight was the most unforgettable night of his life.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and shut down the page. Suppressing the bile rising in my throat, I walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The pastries he had left were covered in a thick layer of crushed peanuts. I am severely allergic to peanuts. The girl’s posts had mentioned how Arthur had walked across town in the heat just to find her favorite peanut-rice cakes. He had brought her leftovers home for me. I picked up my phone and sent Arthur a message: “Arthur, are you really going to abuse your position like this?” He replied almost instantly, assuming I was still talking about the promotion: “Giselle, everyone in our field knows you are my fiancée. Even if I do absolutely nothing, people will still whisper. We might as well secure the title and make it official.” It was true. Even when I had worked myself to the bone to reach the top of my field and earn the title of Chief Scientific Officer, people still looked at me with suspicion. When we first announced our relationship after my graduation, anonymous letters had flooded the university administration, accusing me of trading favors for grades during my student years. The online vitriol had been savage. To silence the doubters, I had practically moved into the laboratory. I worked eighty-hour weeks, churning out paper after paper, until the scientific community had no choice but to recognize my work. He had watched me bleed for that respect. Now, he dismissed it all with a casual shrug. The man who had once stood before the board of regents to defend my honor, the man who had threatened to resign his prestigious fellowship rather than let them slander me, was gone. Only a hollow, grotesque shell remained. 3 My laptop screen flashed with a new email notification. It was a formal offer from a premier international research institute in Switzerland. They had doubled their previous salary offer, desperate to recruit me to lead their core molecular biology laboratory. I had turned them down twice before, solely because I wanted to remain by Arthur’s side. When we founded Aura Research, we had nothing but a three-desk office and my initial research project. Over five years, we had grown into a major listed biotechnology firm. Arthur used to wrap his arms around me and whisper, “Giselle, my intuition was right. You are the most brilliant scientist I have ever known. You are the true cornerstone of Aura.” Yet, behind my back, he had slipped his mistress into my laboratory, using our workspace for their cheap trysts, and stealing my intellect to build her career. The “temporary security camera malfunctions” and the mysterious leaks of my research concepts all made sense now. I drove to the laboratory, my body still shaking with fever, wanting only to download my raw data and files. But when I reached the executive research wing, his secretary blocked my path. She looked down at her desk, refusing to meet my eyes. “Dr. Taylor… I am sorry, but the access permissions for this entire wing have been transferred to Dr. Monroe’s graduate assistant, Miss Isla.” It was absurd. I had built this laboratory from the ground up, and now I was locked out of my own office. I took out my phone and sent Arthur a text: “Maybe you should just get a new fiancée. Your precious Miss Isla seems like she would fit the role perfectly.” My message disappeared into a void. He didn’t reply, and my calls went straight to voicemail. Around me, my colleagues were whispering, their eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and pity. An hour later, a text from an unknown number popped up on my screen. It was Isla. “Sensing that your time is up, Chief? Arthur is in the shower right now, and his phone is with me. He doesn’t have time for you.” “By the way, he told me you aren’t as innocent as you look. He said you were just a cheap student who seduced her advisor in college.” “I am different. Arthur pursued me. He told me that when he met me, he finally understood what uncontrollable passion felt like.” A sharp, suffocating pain flared in my chest. I coughed violently, tears spilling over my cheeks. When the rumors had threatened to destroy me years ago, Arthur had held me through the night, telling me we would prove them all wrong. Now, he was the one handing his mistress the knife to stab me in my oldest wound. I drove back to our quiet, cold apartment. Near midnight, my phone finally rang. It was him. “Giselle, you didn’t call me all day. I was starting to feel neglected.” His tone was smooth and affectionate. I felt a chill run down my spine. He clearly had no idea that Isla had used his phone to text me. “I did try to reach you,” I said, my voice dead and flat. “You just didn’t see it.” He let out a light, nervous laugh. “Ah, the conference must have kept me too busy. But I have some wonderful news to share.” “My new graduate student, Isla, has incredible potential. She just presented a research concept at the seminar that is remarkably similar to your work.” “I am planning to appoint her as the new Chief Scientific Officer of Aura, and you can step down to serve as her deputy. That way, you can guide her, and we can co-author the main projects. With my influence, your tenure will be guaranteed.” “Are you listening, Giselle? You should really thank her. Having both of you working under me is the greatest blessing of my life.” It was a blessing for him, but a nightmare for me. My teeth ground together as I asked, “Arthur, what if I refuse?” He let out an irritated sigh. “Don’t be childish, Giselle. The Chief position belongs to whoever can produce results. You haven’t submitted a single viable project this quarter. Why embarrass yourself by clinging to a title you aren’t earned?” I stood on the balcony, letting the freezing night wind numb my face. I thought of the endless nights I had spent in the lab, the times I had been hospitalized from physical exhaustion just to keep Aura ahead of our competitors. I had poured my life into this company, only for him to hand it to his mistress. I pulled out my phone, opened the email from the Swiss institute, and hit reply: I accept your offer. I will start next month.

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In my past life, my son Tony was in acute heart failure and desperately needed the only available biological valve. Yet, my husband, Richard, forced the hospital to give it to his first love’s son, Harry, to treat a minor heart murmur. I knelt before him, begging until my forehead was bloody and bruised, only to receive his cold, indifferent sneer. “Vivian’s son is sensitive, he cannot handle a fright. Can you stop being so malicious?” Later, Tony died of cardiac arrest on the operating table. In my absolute despair, I set fire to our home, dragging them all to hell with me. Reborn into this life, when Richard demanded the valve once again, I simply wiped my tears. I smiled and handed him the surgical consent form. “Fine. Give it to him. I won’t fight you for it.” But the moment he took the paper, Richard’s hand began to shake. 1 “Gwen, although Harry only has a congenital defect, he has always been sensitive and afraid of pain,” Richard’s voice echoed in the sterile, white hallway of the hospital, carrying a familiar, cold arrogance. “Tony’s heart is failing, yes, but he has always been a resilient boy. Besides, his rejection rate is incredibly high. Even if we gave him this valve, his body might not accept it. It is better to wait for the next batch.” “As my wife, can you try to show some basic compassion? Do you really have to fight a single mother over her child’s only lifeline?” The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway made my eyes burn. I blinked, staring at the man standing in front of me, his expression twisted with impatience. Richard. My husband, the man I once loved more than life itself, and the man I ultimately grew to despise with every fiber of my being. In his hand, he tightly gripped the surgical allocation slip. That slip represented the only highly compatible bio-active valve in the state, the final hope to save our son Tony’s life. In our past life, at this exact door of the pediatric intensive care unit, I had clawed at him like a wild animal when he suggested giving the valve to Vivian’s son. I had wept, screaming that Tony had been confined to that freezing hospital bed for three months, that his heart could stop beating at any second. But Richard had kicked me to the floor with utter disgust. My head had slammed against the hard marble, blood blurring my vision. He didn’t even look back at me as he turned and handed the allocation slip to a weeping Vivian. Looking down at me, he had said, “Gwen, the way you behave makes me sick. No wonder Tony is always so sickly under your care.” Ultimately, because he missed his critical surgical window, Tony’s tiny body grew cold in my arms on a stormy night. Before he drew his last breath, he clutched my finger and whispered, “Mom, it doesn’t hurt. Please don’t cry.” After my son’s death, I lost my mind. Richard claimed I was suffering from severe postpartum depression. To bury his own guilt, he committed me to a psychiatric hospital. On the day of Tony’s memorial, he took Vivian and Harry to Disneyland to celebrate Harry’s recovery. In that asylum, I found a box of matches and set the building on fire. The flames painted the night sky red. They didn’t kill that despicable couple, but they consumed me. The phantom pain of my flesh burning still seemed to linger in the depths of my soul. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to this very day. Seeing my silence, Richard assumed I was preparing to throw another tantrum. His expression darkened, his voice growing sharper. “Gwen, I am talking to you. Stop playing dead.” “Vivian is a single mother raising a child alone in this city. If anything happens to Harry, it will destroy her life.” “Besides, I was the one who pulled strings to get this valve. I have the right to decide who gets it.” 2 Not far away, Vivian stood leaning against the wall, dressed in a pale blue hospital gown. In her arms, Harry was playing a cartoon on an iPad at maximum volume, his cheeks flushed with healthy color. He looked nowhere near a state of critical illness. Seeing me look over, Vivian instantly put on a panicked expression, tears flowing on command. “Richard, Gwen, I am so sorry. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have brought Harry to this hospital.” “If Gwen is unwilling, let it go. I will take Harry back and manage his condition with medication. At worst, he just won’t be able to play sports.” As she spoke, her body began to slide weakly toward the floor. Richard reacted instantly, catching her in his arms. He turned to glare at me. “Gwen! Will you only be satisfied when you have driven this poor mother and child to their graves?” Looking at this performance, I found it incredibly absurd. In my past life, I cared too much about Richard. I wanted so desperately to preserve my family. That was why I fought so hard, why I dragged my dignity through the mud, begging him on my knees. And what did I get? I lost my son’s only lifeline, and ultimately, I lost my son. In this life, I would not make the same mistake. I took a deep breath, forcing down the absolute hatred boiling in my chest. Then, I looked up, offering Richard a remarkably gentle smile. “Alright.” Richard froze. His brow furrowed, the lecture he had prepared suddenly trapped in his throat. “What did you say?” I looked at him calmly, my voice softer than it had ever been. “I said, since Harry’s condition is so delicate, let him have it.” “After all, a child’s life is at stake. I wouldn’t want to be malicious.” I pulled a pen from my bag and signed my name on the treatment waiver. The tip of the pen slid across the paper, making a sharp scratching sound. Richard took the signed waiver, a look of bewilderment crossing his face, as if he couldn’t believe I had surrendered so easily. “You are really okay with this?” he asked suspiciously. I nodded, looking through the glass window at Tony, who lay in the ICU bed, hooked up to various tubes. “Yes. I am okay with it.” “You were right. We shouldn’t be selfish. Sometimes, we have to let things go.” The doubt in Richard’s eyes vanished, replaced by the smug satisfaction of a man who had won. “I am glad you finally see sense.” “I knew those tantrums of yours were just cries for attention. Deep down, you know how to behave.” He handed the waiver to Vivian, his voice dripping with tenderness. “Go register for the procedure, Vivian. Let’s not delay Harry’s surgery.” Vivian took the paper, a spark of triumph flashing in her eyes, though she still kept up her fragile act. “Richard, won’t Gwen hold a grudge against me for this?” “She won’t.” Richard didn’t even look at me as he wrapped his arm around Vivian’s shoulders, leading her toward the administrative office. “She is being sensible now. She finally understands what matters.” Their figures disappeared down the long hallway. They looked exactly like a happy, devoted family of three. The smile vanished from my face, replaced by an icy, absolute coldness. I looked down at Tony’s pale little face, gently running my fingers over his bruised hand, scarred from constant intravenous lines. My tears fell silently onto the white sheets. Tony, I am so sorry. Mom is not giving up on you. It is because Mom knows that this valve is actually a death sentence. In my past life, after Harry received that valve, I uncovered the truth. That specific batch of biological valves carried a severe genetic defect. Because of a data error during the cultivation process, the valves triggered an extremely violent autoimmune rejection once inside the human body. After Harry received it, his heart murmur disappeared, but his kidneys and liver failed completely within six months. And my Tony, given his incredibly weak state, would have died right on the operating table if we had used it. So, Richard. Since you love that child so much, I am more than happy to let you have this poison. 3 The moment Richard left, I slipped into the emergency stairwell and dialed a number I had kept hidden for years. The phone rang three times before it was answered. A deep, quiet voice came through the line, carrying a hint of disbelief and suppressed hope. “Gwen?” Hearing his voice, my throat tightened, and my tears nearly spilled over. Austin. He was a world-class pediatric cardiothoracic surgeon, my childhood friend, the boy next door who had protected me growing up. In my past life, when Tony was in critical condition, I had wanted to beg him for help. But Richard, driven by toxic jealousy, had spread rumors that Austin and I were having an affair. He threatened to cut off all funding for Tony’s treatment if I ever contacted him. For the sake of Tony’s immediate bills, and to preserve my battered dignity, I had cut off all contact. It was only after Tony died that Austin found out. He flew back from Switzerland immediately. At the cemetery gates, his eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed my shoulders and yelled, “Gwen, why didn’t you call me? Just one word from you, and I would have carved out my own heart to save Tony!” In this life, I would never push away the one person who truly wanted to save my son. “Austin.” I tried to keep my voice steady, though it trembled slightly. “I remember you mentioned that your research center in Switzerland is running a clinical trial for pediatric stem-cell cardiac therapy.” Austin’s tone instantly shifted to professional urgency. “Yes. But there are only three slots globally, and the screening process is extremely rigorous. Is Tony’s condition worsening?” “Yes,” I replied, leaning against the cold concrete wall. “Our options here are exhausted. Richard gave his only matching valve to someone else. I want to bring Tony to Switzerland, to you.” The line went silent for a few seconds. Then, I heard the sound of something heavy falling, as if he had knocked his chair over as he stood up. “Is Richard out of his mind? Tony is his own flesh and blood!” “He lost his mind a long time ago,” I said with a cold laugh. “Austin, I have made up my mind. I will do whatever it takes to save Tony. I will divorce him, I will leave with absolutely nothing.” “Alright.” Austin’s voice was filled with an absolute, reassuring strength. “Leave the clinical slot to me. Even if I have to pull every favor I have, I will secure it for Tony. Your job right now is to protect him and gather all his medical records.” “I will arrange a private medical charter to pick you both up. I should be there in twenty-four hours.” I looked at my watch. “Twenty-four hours. Okay. I will be waiting.” Hanging up the phone, I let out a long, slow breath. One day. If I could just get through this one day, I could take Tony and escape this hell. As for Richard. I looked out the window at the dark, storm-filled sky, a cruel smile touching my lips. Our accounts are finally ready to be settled. That evening, Richard returned to the hospital. He seemed to be in an excellent mood, carrying a large, limited-edition Lego box in his hand. “Harry’s pre-op checks went perfectly today. The doctor says the success rate is very high.” He set the box on the table, glancing at Tony, who was still on oxygen. “Tony isn’t awake yet? This boy is just too weak, he doesn’t take after me at all.” I was wiping Tony’s brow with a damp cloth. My hand paused for a fraction of a second before I replied softly, “The doctor said he needs absolute quiet.” Richard frowned, clearly displeased by my cold reception. “Gwen, I know you are still upset. But today, Harry’s situation was simply more urgent. The doctor said the micro-procedure is much easier to recover from.” “Besides, I bought this for Tony. It is the Star Wars collector’s set he has been asking for. I had someone import it from Europe.” 4 His tone was entirely patronizing, as if I should be kneeling to thank him for his generosity. I looked at the box. It was indeed the Star Wars set. But it was a highly complex model rated for ages fourteen and up. Tony was only five years old. Because of his heart failure, his hands shook so badly he could barely hold a spoon, let alone assemble thousands of tiny plastic blocks. I had explained this to Richard dozens of times. But he never bothered to listen. In his mind, he only remembered that Harry loved complex assembly toys because it made him look intelligent. This toy had probably been bought in duplicate. One for Harry, and the spare tossed to my son. I didn’t expose him. I simply pushed the box to the corner of the table. “Tony cannot play with this right now. Keep it.” Richard’s expression immediately hardened. “Gwen, don’t be ungrateful. I went out of my way to buy this for him, and this is how you behave?” “Are you still bitter because I gave the valve to Harry? Do you think I don’t love Tony?” “I told you, Harry’s case was an exception! Besides, I am Tony’s father. Even a beast wouldn’t harm its own offspring. Do you honestly think I would hurt him?” Father? Hearing that word come out of his mouth was so nauseating it made my skin crawl. In our past life, while Tony was in the emergency room being resuscitated, Richard was at the aquarium with Harry, watching the whales. On the day Tony was cremated, he was hosting a celebration dinner for Harry’s recovery. He even allowed Harry to play with Tony’s urn, knocking it to the floor. When I screamed, he simply shrugged and said, “He is just a child, he didn’t mean it. Don’t be so dramatic.” That was his version of being a father. I turned around, looking him dead in the eye, my gaze cutting like glass. “Richard, do you truly love Tony?” Richard flinched slightly under my stare. He quickly looked away, his voice rising to cover his guilt. “Of course I do! If I don’t love him, who do I love? I work myself to the bone every day to support this family, to pay for his treatments!” “But look at you. Ever since Tony got sick, you have become completely unhinged. You are paranoid, suspicious, constantly complaining like a miserable shrew.” “If you had half of Vivian’s grace and understanding, this home wouldn’t be so cold.” Vivian, always Vivian. In his world, Vivian was the golden standard of perfection. She was gentle, elegant, and understanding, the eternal muse of his youth. And I was simply the bitter, nagging woman who did nothing but ask for money. I nodded, agreeing with him. “You are right. I am nothing like her.” “So from now on, I will learn from her.” “Whatever decisions you make, I will support them. I won’t argue with you anymore.” Richard was stunned. He clearly hadn’t expected such an easy submission. He studied my face suspiciously, but finding no trace of sarcasm, he let out a sigh of relief. He reached out to drape his arm over my shoulder, a satisfied smile returning to his face. “That is my girl. There is no reason for husband and wife to keep secrets.” “As long as you behave and stop making scenes, I will take good care of you both. Once Harry’s surgery is successful, I will take us all on a vacation.” I subtly stepped back, avoiding his arm, and went back to packing my things. “I am tired. You should go rest.” Richard’s hand hovered in the air, before he pulled it back with an awkward chuckle. “Alright. You should get some sleep too. I am going back to the office tonight to oversee a major project.” To the office? He was going to the hospital to stay with Vivian and her son. I didn’t call him out. I simply gave a quiet nod. “Okay. Drive safe.” It was perfect. His absence made my plans much easier to execute.

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I knew perfectly well that my boyfriend’s childhood best friend was practically legally blind. Yet, during a critical wilderness rescue operation, I willingly handed my customized tranquilizer rifle over to her. Then I pulled out my phone, leaned back against a pine tree, and booted up a mobile battle royale game. I did it because I remembered my past life. Back then, this exact same girl, a big-box store cashier, suddenly stepped up at our tactical training range and shot perfect bullseyes. When people questioned her impossible accuracy, Bella just shrugged and said that scanning barcodes at a cash register was the exact same muscle memory as pulling a trigger. She claimed it was just practice making perfect. From that day on, she replaced me as the core tactical marksman of our elite search and rescue squad. She soaked up all the glory, the media praise, and the massive bonuses. I was reduced to a glorified pack mule, enduring endless eye rolls and mockery from the very teammates I used to protect. It wasn’t until she retired to marry my boyfriend that she finally revealed the truth. She lured me to an empty shooting range, fired a few flawless shots, and laughed in my face. “Riley, I finally don’t have to drag you around like a pathetic shadow anymore,” she had sneered. “So what if you trained until your fingers bled for twenty years? In everyone’s eyes, I’m the only genius sniper around here.” That was when I finally understood. Every single time Bella looked down a scope, she was neurologically linking to my brain, perfectly leeching and replicating my hard-earned shooting skills. Then I blinked, and the world reset. I was reborn, standing right back on the very day Bella first claimed that scanning groceries was the same as firing a high-caliber weapon. This time, I was going to let them all burn. 1 “Fifty-yard stationary, nine points.” “Skeet shooting, twenty-two hits.” “Moving target, eight points.” “Riley, you took first place in the tactical assessment again. You really are the undisputed ace of this squad.” I stared at the crowd of teammates cheering around me. The midday sun glaring off their tactical gear felt entirely surreal. My boyfriend, Connor, jogged over with a polished marksman medal in his hands, flashing a brilliant smile. “Come on, Ry. Take your prize. You earned this.” My hand reached out entirely out of habit. Right at that moment, a loud, obnoxious scoff cut through the applause. My chest tightened. Here it comes. “You guys give out medals for scores like that? I mean, shouldn’t anyone with functioning hands be able to do that?” The squad went dead silent. Everyone turned to see who had the nerve to talk such garbage. When they realized it was Bella, a chorus of mocking laughter broke out. “Ignorance really is bliss,” one of the guys snickered. “A supermarket cashier with a barcode scanner thinks she can look down on elite rescue operatives.” Bella flushed bright red, visibly furious that her little comment had backfired. “It’s just pulling a trigger. What is the big deal? I come from a generational military family. I practically have gunpowder in my blood.” That only made the squad laugh harder. “Your dad is a local gun nut who shoots beer cans in the woods,” someone shouted. “What kind of military family is that? The discount aisle militia?” I watched Bella pout her lips, fully anticipating her next move. Just like in my past life, she was going to latch onto Connor and beg for a turn. Right on cue, Bella grabbed the sleeve of Connor’s tactical jacket and whined. “Connor, please just let me try. What, are you worried I’m going to waste a few dollars in ammo?” She paused, her eyes darting over to lock onto mine. “Or… are you worried Riley will get mad if my score is better than hers?” Connor and I had been a couple for years. We fought side by side in the harshest wilderness environments. He should have known I wasn’t the jealous type. But his reaction was just as disappointing as the last time. Connor furrowed his brow, looking at me with a hint of warning. “Riley, Bella is just acting like a kid. Treat it like a game to humor her. Don’t throw a tantrum over this, okay?” Without waiting for my response, he made the executive decision and guided Bella straight to the firing line. For someone supposedly from a military family, Bella held the rifle like it was a rotting fish. Her posture was stiff, awkward, and completely wrong. But the second the buzzer sounded, a phantom shift took over her body. Her movements became ruthlessly efficient. Her trigger pulls were completely devoid of hesitation. Whether it was a stationary paper target or a mechanical clay pigeon flying across the field, she tracked them with absolute perfection. When the final target popped up, Bella squeezed the trigger. A clean, devastating hit. “Bullseye. Bullseye. Bullseye. Every single one is a dead center hit!” The squad could not hide their absolute shock. They swarmed her immediately, practically vibrating with excitement. “You just shattered Riley’s all-time record! You are an absolute natural. A total prodigy!” I looked over at Connor. He wasn’t even glancing in my direction. He ran straight to Bella and wrapped her in a massive bear hug. “Bella, when the hell did you learn to shoot like this? Why didn’t you tell me?” Bella soaked up the attention, her face glowing with smug satisfaction. “It really isn’t a big deal. You look at the target, you pull the trigger. The bullets go in a straight line. It’s not rocket science.” 2 The entire squad was already drunk on the fantasy of discovering a hidden tactical genius. “Bella, you have never touched a firearm in your life, and you didn’t even flinch. Riley comes from a family of elite marksmen, and she literally cried the first time she fired a gun.” Surrounded by a chorus of aggressive flattery, Bella was practically floating. “I really don’t know what to tell you guys. What is the difference between scanning a bag of chips and pulling a trigger? Maybe Riley is just a little too pampered and delicate.” Not a single guy on the squad cared about the blatant insult she just hurled at me. They were all talking over each other, demanding that Connor recruit Bella onto the team immediately. Connor’s face was plastered with absolute pride. That was when I stepped forward. “Captain. Bella has exceptional accuracy, but she has absolutely zero physical conditioning or field training. Throwing a civilian straight into live wilderness operations is a massive liability. She won’t know how to move with the unit.” In my past life, Bella joined the squad midway through the season. Her stamina was pathetic, and her survival instincts were nonexistent. Aside from stealing my shooting skills, her only contribution to the team was constantly dragging us down and putting lives at risk. I suggested she go through basic physical conditioning first. But Bella immediately twisted it, crying to the squad that I was purely jealous. She convinced them I wanted her gone so I could keep all the glory for myself. Because of that, Connor stripped me of my sniper designation. He forced me to become Bella’s personal pack mule, carrying her heavy rifle and tactical gear through miles of treacherous terrain just so she wouldn’t get tired. This time, the trap hadn’t been sprung yet. If Connor had a shred of actual leadership in him, he would know better than to throw an untrained civilian into the deep woods. Hearing my logic, Connor hesitated. Bella saw him wavering and immediately turned her crosshairs on me. “Riley, I promise I won’t try to steal your spotlight. Please, just give me a chance to change my life. Please?” She covered her face with her hands, letting out pathetic little sobs. “I know I’m just a nobody cashier. I don’t have a rich military pedigree like you do. But is it a crime to be born poor?” I kept my voice dead level, refusing to take the bait. “That is not what I said. Wilderness rescue means navigating cliffsides, ravines, and highly aggressive predators. One wrong step gets people killed. We cannot risk the lives of the team or the victims just to let you play soldier.” But Connor’s expression only darkened with every word I spoke. “That is enough, Riley! So what if you’ve held a rifle longer than she has? Stop acting so damn superior. We get it, you’ve never had a casualty on your watch. Do you want a gold star?” The words caught in my throat. I suddenly remembered that years ago, Connor’s personal negligence on a mission had cost one of our teammates their life. He had just weaponized his own guilt against me. “I am making the call right now. Bella is the new primary marksman for this unit.” A ripple of shock went through the squad. “Captain, if Bella is taking the lead shooter spot, what happens to Riley?” Connor’s tone left zero room for argument. “She just got outperformed by a girl who has never touched a gun before. What right does she have to hold the title? Riley will act as Bella’s support element and carry her gear.” The gavel had fallen. A few guys looked slightly worried about Bella’s lack of experience, but since the captain had made it an official order, they just clapped her on the shoulder and offered congratulations. Seeing that her scheme worked perfectly, Bella couldn’t hide her twisted grin. “Connor, does that mean we get to be partners for the rescue op this afternoon?” Connor stumbled back slightly as she threw her arms around his neck, shooting a rapid, guilty glance in my direction. “Don’t be crazy, Bella. Riley is standing right here. I can’t pair up with you.” Bella rested her chin on Connor’s shoulder, her eyes locked onto mine, dripping with pure provocation. “Riley, you wouldn’t say no to us teaming up, right?” I didn’t even blink. “Absolutely not.” Her face instantly morphed into a mask of deep, agonizing hurt. “Riley, I just want to team up with Connor so we can save lives. It is purely professional. Why does your mind always have to go to such dark, toxic places?” Connor looked at me like a stranger, his eyes full of disgust. “Bella’s only focus is saving people in danger. Why is your mind so filthy, Riley?” Even the rest of the guys chimed in, fully convinced I was acting out of bitter jealousy. “If your aim sucks, go to the range and fix it. Spreading trashy rumors about another girl just makes you look pathetic.” “Connor goes to her supermarket to hang out all the time, and you never threw a fit before. You’re just pissed she took your crown, Riley.” A stampede of absolute rage thundered through my skull. “I said absolutely not, because she cannot walk into a live rescue operation looking like that.” I gestured coldly at her outfit. “She needs properly fitted tactical gear. People project their own insecurities onto others, Bella. Out in the field, there is a lot more to learn than just how to start romantic rumors.” Bella ground her teeth together. “Right. Because when it comes to actual marksmanship, you clearly have absolutely nothing left to teach me.” 3 The squad dispersed. I ignored Bella entirely and began prepping my tactical vest for the afternoon op. The objective was to extract a group of amateur hikers trapped by a highly aggressive wolf pack in a rocky ravine. After we reached our designated overwatch position, I dropped my heavy pack and quickly assembled the customized tranquilizer rifle. We didn’t use lethal rounds. Everything was heavy-duty sedatives, and the rifles were heavily modified for maximum velocity and silence. The second I clicked the bipod into place, Bella shoved her way in front of me and wrapped her hand around the pistol grip. She glanced back over her shoulder, smiling like a venomous snake. “Sorry, Riley. I am the lead shooter now. Why don’t you just sit back and take notes?” I crossed my arms and watched her struggle to get comfortable on the dirt. “I thought you wanted to partner up with Connor?” Connor’s voice crackled through my earpiece. “Bella doesn’t have live combat experience yet. I ordered her to stay by your side so she can shadow your process. Next time, she takes full control of the nest.” I didn’t argue. I just silently pulled a secondary spotting scope out of my bag and set it up in the dirt. We baked under the blistering sun for three brutal hours before the wolf pack finally emerged from the tree line. Ignoring the stinging sweat pouring into my eyes, I immediately locked my scope onto the alpha wolf’s skull. Thwack. A perfect hit to the neck. But I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger. My finger was hovering right over the guard when Bella turned her head, grinning ear to ear. “Oops, sorry Riley. You were just moving way too slow. I was terrified the alpha was going to bolt.” For the rest of the op, Bella didn’t give me a single chance to fire. Every single time I mentally locked onto a target, calculated the windage, and prepared to squeeze, her bullet would leave the chamber a split-second before mine. Shot after shot. Her performance was a flawless, terrifying display of lethal precision. She hit every target, bailing the ground team out of deadly corners and ensuring the hikers didn’t take a single scratch. When the dust finally settled and the op was called, the mood was electric. At the base camp celebration that night, we learned the rescued hiker was a billionaire’s son. He personally handed Bella a velvet box stuffed with diamond jewelry as a token of absolute gratitude. Staring at the millions of dollars glittering in the box, Bella couldn’t even pretend to hide the raw greed in her eyes. “I am so sorry, Riley. This was supposed to be your reward.” Connor grabbed Bella by the shoulders, practically glowing with pride. “You have nothing to apologize for. If Riley had been on the trigger today, there is zero chance the op would have gone that smoothly.” The regional director of the rescue company was at the party. He raised a glass to Bella, entirely ignoring me. “Bella, for a rookie on her first live op, your performance was completely unprecedented. I listened to the radio logs. You didn’t utter a single word on the comms, yet your synergy with the ground team was flawless. You were born for this squad.” Bella puffed her chest out. “True synergy doesn’t need to be spoken out loud. It just happens.” She shot me a side-eye. “The guys on the ground are fighting for their lives. Flooding the comms with useless chatter just distracts them and drags them down.” “I trust my aim. No matter what goes wrong, I know I can save them. I don’t need other people sacrificing themselves just to make up for my mistakes.” Standing in the corner of the tent, my head was throbbing. What an absolute load of garbage. A sniper sits at the highest elevation specifically to act as the eyes of the battlefield. Calling out targets and directing traffic is half the job. During the entire op, all Bella did was brain-leech my shooting mechanics. I was the one mentally tracking the wolves, calculating the drops, and quietly adjusting the spotting scope to feed her the angles. Without me doing the heavy mental lifting, she would have been shooting at dirt. But the director was already glaring at me. “Connor, the company’s annual Elite Marksman nomination is going to Bella this year. We have too many people taking up space on the payroll, acting like they own the place while stepping on their teammates’ hard work.” Without giving me a single second to defend myself, the director turned his back and walked away. For the rest of the night, Connor paraded Bella around the VIP tent, introducing her to the wealthy executives and politicians. He entirely forgot about his actual girlfriend. When we finally got back to the compound, Bella proudly announced that the billionaire had gifted her an all-expenses-paid, seven-day trip to Bora Bora. Connor told me it was a well-deserved reward for her heroism. “Oh, by the way, Ry. Bella gets a little spooked sleeping in new places. I want you to clear your stuff out of our room. I’m going to stay with her for a few nights until she gets comfortable. You can move back in later.” Every single bunk in the compound was full. I stared at the dusty, spider-infested storage closet at the end of the hall. I didn’t say a word. Lying on a damp, moldy mattress, I scrolled through social media. Bella had just posted a photo of her and Connor in matching swimwear on a white sand beach. My chest felt hollow, filled with a toxic mix of disgust and exhaustion. Over the next few months, Bella rinsed and repeated the exact same strategy. By parasitically draining my skills, she racked up flawless mission records. The legend of the prodigy sniper grew to astronomical heights. Every time the alarm rang, I carried her eighty-pound gear bags up mountainsides without a single complaint. The more she showed off, the more I willingly fed her the targets. Then came the red-alert call. The son of the country’s wealthiest tech mogul was trapped deep in a ravine, completely surrounded by a den of territorial grizzly bears. I was at the range doing extra conditioning drills when the guys walked by. “Still trying to steal your sniper spot back? You really think you can climb over our dead bodies just to get a shiny trophy on your desk?” Bella was standing there, wearing expensive silk hand-masks to protect her skin. “Real talent doesn’t come from having ugly calluses on your fingers, boys.” She covered her mouth, giggling softly. “Riley, seriously, you need to spend more time on your makeup and hair. Otherwise, when you finally get kicked to the curb, you won’t even be able to find a man.” She raised her left hand, flashing a blinding, massive diamond ring under the floodlights. The entire squad gasped. “Captain bought you a ring?! Holy hell, when is the wedding?” 4 Meeting Bella’s vicious, gloating stare, I calmly broke down my rifle and packed it into its hard case. “If that’s the case, I’m officially resigning tomorrow morning.” Bella froze instantly. “I’m never getting the sniper spot back anyway. My family already bought me a plane ticket home.” “You can’t leave!” Her frantic screech echoed across the asphalt. The squad looked at her, entirely confused as to why she was having a meltdown over me quitting. She forced herself to take a breath, trying to play it cool. “I… I just mean the billionaire is probably going to give us a massive cash bonus tomorrow. It would be a total waste for you to walk away from that.” “Don’t try to stop her. Let her walk.” Connor came striding out of the command center, his face twisted in annoyance. “If you want to quit, then pack your bags and leave quietly. Did you really think making a massive scene would make us beg you to stay? Stop desperate for attention, Riley.” I didn’t even flinch. But Bella was practically hyperventilating. “Tomorrow’s op is a code red! I don’t have enough field experience for grizzly bears. I need Riley out there with me. Connor, please, just order her to stay for one more run.” The squad looked at her like she was speaking a foreign language. “Bella, with your aim, you’re virtually untouchable. Pure talent beats experience every single time.” “Yeah, Riley’s aim is garbage compared to yours. All she’s good for is wiping down the rifle barrels. Don’t let her dead weight drag you down.” Bella was trapped in a nightmare of her own making. She couldn’t tell them the truth, so she had to swallow the panic. She threw all her chips at Connor. “Connor, we agreed we were going to retire and get married after this final payout, right? The squad is going to need a marksman when I’m gone.” “Riley might not be as good as me, but she can hold the line for a while after I leave. Just look at it as a favor to the team.” Connor sighed, finally giving in to her pleading. “Fine. Riley, this is your absolute last chance. Do your job tomorrow and support Bella. If a single hair on her head gets messed up, I will personally throw you out of this compound.” When I gave a slow nod, Bella let out a massive, trembling exhale. The next morning on the tarmac, Bella’s eyes were bloodshot and swollen like she hadn’t slept a wink. “How are you supposed to look down a scope like that?” I asked coldly. “Captain, I should take the lead on this—” “Shut your mouth,” Connor snapped, cutting me off instantly. “This isn’t the first time Bella’s looked a little tired, and has she ever missed a shot? No.” “I didn’t think you’d stoop so low as to try and ruin Bella’s final retirement op. Are you really that desperate to see her fail?” I watched Connor carefully shield Bella as she climbed into the transport helicopter, and a frozen sneer formed in my chest. Back when I was the lead sniper, if my eyes were even slightly irritated, or if I had gotten less than eight hours of sleep, Connor would instantly bench me, preaching about safety protocols and team survival. Because of that, I spent ten years acting like a machine. I never played video games, never read late into the night, strictly monitored my diet, and sacrificed every shred of a normal life just to stay perfectly sharp. But with Bella, suddenly the lives of the men on the ground didn’t matter. I looked around at the squad. None of them cared. They were too busy making dirty jokes about how Connor kept Bella awake all night. I didn’t waste another breath trying to warn them. Every single person has to pay the tab for the choices they make. Connor tossed aside a woman who had bled and fought beside him for a decade, all for his manipulative childhood crush. The squad tossed aside a hardened, loyal veteran for a girl who had never fired a real weapon in her life. When the curtain finally dropped, I sincerely hoped none of them would cry about it. The chopper touched down at the edge of a massive, heavily forested canyon. This extraction was incredibly high-profile. A dozen corporate executives and rescue directors were crammed into the command tent, watching the drone feeds on massive monitors. When we reached the cliffside overwatch position, I quickly set up the heavy rifle on its bipod. Bella practically shoved me out of the way, throwing her soft, manicured hands over the grips. She pressed one of her large, doe eyes against the rubber rim of the scope. The other eye was wide open, blinking into the glaring sun. The director’s voice came over the radio. “Looking good, Apex squad. Not only is Bella a lethal shot, she looks great on the cameras. She really is the face of this company.” I had to bite my tongue to stop from laughing out loud. Real wilderness operatives sleep in the mud and hike through freezing rain. Nobody has flawless, porcelain skin out here. More importantly, a trained sniper does not keep their non-dominant eye wide open, exposed to the blinding glare, while tracking a target. It was such a glaring amateur mistake, yet nobody in the command tent seemed to care. But it wasn’t my problem anymore. Since Bella was their golden goose, they could deal with the mess. I retreated to the shade of a massive oak tree and pulled out my phone. Bella didn’t even glance back. As long as I was within proximity, she felt entirely invincible, assuming she could just siphon my mechanics. “Bella, the grizzlies are moving out of the cave. Get ready!” Connor yelled over the comms. Bella held her breath, radiating absolute arrogance. “Squad up, dropping in!” The words ripped out of Bella’s mouth without warning. The entire radio channel went dead silent. “Bella, what the hell are you doing?!” Connor demanded. Bella slapped a hand over her own mouth in sheer terror. But the side effect of her parasitic brain-link was brutal. She couldn’t just filter out what I was doing. Seconds later, she started blurting out more gamer slang. “Wiped on landing! Get me a medkit! Loot drop incoming!” She was spewing utter nonsense into a live tactical channel. Worse than her mouth were her hands. Her supposedly flawless sniper posture instantly deteriorated into the jerky, panicked movements of a teenager mashing a touchscreen. She yanked the trigger wildly. Tranquilizer darts flew into the dirt, bouncing off rocks. She didn’t just miss the massive charging bears; she nearly put a dart into the neck of our own breacher. “Have you lost your damn mind?!” The director was screaming into the radio, his voice cracking with rage. “Bella, is this a joke to you?!” Connor scrambled to do damage control. “I’m sorry, sir! Bella is just a little rattled by the bears! I’ll talk her down, just give me a second!” Then he switched to the private squad channel, his voice a furious roar. “Bella, this is not the time to play cute! Get your act together, right now!” I sat under the tree, comfortably swiping on my screen, racking up kills in my game. Bella looked like she had swallowed a mouthful of crushed glass. “Connor, I—” “Do not call me Connor! Do you have any idea how high the stakes are today?!” “If that kid gets a single scratch on him, the billionaire will bury this entire company! And he will bury us with it!” “I am asking you one last time. Can you take the shot?!”

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1 Matthew’s favorite phrase was “just wait a little longer.” Wait until his startup stabilized to get our marriage license; I waited two years. Wait until his mother’s attitude softened to have the wedding; I waited another three. In the fifth year, at Matthew’s thirtieth birthday dinner, his mother publicly slipped off the antique emerald bracelet from her wrist. Passing down the family bracelet to acknowledge the daughter-in-law was an old tradition in the Brandt family. I thought, finally, the waiting was over. “Here, give me your hand.” But Matthew’s mother bypassed my outstretched hand, sliding the heavy emerald piece firmly onto Mary’s wrist instead. The entire table went dead silent. Mrs. Brandt patted the back of Mary’s hand with a fond smile. “Mary grew up with our Matthew. We are all one family anyway.” My hands were still resting on the tablecloth, my fingertips turning icy. Someone at the table whispered, “But what about Nora?” Matthew leaned in close, lowering his voice. “My mother is sentimental, Norie. Don’t take it to heart.” “I’ll buy you a haute couture necklace on my business trip next month. Be good, just wait a little longer.” Mary held up her wrist right in front of my face, a smug smirk playing on her lips. “Be honest, Norie, isn’t it beautiful? Mrs. Brandt said this is a priceless family heirloom.” I said it was beautiful. Right then, my phone buzzed in my purse. “Have you made up your mind? When are you coming to Paris?” 2 “Why are you so quiet?” On the drive back, Matthew held the steering wheel with one hand, casting a quick glance at me. The streetlights cast flickering shadows across his handsome profile. I pulled my gaze back from the window, staring down at my bare wrist. “Nothing to say,” I murmured. Matthew sighed, braking at a red light. He reached over the console with his right hand, instinctively trying to squeeze the back of my neck. I tilted my head slightly, dodging his touch. His hand froze in midair for a second. Then he smoothly pulled it back, resting it on the steering wheel. “Are you seriously still throwing a tantrum over that bracelet?” His tone carried that familiar, weary indulgence used for a spoiled child. “You know how my mother is. She’s old-fashioned.” “Mary lost her parents when she was young and grew up in our house. My mother has always felt she owes her.” “It is just an emerald bracelet. If she wants to give it away, so be it. Was it really worth making a face at dinner?” Making a face? I had not said a single word. I had simply eaten my dinner in silence. But to him, my refusal to smile and play along with Mary’s boasting made me difficult. “Matthew,” I said, my voice flat. “Yeah?” “You told me five years ago that the bracelet would be mine.” The car went dead silent. A horn blared behind us; the light had turned green. Matthew hit the gas, and the car glided forward smoothly. “We were just starting the business back then. I didn’t have the money to buy you anything nice. It was just sweet talk to make you happy, and you’ve held onto it until now?” He let out a dry laugh, his tone casual and dismissive. “Do you really think the Brandt family can’t afford a better bracelet now?” “I’m going to Europe next month on business. I’ll bring you back a couture diamond necklace. It’ll look a hundred times better than that dusty old emerald.” “Be good, Norie. Stop sweating the small stuff.” He was always like this. Using the gentlest voice to effortlessly erase every hope I had for our future. Five years ago, Matthew bought me a cheap thirty-dollar silver band at a night market stall. With bloodshot eyes, he had slipped it onto my finger. “Norie, once I make it big, I’ll have my mom personally put our family’s heirloom emerald bracelet on you.” “I’m going to make you Mrs. Brandt, with all the bells and whistles.” I was still wearing that cheap silver band on my left hand. It had already tarnished to a dull, dark gray. The car rolled into our apartment complex’s underground garage. Matthew unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at me. “Tomorrow is the weekend. Where do you want to go? I’m all yours.” In the past, I would have happily researched itineraries, filling the day with plans. But now, I only felt an exhausting emptiness. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, pushing the door open. “I need to clean up the apartment tomorrow.” Matthew got out, locked the car, and caught up to me in a few quick strides. He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “Are you really mad at me?” His breath brushed against my ear, carrying the faint, rich scent of red wine. “Mary was so excited about the bracelet she couldn’t sleep. She wants me to take her to get a custom vintage dress tailored tomorrow to match it.” “You know she has terrible taste and has relied on me since we were kids.” “I’ll go with her in the morning, and I’ll be back to spend the afternoon with you, okay?” “Okay,” I said softly. Matthew smiled with satisfaction, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. “I knew my Norie was the sweetest.” When we got inside, Matthew headed straight for the bathroom. I walked to the entryway, hanging my bag on the coat rack. Unzipping it, I looked at the document lying quietly inside. An acceptance letter for an advanced study program at the National School of Fine Arts in Paris. At the very bottom was my signature, penned just this afternoon. I pulled it out and slipped it into the hidden compartment of my half-packed suitcase. The sound of rushing water echoed from the bathroom. I walked out to the balcony and texted my mentor in Paris. Hey, I’ve booked my flight for early Monday morning. She replied instantly: Finally came to your senses? Good for you! Forget that five-year waste of time. Get your ass to Paris. I’ll show you what real European gentlemen look like! I stared at the screen, a quiet, faint smile touching my lips. 3 The next morning. I was woken up by Matthew’s hushed, murmuring voice. He was standing on the balcony, phone pressed to his ear. “You chipped it? Is it bad?” “It’s fine if the bracelet is chipped, as long as you aren’t hurt.” “Don’t cry, it’s just a bracelet. I’m coming over right now to check on you.” His voice carried an unmasked, raw panic and tenderness. I lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Five minutes later, he pushed the bedroom door open. Seeing my eyes open, he startled slightly before quickly walking over. “Did I wake you?” He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to stroke my face. I turned my head away and sat up. “Going out?” I asked. Matthew’s hand froze, and he awkwardly pulled it back. “Mary tried on the bracelet first thing this morning and accidentally banged it against the bathroom sink. She’s terrified and won’t stop crying.” “I need to go check on her. She lives alone, and I’m worried.” As he spoke, he swiftly shed his loungewear and threw on a crisp button-down. “Don’t wait up for breakfast. Make yourself something.” I watched him expertly knot his tie. “Matthew.” “Yeah?” He didn’t even turn around, adjusting his collar in the mirror. “I wanted to go look at the Southside townhouse today.” His hands paused on his collar. The Southside townhouse was a place we had picked out six months ago. He had called it our future home, promising we would put down the deposit right after his thirtieth birthday. Matthew turned around, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “We don’t have to look at houses today of all days.” “Mary is completely hysterical right now. I need to calm her down first.” “Once this crazy week is over, I’ll take you to look at an even better neighborhood. Southside is a bit out of the way anyway.” I looked at him, my expression entirely serene. “Okay.” Matthew let out a visible sigh of relief. He walked over and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “Good girl. Wait for me to come back.” The door clicked shut. Silence swallowed the apartment once more. I got up and walked into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, I saw it was packed with groceries. I pulled out two eggs and a carton of milk. As I fried the eggs, memories flooded my mind, completely unbidden. Back when we lived in that cramped, drafty rental. Matthew used to wake up thirty minutes before me every single morning to whip up creative breakfasts. Once, I offhandedly mentioned wanting those hot glazed donuts from the Westside bakery. He braved a torrential downpour, riding a rusty bicycle for half an hour just to get them for me. When he returned, the donuts were still warm, but he was soaked to the bone. “If my Norie wants something, I’ll get it even if it’s raining knives outside,” he had said, grinning through the drips. And now? Even taking a single hour to look at the house he promised me was too much of a chore. I slid the fried eggs onto a plate. As I poured the milk, my hand slipped, spilling it across the counter. Reaching for a rag, I accidentally knocked over a jar next to it. It was a jar of oyster sauce. The dark, thick liquid pooled onto the counter, releasing a heavy, briny scent. Staring at the mess, my stomach violently churned. I am severely allergic to seafood. Matthew had bought that jar two days ago. Because Mary had mentioned she was craving seafood noodles. Matthew had completely forgotten that even the smell of seafood could break me out in hives. I tossed the rag into the trash can, along with the plate of eggs and the jar of oyster sauce. Then, I walked back into the bedroom, dragged three large cardboard boxes from under the bed, and began packing. I didn’t actually own much. A few everyday clothes, some textbooks, my laptop. The rest were things Matthew had bought me. Expensive designer bags and jewelry that never fit my style. He had always dressed me according to Mary’s tastes. “Mary looks stunning in pink. You should try it.” “Mary says this perfume smells incredible, so I got you a bottle too.” I gathered all of those items and stacked them neatly at the very bottom of the walk-in closet. 4 At three in the afternoon, Matthew returned. He pushed the door open and froze at the sight of the three boxes stacked in the living room. “What are you doing?” He strode over, his brow knitting tight. “Packing away winter clothes?” I sealed the last box with heavy-duty tape. “Getting rid of old things.” Matthew’s gaze fell on an unsealed box. Inside were our matching college mugs and a stuffed animal he had won for me. His face darkened instantly. “Nora, are you seriously still doing this?” He yanked the mug out, slamming it onto the coffee table. “You’ve been throwing a tantrum since last night over a stupid bracelet!” “Now you’re throwing this stuff out? What’s next? Are you going to tell me you’re moving out?” I stood up straight, looking at him calmly. “Yes.” Matthew let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “Unbelievable. You’ve really grown a spine, haven’t you?” He loosened his tie, sinking onto the sofa, glaring up at me. “And where do you think you’re going? To your friend Hazel’s place? Or back to that freezing hometown of yours?” “Nora, you are twenty-seven years old. Can you stop acting like a dramatic teenager playing the run-away-from-home card?” “Do you honestly think if you disappear for a few days, I’ll come crawling back begging you to return?” He was entirely convinced I could never leave him. He believed this was just a pathetic, desperate attempt to force his hand. I didn’t bother explaining. I simply placed the mug back into the box and taped it shut. “Think whatever you want.” Watching my quiet movements, a flicker of irritation crossed Matthew’s eyes. He stood up, walked over to me, and softened his tone. “Alright, enough. Stop playing around.” “Tomorrow is our fifth anniversary.” “I booked a table at that Michelin-starred restaurant you love. After dinner, we’ll go pick out a diamond ring.” “As for the Southside place, I’ll have my assistant send over the deposit tomorrow. We’ll put it under your name.” “Does that make you happy?” He spoke as if he were granting me the ultimate mercy, throwing me a bone. I looked at his face, once so familiar, now so utterly foreign, and smiled. “Okay.” I nodded. “See you tomorrow.” Matthew breathed a sigh of relief, ruffling my hair gently. “There’s my good girl.” He had no idea that nestled inside my suitcase was a plane ticket for tomorrow. Exactly fourteen hours until takeoff. Matthew left for the office early the next morning, kissing my forehead before he walked out. “I’ll pick you up at six tonight.” “Wear that pink dress. You look beautiful in it.” The moment the front door clicked shut, I turned and walked into the closet. The pink dress hung in the most prominent spot. It was the exact same design Mary had. I didn’t touch it. Instead, I put on a simple white shirt and washed-out blue jeans. It was the outfit I wore most often when I first met Matthew. I pushed the three sealed cardboard boxes out to the hallway and scheduled a local courier to pick them up. I sent them to a friend who ran a secondhand consignment shop. “Norie, these are practically brand new. Are you sure you don’t want them?” my friend asked over the phone. “I’m sure. Sell them or do whatever you want with them.” Hanging up, I took one last look around the apartment. This twelve-hundred-square-foot space had once been filled to the brim with my personal touches. The throw pillows on the couch were hand-embroidered by me. The succulents on the balcony had been nurtured by my hands, one by one. The ceramic mugs in the kitchen were hand-painted treasures I brought back from a workshop in Vermont. Now, they were all still in their places. But any trace of me, any proof of my existence, had been completely erased. It was as if I had never lived here at all. My phone vibrated. It was a text from Matthew. Norie, I’m so sorry, but we might have to cancel dinner tonight. Mary was clipped by a delivery bike right outside the office. Her ankle is badly swollen. I have to take her to the hospital for X-rays. We can look at rings in a couple of days, okay? I stared at the text on the screen and didn’t reply. A moment later, another message popped up. Are you mad? Don’t be. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow, I promise. Make it up to me. Always making it up to me. I set my phone to silent, tossed it onto the sofa, and went to the kitchen to boil a simple bowl of plain noodles. This would be my last meal in this country. Just as the noodles were done, the front door lock clicked. Matthew rushed in, looking frantic. Seeing me standing in the kitchen with a bowl of noodles, he stopped dead in his tracks. I placed the bowl on the dining table and pulled out a chair. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the hospital with Mary?” Matthew walked over, pouring himself a glass of water. “Mary said she was craving those crab dumplings from the West End diner. I just came back to grab my car keys to pick some up for her.” The West End. The very place he had braved a storm to buy me pastries years ago. Now, he was willing to cross the entire city just to satisfy Mary’s craving. “Nora, are you seriously throwing another silent tantrum?” Seeing my silence, his brows knit together again. “I already told you, Mary is hurt. I can’t just leave her stranded, can I?” “Can’t you show a little understanding for once?” I lifted a forkful of noodles and took a bite. Bland. Completely tasteless. “I’m not throwing a tantrum,” I said quietly. “Go buy her food. Don’t keep her waiting.” Matthew shot me a suspicious look. My unusual calm seemed to catch him off guard. But he was in too much of a hurry to think deeper. “I’m heading out then. I might not come back tonight. Mary is terrified of being alone, so I’ll probably stay with her at the hospital.” “Get some sleep early.” He grabbed his keys and turned to leave. At the doorway, he suddenly froze, glancing at the empty shoe rack in the entryway. “Where are all your shoes?” I swallowed my noodles, never looking up. “They were old. I threw them out.” Matthew didn’t ask further. The door slammed shut behind him. I slowly finished my bowl of noodles. I washed the bowl and placed it upside down on the drying rack. Then, I slung my backpack over my shoulders and rolled my small, twenty-inch black suitcase out of the apartment. I didn’t look back. On the shuttle bus to the airport, I leaned against the window. I watched the neon-lit city where I had spent seven years of my life blur into a streak of fading lights. My phone lit up. It was a screenshot from Hazel. Mary’s social media post. The picture showed a box of steaming hot crab dumplings. The background was the white sheet of a hospital bed. A man’s hand, fingers elegant and long, held a pair of chopsticks, carefully feeding her. On his wrist was a Patek Philippe watch. I had saved up for six months to buy him that watch for his birthday last year. The caption read: My ankle hurts like hell, but having someone cross the entire city just to get my favorite food makes even a sprain feel like heaven. Below it was a comment from Matthew: Eat slowly. No one is going to steal it from you. Hazel’s angry text followed immediately. Nora! Tell me you aren’t sitting at home alone on your fifth anniversary! Matthew is an absolute bastard! Does he even view you as his girlfriend?! Staring at the string of furious emojis from Hazel, my fingers tapped lightly on the screen. Hazel, I’m leaving. I’m going to Paris. A long silence followed. Then, a voice note came through. Hazel’s voice was thick with tears. “Good for you, Norie. Go. And never look back.” I closed the app. I popped the SIM card out of my phone and dropped it through the cracked bus window, letting the howling wind sweep it away.

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