Author: Momo Chan

In the dead of night, I got pulled into the County Jailhouse on a misunderstanding while selling goods on the street. The officer looked at my ID and, with a strange expression, said, “Wait, you graduated from Washington Ivy College. What are you doing selling things on the street at this hour?” I realized with a shock—the ID number on the file was mine, but the photo wasn’t. It was Claire Bright’s. Twenty years ago, I had been accepted into Washington Ivy! I stumbled back home, dazed, only to overhear my husband Damon Everett on the phone saying, “Claire, don’t worry about Callie Reid bothering you. You just go ahead and move overseas.” It was him! Damon Everett had helped Claire Bright take over my life! My stomach churned. I turned to confront him and reveal the truth, but Damon caught me off guard, strangling me to death with his belt. His last words rang out coldly, “Sorry, Callie, but you can’t get in the way of Claire’s future.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back in high school, right in the classroom as my teacher handed out the college application forms. This time, I’m taking my life back. Content

“Callie, have you decided where you want to apply yet?” I snapped out of the pain-filled memories and turned to my desk mate. His young face seemed so strange and innocent. That’s when I realized: I’d been given a second chance. “Callie, what’s up with you?” he asked, worried. I smiled and shook my head to reassure him, a burst of joy flaring inside me. Our teacher—Mr. Everett, Damon’s father—began speaking. “Go ahead and fill out your forms so I can get an idea of your plans,” he said. I fixed my eyes on Mr. Everett. It struck me now—he was helping Damon scout out prospects for Claire. We already knew our test scores, so there was no reason to gather in class to fill out paper forms. But he was calling everyone here, probably just to pick out the best for Claire. I clenched my fists, remembering how Damon had started pursuing me around this same time in my last life. I filled out the form randomly, ignoring his instructions. When I glanced up, I caught Mr. Everett watching me with a look I couldn’t quite read. Sure enough, after I turned in the form, Mr. Everett called out, “Callie Reid, come to my office.” He took my form and walked off without another word. “You scored the highest in the class this time, Callie. You’re definitely going to Washington Ivy,” my desk mate said. I had scored 702 points, the highest in class, and still didn’t get in last time. I had gone to Mr. Everett so many times, desperate to know why, and he had blamed my rejection on overreaching, saying I’d aimed too high with his recommendation for the Pre-Law Program. I glanced over at Damon, who was napping in the corner. I nodded to my desk mate. No way would I fall for this twice. I pushed open the office door, and Mr. Everett looked up. “Callie, you scored very well. Why did you choose these schools?” I had listed community colleges, one after another. “High employment rate,” I answered, spacing out each word. Mr. Everett went silent, then softened his tone. “You don’t need to aim low, Callie. It’s better for a young woman to study law.” He opened his laptop, pulling up the application portal for me. I stared at the screen, holding back a sarcastic laugh. He thought he could push me into filling it out his way? Did he think I’d willingly pave the way for Claire again? “No thanks, Mr. Everett. I’d rather drive a tractor,” I said, and turned to go, nearly bumping into Damon in the doorway. “Callie Reid, if you need help with the applications, just let me know. I’ve always wanted to study law.” Hearing this, I felt a spark of suspicion. So that’s it—they’re both trying to steer me toward law, hoping I’ll fall into their trap. “No, thanks,” I said calmly. “I already know what I want.” Damon gave a faint smile. “Alright, then.” I left the office in a hurry, catching Damon as he closed the door and leaned against it to eavesdrop. “Dad, if Callie doesn’t cooperate, can’t we just pick someone else?” I froze. Damon was willing to ruin someone else’s life too if I didn’t go along with it? “Callie’s got the highest score. She’s the safest bet,” Mr. Everett replied in a cold tone. “We owe Claire this chance. You know that.” I walked away, shaking my head. Owe Claire? So now my future’s the currency they’re paying with?

In my past life, I gave up everything for Damon, putting in endless hours to retake the college exams. Damon said he’d register me but later claimed he couldn’t because of some new regulations. I believed him. Later, I wanted to try for the adult college exam, but he said it was pointless. I decided to take it anyway, but on the test day, my alarm didn’t go off. I confronted him, and he insisted he’d turned it off to let me sleep. I was furious, but he held me close, saying, “Callie, let’s just get married. I’ll love you whether or not you go to college.” I cried in his arms, dreams of my future slipping away. But he was happy to let them. Damon later claimed he’d racked up debt from a work project, so I took on three, four jobs a day to help him repay it. Looking back, he must have seen me as an obstacle in Claire’s path, something to be controlled. Back in the classroom, I packed my things and headed home, ignoring a message from my desk mate saying Damon had been looking for me. He wasn’t giving up. My parents worked out of town, and when they heard about my score, they sent me some money and ordered a cake for me, though they wouldn’t be back until next month. I understood them—they were out there working construction jobs, every day on the job meaning one more day’s pay. I wasn’t in any rush to submit my college preferences; there were still two days left. But some people were getting antsy. That night, I went for a walk and ran into Damon. “Fancy meeting you here, Callie.” “Don’t you live on the west side?” I asked, already annoyed. Damon shrugged. “I had some errands over here. Want some company?” “No,” I said icily. “Stay away from me.” Damon looked stunned, then hurt. “Do you…hate me?” I stared at him. “Yes. So stay away from me.” Damon took a sharp breath. With his looks and popularity, he probably couldn’t fathom why I’d hate him so much. If it wasn’t illegal, I’d have knifed him already and been done with it. “Callie, if you hate me, at least tell me why.” Damon’s voice was low, his gaze intense. It was true—Damon was handsome. Otherwise, how would he have had me wrapped around his finger before? A voice called from nearby. “Damon, what are you doing here?” Claire Bright ran over and clung to his arm. I saw him tense up, just barely, but I noticed. It was my first close look at the woman who stole my future. “Who’s this?” Claire’s eyes narrowed at me. I smiled. “Callie Reid, Damon’s classmate.” Claire’s face shifted slightly. “Didn’t you say you were going to get me some snacks?” So, they’d just happened to bump into each other. Damon smoothly replied, “I forgot. You go home; I’ve got something to handle here.” Claire’s voice sharpened. “Damon, what do you mean?” He ushered her off, then turned back to me, his expression serious. “She’s just my mom’s friend’s daughter.” “Why tell me?” I asked. Damon’s tone was earnest. “I like you. I don’t want you to misunderstand.” I felt a wave of revulsion. Here we go again. “Well, I don’t like you,” I shot back. “You make me sick.” Damon’s face paled as he clenched his fists. “What did I do wrong?” “Your face is ugly,” I snapped, starting to walk away. “Callie Reid!” he shouted after me. “I’m not giving up!” I laughed coldly to myself. Only two days left. What could he possibly do?

The next day, I got home after school to find dozens of roses outside my door. Damon stood in the hallway, his tall figure cutting an impressive silhouette. “Callie, I know my confession was rushed yesterday. I want to do it properly this time.” “No matter how ‘proper’ you make it, I’ll never like you,” I replied coldly. “Well, who do you like then?” His voice was almost desperate. “Is there anyone better looking than me?” I fished out my keys, ignoring him. “Damon, I don’t like you, and I never will. You’re trash.” “Callie, you don’t have to be so harsh,” he said, trying to control his temper. I stared him down, saying nothing. “If you’re serious about law, you should submit your application soon.” I smirked, feeling a wicked sense of mischief. “Nah. I think I’d rather drive a tractor.” I watched as a vein throbbed in Damon’s temple. I unlocked the door, swinging it closed so forcefully that it nearly hit him in the nose. The next day, I got flooded with messages. Word had spread that “the heartthrob” had confessed to me, and everyone knew. Of course, Damon was the one spreading it. Mr. Everett called me multiple times, and after I ignored him, he finally got through. “Callie, you’re a good kid. I have no problem with you dating Damon.” He hadn’t minded in my past life either. Back then, I’d been happy he didn’t hold it against me that I hadn’t gotten into college. “My son has always wanted to study law and become a top lawyer. I’d love it if you could join him in that effort.” I smiled, a spark lighting up my eyes. “Sure.” Mr. Everett hesitated, then chuckled. “You agreeing is fantastic news.” I hung up and laughed. Playing along with them was going to be fun. Without me, Claire Bright would have no hope. I’d make sure no one else fell into their trap. Damon heard I’d agreed to be with him and rushed over. “Did you submit your application yet?” he asked immediately. “Not yet. Tomorrow.” Damon relaxed, looking relieved. “Want to come out with me?” Damon asked. “My friends are having a little get-together.” I nodded. “Sure.” Damon studied me, clearly thrown off by my sudden change in attitude. But that didn’t matter. He was the one with a time limit now, not me. Claire Bright was there too, and when she spotted me, she shot a dramatic eye-roll in my direction. I looked straight at her. “Claire, you got something wrong with your eye?” “What?” Claire blinked, caught off guard. “Why’re you rolling your eyes at me? Do it again, and I’ll poke them out for you.” Claire jerked to her feet, fuming, but Damon pushed her back down. “Claire, have some manners.” Her face turned red with anger. “Damon, I can’t believe you’d talk to me like that!” I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. Everyone froze, shocked. Claire cupped her cheek, and Damon’s expression changed immediately. “Callie Reid! How dare you hit me!”

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I dragged Lyra Linwood from the twisted wreck of the car, putting everything I had into pulling her free. The flames behind us shot thick, choking smoke into the air as I carried her, stumbling to the side of the road where I set her down under the old sycamore tree. Blood was soaking through my clothes and pooling around me, a slick, snaking trail stretching farther and farther from my body. The screams around us grew faint as my strength waned. I reached up, touching Lyra’s face, and asked, “After twenty years, did you ever love me?” Pressing her hands against my wounds, Lyra’s face remained cool, her tone sharp as ever. “Don’t talk. The ambulance is on its way.” I forced a weak smile. Such a shame. I was going to die without hearing her say, “I love you.” Everything went dark. When I opened my eyes again, I couldn’t believe it—I’d gone back twenty years. Given another chance. If fate would let me choose again, then I’d choose to stay far, far away from Lyra Linwood. But there she was, standing on the rooftop with her arms spread wide, looking out over the city we’d lived in for two decades. Her hair flowed in the wind, her smile as bright as the colors of sunset. “Reece Dawson,” she called out to me. “Do you want to know what it feels like to watch the one you love die in your arms?” Content

I jolted awake, finding myself at my desk, my fingers lightly touching the keyboard. It wasn’t a dream. I’d been given a second chance. Maybe my last life’s bitter death was pitiful enough that fate decided to throw me a bone. Great. I’d take it. Lyra Linwood—she’d be nothing more than a memory. I’d leave her so far behind, she’d never see me again. I opened my computer, ready to write a resignation letter. But I hesitated. It had only been two years since I started this job, and things were tight at home. Dad was taking on every odd job he could to pay off debts, and Mom’s health meant she was always on medication. Leaving now would only make things worse. Lost in thought, I jumped when someone clapped a hand on my shoulder. It was a coworker, who asked dully, “What are you getting the boss for her birthday tonight?” My heart dropped. I grabbed my phone, checked the date, and went cold. It was today—today was the day that set the whole mess in motion. Tonight’s gathering was where I’d gotten entangled with Lyra, dragging myself into two decades of misery. Lyra’s father, a major shareholder at Linwood Corporation, had her take on a CEO role at the Regional Office right after she graduated. Young, gorgeous, and rich, she had everyone in the company worked up. I hadn’t been any different. But she hardly ever showed up, and when she did, her cold expression kept everyone at a distance. It just happened that this was her birthday, and for once, she’d invited everyone to celebrate. A party was one thing, but somehow, a “genius” coworker had spotted her at the airport with Aiden Brooks, her childhood friend. By the time they got back, they were spreading the story that Lyra had invited us because she’d just broken up with him. They said she was lonely and didn’t want to be alone for her birthday. The thought had struck me back then: those who seem cold on the outside must need warmth the most. So, I bought her a childish stuffed bear. And just like that, I won her “love.” I felt like a lottery winner who’d hit the jackpot out of nowhere. Every morning, I woke up, half-convinced I was dreaming, shocked that Lyra Linwood was my girlfriend. That disbelief blinded me to how she really treated me. All the way through our wedding, I was convinced that marrying her was some divine reward. But after twenty years, I finally understood: being married to someone who doesn’t love you is a cage of agony. I never saw her smile, never felt her warmth. Everything was cold, no matter how hard I tried. Loving her felt like talking to a mirror—nothing but my own reflection staring back. That’s why, as I lay dying, I had to ask her if she’d ever loved me. And I still never heard an answer. I took a long breath, cleared my thoughts, and held back the tears. Sorry, Lyra Linwood. This time, I’m leaving you. The grand ballroom gleamed, and Lyra sat at the center, as striking as a star in the night sky. Just one look, and my heart twisted, so I turned away, clapping along with my coworkers. We waited as she blew out the candles, each of us ready to present our gifts. Lyra thanked everyone in turn, a polite smile on her face—one that probably took her considerable effort, considering her usual icy demeanor. When it was my turn, I handed her a small box. No stuffed bear this time. Just a cheap bracelet I’d picked up off a street vendor for three bucks, complete with a freebie. She wouldn’t like it, I thought. But in front of everyone, Lyra put the other gifts aside, picked up mine, and opened it. She looked down at the bracelet, stunned. I thought she’d toss it aside, but instead, she slipped it on and looked up at me with a smile—a real one. One I’d never seen in twenty years. “Thank you. I love it.”

I was sure I’d misheard her. Lyra had always lived in luxury, with cabinets full of jade and porcelain. Nothing I could afford would ever impress her. Last time around, when I could finally afford high-end bags and jewelry, she’d taken one look and tossed them aside. Luxuries like that were “intelligence tax”—nothing worth her time. She had to know this bracelet was glass. Yet here she was, smiling at me. And for a moment, I felt like I’d been transported to a different world, one where she wasn’t the Lyra Linwood I’d known. Trying to shrug it off, I replied, “No problem,” and quickly walked away. I didn’t care which version of Lyra Linwood she was. I wasn’t betting my future on her loving me. Those twenty years were a prison of silent agony, the kind that chokes you until you’re numb with pain. Just thinking about it scared me. The party ended without incident, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Yet beneath it, there was an odd sense of disappointment. As if, somehow, she’d forgotten me. The next day, I dragged myself to the office. Most people were off on summer vacation. If I wasn’t short on cash, I wouldn’t be there either. I walked in to find everyone working away like their lives depended on it, a sharp contrast from the zombie-like scene just days before. Confused, I soon realized why. Lyra had come to the office. While everyone else scrambled to put on a show, I decided to keep my head down and follow along. Then Lyra walked straight over to my desk, tapped her finger on it, and said, “Reece, follow me.” My mind reeled. She was the CEO; I was a lowly employee. What did she want with me? But I followed her, too stunned to think. She led me into a remodeled office next to hers, complete with sleek mahogany furniture, a plush sofa, even flowers and a fish tank. The whole place smelled faintly of sycamore blossoms. She looked around and then pointed. “From now on, you’re my personal assistant. You’ll work here.” I was stunned. Lyra was the classic rich girl, but she was always professional. Last time, I’d earned my way up to manager on my own merit. She’d never given me special treatment at the company, even while we were dating. But now she was making me her assistant? Meaning I’d see her every day? I didn’t want to relive that nightmare, so I replied coldly, “Sorry, Ms. Linwood. I’m not qualified for this role. If that’s all, I’ll get back to my work.” She didn’t even hesitate. “Salary’s tripled.” My steps faltered, my heart betraying me with a quickened beat. Three times my current salary! I barely made six thousand a month now, but with a tripled salary, I could make nearly two grand. Even after taxes, it’d be a good amount. That money would ease Dad’s burden, pay down our debts, cover Mom’s medical costs, and maybe even leave enough to buy her some nice things. I hesitated, recalling those twenty years of silence, the feeling of being locked in a cage. But then I thought of Dad, hunched under the weight of hard labor, his skin sunburned and peeling, while I sat in an air-conditioned office. His back, bent under the load of our family’s struggles, seemed to whisper, “Hang in there.” I clenched my jaw. “Alright.”

I moved my stuff into the new office, one trip at a time. My coworkers were all gawking, probably thinking I’d been fired. When they heard I’d been made Lyra Linwood’s personal assistant, their jaws practically hit the floor. One of the guys who used to sit next to me leaned over, grinning slyly. “Hey, I just saw Ms. Linwood wearing that bracelet you gave her. Now she’s got you working right by her side, huh? Man, you’re on your way up!” I shot him a look. “Yeah, and where’s your girlfriend, big shot?” Inside, though, I was bitterly laughing. Just like before, everyone saw me as some big winner in life. Nobody knew the kind of life I actually lived. It was nothing but a cold face, constant orders, and no room for my opinion. Lyra made all the rules, and I was like her puppet, doing whatever she wanted. Once, I even thought about divorce. But what did Lyra do? She held our child in her arms, her eyes wild as she told me, “Leave, and I’ll end him.” I’d never seen that kind of craziness in her eyes before. I stayed, fearing what she’d do. She was back to her usual ice-cold self in no time, but the message was clear. Years later, when our child grew up and could manage on his own, I planned to leave her. But I never got the chance—there was a massive pileup on the highway, an oil tanker explosion that sent flames into the sky. I’d managed to pull her out but died myself, full of regret. If those coworkers knew half my life had felt like a prison sentence, would they still envy me? After moving my things, I checked to see if Lyra was still around. She was gone, and I felt a wave of relief as I sat down and started organizing files. This time, I had no plans to get tangled up in her life again. All I wanted was to give my parents a break and eventually find a woman who truly loved me. That was going to take money. And if Lyra was willing to pay, I’d play along. Besides, I knew how to keep things professional. But then, she surprised me again. Lyra walked in not long after and didn’t even look my way as she pulled out her makeup kit, touching up her face, taking off her earrings. She went through her entire routine, even taking off her shoes and lying down on the sofa. I stared, dumbfounded. I’d spent twenty years with her and never seen her care for herself this meticulously. Still, as long as she didn’t bother me, I figured I’d just ignore her. I turned back to the computer to start working, but I could see her out of the corner of my eye, lying right there, making it impossible to focus. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Ms. Linwood, it’s work hours. People might talk if they see you sleeping here.” She didn’t even open her eyes. “I bought this sofa specifically for naps. Now stop talking and get back to work.” Her words made me feel that old, suffocating resentment. In my last life, she’d told me to be quiet and follow orders until my dying breath. Was she expecting me to do it again? No way. I shut my laptop, grabbed my bag, and stood to leave. Lyra opened her eyes. “Where are you going?” “To see some clients,” I said coolly. “I still have open accounts to close.” Lyra looked at me for several long moments, then smiled. Twice in two days. I felt like I was seeing things. “You’re my assistant now,” she said. “No more running around. Just stay here. I’ll tell you what to do when I need you.” It was like she knew I hated those words and said them just to rile me up. I told myself to stay calm—losing my temper wouldn’t help. As long as I could hold on, my mom wouldn’t have to tell me she felt like a burden, and my dad could ease up a little. I kept my tone as steady as possible. “Sorry, Ms. Linwood, but the company policy on account responsibility says I have to finish my own work.” I left before she could respond. Out in the summer heat, I felt a rush of freedom. Last time, I’d fallen into her trap and spent two decades shackled to her. I wasn’t sure how I’d survived it. Now, she wanted to rope me in all over again. At least I could separate work and personal life. As long as I didn’t get involved with her outside of the office, I’d be fine. The whole day passed with me working outside, meeting clients, and closing deals. When I finally sneaked back into the office to clock out, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Lyra was right there, out of nowhere, holding an ice cream cone in one hand and a blueberry sundae in the other. “This is for you,” she said. “Looked like you could use it in this heat.” I glanced out the door to see my coworkers craning their necks, grinning like fools, looking ready to start gossiping. Clearly, one of those idiots had told her blueberry was my favorite flavor. I shot them a glare, shut the door, and looked back at Lyra. “Ms. Linwood, I appreciate the gesture, but please don’t do things like this. It’s easy to get the wrong idea. I know you’ve just gone through a breakup with Aiden Brooks and probably need someone to lean on, but I’m just a lowly employee, and you’re the CEO. We don’t have a future together. Whether you believe it or not, I swear on everything—I can promise you, you’re not going to love me in this lifetime.” I put my files away and clocked out on my phone. If I didn’t set things straight now, there’d only be more problems later. I knew that the one she really loved was Aiden; I was nothing more than a stand-in, like the stuffed bear I’d given her in my last life. This time, I wouldn’t throw my life away for someone who didn’t love me. I wanted someone who loved me, someone who had eyes only for me, not a memory. If I’d misjudged things and she wasn’t after anything romantic, then fine—I’d only have embarrassed myself, no big deal. I could always apologize later. Just as I turned to leave, Lyra grabbed my arm, smiling as she said, “Come with me for a minute.” Was she out of her mind? I’d practically laid everything out, and she hadn’t reacted at all. In my last life, she would’ve exploded. Even delaying her orders was enough to send her into an ice-cold rage. But here she was, calm as ever. Puzzled, I followed her to the elevator. She led me up to the rooftop, where the sunset filled the sky with streaks of gold and red. Standing against the glowing horizon, Lyra looked at me and smiled. “I never liked sycamore trees,” she said. “But do you know why I filled your office with sycamore sachets?” “Because the last time I saw you was under the sycamore tree,” she continued, her words hitting me like a punch to the gut. Lyra had also come back to the past. I stared, speechless, as she walked over to the edge of the rooftop, stretching her arms out to the city. The wind caught her hair, her smile as bright as the evening sun. “Reece Dawson, would you like to feel what it’s like to watch the one you love die in your arms?”

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On our wedding night, my husband didn’t touch me. He claimed he was too exhausted and told me to give it some time. But every night, like clockwork, he slips quietly down to the basement. He returns needing a shower, with this strange smell lingering on him. When I asked what he was doing, he said he was working out. Working out in the middle of the night? Finally, one night, I couldn’t hold back and went down to the basement to see for myself. He caught me and, grabbing my nightgown, yelled furiously: “Get upstairs! You are NOT allowed in the basement! Otherwise, we’re getting divorced!” Content I gripped the railing, shaking with anger. My parents spent their life savings on this cottage to be our wedding home. This is my house! So why shouldn’t I be allowed in the basement? And as my husband, why does he have to speak to me so cruelly? Taking a deep breath to control my anger, I asked, “Evan Marshall, is this how you talk to me?” Evan still had a firm hold on my nightgown. “Let’s go upstairs, and I’ll explain in the bedroom.” “Can’t you just tell me here?” I pointed down at the pitch-black basement stairs. “Why can’t I go down? Don’t I have that right?” “I told you—I work out down there, and I’ve got some things that you can’t see yet.” Evan stepped down a few stairs, blocking my way. “Why?” I demanded. “Because it’s not the right time yet,” he replied. “When it’s time, I promise you’ll see.” My stomach churned with frustration. I took another deep breath to control my emotions. “And did you really have to say it in such an ugly way when you caught me?” “I was just worked up, okay? You know me—sharp tongue, soft heart.” I laughed bitterly and turned to go back upstairs. Sharp tongue, soft heart? Right. Fine then. Tomorrow, when he’s at work, I’ll have a look for myself. … Back in bed, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Something suspicious is definitely in that basement, and it’s got to be big. Was Evan hiding some kind of dark secret? I glanced over at him. He wasn’t asleep either, staring at the ceiling like he was lost in some secret worry. In the moonlight, his features looked sharp and handsome, his build even more rugged and alluring. Back when he was chasing me, I’d been flattered and didn’t dare believe it. He was so attractive, while I’m just… ordinary. Why did he like me? He said he liked my gentleness, my calm nature, something unique about me. And I’d believed him. But if that’s true, why hasn’t he wanted me at night? I’m his young bride, after all; we haven’t even finished our honeymoon yet. Is this normal? Unable to resist, I reached out and touched his face gently. “What are you doing?” he hissed, jerking away as if he’d been shocked, glaring at me with disgust. The look was the same one people give to stray dogs or beggars on the street. Anger filled me as I turned away. Why did he pursue me if he had no interest in me? Why stay with me? Suddenly, I turned back and glared at him. “You told me you’re sick, and that’s why we can’t be together for now. I accepted that. But why such a strong reaction when I touch you?” “I’ve told you a hundred times, it’s a psychological issue. I’m seeing a therapist for it. You just need to be patient.” Evan tapped my shoulder lightly with his phone instead of his hand. “Just give it six months, okay? After that, I promise I’ll love you right.” Too “dirty” to touch, but clean enough for marriage? Could I really believe him? For now, I had no choice but to wait. I sighed, frustrated, and turned away. Honestly, I’d given him everything since we started dating. He said he liked watches, so I got him one worth a fortune. He wanted to travel, so I went around the world with him. He wanted to invest, so I loaned him the money. Anything I had, he could ask for, and I’d give it freely. And now, just after our wedding, this is what I get in return. It’s that basement causing all this! I hate that basement. I’ll tear it apart if I have to, just to get to the bottom of it.

Morning came. Like usual, I made breakfast—the kind Evan likes. He ate in silence, keeping his usual indifferent expression. It felt as though I were his maid, not his wife. After breakfast, I drove him to work. We both worked in sales at Eden Fragrances. I parked, watched him disappear inside, and then told a coworker a few things before quickly leaving. Without my car, I caught a taxi straight back home. Once there, I rushed inside, heading straight for the basement. But when I got there, I was stunned. The door had been replaced! I had no idea when he’d done it, but now there was a steel security door with a keypad lock. Without the code, I couldn’t even get close. I took out my phone and snapped a picture of the door, thinking of finding out if these doors had any universal keys. “What do you think you’re doing?” Evan’s voice boomed from the top of the stairs. He’d actually followed me home! In three quick steps, he was at the bottom, his face dark with rage. He slapped me hard across the face. “How many times have I told you?!” “You hit me?” I put my phone away, glaring. He kept shouting, “How many times have I told you?!” I shouted back, “This is my house! Don’t I have the right to go down there? And if you changed the door, shouldn’t you have told me?” “You need to wait until I have time to tell you!” he barked, raising his hand as if to strike again. I leaned back, dodging his hand, and pulled out my phone. “I’m calling the police.” My cheek stung from the slap, my anger burning through me. Barely married and already he was hitting me? Where would this lead? Panic crossed Evan’s face as he grabbed my hand. “Why are you calling the cops?” “This is my house. Why can’t I go down to my own basement? Why did you hit me? Can’t I call the cops?” I stood firm, ready to dial. “Lily, calm down,” he said, his tone softening. “I… I just lost my temper.” “Oh, so that means you can hit your wife?” I pulled my hand free, saying, “Let go! I am calling the police!” Once again, he grabbed my hand. “Lily, it’s really not a big deal. If you feel we can’t get along, then maybe we should get a divorce.” Divorce? I took a step back, silent. Things were bad, but I didn’t think they were that bad. My parents had high hopes for our marriage; they’d want grandkids soon. And if we divorced, this cottage would be split in half, and my parents would lose out. I couldn’t let that happen. “If you want a divorce, then the house stays with me,” Evan said. “Otherwise, we keep things as they are. Now, go back to work.” After a long look, I turned and left. I couldn’t let him take away my parents’ hard-earned money. “Hey! Get back here!” I stopped and turned. “Don’t you think you owe me an apology after everything?” Tears welled up in my eyes, and I slammed my fist onto the railing, feeling the sting as my knuckles split. Blood ran down my hand. After a glare at him, I walked away. … “Lily, what’s wrong? You look awful,” my coworker Megan Blake asked when I got back to the office. “I’m fine,” I replied, sitting down and opening my laptop. I’d bandaged my hand but kept it hidden under the desk so she wouldn’t see. “Hey!” Megan slid into the chair next to me, giving my shoulder a nudge. “Your honeymoon must be wild. You look like you’re about to pass out!” I forced a smile. If only she knew what a mess things were. “Tomorrow’s Saturday,” she reminded me. “Company’s doing that family team-building event, so partners are supposed to come. If you don’t go, they’ll fine you.” I didn’t care about the outing, but I didn’t want the fine. Evan always loved these company outings and had never missed one before. “If Evan goes, then I’ll go,” I said. “I already asked him. He said he’s not going. Without him, you two lose the monthly bonus,” she added. “I’ll go talk to him.” I went over to his department. He was sitting with two male coworkers, laughing and gossiping about something. I overheard them talking about a hit-and-run accident outside Eden’s office a couple of months ago. Some woman had hit three employees and fled, and they still hadn’t found her. I walked up and asked quietly, “You’re not going to the company outing?” “No,” he replied, as cold as ever. “If you don’t go, we’ll be fined.” “Then let them fine us,” he shot back. “I just think we don’t need to—” “Could you stop nagging?” he suddenly shouted, loud enough for the entire office to hear. The room fell into an awkward silence, my face burning. Here he was, my new husband, yelling at me in front of everyone. What was there left to say? I just lowered my head and walked away. Any illusions I’d held about Evan vanished in that moment. “Lily, I’m sorry for pushing you earlier,” Megan said quietly when I got back to my desk, giving my shoulder a supportive squeeze. “It’s fine.” I suddenly remembered something, took out my phone, and sent her a photo. “Megan, you’re my go-to. Can you find out if there’s a universal key for this kind of keypad lock?” Megan checked the picture, nodded thoughtfully. “Sure thing. I know someone who sells these doors. I’ll ask around for you.”

It was evening again, and as I prepared dinner, I checked the home monitoring system on my phone. Still broken, just like that morning. Was Evan messing with it on purpose? I finished cooking and set the table. A few minutes later, Evan came home carrying a cake. He hid it quickly in the storage room, but I caught a glimpse—it was a fancy French mousse cake, artfully made. I froze for a moment. It wasn’t his birthday, and it wasn’t mine either. What was he up to? He didn’t say anything, and I didn’t ask. At dinner, we barely spoke. He ate as though he were a customer at a restaurant, and I was his waitress. Later, as I replaced the bandage on my hand, Evan broke the silence. “So, Lily, have you thought it over?” I looked up. “Thought what over?” “About the divorce. Have you made up your mind?” he asked, his tone casual, as if we were discussing dinner plans. I let out a cold laugh. Was his only goal with this marriage to get the cottage? “What do you want?” I challenged. “Do you actually want a divorce?” He didn’t answer. “If you’re not happy with me, feel free to ask for a divorce,” I said calmly. “I won’t stand in the way of your happiness.” He shot me a hard look and turned away. “Just go to sleep.” I pressed him again, “You told me to give you time. You said once you got better, things would be different. Isn’t that right?” “Can we just drop it?” he snapped, annoyed. “I’m exhausted. Go to sleep!” After changing my bandage, I turned off the light and lay down. There we were, side by side, but worlds apart. Living like this was torturous, but I had no choice but to endure it for now. Eventually, I fell asleep. It might have been instinct or some inner sense, but in the middle of the night, I woke up. Moonlight spilled into the room, faint but enough to see clearly. Evan wasn’t there. He must have gone to the basement to “work out” again. This time, I was determined to see what he was really doing. But as I shifted to get up, my wrist suddenly felt weighed down. I pulled, and a cold shock ran through me. I was handcuffed to the bedpost with a thick silver chain. I tugged hard, but it wouldn’t budge, and the strain made my wrist burn. Furious, I whispered, “This is too much!”

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Rena and I had been together for seven years but still hadn’t married. Meanwhile, she secretly got engaged to some stranger. When I got to the ceremony, I saw him down on one knee, handing her a rose, making the whole moment feel grand for her. The moment Rena saw me, she just lifted a brow and said casually, “I’m just helping him fulfill his engagement dream; it’s not real.” I said nothing and turned away. She thought I’d definitely come back to her until she saw my Instagram post showing two engagement rings. Rena lost it and came pounding on my door. When I opened it, a woman behind me wrapped her arms around my waist and taunted, “Too late, Miss Hart.” Content It was a grand engagement party, with guests mingling and offering their congratulations. Rena was all dressed up in a white gown, looking shy and blushing, while the guy knelt on one knee, holding out a rose. Quite the grand gesture. I just stood there, staring at the two of them up on that stage until Rena’s little brother, Evan, ran over and tugged my hand. “Hey, why is my sister getting engaged to someone else?” Before I could answer, Rena’s best friend, Sammy, hurried over, grabbed Evan, and awkwardly tried to brush it off. “Hey, kiddo, you don’t know what you’re talking about, don’t say that.” Around us, people started to notice me, and the room’s vibe went tense. Ignoring the stares, I walked toward Rena, and the guy in the suit anxiously held her hand. Rena’s expression didn’t change—no embarrassment, not even surprise. She just raised an eyebrow and held his hand a little tighter, saying indifferently, “I’m just making Grant’s wish come true. Don’t worry, I’ll still marry you.” Seven years together, and she’d never accepted my proposal. Everyone knew she had a thing for freedom and hated the idea of being “tied down” by marriage. I didn’t respond. Instead, I just smiled and slipped a beaded charm bracelet off her wrist. I’d given it to her as a token when we first got together, something I’d picked up from Red Oaks Chapel for protection, and I’d told her to keep it on always, as our little promise to each other. And she did. But her heart wasn’t with me. I looked at the bracelet, turning it over in my hands, then said, “It was a gift from me, so I can take it back.” My voice was steady and calm. Rena looked stunned for a second, then laughed, “Tyler, you’re going this far just to get me to settle down? I thought you said I had to wear this.” I could tell she didn’t believe I’d actually do it, but I snapped the bracelet in half, and the beads spilled onto the floor. “Don’t look for me again.” Her face changed, and she blurted out, “Tyler, are you out of your mind?” Her little brother ran over, taking my hand again. “Did you fight with my sister?” Sammy, sensing something was wrong, rushed over, trying to calm things down. “Tyler, don’t be mad. Rena’s just playing around; she didn’t mean it.” I looked down at Evan, his eyes already getting red. “Little Ev, I’m not your brother-in-law anymore. Next time you see me, just call me ‘Tyler.’” I gently pulled my hand away and walked out without looking back. I watched as my girlfriend—my now ex—threw this huge engagement party for someone else, but I didn’t lose it. I didn’t scream or cry. I only heard Evan’s quiet voice, crying as he pleaded for his sister to come after me. “I want my brother-in-law.” But Rena didn’t budge, just coolly saying, “What does a kid know? He’ll come back in a few days.” Sammy shook her head. “Rena, are you serious? You’d rather throw an engagement for a stranger than say yes to Tyler. You better fix this before it’s too late, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Grant, still in his tux, leaned in and tugged her arm gently, saying, “It’s okay, Rena. I have one just like his.”

Leaving The Whitfield, I grabbed a cab back home, but I stopped by Benny’s Market to pick up a handful of random drinks. The cashier eyed me suspiciously. I’d forgotten I’d agreed to hit up the karaoke bar with Jake tonight. With my phone on silent, I’d missed all his messages and calls. It wasn’t long before my door opened. Jake must’ve figured something was up, so he let himself in. He looked at me closely and asked quietly, “You and Rena had a fight? Or did she start messing around with some other guy again?” Hearing her name caught me off guard, and, embarrassingly, a tear slipped out before I wiped it away. “She got engaged today,” I mumbled, explaining the whole ordeal. Jake grabbed a beer bottle, ready to head over to find Rena, but I stopped him. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” “Alright then, let’s find you someone who’s not like that. Get yourself cleaned up, and let’s go have some fun.” On our way to the Skyline Lounge, my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Jake raised an eyebrow, grinning. “See? I’ve lined some options up for you. Go ahead, pick one.” I read through his messages: “5’7” dance major.” “Med student, D cup.” Then I scrolled down to a familiar name, “Eliza Caldwell, gorgeous, no drama, wealthy.” I was taken aback. Eliza? Why’d she add me? When we arrived, I hadn’t even made it to the booth when I spotted Eliza, leaning against the wall. She caught my eye, and I walked over. She looked up at me and smirked, “Split up, did you?” I nodded, and she actually laughed. “Don’t worry, I won’t rub it in.” Eliza’s voice had a bit of a mischievous edge. I took her drink, had a sip, and then grabbed her collar and kissed her. After a moment, she pulled away, grinning as she said, “Not here.” That threw me off. Rumor had it Eliza liked women, not men. I just wanted to mess with her, but clearly, that rumor was wrong.

She leaned close, whispering, “My place?” I nodded and texted Jake, then headed to her apartment, where we quickly ended up against the wall, kissing. After a while, I looked down at her, noticing the hint of red around her eyes. I chuckled softly, “Eliza, I think you’ve got to work on your endurance.” A lesson learned: teasing can backfire. I didn’t know how I fell asleep, just that when I drifted off, Eliza was still awake. I woke up late the next day, my phone ringing. Without even checking who it was, I picked up. On the other end was Rena’s voice, dripping with sarcasm. “Didn’t you say you’d never see me again? Why are you still harassing Grant?” Hearing her voice jolted me awake. “What did you just say?” I growled, my voice rough. Right then, Eliza handed me a glass of water, smiling. “My bad, I had no self-control last night.” Rena, overhearing her, fell silent before her voice turned shrill. “Who are you with, Tyler?” I snapped, “None of your business,” and hung up. On her end, Rena’s friends egged her on. “Wow, he hung up on you? First time ever, Rena.” “Come on, don’t worry. Tyler’s definitely just playing hard-to-get,” they told her, each chiming in with some scheme, convinced this was a ploy to make her chase me.

It wasn’t even late, but I felt exhausted. Eliza noticed, gave me a look, and went out, returning with some of my favorite takeout. “How’d you know I like these?” I asked, surprised. Eliza grinned, tapping my head. “What, you’re not hungry? That’d be weird after all that.” “Rena never noticed, did she? In seven years, she never knew what you like to eat. But she knows what her new guy likes.” I hesitated, sensing Eliza was trying to tell me something. Then she lit a cigarette, smoke curling around us. “Think about it, Tyler. I’ve got more to offer you than she ever did.” “Why me? You could have anyone.” “You’re worth it, Tyler. You’re just missing a little boost, and I can give you that.” I put down my chopsticks, reached out a hand. “Alright. Let’s get engaged.” Eliza grinned, “Good. Three days from now, then.” She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Plus, you’ve got the Caldwell Corporation behind you now. Go after what you want.”

The hotel was decked out in elegant décor, and I could hear people’s voices mingling as they shared congratulations. The main event was for me. I was still in the back changing into my suit when my phone started buzzing non-stop. After I finished, I glanced at my phone—dozens of messages had flooded in. “Mr. Marsh, the gown is ready for pickup.” “Mr. Marsh, the rings are set.” “Mr. Marsh, the hotel booking is confirmed.” “Mr. Marsh, the roses have been delivered.” I stared at my phone in confusion. This couldn’t be some internet prank, could it? Then, Rena called. She sounded flustered and even a bit angry. “Where are you? You’re not at the office, you’re not at home. I texted you, but you blocked me. You don’t pick up calls. Tyler, what are you doing?” I sighed, my tone not exactly friendly. “Miss Hart, we’re not together anymore. Whatever I’m doing isn’t your business.” She ignored that and got right to her point. “You’re still mad because I threw Grant that engagement party, right? Well, I set one up for you, too. I’ve picked a date, invited the relatives; whatever extras you want, just tell the coordinator, and they’ll set it up.” I laughed, caught off guard. “You’re kidding, right?” Rena’s voice shot up. “Tyler, quit making a scene! If you keep this up, I’ll cancel it. But you only get one more chance. Don’t blow it.” I took a long breath. This was just so Rena, always convinced she was right, whatever the situation. “If you need help, go get it. Don’t drag me into this. We’re done.” Rena was so mad she stumbled over her words, barely managing to say, “Tyler, you’re going to regret this.” I hung up with a quick laugh. Just as I was ready, I spotted Eliza at the door in a red dress, watching me. “Rena called again?” “Yeah.” Seeing the matching rings in her hand, I put one on myself, then slid hers onto her finger. We laced our hands together and snapped a picture. After slipping the rings back, I said, “Alright, let’s go.” Eliza chuckled, and I held her hand as we walked into the hall together. I even spotted her parents sitting in the audience. I glanced at Eliza’s profile, her expression set. She was serious about this. After the ceremony, we went around, clinking glasses with the guests, each offering heartfelt congratulations. I even got a generous gift from Eliza’s parents.

That night, Jake took me out. He looked like he had something to say but was holding back. Finally, I couldn’t stand it. “What’s with the look?” Jake hesitated, took a swig of his beer, and blurted, “Ty, don’t get down over this. That girl Rena? She’s messed up.” He paused, then continued, “I saw the video of her celebrating Grant’s birthday. It went viral—she didn’t even think about you. It’s infuriating.” Jake got worked up, coughing after his rant, before taking another drink. I patted his back, calm as ever. Once he was breathing easy, I said, “Doesn’t matter. I’m engaged, too.” Then I remembered—I’d forgotten to post the engagement photos to my Instagram. After sharing it, I held up my hand to Jake. “Eliza Caldwell is my fiancée.” Jake looked stunned, slowly processing what I’d just said before finally blurting out, “Isn’t Eliza into girls?” Grabbing my hand in sudden concern, he added, “Ty, don’t throw away your life just to get back at Rena.” I laughed. “Jake, Eliza isn’t into women.” Realizing the truth, Jake practically jumped with excitement. “That’s awesome, Ty. You’re finally done with that girl. We need to celebrate!” He was beaming, saying, “I’m looking forward to being your best man.” But as soon as we got to the restaurant, there was Rena with her friends—and, of course, Grant, holding her around the waist like they were made for each other. Sammy, her best friend, spotted me first. She stepped in front of Grant, putting on a friendly smile. “Tyler, join us?” Jake was ready to snap back, but I held him off. “I’m not your brother-in-law, so stop calling me that.” Sammy fell silent, thinking I was just angry. “Look, I’ll make sure Rena apologizes to you. She knows she messed up.” She hadn’t even finished when Rena and Grant started kissing. Sammy, looking completely embarrassed, rushed over and whispered to Rena, “Hey, Tyler’s here. Maybe go talk to him?” Rena snorted. “We broke up. Why’s he here?” “Don’t do this. He hasn’t spoken to you in two months. You don’t want to push him away.” Another friend chimed in, “So what if it’s been two months? He still came running when he heard she was celebrating someone else’s birthday.” Rena sighed, rolling her eyes. “Birthdays come every year. He can get lost.” Grant, ever the gentleman, tugged her arm gently, saying, “It’s okay, Rena. Tyler’s more important.” Right then, my phone rang. I put it on speaker. A woman’s voice floated over the line, “Baby, when are you coming home? I miss you.” Rena stiffened, recognizing the voice. It was the same one she’d heard on the phone last time.

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One drunken night, I ended up in bed with Adrian Wells, and before I knew it, he became my live-in husband. No matter how much my family and I humiliated or belittled him, he never lost his temper, always wearing that calm, considerate mask. But just when I started falling for him, he asked for a divorce. The once-submissive man had become someone entirely different. Life flipped—my family lost everything, and he rose to success, turning into the powerful figure who now held all the power I’d once had over him. My husband is a live-in son-in-law. Originally, I’d liked his younger brother, but after a night out with friends, he saw his chance while I was drunk, and the scandal was all anyone could talk about. My father had no choice but to marry me off to Adrian, under the condition that he’d live with our family and answer to us. Adrian’s father, who’d remarried after divorcing Adrian’s mother, had always kept him at a distance. But with our family’s status, I’d been my parents’ pride and joy since birth. His father didn’t mind handing Adrian over to our family. And so, we got married. But I couldn’t stand it. My heart belonged to his younger brother, after all. Resentment simmered inside me. I treated Adrian with contempt, making him sleep on the floor, never allowing him to share the bed. At meals, my brother and I mocked him, denying him even a single dish from the table. When he’d show up in the rain to bring me an umbrella, I’d yell at him in front of everyone. No matter how much we berated him, Adrian never lost his temper. He acted like it didn’t bother him, always calm, always there to serve. He was undeniably attractive, but he’d been shy and awkward in school, scraping by academically, his grades a disappointment. His brother, by contrast, was bright, athletic, and admired by everyone. Thinking about how my budding romance with his brother had been wrecked by Adrian only made me despise him more. One night, I kicked him awake from his spot on the floor, claiming I was thirsty. He quickly got up and brought me a glass of warm water, even remembering to make it lukewarm as the weather got colder. But when I thought about how he’d taken advantage of me that night, I threw the water in his face. Even then, he didn’t react, just silently went to the bathroom. I felt a hint of guilt as I watched his tall, silent figure, but the anger over him ruining my life erased any sympathy. This went on for three years. Three years is enough time for a lot to change. My family went bankrupt. I started to feel something for him, but then… he handed me divorce papers. When he told me his “one true love” had returned, a pang hit my chest so sharply I felt I couldn’t breathe. But my pride—instilled in me since birth—kept me from showing any sign of hurt. I signed the papers quickly. After I signed, his cool voice broke the silence beside me. “Need a driver to take you somewhere?” It was only then I remembered this house—my home for over twenty years—wasn’t ours anymore. We’d lost it in the bankruptcy. Adrian, whom we had once humiliated as a live-in husband, had quietly built his own empire without touching a dime of my family’s money. He’d even bought the house. I had no right to resent him. Everything he had, he’d earned, painstakingly, from scratch. And yet, he looked at me with the same calm expression, the same unbothered patience he’d shown all these years. “No, I can manage,” I replied, rushing out. I ran out of the gate, clutching the gift in my hand as rain started to pour. It was our three-year anniversary. I’d never given him a kind word before, but realizing my feelings had started to shift, I’d wanted to finally celebrate with him. But instead, all that waited for me was divorce. I forced a laugh, letting the rain soak me. The next day, I was sick, bedridden, but I couldn’t ignore the loud arguments coming from outside. I dragged myself to the door, finding my dad sitting on the edge of a peeling brick wall, looking distraught. “I don’t want to live anymore,” he muttered. We’d ended up in a run-down apartment, but the rent was low, and that was what we needed. My mom was crying next to him, saying she’d jump too if he jumped. I tried calming them, saying, “It’s only bankruptcy, as long as we’re alive, we can recover.” My dad gave me a piercing look, the kind that sends a chill down your spine. “You could ask Adrian to help us, couldn’t you? He’s our son-in-law; he’ll help us,” he said. My mom chimed in, “Yes, yes, I’m sure he would! Even if we didn’t treat him well before, for your sake, I’m sure he’d help.” I forced a laugh; they had no idea he’d left me. I refused to ask him, but my dad practically threatened his own life. Defeated, I finally agreed. Before leaving, my mom spent our last bit of money to doll me up, putting me in a deep V-neck dress and chic heels. She even hired a stylist for my hair and makeup. Looking at myself in the mirror, I felt a wave of cynicism. I looked less like someone begging for help and more like someone looking to seduce. But I knew, deep down, that even if I showed up like this, Adrian probably wouldn’t even look twice at me now. I still couldn’t understand why he’d taken advantage of me that night at the party. Maybe he’d been drunk too, maybe he’d thought I was his “one true love.” I forced those thoughts away and braced myself to see him. I heard Adrian was at his office, so I headed straight there, while my parents waited downstairs, hopeful. Entering his office floor, I ignored the stares and mutters, keeping my head high. When I finally reached his office, I hesitated. Adrian sat in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, watching me with that same calm, piercing gaze. I twisted my fingers, feeling embarrassed but explained why I was there. His gaze turned cold, and he gave me a faint smile. “And why should I help you?” I forced a laugh. “Never mind. Forget I came.” I’d known all along he wouldn’t help us, not after how we’d treated him. How shameless could I be, thinking I had any right to ask for his help now? Turning to leave, I heard him say, “Wait. Tell me, what are you offering in return? If it’s worth my time, maybe I’ll consider.” I stopped, struggling to think of anything I could offer. This body, maybe? But that was absurd. We’d been married three years and he’d never touched me. With my head down, I mumbled, “Just… forget it.” Then he approached me, his towering height making me feel small, and he leaned in close. “Dressed like this, you could’ve saved yourself the act,” he murmured with a knowing smile. Blood drained from my face, and I wanted nothing more than to escape. But then he wrapped an arm around my waist, his smile darkening. “Three years I slept on the floor; three years of patience. So how about… you offer yourself this time?”

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After We Were Gone, the Twins Lost Their Minds Brief The Link assigned me and my sister to win over a pair of twins. She’s supposed to get the flirtatious younger brother; I’m here for the obsessive older one. It was like playing with a couple of loyal puppies, all according to plan. Until the Main Girl came back. Then the flirt grabbed my sister by her hair and dragged her to his room. And the obsessive one locked me down on his bed… Sister: “Are we leaving?” Me: “We’re leaving!” Content When Lydia said she wanted to leave this world, I thought she was joking. Back in Ridgeville, we wanted nothing more than to get as far away from that shattered family as possible. Here, we had no parents, but it meant fewer mind games, less verbal abuse, and no one around to constantly drag us down. And especially after winning over the brothers, life here had been smooth sailing. Leaving here and going back? That was the last thing I wanted to do. But Lydia was set on it. “Whether you stay or not is up to you,” she told me. “I’m calling up The Link tonight to get out of here.” “And don’t say I didn’t warn you—Cora’s back.” Cora. The Main Girl of this world. I understood why Lydia wanted to leave. She was right; Damien and Cora were bound to get tangled up again. A flicker of unease rose in my chest. That night, as I was unwinding, Asher stumbled in, reeking of booze. As he got closer, I caught the scent of something familiar on him—a strong trace of Silver Birch Cologne. Cora’s favorite. Half-drunk, he reached up to touch my face, his dark eyes glinting with that familiar, possessive gleam. “What did you do today? Did you think about me?” Since winning Asher over, he’d gotten in the habit of asking me that, like some little reassurance. If I dared say no, his eyes would immediately darken, and he’d ask if I’d found someone else to chase after. Then he’d be fierce with me, muttering that I was nothing but a liar. “You promised you loved me, that you’d never leave. But the second I look away, there you are, running off to someone else. Nixie, you’re so bad.” But if I sweet-talked him just a little, he’d calm down, gentle as ever. Asher’s shifts in mood made me feel like I could handle him, as if taming him were as easy as coaxing a kitten. But I forgot who I was dealing with—Asher Pierce, ruthless, cunning, a real predator. No one could control him easily. Well, except for his ‘Golden Girl.’ “Hmm? Thinking about someone else, Nixie?” “No.” I covered his hand, forcing myself to bear the strong scent of that cologne, my cheek brushing his palm softly. “I was thinking of you, Asher.” The words dripped with emotion, and Asher believed it, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he narrowed his eyes. “You’re so good, Nixie,” he murmured in that hypnotic tone. “I should’ve made my move on you a long time ago. Wasted so much time.” I lowered my gaze, suppressing the emotions rising within. Winning Asher’s heart hadn’t been easy. At first, he looked at me with complete disinterest—his eyes saw only Cora. It wasn’t until six months ago, after Cora got together with her main love interest, that I found Asher drunk on the street and brought him home. That was when he finally started noticing me. When he found out I was here just to win him over, he went wild, begging me to stay. After I succeeded, Asher was good to me. And Damien liked my sister too. So we stayed. But now my sister was leaving. And me? I’d be next. “You’ve got puffy eyes—been crying?” My voice was a little hoarse; Asher had been rough last night, and I still hadn’t quite recovered. Lydia gave a bitter smile. “Last night, he came back drunk, reeking of perfume, with lipstick on his collar. I asked him a couple of questions, and he got all in my face, accusing me of being paranoid. The way he said it hurt. Those words were…ugly. Nora, I regret staying.” “Doesn’t matter if it’s this world or the old one—men are the same. Once they’ve got you, they stop caring.” Lydia sighed. “I’ve already arranged for The Link to get me out of here. In two weeks, I’ll be gone. What about you? Are you staying here with Asher? Or is he not much better than Damien?” I didn’t know how much of Asher’s feelings were real. Unlike Damien, he wasn’t open about his emotions. Lydia vented her anger about Damien for a while, then dragged me to Oakwood Mall with her, laughing again. “The Pierces can afford it. I’m leaving soon; why not enjoy spending his money?” “When we go back, I won’t get to live like this anymore.” “Nora, just humor me these last few days.” Lydia practically wanted to buy the whole place, grabbing anything that caught her eye. She found a bracelet and was about to try it on when someone else swooped in. “I’ll take that. Wrap it up.”

I turned toward the voice, and my eyes widened. Asher was standing there, lips pressed tightly together, his gaze dark and fixed on me. Beside him was Cora. The sales assistant hesitated, and before Lydia could say a word, I spoke up first: “Lydia was eyeing that bracelet first. Even if you want it, Miss Blake, you should wait until she decides not to buy it.” A sharp glare landed on me. Asher’s. He walked up, his towering presence full of pressure, handed his card to the sales assistant, and said with chilling calm, “Charge it. Wrap the bracelet up.” I watched, helpless, as Asher handed the bracelet to Cora. Not a single word to me the entire time. Even after he left, I was frozen in place. “Still thinking of staying here?” “Asher doesn’t seem that different from Damien,” Lydia said, a bit of amusement in her voice. I forced a smile. Guess that’s why they’re twins. That night, Asher didn’t come back. Just as I was drifting off, my phone buzzed. It was a video message from Lydia. In the video, Cora sat between the twins, Damien holding a fruit platter, Asher a glass of juice. She looked like a princess flanked by her two knights. I knew what Lydia was implying: she wanted me to leave with her. I’d been hesitating, but that scene at the mall solidified my decision. I tried summoning The Link, but it didn’t respond. The door creaked open. Asher was back. Still in the same black suit from earlier, his sharp gaze was fixed on me. “Are you mad?” He sat on the bed beside me, the cologne stronger than it had been last night. I shook my head, calmly replying, “No.” Asher scoffed, “Not mad at all? Should I call you overly tolerant, Nixie?” His expression didn’t change, but I could feel his irritation. Normally, by now, I’d have soothed him with a few soft words. But this time, I just looked at him silently. Asher’s face darkened; he yanked his tie off, sighing in frustration. “Cora’s my sister. I promised I’d always look after her. I can’t break that promise.” I nodded in understanding. Without crying or throwing a fit, I sat there silently as his frown deepened. “Nora, are you throwing a tantrum?” I swear I wasn’t. Suddenly, he grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. The moment our gazes locked, my breath hitched. His look was cold, deadly. He was genuinely angry. His grip was fierce, painful. I tried pulling away, but his hold only tightened. “Nora, you can throw a fit, but don’t go too far. It’s unattractive.” I hadn’t gone too far. I gripped his wrist, annoyed, “Asher, let go. I’m not mad.” He released me after a moment, caressing my face with that obsessive intensity. “Nixie, you’re not going back. You only have me to rely on, so don’t push your luck, understand?” “If you’re upset, say it. Don’t hold it in—it’s bad for you.” “As for Cora, you don’t need to worry about her. You’re the only one I’ll ever have at my side.” The tenderness in his tone sent a shiver through me, a chill spreading up my spine. When Asher was angry, his silence was the most frightening. He kissed my forehead, nose, then my lips, his touch gentle, while his hands grew more demanding. I felt like I was on a roller coaster, high one moment, plummeting the next. Barely able to keep up, I clung to his wrist, my vision blurring. “Asher, I’m sorry. Not so hard.”

As Asher buried his face in my neck, he chuckled, his touch finally softening. But just a second later, his movements became rough again. I sighed; this time, he wouldn’t be so easy to appease. When it was finally over, Asher fell asleep quickly, calm as ever. But I lay awake, mind racing, repeatedly calling on The Link. Finally, that cold, mechanical voice answered. “Host, apologies for the delay.” “I want to leave this world.” I was blunt, and even The Link seemed surprised. “Host, this is a one-time opportunity, and it cannot be reversed. Are you sure you want to exit?” “Absolutely.” The second Asher said I “only had him to rely on,” I knew I couldn’t wait to get out. I’d finally seen it clearly—in his mind, I was nothing but an attachment, something he owned. The Link scheduled my exit for two weeks out. Lydia and I would be leaving one after the other. When she found out, she smiled with relief. “I’m glad you’ve come around, Nora. Once we’re back, let’s just be sisters, okay? No more fighting.” I nodded and agreed. As kids, Lydia and I fought constantly. For things as small as a test score, and as big as Dad’s attention. If we didn’t fight, we’d get hit. It wasn’t really us fighting, but our mothers who pushed us into it, each one hoping the other would disappear. But Lydia’s smile didn’t last long; her gaze shifted, turning dark as she looked over my shoulder. I turned to see Damien standing there. Same face as Asher’s, but somehow, Damien’s gaze always made my skin crawl. “Hey, Sis. Asher’s looking for you—don’t keep him waiting.” “And I need to talk with Lydia. We’ve got some things to settle.” The twins had bought neighboring apartments so that Lydia and I could see each other anytime. I glanced at Lydia, worried, but she just smiled and shook her head. “Go on, Nora. It’s late, and I need to talk with him.” I had barely shut the door when I heard glass shattering inside. I turned to rush back in, but an arm wrapped around my waist, a hand covering my mouth. “Their business is theirs. Let’s go home.” Asher brought me back. The moment we stepped inside, he pressed me against the wall, his kiss desperate and unrelenting. The strong scent of that cologne still lingered, and I pushed him away, feeling disgusted. “Go shower. You smell…filthy.” Asher froze, looking at me, stunned. “Nora, are you calling me…dirty?” I wiped my mouth, my expression hard, letting my revulsion show. “Asher, you’re coming in here smelling like someone else’s perfume, and you don’t think that’s dirty?” A tense silence filled the room. Asher’s face darkened, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Then suddenly, he let out a low chuckle. “Nixie, are you jealous?” Was I? Maybe a little—otherwise, why would it bother me so much? Asher lifted my chin, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I like it, Nixie, that you’re jealous for me.” “But I told you before—you need to know your limits. You don’t get to be jealous over Cora.” His tone was tinged with warning. It sent a shiver through me. I’d seen Asher break a man’s arm without blinking, just because he’d brushed up against Cora’s arm. If I really tried to harm her, who knows what Asher would do to me. We were locked in that tense silence when a sudden banging shook the door behind us. “Nora, open the door! Help me!” I moved to open it, but Asher grabbed my hand. He leaned in, voice low and menacing. “I said, don’t get involved in their business.” “She’s my sister!” For the first time, I shouted at Asher with real anger. He blinked, momentarily surprised, and I used the chance to open the door. Lydia gasped as I pulled it open; I saw Damien gripping her hair, dragging her back to his place. Seeing me, he shot me a cold smile.

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After the third time Shawna Langley sent money to her brother without asking me, I finally gave up on trying. I quit my high-paying job and stayed home all day playing video games, living off what we had. It only took three days for Shawna to start panicking. She pointed a finger at me, demanding to know what I was doing. “What about the mortgage, the car loan, Gracie’s lessons, the household bills? None of that’s free, you know!” Oh, so she actually realized how much our life costs, huh? Then why did she keep giving away our money to her brother? Content During my lunch break, I got a call from my mom. A storm had torn through, collapsing part of the barn back at Elmwood Ranch. She asked if I could send over a couple grand to get it repaired. I said sure and opened my banking app—only to see there was just $500 left in the account. Last I checked, we had at least five grand. Now there’s only $500? I knew right away Shawna must’ve used it; she had the card. What the hell did she spend five thousand bucks on in just a few days? I called her, holding back the fury in my voice. “Shawna, where did all the money in our account go?” She hesitated, fumbling for words. I felt my gut tighten. “Did you send it to your brother again?” “My brother… needed a little extra for his car, and I just…” Her voice trailed off, barely a whisper. I rubbed my forehead, unsure what to say. We’d dated for three years and were now seven years into marriage with a six-year-old daughter, Gracie. We’d married for love, but even then, our families clashed over it. Shawna’s mother demanded a sky-high dowry, way beyond my budget. Her mother scoffed, “My daughter’s been with you for three years. Surely her youth deserves some compensation, don’t you think?” Shawna sat there, head bowed, silently letting her mother run the negotiations. Finally, we both compromised on $28,800, all of which went straight to her parents, who turned around and gave every penny to Shawna’s brother. Back then, I actually felt bad for Shawna, stuck with parents so blatantly favoring her brother. Little did I know she was just as blind to reality as they were. I pulled out another card and transferred three grand to my mom, then went to the office and put in for vacation time. With my years at the company, I’d built up twenty days of paid time off. Normally, I never took my leave—it was all cashed out as overtime pay. This year, I’d be enjoying every single one of those days. When I got home, Shawna was still busy in the kitchen, while Gracie ran over to me, shouting, “Daddy!” I scooped her up and sat with her on the couch, reading her picture books. At dinner, Shawna kept her silence until I finally announced, “I quit my job. I’m going to take it easy and stay home for a while.” Her hand froze mid-bite, and she shot me a look. “You’re kidding, right?” I stared at her calmly. “Do I look like I’m joking?” She kept eating, not saying another word. Maybe she thought I was bluffing—after all, the job paid well, sometimes pulling in ten grand a month. Why would anyone in their right mind walk away from that?

The next morning, for the first time since getting married, I slept in as long as I wanted. Normally, workdays meant early mornings, and weekends were dedicated to taking care of Gracie—no chance to catch up on sleep. Shawna was up bright and early, though. She made Gracie breakfast, dropped her off at preschool, went grocery shopping, and had dinner cooking by the time I finally woke up, hair a mess. Shawna looked startled to see me. “Why… why aren’t you at work?” Yawning, I said, “Didn’t I tell you yesterday? I quit.” Holding a spatula, she looked at me, trying to gauge if I was serious. “You’re joking, right?” she said, before turning back to her cooking. For the next few days, I slept till noon, had lunch, and spent my afternoons gaming until sunset. Once Shawna brought Gracie home from preschool, I’d come out of the study to play with her. After three days of this, as I was heading back to the study after lunch, Shawna slammed down her chopsticks. “Daryl Hayes, what exactly do you think you’re doing?” she said, glaring at me. I stayed calm. “I told you—I quit. I’m just enjoying my time at home.” “Are you even hearing yourself? Do you realize what you’re saying?” “Mortgage alone is five grand a month. Another two for the car, plus Gracie’s preschool tuition, her dance lessons—let alone all the other expenses! You just quit, and now how are we all supposed to live? Air and sunshine?” I raised an eyebrow at her, smirking. “Oh, so you do know how much our life costs, huh?” “Then why do you keep giving our money to your brother?” “How many times now have you snuck money out to help him?” I started counting on my fingers. “I think I’d need both hands to keep track.” Her jaw clenched as she realized I was mocking her. “It was just five grand, Daryl. What’s the big deal?” “It’s my brother too, Daryl! What’s wrong with helping him out?” I laughed, clapping my hands. “You’re the best sister anyone could ever ask for—a real second mom, aren’t you? When I wanted money to start a business with my buddy, you said no. But when your brother wanted a house, you transferred him thirty grand without blinking. When my mom needed surgery, you said we couldn’t afford it, yet when your brother needed wedding money, you wired him another twenty grand. And this time? The storm flattened our barn, and you went and sent him that money too! Tell me, Shawna, has he ever bought Gracie even a single toy?” Shawna said nothing, staring at me with a blank expression that slowly turned tearful. “Daryl Hayes, I can’t believe you’ve kept track of every single thing over our seven years of marriage!” Her voice cracked. “You’re actually keeping tabs, huh?” “Yes, I am. You’ve given so much to your brother; why even bother getting married? You could’ve stayed single and just paid his bills yourself!” She pointed at me, furious, then swept the plates off the table and stormed out. I didn’t chase her. Divorce had crossed my mind more than once, but I’d been holding back for Gracie’s sake. She stormed by me with her suitcase, not even glancing my way. Perfect, now I could finally breathe a little. Once I’d cleaned up the mess, I picked up Gracie from preschool, giving the teacher some excuse about “family matters.” Gracie’s face lit up when she saw me. “Daddy! You’re picking me up? Where’s Mommy?” I kissed her on the cheek. “Mommy went to visit Grandma. How about we hit the amusement park today?” She was stunned for a second, then squealed with joy. “Yay!”

Shawna never had much affection for Gracie. From the moment she knew we were having a girl, she treated her differently. When Gracie was only a couple of months old, Shawna was already pushing for a second child. I was already exhausted from work and taking care of Gracie at night—I wasn’t ready for another. When I refused, Shawna started poking holes in our, uh, “small umbrella.” She would’ve gotten away with it if I hadn’t caught her. To end that debate for good, I went to the doctor and took matters into my own hands. When Gracie was three, Shawna’s brother had a daughter, Star. From then on, it was clear Shawna favored Star over Gracie. Every time we visited, she’d be holding Star, calling her “baby” and “sweetie.” Gracie would sometimes ask me, “Daddy, does Mommy love me?” It hurt to see my little girl learning to read people’s faces at such a young age. I always assured her, “Of course, Mommy loves you most of all.” Then, when Gracie was five, and Star was two, Shawna’s brother brought his family over. Star wanted to go to the amusement park, and of course, Gracie wanted to go too. But instead of taking both girls, Shawna left Gracie home alone and went with her brother’s family. That night, Gracie clung to me, crying for what felt like forever. “Daddy, I know. Mommy doesn’t love me.” That night, I took her to the amusement park myself. We rode the carousel, the little train, the bumper cars, and had some greasy fried chicken and soda. Watching her munch happily, I wondered if my decision to stay married for her sake was a mistake. It was well past dark by the time we got home. Gracie was fast asleep in the backseat, and I carried her up to her bed. Just as I was settling down, the phone rang. Mrs. Langley was on the line. “Daryl, do you have any conscience at all? Shawna’s been crying all afternoon because of you!” “You can’t apologize? She only took five grand—don’t tell me you’re that stingy! As her husband, isn’t it your job to help her family?” The lecture went on before I’d even had a chance to speak. Eventually, she hung up, and I went to bed, only to be woken by someone banging on my door. I staggered up to open it, and before I could react, I took a slap to the face that jolted me wide awake. There she was—Mrs. Langley, eyes blazing. “Look at you, sleeping like a pig while Shawna cried herself to sleep!” she said, barging in and plopping down on the couch. Shawna followed, eyes red, looking like she’d been crying all night. “Now, you apologize to Shawna,” her mom ordered. “Apologize? Me? For what?” I laughed. Mrs. Langley’s face twisted in disbelief. “Oh, so you’re dreaming now, huh?” Before she could start swinging again, her son, Aaron, came in with his wife and little Star in tow. Great. The whole family had shown up for a lecture.

The whole Langley family sat on the couch facing me, like they were holding some kind of trial. “Hey, Big Bro Hayes, don’t you think you’re being a bit tight with the cash? It was just five grand. Call it a loan, alright?” Aaron Langley said, totally unfazed, as he picked at his nails. “Fine,” I replied, “so that’s five grand for the car, twenty grand for the wedding, and another thirty for the house—that’s already fifty-five grand. Then let’s add on the $880 for the computer you wanted. Oh, and the $180 for those shoes—sent the link to your sister for that one, didn’t you? Then there’s Star’s tutoring, the piano lessons—twenty classes at three hundred bucks each. And…” “Enough!” Mrs. Langley interrupted. “Daryl, all these little amounts, and you keep track like it’s your job! If you’re so good with numbers, why aren’t you an accountant?” “Oh, so I married myself a live-in housekeeper, huh?” I laughed. “I’m supposed to pay her a salary now, too?” And wasn’t it Shawna who decided she wanted to be a homemaker? She seemed to have forgotten that part. Our argument must have gotten loud because Gracie rubbed her eyes as she came out of her room, startled by the crowd. “Daddy?” She walked over to me, looking a bit confused. Mrs. Langley rolled her eyes. “No manners, is it? So many people in the room, and all you see is your dad. Did he tell you to ignore us?” Gracie, in her innocence, defended me. “No.” “Oh, so now you’re back-talking? Where’s your respect?” Mrs. Langley snapped. Even Shawna joined in, scolding Gracie. “Gracie, you don’t talk back to your grandmother, you hear me? She’s your elder, show some respect.” Respect? Only if the person deserves it. Gracie had never once been to her grandmother’s house, even though Shawna visited her mom’s place every holiday. She’d claimed bringing Gracie there would ruin Star’s “luck.” I used to argue with her about this ridiculous idea, but over time, I stopped bothering. Every year, Shawna would head to her mother’s, and I’d take Gracie to Elmwood Ranch. “Alright, Daryl, just apologize to my sister, and let’s put this to rest,” Aaron said, only ever calling Shawna “sister” when he wanted something. “We’re family. You don’t need to be so hung up on money. You can always make more, but blood ties? You can’t replace that.” I sighed, letting him know: “I quit my job, Aaron. So whatever money was there is just… gone.” “What? You left your job?” Aaron shot up from the couch. “Sis, why didn’t you tell me this? What about that twenty grand you promised me for the business?” His wife elbowed him hard, and Aaron bit his lip, glancing awkwardly over at Shawna. Oh, so that’s how it was. When I wanted to start a business, she told me it was too risky, that I’d probably lose everything, that I should be sensible and stable. But when it came to Aaron, she snuck behind my back to fund his venture. “Shawna,” I said, barely containing my anger, “I won’t go over this again. Pick a day, and we’ll head to City Hall and get those divorce papers signed. That way, you can do whatever you want for your brother without anyone stopping you.”

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On the third day after my death, Wren Alcott got a call to identify my remains. She was nestled against a man’s shoulder and dismissed it carelessly. “If he’s dead, he’s dead. Just cremate him and let me know.” My body was sent to the crematorium, reduced to ashes, and the staff called her again. She sounded annoyed. “Got it. I’ll be there soon.” …… Content By the time Wren arrived, it was two hours later. Strands of her hair were tangled around her face, a clear sign that she’d just left someone’s bed. Spotting the staff member, she sneered, “Asher Voss’s ashes, right? Aren’t I supposed to pick them up?” Once they confirmed her identity, they handed her the box containing my remains. Wren accepted it, her eyes filled with scorn. “So, these are really Asher’s ashes? You didn’t just fill it with some stray cat’s ashes to trick me, did you?” The staff member, shocked, replied, “Miss Alcott, these are indeed Mr. Voss’s remains. We have a record. Would you like to see it?” She chuckled softly. “No, I believe you.” I felt an odd sense of relief. Even though I was dead, my spirit lingered here. I figured it was because I hadn’t been laid to rest. Now that Wren accepted I was gone, perhaps out of a slight sense of duty, she would eventually bury me. But before I could feel any comfort, Wren gasped. The box slipped from her hands, scattering my ashes onto the ground. She laughed cruelly. “Oops, my hand slipped.” With that, she ground her high heel into my remains, twisting it with vicious delight. I could barely breathe, staring at her smug expression. I opened my mouth but couldn’t utter a sound. My ashes disappeared into the floor, blending with dust. Satisfied, Wren stepped back, ignoring the horrified staff as she said, “Remember to tell Asher—mind games don’t work on me.” “And in a few days, it’s my mother’s Remembrance Day. He’d better come crawling to her grave and beg forgiveness. Otherwise, even if he’s dead, I won’t hesitate to dig him up and desecrate his body.” Her words sent a chill through the room. But I knew she’d do it if it came to that. Suddenly, I felt lucky my body had already been cremated. Otherwise, I could only imagine the humiliation she’d put me through. Before the staff could argue, Wren got a call and left. Strangely, my spirit seemed tethered to her, following as she went. I ended up sitting in the passenger seat, listening as she chatted with the man on the other end. The voice was familiar. Graham Hale, the Alcott family’s ward. Back when Wren and I were still together, he’d confronted me and demanded I leave her. When I refused, he launched a smear campaign against me, sending people to harass me. Wren found out and had someone teach him a painful lesson, warning she’d kick him out of the house if he ever messed with me again. Graham behaved himself after that. When my name came up, Wren’s expression turned cold. “Why even mention him? Bad luck—he’s not really dead, after all.” “But if he were?” Graham’s voice was probing, his tone cautious. A chill ran through me, and I turned instinctively to look at Wren. The old Wren wouldn’t have cared if I’d died. A scratch on my hand would have been enough to bring her to tears. She once said I was her one true love, that she’d never love anyone else. Now, Wren laughed icily. “If he really were dead? I’d throw a three-day party and light up the city with fireworks.”

I stared, stunned. Only now did I realize the depths of her hatred. She’d celebrate my death as if it were a holiday. But Wren, I am dead. You just don’t believe it yet. The car stopped outside a bridal boutique, and Wren stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement. She hurried inside, almost twisting her ankle. I thought back to the day we secretly got our marriage license, and she dragged me into a boutique like this. She couldn’t wait to try on a wedding dress and show me. Back then, she’d smiled with pure happiness, saying she was the world’s luckiest bride, and I was her dashing groom. Now, that same smile graced her face as she stood beside Graham Hale, who was dressed in a white suit. They looked perfect together, a flawless couple. “Beautiful,” Graham murmured, a hint of admiration in his voice. “I finally have you, Wren,” he whispered, eyes brimming with adoration. I watched, frozen, as Graham leaned in to kiss her. I wanted to stop it, but my hand went straight through Wren’s shoulder. I could only watch helplessly as he slipped a ring onto her finger. How could this happen? Why Graham? He was the one who caused her mother’s death! Wren! My mouth opened, but only a raspy whisper escaped. I felt a hollow ache, standing numb as Graham gently touched Wren’s cheek. “By the way, Wren—he’s really gone, isn’t he?” He didn’t need to clarify who he meant. We both knew. Her face was expressionless, almost irritated. “Why would he be a problem? It’s all just an act,” she replied dismissively. “And for our wedding, should we invite him?” Her lashes lowered, veiling her emotions. Suddenly, she smiled, a twisted grin. “Of course. He’s an important guest.” Realization struck me—Wren wanted me to witness her wedding. The wedding I’d always dreamed of having with her. We had only gotten our license back then because we couldn’t get Miriam Alcott’s blessing for a full ceremony. The wedding became something I longed for but never had. Miriam passed soon after, dying of a heart attack that night. Her last call had been to me. Wren had blamed me for “driving her to her grave.” At her funeral, Wren forced me to kneel by the graveside all night, through a downpour. Her eyes, hollow and filled with loathing, had fixed on me. “Asher Voss, from now on, it’s you and me, life and death.” That was when I stopped being her lover and became her enemy. She tormented me relentlessly, wouldn’t let me go, and even brought other men home. Watching my eyes burn, she would laugh, patting my face mockingly. “Asher, does it hurt? But isn’t this your fault? Who else can you blame?” Every attempt to explain only made her torment me more. She never doubted her conclusions because she knew her mother despised me. Miriam had even declared I’d never set foot in the Alcott household. Wren had fought Miriam on this, severing ties with the family for my sake. But now, the man she adored was the one responsible for her mother’s death. How could she bear it? After Graham left, it was as though Wren remembered me. She graciously took me off her blocklist, tapping the steering wheel while dialing my number. I watched as her calm expression shifted, her brows gradually knitting together. She struck the wheel in frustration. “Asher, if you don’t answer this call, you’re dead meat.” What she didn’t know was that I wasn’t ignoring her calls. I simply couldn’t answer anymore.

Two weeks later, Wren finally returned to Riverside Manor. She stormed through the front door, heels pounding against the floor. “Asher, get out here!” She threw open door after door, searching every room without finding me. Her expression grew darker with each empty space. She ordered her people to find me, muttering, “Asher, if you’re running, you’d better be far away. Because if I catch you, I’ll break your legs.” The man she wanted to punish, though, stood right in front of her. After a while, her phone beeped with a location update. Her face twisted with a frightening intensity. Curious, I looked and saw the address—Cora Dane’s place. “Ms. Alcott, Mr. Voss’s last call was to Ms. Dane. She claims she hasn’t seen him, but we suspect she’s holding him against his will.” Wren sneered. “Against his will? Sounds more like he’s there by choice. I’m on my way.” Wren sped to Cora’s place, her face set in a stormy glare. She pounded on the door—one, two, three times before it finally opened. Cora appeared, her face impassive, dark circles under her eyes. “What do you want?” Wren scoffed, “You’re hiding my husband, and you think I don’t have a reason to be here?” Cora remained emotionless, as though she’d lost all care for the world. “He’s not here. He’s dead. Didn’t the crematorium call you to pick up his remains?” “Oh, you’re helping him play another game? Asher’s really going all out to avoid me this time.” Wren refused to believe I was dead, convinced it was one of my tricks. She looked over Cora’s shoulder, calling out, “Asher, hiding behind a woman? How manly. I’ll count to three. If you don’t show yourself, don’t blame me for what I’ll do.” Three, two, one. Then, Wren shoved Cora, ordering her men to search the house. Cora cried out in pain as she fell, a flash of anger crossing her calm face. “Wren, Asher is dead. You picked up his ashes. Don’t you remember?” “He’s dead. Dead for days now.” Cora, trembling with fury, grabbed Wren by the collar and pushed her against the wall. Wren’s voice was mocking. “You’re still hiding him? You must really be infatuated with Asher, Cora. Too bad he loves me. Maybe when I’m done with him, if you still want him, I could hand him over to you.” “But not yet. He still owes my mother at her grave. He can’t keep you company yet.” Cora’s face flushed with anger, clenching Wren’s collar. “Wren Alcott, you’re a monster.” She slapped Wren hard across the face, leaving Wren stunned. The two of them fell into a vicious fight. My heart pounded, helplessly watching as they struggled. For all her training in Mixed Martial Arts, Wren had Cora pinned down quickly, leaving Cora bruised and battered. I could only watch in anguish, unable to do anything. “Look at you, Cora. Nearly beaten to death over Asher, while he happily hides behind your protection. A weak man like that—is he really worth it?” Cora scoffed, her voice dripping with scorn. “Wren, the real pathetic one is you. Mistaking your mother’s killer for someone loyal to you. Hurting the one who truly cares about you. You live like a stray dog.” “What did you just say?” Wren’s hand rose to strike when someone burst in. “Ms. Alcott, we found the footage from Mr. Voss’s accident. And… his autopsy report.”

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Chase and Marla had twins, and their bias toward their son meant they left their daughter Harmony completely neglected. In my past life, Mom couldn’t bear seeing Harmony burning with fever and passed out, so she brought her over to me, saying, “You make good money, and since you don’t plan to marry, take her in.” Pitying my niece, I agreed to raise her as my own. Despite pouring all my resources and energy into her, when she grew up, she aired her grievances online, saying I was controlling, that my love was suffocating, and that I wouldn’t even let her stay over at a friend’s house. Egged on by strangers, she rebelled and ran away to a friend’s place, where her friend’s brother assaulted her. When I wanted to report it, she cried and said it would ruin her reputation, and she cut ties with me to stay with her abuser. After they married, she was abused by him and mistreated by her mother-in-law. Over time, she became resentful and convinced him to kill me. He went to prison, and she finally had her freedom—lavishly living off my inheritance. Now, with a new chance at life, I won’t make those same mistakes. My heart has hardened; I’ll live solely for myself. Content

“Quinn, your niece has a terrible fever—she’s burning up! Come back and help me take her to the hospital!” Hearing my mom’s words, just as in my past life, I knew I’d been reborn. I vividly remembered my future niece, Harmony, standing there, watching her violent husband stab me over and over. I’d always been terrified of pain, but even so, I was covered in wounds, blood everywhere, the pain unbearable, and the biting chill seeped to my bones. Taking a deep breath, I steadied my tone and responded as calmly as possible, “Mom, if Harmony’s that sick, where are Chase and Marla?” “Your brother’s at work, and his job isn’t flexible. Marla’s with Tyler and can’t leave him.” I wasn’t the least bit surprised by this. My brother and his wife, with their favoritism, had never given their daughter a thought. In my past life, when my mother had called me in distress, I’d left work immediately, driven back to Pinegrove County, and rushed my niece to the hospital. I stayed days to care for her as she recovered. When Harmony was discharged, the doctor told us, “If you’d brought her any later, the fever might’ve caused brain damage. You were lucky to get her here in time.” Thinking about how Harmony eventually repaid me for raising her… This time, I wouldn’t get involved.

“Mom, I’m out of town on a work trip. I can’t get back quickly, so you should call Chase and have him take her to the hospital.” My response left Mom frantic. She ignored my suggestion about calling my brother and instead asked, “Well, how soon can you come home?” I already knew Mom had a strong preference for my brother, but I never thought she’d prioritize his $3,000-a-month job over her granddaughter’s urgent medical needs. And now, she expected me to drop my own work trip to get back? I held back my frustration and replied, “Mom, I’m far away on this trip, and flights are full. It’d take me eleven hours by train, and then three more hours of driving just to get to the county. Besides, this trip is important, and if I leave now, I might lose my job. And then I wouldn’t have any money left to help with your living expenses.” Hearing that my delay could affect her monthly allowance, Mom finally dropped the idea of me taking Harmony to the hospital. “Fine, I’ll wait until your brother gets off work, and we’ll take her together. But when you’re done with work, come visit your niece.” I agreed and hung up, feeling icy inside. In my mom’s eyes, “looking after Harmony” meant using the poor child as an excuse to drop the three-year-old on me, claiming, “You have a good salary; you can afford a nanny. Since you aren’t getting married, treat her as your own daughter—at least you’ll have someone to care for you when you’re old.” Years ago, I did tell my family I didn’t plan on marriage. When I was nineteen, they’d pushed for an arranged match, but I knew marriage would mean a life revolving around a man and children, losing myself in the process. So I told them I wasn’t interested and would focus on my career. Initially, Mom resisted, but when she realized marriage would end my financial support to her, she stopped pressuring me. In hindsight, Mom’s kindness over the years was purely because I still had financial value. She never cared about me otherwise, or she wouldn’t have dumped her “burden” of a granddaughter on me. Later, when I was thirty and considered dating, she convinced me to think of Harmony’s feelings. Harmony, looking so pitiful, had pleaded with me not to “leave her behind.” I’d felt for her, and, not being one for romantic ties, I never married. I raised Harmony like my own daughter, yet ultimately, she took my life.

After hanging up with Mom, I requested a work trip and left immediately, returning only a week later. During that time, Mom called me repeatedly, stressing Harmony’s critical condition. Each time, I’d ask, “Where are Chase and Marla?” Her parents couldn’t be bothered to tend to their sick daughter, so why should I, the aunt, bear the burden? Mom would cover for my brother, saying, “Your brother’s job doesn’t allow time off, and Marla’s busy with Tyler.” I’d excuse myself, claiming meetings, and hang up.

After a week in the hospital, Harmony was discharged with mild meningitis, likely from the prolonged fever. The doctor said her brain might have suffered some cognitive impact, but only time would tell. After returning from my trip, I made a brief stop in Pinegrove County, bringing fruit and milk for her. Before I left, I handed Marla a cash envelope in front of my mom and brother, maintaining a polite and generous demeanor. I stayed just long enough to avoid any complaints, leaving before Mom could ask about adopting Harmony. Three days later, Mom called again, saying she’d bring Harmony to Brookdale City for a visit over the weekend. I knew what was coming and had a plan.

It was a beautiful spring weekend when I picked up Mom and Harmony from Pinegrove Central Station. Growing up neglected, Harmony had become timid and overly sensitive; after her illness, she seemed even more withdrawn. Since Mom rarely visited, I made sure to play the role of a gracious host, taking them to a nice restaurant and booking a hotel for the night. Mom had wanted to stay at my apartment, but I politely declined, saying I only had one bed. After working for six years, I’d saved enough to buy a small one-bedroom apartment in Brookdale outright, and I never told my family about it until long after moving in. I knew that once Mom found out I’d saved for a house, she’d find ways to drain my funds, saying it was “for safekeeping.” But that “safekeeping” would ultimately go to Chase, so I pretended I’d only been able to afford a “mortgaged” apartment.

After two days of hosting, as I prepared to take Mom and Harmony back to Pinegrove County, Mom finally spoke up. “Quinn, Marla can’t manage two kids on her own, and it’s pitiful that Harmony was left uncared for with that fever…” I interrupted, “Mom, isn’t Harmony staying with you?” “Come on, as her grandma, I’ll do my part, but why can’t you help Marla out by looking after her?” Mom scoffed, “That’s impossible!” Realizing her response was too blunt, she quickly softened her tone. “My age is catching up with me, Quinn. I can help for now, but soon my back and legs will give me trouble. Harmony would do better in the city with you; you make good money, and she’s had it rough in the county.” She considered everyone’s needs but my own. I shook my head. “Mom, you can’t look after her, and I have a full-time job.” “Well, you can afford a nanny, can’t you? If Harmony lives with you, you can treat her as your own daughter. Besides, since you aren’t getting married, she’ll be there for you as you age.” I bit back a laugh, her suggestion too ironic. In my past life, following her words had led me to my death. I interrupted her, “Mom, just because I’m not planning to marry doesn’t mean I don’t want a family.” She looked at me, puzzled. “I’m not getting any younger,” I continued, “and last month, I went through with IVF. In a few months, I’ll have my own child, so I don’t need someone else’s to take care of me.” It was like I’d dropped a bomb, leaving her visibly shaken. After a moment of stunned silence, she stammered, “Something this big…why wouldn’t you discuss it with us?” Discuss? If I’d told them, they would’ve fought it every step of the way. My family didn’t see me as a person; to them, I was a tool. Ignoring her shock, I stated firmly, “Mom, I’ll soon have my own child. Don’t bring up adopting Harmony again.”

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At the start of my freshman year, my new roommate, Tiffany Malone, snuck onto my phone, took a selfie, and sent it to my online boyfriend. She even added a caption: “Babe, don’t I look gorgeous?” Mason, my boyfriend, sent back a huge question mark and followed it up with a voice message, cursing: “If I ever thought I was in love with that face, it’d make me wanna puke! We’re done, you ugly witch. Get lost!” When I came out of the shower, ready to explain, I found I’d already been blocked. Then Tiffany, holding her phone, smugly told me, “A MuseHub streamer added me! He said he wants to be my boyfriend.” One glance at the account, and I realized it was my ex-boyfriend Mason. Content When I finished my shower, I grabbed my phone off the desk. Opening it, I saw a stream of furious texts from Mason, followed by his breaking up with me. Scrolling up, I saw Tiffany’s hideous selfie. It was stomach-turning. Her huge, greasy face gleamed with a layer of oil, dotted with pimples. When she smiled, her yellow teeth still had chili pepper bits stuck in them. I almost dropped my phone. Trying to explain it wasn’t me, I realized I was already blocked. I snapped at Tiffany, “Why would you even touch my phone without asking? And who told you to send those pictures?” Tiffany rolled her eyes and replied impatiently, “With that plain face, how do you expect to hold onto any guy? I was just helping you out by lending my beauty!” I was speechless. Me, plain? Back in high school, my looks at least got me into the top-ten list on local rankings. Tiffany didn’t always look like this; since she started streaming on MuseHub, she’d played into her audience’s fascination with the grotesque, gradually transforming herself. Ironically, her fans praised her as a “real beauty” in her MuseHub channel. I thought about explaining things to Mason. Even though it was an online relationship, I actually knew who he was. His name was Mason Rivers, a junior at East Ridge Tech, a popular singer on MuseHub with an incredible voice. I came to this city for him. One night after he uploaded a song, he messaged me, saying he loved my voice. We ended up chatting all night. When he realized I was at a nearby school, we made things official the next day. I’d planned to surprise him at this month’s National College Music Fest. Instead, I’d been blocked. I felt crushed, but then Tiffany suddenly squealed, “My dream guy just added me! He said he wants me to be his girlfriend!” Curious, I glanced at her phone. Sure enough, it was Mason’s account. Tiffany didn’t have any photos on MuseHub, just a few of her songs. Her voice was sugary-sweet, completely different from my cool, neutral tone. I was stunned. Mason dumped me and found someone else immediately? Unbelievable. And Mason was in for a surprise, seeing as he’d managed to find the “beauty” from the pictures.

Tiffany stripped off her clothes, her body jiggling everywhere. I thought she was heading to the shower, but she just put on pajamas and walked out, stuffing her underwear under her pillow. I was speechless. I knew she’d head to the hallways to sing with her fake voice. Sure enough, she returned soon, giggling and asking Mason in her sweet tone, “Did I sound good, babe?” Mason’s breathing was heavy. “Baby, your voice is so sweet. It has this… special effect on me. I want to listen to it every night.” I felt like I’d been hit with something vile as they exchanged mushy goodbyes. Tiffany sighed, “Too bad he doesn’t know I’m a famous streamer, too. But come music fest, he’ll get a surprise!” I could hardly wait to see Mason’s reaction when that surprise arrived. Tiffany then started her nightly livestream. Ironically, I was scrolling through my phone in a face mask and accidentally stumbled across it. In her MuseHub channel, Tiffany was wearing black lace tights, and her belly rolls spilled over them like layers. Her skin was dull and blotchy, and I couldn’t remember the last time she took a shower. She twisted around, using a voice modulator to sound more mature. “Oh, boys, it’s so hot tonight. I’m here for you even when it’s this hot.” “You guys have to give me a Top Diamond Gift tonight, or I won’t perform.” The room was packed, and sure enough, a message popped up: “Streamer’s location is only six miles from me!” The profile picture was an anime character, and the bio listed East Ridge Tech—the same school as Mason’s. Disgusted, I closed the video, but later, I noticed a new post on MuseHub with two screenshots of Tiffany’s stream: “Loves playing around with a voice modulator. Given the location, I bet she’s from Starlight Conservatory.”

Mason had liked and commented on the post, thinking it was me in the screenshots. “Heads-up, everyone. Don’t get fooled by this ugly chick. She’s got a MuseHub account too.” Other replies flooded in: “Gross!” “Just seeing that makes me lose my appetite.” “Thanks for the warning.” Mason even messaged me: “Don’t let me see you at the music fest, or there’ll be trouble.” I blocked Mason in return, laughing coldly as I watched Tiffany putting on her “sweet girl” act for her viewers, kicking out anyone who called her out. She was convinced she was a special kind of beauty. Suddenly, her “top fan” Blake “Big Al” Morrison entered her channel. “Sweetheart, crawl around like a bear, and I’ll send you five True Love Roses.” Tiffany’s eyes sparkled, and she started crawling on all fours. Her rolls of flesh strained her tights, and her tattoos stretched across her back. She was panting when she finished, but her top fan rewarded her with a Grand Carnival gift and promised, “I’ll be back every night at ten for a new performance.” Tiffany beamed and thanked him as she ended the stream. Today, she’d made a killing. With pride, she said, “Not like some people here who still live off family money.” I couldn’t resist asking, “You really think you’re beautiful?” Tiffany scoffed, “You think dried-up twigs like you are real women? Look at this,” she said, pointing to her chest. “I don’t have to try, and look at that figure. These guys are obsessed with me, or they wouldn’t camp out every night.” I just closed my eyes, hoping not to have nightmares.

The next morning, I was rushing to my 8 a.m. class, while Tiffany was sprawled out on her bed. I hesitated, then told her, “You’ve got class this morning. You should get up.” Tiffany groaned, turning to face the wall and muttered, “Just tell them I’m sick.” I glanced at the clock, deciding not to push it. She’d barely shown up to any classes since the term began. In the lecture hall, Emma Sanders asked, “Riley, are you signing up for the music fest? They say East Ridge Tech has a lot of cute guys participating.” I nodded. I wasn’t doing it for the guys—I loved singing and wouldn’t miss the chance to perform. Emma asked if I’d picked a song, and I told her, “I’m still deciding.” I had chosen a song to perform for Mason, but now I had to pick something else. Logging onto MuseHub, I was bombarded with 99+ messages. One comment, from an unfamiliar account, read: “You ugly skank, think you can just block me? Watch me expose your account and get you booted from MuseHub!” It was Mason’s backup account. I scrolled through my old uploads, where a swarm of hateful comments had appeared. “Just a fugly girl fishing for guys—does it make you sick?” “I thought that voice belonged to a beauty, but it’s a fat slob. I could puke.” I unblocked Mason and saw his new post: “Watch out for this chick’s account. She posted pics and harassed me. If she shows up at the music fest, let’s teach her a lesson.” Too embarrassed to admit we’d dated, Mason lied and said I was harassing him. His fan club raided my comments. Any attempt to explain was drowned out with insults: “Stop harassing my idol!” “Go away!” More and more people warned me not to show up at the music fest. Furious, I deleted the app.

After a long day, I returned to the dorm, only to be hit with a horrid smell. Trash was scattered everywhere. Looking up, I was stunned to find Tiffany, fully naked, putting on makeup at the desk. My temper flared. “Why are you sitting there with no clothes? And this trash! You’re not going to clean it up?” Tiffany shrugged, still using her baby voice. “Why so loud? I was just about to clean it up.” From her phone, I heard Mason’s voice: “Who’s that? That voice sounds familiar.” Tiffany quickly whined, “Oh, it’s just my roommate, Riley. She’s always bullying me.” Mason hesitated. “Riley? Is that her name?” Tiffany slammed the desk, snapping, “Why are you calling her by name like that?” Mason stammered, “No, babe. My roommate told me there’s this ugly girl at your school named Riley. I even saw a photo—she’s hideous! You’d better steer clear.” Tiffany finally calmed down, replying, “Yeah, she’s not cute at all.” Mason chuckled, “And does this ugly girl know you’re calling me with no clothes on? She’d probably be jealous if she saw how hot you look.” Tiffany laughed, dismissing the thought. “Yeah, she’s probably jealous of me, but I can’t help that.” Mason’s voice turned shaky with excitement: “Baby, could you send me a picture?” Tiffany giggled, “You’re so bad! Don’t worry, I’ll have a huge surprise for you at the music fest.”

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