Author: Momo Chan

My mother spent her life performing sainthood, a portrait of untouchable grace who never fought and never demanded. When a well-educated gold digger got pregnant and tried to usurp her place, I secretly ended the mistress’s pregnancy and destroyed her reputation. My mother only reprimanded me for being ruthless. She claimed the girl had a difficult past and quietly wired her a million dollars in compensation. When my father’s first love returned from abroad demanding a divorce, I used the tech empire I built from scratch as leverage. After weighing his options, my father abandoned the idea. Yet at our family gathering, my mother publicly shamed me, calling my methods extreme and unladylike. When my deadbeat uncle was sold to a South American cartel over gambling debts, Mother wept before me every day. I fought my father tooth and nail until I screamed he was cold-blooded and unworthy. He slapped me, threw me from the car into the pouring rain, and a truck shattered every bone in my body. Watching me die broke my father. Grief-stricken, he spent a fortune rescuing my uncle, cut ties with his mistresses, and swore to be a devoted husband. At my funeral, Mother held my brother’s hand, her voice serene as she looked at my casket. She sighed that my ambition and cutthroat nature brought this fate upon me. I called it poetic justice. I bled in the trenches while she reaped every benefit with clean hands. It was utterly pathetic. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn to the day my father’s mistress first appeared at our door. 1 “Lydia, let’s have a little chat.” A stunningly beautiful woman with immaculate makeup steps into the private parlor. She walks right in and makes herself comfortable on the velvet sofa. Resting her left hand on her waist, she gently strokes her slightly swollen belly with her right. She looks at my mother with a sugary smile and drops the bomb. She tells her she is pregnant, and the baby belongs to Richard. Her voice is remarkably calm, yet dripping with a ruthless ambition. Watching this familiar scene play out feels entirely surreal. The realization hits me like a bucket of ice water. I have come back from the dead. I am right back at the exact moment Lily, my father’s mistress, came to stake her claim. The agonizing memories of my past life flash through my mind like a silent movie stuck on fast forward. Lily pulled this exact same stunt back then. I easily deflected every dirty trick she threw our way. I set a trap that caused her to lose the baby, dug up enough corporate dirt on her to ruin her career, and ensured she could never show her face in Manhattan high society ever again. I handled the threat cleanly and perfectly. But my mother just looked at me with eyes full of holy compassion. She sighed, saying the poor girl came from nothing, got blinded by the Winston family’s wealth, and took a wrong turn. She actually called the homewrecker a victim of circumstance. Then, she turned her judgmental gaze on me. She criticized my heavy-handed tactics. She called me a murderer for harming an innocent life. She told me she had already booked a retreat for me at a secluded monastery so I could cleanse my soul of its heavy sins. To top it all off, she secretly wired that mistress a million dollars to ease her guilt. I was left completely powerless and exhausted. For as long as I can remember, my mother has always been like this. Playing the untouchable ice queen. Never fighting. Never showing greed. She would always look at me with that serene, infuriating calmness. She would say the world isn’t always about winning or losing. Sometimes, not fighting is the ultimate victory. Those who understand you need no explanation, and those who don’t will never believe you anyway. My heart used to ache for her. I begged her to divorce my father, promising I would build an empire and take care of her myself. She refused. She fed me some nonsense about how loving a man means accepting every broken piece of him. So, I became her shield. I stood on the front lines, taking the bullets, scheming and plotting in the shadows just to keep her safe. She got to play the saint. I played the villain. She scooped up all the rewards without lifting a single manicured finger. And in the end, it was because of her worthless brother that I picked a fight with my father and ended up dead on the asphalt. But her? She used my bloody corpse as a teaching moment for my little brother. I can still hear her light, breezy tone at my funeral, telling him my death was the natural consequence of my own toxic ambition. Great. Absolutely fantastic. I fed my bleeding heart to a stray dog. In this life, I will not lift a single finger to fight her battles. 2 My mother stares at Lily’s belly for a long moment, then slowly shifts her gaze up to the younger woman’s face. A flicker of shock breaks through her composed expression. The color drains from her cheeks, leaving her looking fragile and pale. Seeing my mother look like a ghost, Lily rests her chin on her hand and smiles brightly. She asks if her face looks familiar. She casually mentions that twenty years ago, Richard only settled for Lydia because he was forced to break up with Seraphina. Seraphina Dupont. The golden girl of the Dupont dynasty. My father’s untouchable first love. Back then, my father was just a nobody from the wrong side of the tracks. The Dupont family despised him. They forced Seraphina to dump him and shipped her off to Europe. During his darkest days, my mother quietly stayed by his side. When my father finally built his fortune, he married her out of obligation. But Seraphina’s memory has always been a poisoned thorn buried deep in my mother’s heart. Against an opponent like my mother, who only knows how to strike pretty poses, Lily holds all the cards. Lily leans forward, her voice dripping with venom. She tells my mother she is nothing but a second-rate substitute. But Lily? Lily is the mirror image of Richard’s one true love. “Between a substitute and a replica,” Lily purrs, “I think the replica holds a little more weight, don’t you?” “Because we really do look alike. Don’t we?” The moment the words leave her mouth, my mother sways on her feet. She grips the edge of the mahogany table so hard her knuckles turn bone white, yet she desperately tries to keep her face entirely blank. Someone is rubbing her nose in the dirt, and she is still trying to maintain her zen, above-it-all persona. In my past life, I never understood her. After dying once, everything makes perfect sense. My father chose her back then specifically because of that quiet, submissive energy. He used to praise her for being gentle, generous, and completely undemanding. From that moment on, my mother carved that persona directly into her bones. When you wear a mask for twenty years, it fuses to your skin. She truly believes this fake purity is the only advantage she has over Seraphina. Besides, why should she ruin her image? Any dirty work, any vicious fighting, would always be handled by her loyal attack dog. Me. She just needs to look pretty, act innocent, and let the world believe she is an angel. 3 My mother is losing ground by the second, and Lily refuses to let up. “Let’s talk credentials,” Lily smirks. “I graduated top of my class from Yale. I am Richard’s executive assistant. And you?” She pauses, letting out a sharp, mocking laugh. “You are just a useless housewife.” My mother’s eyes turn raw and red. She bites her lower lip, looking the picture of absolute misery. But true to form, she doesn’t argue. She doesn’t defend herself. Lily scoffs at the theatrical display. She leans back, confidently declaring she is younger, smarter, and far more loved by Richard. She tells my mother she has already lost the war. Panicking, my mother shoots a desperate, pleading look in my direction. I don’t even blink. I casually pick up my phone and start drafting a reply to a work email. If this were my previous life, I would have already flipped the table. I would have torn Lily to shreds with a vicious smirk, humiliated her, and kicked her out onto the street. Afterward, I would have hugged my mother, promising her she didn’t need to worry about street trash like that. I would have sworn to fix everything. Not anymore. Clean up your own messes. You are a grown woman. Stand on your own two feet. Seeing my absolute indifference, a flash of pure disappointment crosses my mother’s eyes. Makes sense. She is so used to treating me like a loaded gun. But today, the gun has jammed, and it must be terribly frustrating for her. Because of my mother’s desperate glance, Lily finally acknowledges the silent girl sitting in the corner. She flashes me a sickly sweet smile. She introduces herself and promises that once she becomes my new stepmother, she will make sure I am taken care of. She clearly has no idea who I am. After graduating, I refused to join my father’s empire. I built my own tech company from the ground up, and right now, my firm is making serious waves in the industry. Lily is severely underestimating me. Her tone is arrogant, practically begging for a fight. That arrogant spark ignites a fresh wave of hope in my mother’s eyes. She knows exactly what I am capable of. She knows I have a zero-tolerance policy for disrespect. Lily serving up this kind of blatant insult is practically a death wish. As long as I go to war, my mother can fade into the background and keep her hands perfectly clean. Too bad I am about to disappoint her again. I completely ignore Lily. I turn to my mother, my voice flat and professional. I tell her they should continue their chat. I mention a critical issue with a project at my firm and say I need to head to the office immediately. I grab my designer bag and stand up. A workaholic in both lives, my excuse is completely bulletproof. Realizing I am actually leaving her to face the wolves alone, my mother’s mute act finally shatters. She grabs my wrist. Her eyes glaze over with genuine tears, her voice trembling. She asks how I could possibly abandon her here. I frown slightly, gently peeling her fingers off my arm. I speak to her the way one speaks to a toddler having a tantrum. I tell her not to be dramatic and reiterate that I have an emergency at work. I pat her shoulder, telling her I believe she can handle this minor hiccup and that I fully support whatever choice she makes. My mother’s face turns a sickening shade of gray. Beside us, Lily actually bursts into laughter. I turn on my heel and walk out. Without me leading the charge this time, I can’t wait to see how Lydia, the untouchable saint, manages to win back her cheating husband and defend her throne from a ruthless gold digger. 4 For the next few days, I practically live at my office. Between late-night meetings and out-of-state conferences, I don’t step foot in the Winston mansion. Word through the grapevine is that my father hasn’t been home for days either. That is incredibly rare. Richard has plenty of toys on the side, but unless he is on a business trip, he never spends the night outside his own house. I once called him out on it, mocking him for trying to act like a family man while sleeping around. My mother was actually pleased by his behavior. She used her holier-than-thou voice to lecture me, saying my father knew his boundaries. She said it was normal for powerful men to play around, but as long as he came home to her, those other women were just cheap motel distractions. Over the decades, not a single one of those distractions ever dared to cross my mother. She genuinely believed being the official wife gave her some sort of divine dignity. A classic case of delusional self-comfort. But now, Lily has ripped that pathetic illusion to shreds. Even my zen mother can’t sit still anymore. She stood outside in a torrential downpour for two hours, successfully catching a brutal fever. Using the ultimate damsel-in-distress tactic, she finally forced my father to come home. My car pulls up to the estate right behind Richard’s. Walking into the master bedroom, I see my mother lying under the heavy silk covers. Her cheeks burn with an unnatural, feverish red, while her lips are deathly pale. She looks like a fragile, broken porcelain doll. It takes me one second to realize she used makeup to enhance the sickly look. For someone who claims not to care, she certainly puts on a hell of a production to keep my father’s attention. She is in her forties and has birthed two children, yet she starves herself to keep the figure of a teenager. Her expensive skincare routine ensures she barely looks thirty. Right on cue, Richard’s heart melts. He rushes over, pulling her into his arms, asking how she got so terribly sick. Lydia keeps her voice barely above a whisper. She tells him it’s just a minor cold. She says she explicitly told the maid, Martha, not to bother him because he works so hard and she doesn’t want to be a burden. Martha stands in the corner, her head bowed, looking incredibly wronged but too terrified to speak. Anyone with half a brain can see Martha is the designated scapegoat. That used to be my permanent job. Now that I am out of the picture, Martha is taking the heat. As a fellow victim of my mother’s collateral damage, I deeply sympathize. I have to bail Martha out. I cross my arms, putting on a terrifying scowl. I snap at Martha, asking how she could be so incompetent. I accuse her of ignoring my mother’s direct orders and letting her health deteriorate. I point at the door and yell at her to pack her bags, screaming that she is fired. Terrified of losing her livelihood, Martha completely snaps. She waves her hands frantically, swearing she is innocent. She cries out that it was Lydia who ordered her to call both me and Richard. Martha sobs, spilling everything. She tells us the storm was raging, but Lydia insisted on standing in the freezing rain. Martha begged to give her an umbrella, but Lydia refused, doing it all on purpose just to get sick. When you push someone into a corner, they talk. And Martha just sang like a canary. 5 The massive bedroom falls into a suffocating, dead silence for several seconds. Lydia looks like she is about to suffer a genuine stroke. Richard stares at her in absolute disbelief. His gaze turns ice-cold. He asks her why she would intentionally stand in the freezing rain. He reminds her he canceled a million-dollar board meeting just to rush home. “You are forty years old, Lydia, not fourteen. Grow the hell up,” he spits. Lydia’s eyes brim with tears. She puts on her classic wounded expression, silently telegraphing that if he truly thinks so lowly of her, she won’t even bother defending herself. This is the exact moment I am supposed to jump in. In my past life, I would have aggressively attacked Richard. I would have screamed at him for neglecting his wife and told him to look in the mirror before judging her. But now? I flash a bright, innocent smile and play the peacemaker. I tell my dad to go easy on her. I casually mention the old saying about people getting more childish as they age, noting that since she is getting older, it’s totally normal for her to throw a toddler’s tantrum. Lydia is absolutely terrified of aging. What does aging mean to her? It means losing her looks, her youth, and ultimately, her husband’s favor. Women always show their years faster than men in this brutal society. Richard is three years older than her, yet he doesn’t have a single deep wrinkle. He is still strikingly handsome, radiating the silver-fox billionaire charm. I drove a knife right into her deepest insecurity. Lydia clutches her chest, her face turning from flushed red to a furious, sickening purple. Smoke is practically coming out of her ears. Just as the tension reaches a breaking point, Richard’s phone buzzes. Lily’s voice practically echoes through the quiet room, sobbing hysterically. She calls him ‘Daddy’ and cries about a horrific nightmare where she was bleeding out and lost the baby. She begs him to come save her because she is so scared in the dark. She calls him Daddy? Gross. It’s truly a match made in hell. Richard looks momentarily embarrassed, but that quickly shifts into brazen justification. His voice drops into a sickeningly soft register as he promises to be right there. Hanging up, he turns his back on his feverish wife to go comfort his pregnant mistress. Panic finally shatters Lydia’s zen facade. She lunges forward, grabbing his sleeve, her voice cracking as she begs him to stay. Richard looks down at her with zero remorse. He recites the ultimate cheater’s playbook. He tells her Lily has had a miserable life, grew up in poverty, and is just a frightened young girl carrying his child. He says she needs his protection. He looks at Lydia with utter disgust, asking if a woman of her age is seriously going to be jealous of a helpless kid. It is true. Lily’s life is a mess. Disabled father, sick mother, gambling-addict brother. In my past life, when Lydia ultimately won the war, she used those exact same words to make me pity the mistress. Now, the boomerang has swung right back to smash into Lydia’s face.

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1 On the day of our senior yearbook photos, the photographer told the couples in our class to stand closer together. But Gemma pressed her hand against my shoulder, pushing me toward the very edge of the lineup so that Asher could take my place next to her. “Asher and I are the top graduates in science and humanities,” she said, her voice smooth and practical. “It looks better for the school if we stand together.” It was far from the first time she had pushed me aside. Whenever I brought my AP Calculus practice sheets to her, she would glance at my mistakes and sigh, telling me my foundation was too weak and that I was wasting her time. Yet, when Asher struggled with his math assignments, she would stay up until two in the morning, meticulously breaking down every single formula into its simplest steps for him. I once asked her to study with me at the library, but she frowned, claiming my presence was too distracting. Yet, when Asher’s class rank slipped by a single spot, she skipped an entire afternoon of classes just to walk along the harbor with him to ease his mind. The photographer smiled, teasing them from behind the lens. “Are you two a couple? You look perfect together, and your grades certainly match.” Gemma looked at Asher, her smile warm and filled with a quiet pride. “We have always been the perfect team.” Asher lowered his head, his cheeks flushing pink as the rest of our classmates began to cheer and hoot. I stood at the absolute edge of the crowd, my fingers tightening around the glossy photo reservation ticket I had kept in my pocket. I had spent the previous evening picking out my outfit and styling my hair, foolishly hoping to get a picture of just the two of us. The space next to her had never actually belonged to me. And now, I didn’t want it anymore. I stared down at the crumpled ticket in my palm, suddenly finding the whole situation ridiculous. I walked over to the nearest trash can and tossed it inside. A few minutes later, I walked into the guidance counselor’s office. The counselor handed me my final transcript, offering a supportive pat on the back. “You did well, Amber. Go home and start finalizing your college applications.” He paused, looking at me thoughtfully. “I heard you plan on following Gemma to Boston? Boston’s cutoffs are incredibly high, and honestly, your scores won’t get you into a top-tier program there. As your counselor, I advise you to prioritize your own future.” I thanked him, clutching the transcript tightly. As I stepped out of the office, I ran right into Gemma and Asher. They both froze when they saw me, but Asher quickly recovered, jogging up to me with a bright, friendly smile. “There you are, Amber!” He held out a cup. “We went to get some drinks, and Gemma made sure we got one for you too.” I looked down at the cups. They were holding matching iced matcha lattes with “couples combo” stickers plastered on the sides. The drink he was handing me was a bright yellow mango smoothie. I have a severe mango allergy, and Gemma knew that. I forced a faint smile, took the smoothie from his hand, and walked over to drop it into the recycling bin next to the lockers. Asher’s smile faltered, his eyes welling with tears as he looked helplessly at Gemma. Gemma’s brow furrowed instantly, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Amber, what is your problem now?” She sounded exhausted, her patience entirely spent. “Just because I asked you to step aside for Asher earlier? That was my decision, so why are you taking your anger out on him?” “I already explained it to you! We are the top students in our respective tracks, and standing together is good publicity for the school. Besides, didn’t I promise I would take a private photo with you afterward?” I stared at her, suddenly lacking the energy to argue. She had promised. But after the group photo ended, she never looked for me. On our classmates’ social media feeds, she had already posted a dozen private photos with Asher. She had spent the last hour laughing with him, holding him close, and buying drinks, entirely forgetting my existence. Everything had shifted the moment Asher transferred to our school. As the top humanities student, his name was constantly paired with hers, the top science student. I had strained myself to the limit just to keep up with them, often struggling to understand the academic jokes they tossed back and forth. Gemma used to be patient with my academic struggles. But as she spent more time with Asher, her attitude toward me turned into nothing but irritation. Seeing my silence, Gemma let out a sharp sigh, her patience gone. “Fine, we will take the photo now. Are you happy?” Without waiting for my reply, she snatched my phone from my hand and tossed it to Asher. Asher caught it, looking slightly uncomfortable. Gemma stood beside me, but she kept a distinct distance between our shoulders. Before I could even adjust my posture, she grabbed the phone back from Asher and shoved it into my palm. “There, no more tantrums.” “Now wait here while I help Asher gather his final transcripts. We will go home together after.” She turned, grabbing Asher’s sleeve as they walked into the office. I stood in the empty hallway, unlocking my screen to look at the photo. The camera had shaken, capturing only a blurry shot of the gray linoleum floor and the hem of her jacket as she walked away from me. I stared at it for a long time, then let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh. I deleted the photo, blocked Gemma’s number, and walked out of the school gates. I was done waiting for her. That evening, a few close friends dragged me out to a local diner for a farewell dinner. Halfway through our meal, the guy sitting next to me nearly choked on his soda. “No way, did Asher just make it official?” He flipped his phone onto the table. It was a social media post from Asher showing two movie tickets with a simple caption: Official. In the corner of the photo, a girl’s wrist was visible, wearing a braided red thread bracelet. My chest tightened, a dull ache spreading through my throat. I had begged Gemma to wear a matching couples bracelet months ago, but she had dismissed the idea, calling it childish. Yet, she had started wearing it recently. I had secretly allowed myself to feel happy, thinking she had simply changed her mind for me. How pathetic. My friends began to gossip, trying to identify the girl. “Who is she? Is she from our school?” “He’s always with Gemma. I thought those two were already dating.” I kept my voice flat. “It is Gemma.” They looked up, startled by my tone, and the table went quiet. “Amber, your eyes are incredibly red. Are you okay?” I lowered my head, picking at the fries on my plate. “The hot sauce is just really spicy.” Before anyone could reply, the diner door swung open. Gemma and Asher walked in together. She was carrying his backpack over her shoulder, holding his jacket in her hand. When they sat down at a nearby table, one of our classmates called out, “Gemma, we knew there was something going on between you two!” Gemma noticed me and paused, but she quickly regained her composure, walking over to our table as if nothing was wrong. “What a coincidence,” she said smoothly. “Mind if we join?” She was so utterly casual about it, making my silent agony feel like nothing more than a pathetic overreaction. “Are you two actually dating?” someone asked. Gemma glanced at Asher’s post, letting out a soft laugh. “That? He was talking about the movie release being official. You guys didn’t actually believe that, did you?” Asher lowered his gaze, blushing, but offering no correction. The table resumed its noisy chatter, but my focus was fixed on the glossy lip gloss on Gemma’s lips. It was a shade she only wore when she wanted to look her best. Gemma slid into the booth next to me, her hand reaching under the table to squeeze my fingers, just like she used to do. I pulled my hand away. Her hand froze in the empty space, her expression hardening. She stood up and moved to the other side of the booth, sitting right next to Asher. Their shoulders brushed, and Asher’s face turned bright red. For the rest of the night, the conversation revolved around the two of them, their future college plans, and how their children would probably inherit genius-level IQs. I sat there like an uninvited guest. I wanted to leave, but Gemma was sitting on the outside of the booth, blocking my exit. I could only stare at my plate, my stomach twisting in pain. When Asher reached for an ice-cold soda, Gemma quickly snatched it away. “Your stomach is sensitive, you shouldn’t drink cold things.” The table erupted into more teasing. Gemma finally looked at me, as if suddenly remembering I was there. “Your face is flushed, Amber. Was the food too spicy?” She slid the cold soda toward me. “Here, have some.” I had struggled with chronic stomach issues since childhood, and cold drinks always triggered a painful spasm. Gemma used to protect me from them. But she had forgotten. I didn’t reach for the can. Gemma’s forehead creased with irritation. “Amber, how long are you going to keep acting like this?” I swallowed the lump in my throat, grabbing my backpack as I slid out of the booth. “I don’t feel well. I am going home.” Asher’s expression turned anxious, his voice dropping to a fragile whisper. “Did I say something to upset you, Amber? I am sorry.” Gemma slammed the soda can onto the table, her voice cold. “Ignore him, Asher. He is just being dramatic over nothing.” The table went dead silent, everyone watching the three of us in awkward confusion. I covered my eyes as tears finally spilled over my fingers. Turning my back on them, I ran out of the diner. I cried the entire walk home, my throat raw. When I walked through the front door, my father looked up from the television. “Did you and Gemma have another fight? She messaged me saying you blocked her.” I remained silent, my heart aching. “She just wanted to remind me to make sure you fill out your college applications,” my father continued, sighing. “She wants you to choose a school close to hers in Boston. Gemma is a good girl, Amber. It is a shame you two never worked out. You are average, and she is brilliant, so I suppose it makes sense she doesn’t see you that way.” I didn’t argue. “We don’t know much about these prestigious universities,” he added. “You should ask Gemma for advice. I saw her helping Asher with his applications the other day, she was incredibly thorough. They spent days working on it, even staying up late together.” My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag. “Gemma even told him she would help him get into the best program at MIT, making sure not a single test score went to waste.” I stood in the hallway, feeling a cold weight settle in my chest. Gemma and I had promised to go to the same city. But when I had asked her to look over my choices, she had barely looked up from her phone. “I don’t know much about those middle-tier state schools, Amber. Just pick whatever is close to Boston. The major doesn’t really matter for someone with your grades anyway.” I had defended her back then, telling myself that as an elite student destined for MIT, she simply didn’t understand the complex admissions process for regular universities. I couldn’t deceive myself anymore. “Your guidance counselor called me too,” my father said. “He thinks Boston is too risky for you. What do you think?” “I am not going to Boston,” I said, forcing a smile. “I want to go to the university in Denver. My scores are high enough to get me into their honors program.” I walked into my room and shut the door, sinking to the floor as the tears finally came. The distance between our hometown and Boston was substantial, but Denver was in the opposite direction. It was far enough that I would never have to chase after her shadow again. When my acceptance letter finally arrived, my father’s hands were shaking as he held the envelope. “Amber, you actually got into Denver.” He reached for his phone to call our relatives, but I gently pressed his hand down. “Let us wait until after I leave for campus.” I spent the rest of the summer indoors. My father knew I was hurting, but he didn’t know how to comfort me, so he kept urging me to go outside and get some fresh air. I didn’t expect to run into Gemma and Asher at the airport terminal. They were dressed in matching cream-colored jackets, looking every bit like a couple. Gemma’s eyes brightened when she saw me, but her expression quickly turned frosty. “Still throwing a tantrum? Are you still ignoring my texts?” “Is this why you followed us here?” I stared at her, suddenly remembering the couples vacation package she had booked before our exams. She had promised we would go together once high school was over. The departure date was today. Asher bit his lip, taking a step back with a polite, fragile smile. “If Amber is going, I should probably stay behind.” Gemma grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “Don’t be ridiculous, Asher. You spent weeks planning for this trip. You are going.” I felt a bitter laugh bubble up in my throat. She cared so much about the effort Asher had put in, completely forgetting that the entire itinerary had been researched and written by me during those sleepless post-exam nights. “Don’t worry,” I said quietly. “I am not going.” Asher waited until Gemma went to print the tickets before leaning closer to me, his voice dripping with condescension. “You should know by now, Amber, some gaps can’t be bridged by hard work. Gemma needs someone who can stand beside her, not someone dragging her down. I asked her to be my girlfriend the night of graduation. Want to guess what her answer was?” I looked at him, my heart entirely numb. “If you want her, she is yours.” Asher’s smile faltered, his expression turning ugly at my indifference. Gemma returned, handing me a single ticket. “There was only a standing ticket left for the train connection. Asher has a bad back, so you will have to stand.” She checked her watch, pulling Asher toward the security gate. “We need to go. We will meet you at the resort!” Asher shot me a triumphant look as they walked away. I looked down at the ticket in my hand. Gemma hadn’t even noticed that the ticket she had printed was for a train departing three months from now. I crumpled the ticket, tossed it into the trash, and boarded my flight to Denver. A few weeks later, I returned home to gather the rest of my belongings before moving into my dorm. As I walked up to my building, Gemma blocked my path. Her face was pale with anger as she grabbed my wrist. “Where is Asher’s acceptance letter?” I winced at her grip. “What are you talking about?” “Stop lying, Amber!” she yelled. “His official letter from Harvard was delivered to my address by mistake, and the courier said someone from this building signed for it. You have been home all week! Who else could it be? If you are angry with me, take it out on me! Why do you have to ruin Asher’s future?” I stared at her, completely stunned. Asher stepped out from behind her, his eyes red and tearful. “If you are upset about how close Gemma and I are, I can apologize, Amber. I promise I won’t speak to her again. But please, give me my letter back. I worked so hard for that spot!” “I didn’t take your letter!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “I just got back from my trip today!” Gemma ignored my words, her eyes falling on the thick cardboard envelope I was holding. She lunged forward, snatching it from my hands. “Give that back, Gemma!” I cried, trying to reach for it. She held it high above her head, looking at my desperate face with utter coldness. “I am going to count to three.” “Give us Asher’s letter, or I will rip your precious Denver letter to pieces.” “I don’t have it!” I screamed, tears of frustration streaming down my face. “I just picked this up from the mailroom! You can check the cameras!” “One.” “Gemma, please…” “Two.” She didn’t hesitate. With a sharp rip, she tore my Denver acceptance letter right down the middle, scattering the pieces at my feet. I stared at the white fragments on the pavement, unable to make a sound. Before Gemma could speak, her family’s housekeeper came running down the driveway, holding a pristine white envelope. “Gemma! I found the letter! It was mixed in with the old newspapers on the kitchen counter. I forgot to mention it earlier!” Asher’s fake sobbing stopped instantly. Gemma froze, slowly turning her head to look at me, her lips trembling as she tried to find the words. I didn’t give her the chance. I knelt down, gathered the torn pieces of my letter, and walked inside, slamming the heavy front door behind me. The next morning, I found a first-class flight ticket to Boston slid under my door, accompanied by a small note: Let’s go together. I threw both into the trash, packed my bags, and left for Denver two days early. Two days later, Gemma and Asher knocked on my father’s door. She was holding a large suitcase, her voice carrying a rare, hopeful lightness. “Mr. Arthur, I am here to pick up Amber so we can head to Boston together.”

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1 Five years into my life in London, my fiancé changed his profile picture. It was a shot of a family of three. Anyone looking at it would think they were the picture of domestic bliss. Before I could even call to interrogate him, his message popped up. “My wife gets jealous easily. Deleted you.” I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat and typed back. “Who the hell is this? And since when did my boyfriend add you?” My fiancé sent back a string of question marks. Then came a barrage of identical texts. “Who the hell are you? Amy is my girlfriend!” At that exact moment, the financial news channel on my TV was broadcasting a segment about the new head of the Manhattan based Lancaster empire. Victor Lancaster. A reckless idea sparked in my mind. I typed out that unfamiliar name and hit send. Sometime later, at a high society gala in Manhattan. My former fiancé was screaming like a madman, demanding to know what gave the man sitting at the head table the right to steal his woman. “Girlfriend?” The man raised a dark brow, his gaze shifting to me standing right in the center of the spectacle. Just as my heart leaped into my throat, his lips curved into a faint, predatory smile. “Come on then. Why don’t you tell everyone exactly what is going on, Miss Sinclair?” It was snowing heavily in London. The usually bustling streets were practically deserted. A fire crackled in the hearth as I stood by the window wrapped in a thick cashmere shawl. My eyes were still swollen from crying. Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper who had looked after me my whole life, stood nearby with a face full of worry. She gently suggested that if I was still feeling down, she could accompany me for a walk. I shook my head, forcing a weak smile. I told her I was fine and that she should go get some rest. She knew my stubborn personality better than anyone, so she didn’t push it. Half an hour later, a private investigator back in the States sent me a fifty page dossier. It turned out that by my second year abroad, Tristan Kensington was already sleeping with the maid’s daughter, Daisy. The only reason he hadn’t gone public with her was that he couldn’t bear to let go of the Kensington family’s staggering wealth. Tristan was the illegitimate son of the Kensington dynasty, only brought back into the fold when he turned eighteen. He was incompetent. To ensure the family empire didn’t crumble under his lack of skill, Old Man Kensington offered up a massive dowry, practically begging my family to agree to a marriage alliance. At the time, my family’s corporate funding had hit a brick wall. My parents were pulling their hair out, begging for investors all over the city. I couldn’t stand seeing them suffer, so I agreed to the arrangement. The first time I met Tristan was at a high-end French restaurant. He brought me a bouquet of fresh roses and sat across from me, looking genuinely nervous. When the waiter brought out the steak, he naturally took my plate and cut the meat into perfect bite-sized pieces for me. He drove me home afterward, and we talked the entire way. I had grown up navigating the toxic vanity of high society and had seen every type of fake person imaginable. But Tristan felt different. He was tall, handsome, and impeccably polite. Even though he had clearly suffered through a rough life before being claimed by his rich father, his eyes still held a bright, genuine light. We started seeing each other regularly. Every time we met, he had some small, thoughtful surprise waiting for me. I fell for him. I couldn’t stop myself. When he finally confessed his feelings, I said yes. Every single day of our relationship felt like a dream. I had a terrible temper and was prone to throwing fits. Aside from my parents, he was the only person in the world who tolerated my tantrums unconditionally. Six months into our relationship, we got engaged. Right around then, my family’s business took another devastating hit. Left with no other options, my parents shifted their entire focus overseas to London, desperately trying to find a lifeline for the company. As their only daughter and the future heir to the Sinclair Group, I didn’t hesitate. I booked a flight to join them, refusing to stay behind in New York living off my trust fund while they fought in the trenches. It poured rain the day I left. Tristan came to the airport to see me off. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked completely heartbroken, promising he would wait for me forever and begging me not to forget him. During my time in London, I texted him every single day to share the little details of my life. At first, his replies were instant. Gradually, I found myself waiting two or three days, sometimes even a full week, just to get a single message back. Love doesn’t just fade out of nowhere. There is always a trail of breadcrumbs. Now that Old Man Kensington had passed away, Tristan didn’t have to pretend anymore. He didn’t have to answer to anyone. No wonder he couldn’t wait to change the matching profile pictures we had used for years the second his grandfather was buried. My parents flew back to New York a week ahead of me to attend the funeral. I stayed behind in London to wrap up the final business negotiations. After years of relentless grinding, the Sinclair Group had successfully clawed its way back from the brink of death. Business was booming, and we were preparing to move our global headquarters back to Manhattan very soon. I instructed my assistant to pack my schedule to the brim. Aside from eating and sleeping, I worked until my eyes bled. If I kept moving, I wouldn’t have time to spiral. I knew perfectly well that crying over a man, especially a cheating bastard, was the stupidest thing a woman could do. But humans are emotional creatures, and sometimes logic just takes a backseat. I allowed myself to have bad judgment. I allowed myself to make mistakes. I allowed myself to grieve a failed relationship. But I absolutely refused to let it destroy me. I had half a month left before my flight home. During that time, Tristan bombarded my phone every single day. His texts were unhinged. He accused me of betraying him and swore he was going to hunt down and slaughter my so-called “wild man.” It was hilariously ironic. His kid with Daisy was practically old enough to run around the house, yet he had the absolute audacity to demand I stay pure and loyal to him. I didn’t reply to a single text. The day of my flight back to New York finally arrived. Mrs. Hughes made me a steaming bowl of shrimp wonton soup first thing in the morning. Watching me finish every last drop, the deep frown she had worn for days finally dissolved into a warm smile. With a full stomach, a long-lost sense of genuine joy washed over me. I was finally saying goodbye to London and going back to the city where I grew up. But I never expected that my welcoming committee would include Tristan. My parents were stuck in terrible traffic on the way to JFK Airport. As I walked out of the arrivals gate, the first person I saw was my ex-fiancé. And he wasn’t alone. Daisy and the kid were right there with him. Tristan marched toward me, radiating pure fury. He grabbed my wrist in a vice grip, his teeth practically grinding together. He demanded to know where the bastard was and why he didn’t fly back with me. Terrified he was actually going to hurt me, Mrs. Hughes completely lost it. She started kicking and hitting him with her purse, not caring who he was. Tristan winced in pain, his brows knitting together, but he absolutely refused to let me go. “Are you deaf, Amy? Answer the damn question!” I just gave him a dead, silent smirk. I wasn’t going to give him a single word. My silence only made him more psychotic. His grip tightened painfully around my bones. He glared at me like he wanted to rip my throat out. He called me a shameless tramp, accusing me of going abroad just to sleep around behind his back. He screamed that I owed him an explanation. I had seen shameless people before, but this was a whole new level of garbage. He was the one playing house with another woman, yet here he was, trying to nail me to a cross and play the victim. My parents had warned me back then. They said Tristan lacked proper education and had spent his youth running with street trash. They told me that even if he acted like a polished gentleman, I shouldn’t trust him completely. I thought he was the exception. The truth was, he was just a phenomenal actor. In the middle of that suffocating standoff, Daisy walked over holding the little boy’s hand. She spoke in a sickeningly soft, fragile voice. She told me that even though she and Tristan were married and had a child, his heart had always belonged to me. She scolded me, saying what I did was unfair to him and that as a woman, I needed to have some self-respect. She looked like a stiff breeze could knock her over. She kept her volume low, acting as if she was terrified of me. To me, she sounded like a yapping stray dog. I didn’t even waste a second glance on her. I looked at him coldly, asking if he really wanted an explanation. Tristan puffed up his chest confidently. “Damn right I do! We haven’t officially broken off the engagement. Legally, you are still my fiancée. You parading around with some random guy is a direct slap to my face.” Talk about the audacity of men. My patience completely evaporated. I raised my free hand and slapped him across the face with everything I had. I hit him so hard my own palm went numb, the stinging shock traveling all the way up my arm. A bright red handprint blossomed instantly across Tristan’s cheek, swelling up within seconds. He clearly never expected me to get physical. He dropped my wrist, clutching his face in absolute shock. He stammered, asking if I really just hit him. I stared blankly at the man shrieking like a maniac in the middle of the terminal. I told him he deserved a lot worse. I admitted I was an idiot five years ago for buying his lies, but I made it crystal clear that as of today, we were completely done. A flash of genuine panic crossed Tristan’s eyes, but he quickly forced himself to calm down. “Amy, don’t say things you don’t mean out of anger.” He spun a pathetic web of excuses. He claimed he didn’t love Daisy. He said four years ago, someone slipped a drug into his drink, and Daisy sacrificed her own virtue to save his life. When she ended up pregnant, he had no choice but to take responsibility. As for the profile picture and the text messages? He swore it was just a punishment for losing a bet during a poker game. He told me to go ask his frat buddies if I didn’t believe him. He admitted he married Daisy, but swore it was only to protect Noah. He didn’t want the boy growing up being called a fatherless bastard, especially since he knew exactly how much that hurt from his own childhood. I couldn’t care less if a single word vomiting out of his mouth was true. It didn’t matter. Betrayal is betrayal. I wasn’t interested in his tragic backstory or his pathetic justifications. I looked at him with absolute ice in my veins. I asked him what exactly he expected. Did he seriously think I was going to pretend nothing happened and jump right back into his arms? Tristan’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. He immediately tried to grab my hands again. He praised me for always being so understanding, promising that he just couldn’t give me the official title right now. He swore that once Noah was a little older, he would divorce Daisy. His greedy calculations were practically smeared across his forehead. Right on cue, Daisy chimed in. She played the tragic martyr, saying she knew her place and would never cling to Tristan. She even offered to let me legally adopt Noah if I wanted. It sounded incredibly generous, but it was nothing but a calculated trap. My parents only had me. I was already holding a high-level executive position in our empire. If that kid became my legal son, he wouldn’t just skip the social ladder entirely. He would be handed the keys to the kingdom. I wasn’t falling for her manipulative guilt trips. But Tristan ate it right up. He held Daisy’s hand, looking at her like she was a wounded angel. He called her the most understanding woman he had ever met and promised Noah would always know her as his real mother. My stomach violently turned. The sheer disgust finally overwhelmed me, and I turned to the side and threw up. Mrs. Hughes went into a frenzy, rubbing my back and frantically searching for a bottle of water. Tristan, on the other hand, went completely dark. His face twisted into an ugly scowl as he harshly demanded to know if I was pregnant with the other man’s bastard. He reached out to grab me again. Just in the nick of time, my parents finally arrived. The second Tristan saw my father, his aggressive bravado vanished into thin air. He immediately put on a sickeningly polite smile, greeting them and acting like a devoted son-in-law. My parents didn’t give him the time of day. They treated him like toxic waste. Tristan stood there awkwardly, too terrified to even breathe loudly. The speed at which he changed his tune was giving me whiplash. If I didn’t already know that his current real estate project was tanking and heavily relied on Sinclair Group’s core tech to survive, I might have actually believed he respected my parents. My parents carefully helped me into the backseat of the Maybach. As the car pulled away, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Tristan had instinctively taken a few steps to chase after the car. Then, the quiet little boy started wailing. Tristan’s attention snapped right back to him. For some unknown reason, Daisy started sobbing too. Tristan was stuck on the sidewalk, frantically trying to comfort the crying kid and the weeping woman. Tsk. Look how busy he is. Inside the car, my mother couldn’t stop cursing his name. She called him absolute scum, regretting that she and my father ever agreed to the engagement. My father sat tall, his aura terrifyingly cold. He swore that since Tristan dared to humiliate his daughter, he was going to make the boy wish he was never born. I squeezed their hands, comforting them. I told them we dodged a massive bullet and cutting our losses now was a blessing. Once we got to our penthouse in Manhattan, I crashed into bed and slept for a full twenty-four hours. When I finally woke up, I could hear faint voices drifting from the living room. It was my parents talking to our family doctor. I rubbed my throbbing temples, sitting up slowly. It took me a minute to process their conversation. The doctor told them I was suffering from severe exhaustion and needed strict bed rest. My parents were anxiously asking him for a list of precautions. After a while, the living room fell silent. My bedroom door clicked open, and my mother walked in. Seeing me awake, she immediately plastered on a bright smile. She asked what I was craving for dinner, offering tomato beef stew or a nourishing pork rib soup. I didn’t have an ounce of appetite, but I couldn’t bear to make them worry. I thought about it and asked for the beef stew with a side of stir-fried greens. My mother gently stroked my hair. She casually mentioned that a Mr. Lancaster was hosting a massive gala at the Century Grand Hotel tonight, and our family had received a VIP invitation. She told me that since she and my father were preparing to step back from the spotlight, I needed to start showing my face at these elite gatherings. I nodded and agreed to go. My brain was still foggy from the long sleep. I completely forgot to ask who this mysterious “Mr. Lancaster” actually was. My mother smiled in relief, whispering that her little girl was finally growing up. The gala was set for eight o’clock. I had plenty of time. Time to eat, time to pick out an appropriately lavish gift for the host, and time to get my hair and makeup done perfectly. By seven, I was sitting in the back of the Maybach wearing a stunning, fiery red evening gown. Before leaving the house, I had stood in front of the full-length mirror for a very long time. I was twenty-eight. Young, beautiful, vibrant, and proud. This was the absolute prime of my life. In a daze, a memory surfaced. Ever since I started dating Tristan, I rarely wore bright colors. He didn’t like it when I looked too flashy or commanding. He preferred women who looked soft, subdued, and easily controlled. The car sped through the dazzling city lights. For the first time in a long time, my heart felt completely at peace. I arrived at the ballroom twenty minutes early. Several socialites and business tycoons who recognized me came over with champagne flutes to welcome me back to the city. I navigated the small talk flawlessly. The event officially kicked off, but I still hadn’t caught a glimpse of the elusive host. I did, however, run into three incredibly unwelcome guests. Tristan, Daisy, and that hostile little kid. Tristan ditched Daisy and the boy, storming over to me with a face like thunder. He sneered, saying he was surprised I had the nerve to show my face in public. Absolutely delusional. He was the one who should be hiding in a sewer. When I completely ignored him, Tristan started losing his temper. He raised his voice, mocking me, saying he couldn’t wait to see if my wild man had the guts to show up. He was raving like a lunatic. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck my sleep-deprived brain. It finally clicked. The host’s last name was Lancaster. My mother had respectfully called him “Mr. Lancaster.” There was only one man in the entire city of New York who commanded that level of absolute reverence from my mother. A cold sweat broke out on my palms. Just as I was turning to find a quiet exit, the massive double doors of the grand ballroom swung open. The man leading the entourage was incredibly tall. His features were striking and flawless, his aura radiating a terrifying, aristocratic chill. He owned the room just by stepping into it. It was too late to run. I tried to shrink into the shadows, backing into the most inconspicuous corner I could find. But in the very next second, Tristan, being the absolute idiot he was, charged straight at the billionaire. He pointed a finger, screaming like a madman. “Victor Lancaster, I don’t care how much money or power you have! Today I am exposing you for the scum you are! Everyone, look at this despicable bastard! He stole my girlfriend!” Instantly, every single pair of eyes in the ballroom snapped directly to me. And here I thought these billionaires didn’t care about tabloid gossip. Apparently, everyone in the room knew exactly who I used to be engaged to. Victor didn’t even blink. He completely ignored Tristan, walking past him to take his seat at the center table. “Girlfriend?” He raised a dark brow. His voice was like ice, reminding me of a biting winter storm. It was heavily commanding. Lethal. I ducked my head in absolute panic, wishing the marble floor would open up and swallow me whole. I had heard the rumors about this man. Ruthless. Bloodthirsty. A monster in a bespoke suit. The seconds dragged on like hours. My heart was practically beating out of my chest. The silence in the room was suffocating. I slowly peeked up, only to lock eyes with a pair of abyss-like, pitch-black irises. The man’s lips curved into a faint, dark smile. “Come on then. Why don’t you tell everyone exactly what is going on, Miss Sinclair?”

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The yacht was going down. A massive whirlpool spun in the dark ocean, and water was rapidly filling the cabins. My wife, Chloe, was already on the rescue boat with her childhood sweetheart, Julian. She tossed me a single lifebuoy. Looking back at me with impatience, she yelled, “Ethan, you’re a strong swimmer, but Julian has a phobia of water! If he doesn’t take the lifeboat, he’ll die!” With that, Chloe abandoned me. I could only watch as the rescue boat carrying them sped away into the night. But she forgot one thing. Ten years ago, the person who nearly drowned and developed a crippling fear of water to save her life… was me. As the freezing, pitch-black ocean swallowed me whole, I felt myself slipping into the deep. I died. When I regained consciousness, I was floating above the ocean as a ghost. Looking down at the calm, silent water, a deep, instinctual terror gripped my soul. The memories of my death came rushing back like a nightmare. The sinking yacht, the panicked screams, and the cold, disgusted look in my wife’s eyes. When the whirlpool first hit, the vessel shook violently. My first instinct had been to shield Chloe in my arms. The impact threw me against a heavy wooden table, bruising my spine. My vision blurred, and my chest throbbed with excruciating pain. But Chloe didn’t even spare me a glance. She pushed me away in a panic and stumbled through the chaos toward Julian. I watched her gently help Julian up, checking him for scratches with an tenderness she had never shown me. A dull, aching pain bloomed in my chest. Then, someone yelled, “The hull is breached! It’s sinking! Get to the lifeboats!” Terrified, Chloe grabbed Julian’s hand and ran. I stared at their retreating figures, a bitter taste in my mouth. It was always like this. Whenever Julian was around, Chloe became completely blind to my existence. Yet, I was her legal husband. As the water rose to my waist, I forced myself to stand, desperately fighting the pain in my back to escape. Luckily, a coast guard member spotted me and dragged me out to the deck. But before I could even feel relief, Chloe’s voice pierced through the wind, freezing me in place. “What do you mean there are only two spots left on this lifeboat?” The rescue officer nodded grimly. Chloe noticed me coming out. Her brows furrowed, torn between her choices. Julian, his face pale and weak, spoke up. “Chloe, you and Ethan should go. He’s your husband. I… I’ll be fine.” Chloe’s expression changed instantly. “No way! You saved my life once, Julian. I will never abandon you!” She turned to me, biting her lip, and said decisively, “Ethan, you know how to swim. I’ll leave the lifebuoy for you.” With that, she turned around and helped Julian onto the rescue boat. I stared at her, unable to believe my ears. Swallowing the immense grief rising in my throat, I begged, “Chloe, please. Don’t leave me here. You know I—” Chloe looked back, cutting me off with pure irritation. “If you don’t stay, who will? You saw it yourself—there are only two seats left. Do you expect me to stay behind?” “No, that’s not what I mean…” “Then what is your problem? You’re a great swimmer. You have the lifebuoy. You’ll be perfectly fine!” Her eyes flashed with annoyance, as if I were a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. “But Julian is different. He has a severe phobia of water. If he doesn’t get on this boat, he will die!” Her tone grew harsher. “I tolerate your petty jealousy on normal days, Ethan, but this is a matter of life and death! Can you stop being so incredibly selfish?” I froze, feeling as though she had plunged a dagger straight into my heart. But if I stayed here, I would die too. Yes, I used to swim. But she forgot that ten years ago, after I nearly lost my life saving her from drowning, I became terrified of the water. I hadn’t stepped into a pool since, let alone the ocean. It was me who had the phobia, not Julian. Julian smirked triumphantly behind her back, though his voice remained meek. “I’m terrified of the water, and Chloe knows that. I’m sorry to trouble you, Ethan. Don’t worry, Chloe and I are just friends now. We will send help for you as soon as we land.” “Why are you even explaining things to him, Julian? Ignore him. A toxic mind only sees toxicity,” Chloe snapped. And just like that, I was left behind, watching them disappear into the fog. Seconds later, the yacht went under. Cold, salty water rushed into my nose and throat. Recalling my final moments, a sharp pain radiated through my spectral body. So, even souls can feel heartbreak.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit me, and my spirit was pulled violently through the air. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in our house. Staring at the familiar living room, my eyes stung, but as a ghost, I had no tears to shed. I heard a noise coming from the master bedroom. Joy sparked in my chest—Chloe was home! She was a notorious workaholic, always staying late at the office or traveling for business. She was rarely home during the day, and even when I was bedridden with fever, she wouldn’t come back. I didn’t know how long I had been dead, and I thought I’d never see her again. I rushed toward the bedroom, instinctively reaching for the doorknob, but my hand passed straight through it. Right. I was dead. I floated through the door, but the sight inside froze me in my tracks. The warmth in my chest vanished, replaced by an icy chill. Why was Julian in our house? Why was he lying in our bed? Rage consumed me. I lunged forward, trying to drag him off the mattress. “Get out! Get the hell out of my house!” But my hands sliced through his body, and I fell helplessly to the floor. I had to watch as Julian leaned weakly against the headboard while Chloe blew on a spoon of hot soup, carefully feeding him. “My old symptoms are acting up again. I hate making you come home to cook for me every day, Chloe. You’re working so hard,” Julian murmured. Chloe smiled gently, shaking her head. “You don’t have any family in this city, Julian. It’s only right that I take care of you. Don’t thank me.” I sat on the floor, completely numb. But I was alone here too. When we got married, Chloe’s old-money family disapproved of me, so I packed my bags and moved across the country to her city, starting from scratch to build a life for us. I worked myself to the bone just to give her the lifestyle she deserved. Yet, every time I fell ill, Chloe would only complain about how inconvenient it was. If she was in a good mood, she’d toss a bottle of pills at me. If she was annoyed, she wouldn’t even ask. Watching her tend to Julian with such devotion, my heart suffered a slow, dull ache. So, she did know how to care for someone. She just never wanted to care for me. After finishing the soup, Julian asked with feigned concern, “It’s been a week now. Still no word from Ethan?” Chloe’s face darkened, and she slammed the bowl onto the nightstand. “Don’t bring him up. Just thinking about him ruins my day. He’s a grown man, yet he’s so incredibly petty! He’s probably hiding somewhere, refusing to call just to make me feel guilty.” “Could something have happened to him? The ocean can be so unpredictable,” Julian said, his eyes gleaming with hidden satisfaction. “What could happen to him? He’s a strong swimmer, he had a lifebuoy, and we already reported his location to the rescue teams. He’s fine,” Chloe replied, though she sounded slightly agitated. Chloe wasn’t done venting. “Ethan is getting completely out of hand! Whether he’s alive or not, he should have at least sent a message. He’s definitely throwing a tantrum because I left him behind. I don’t get it. How can a grown man be this spiteful?” I let out a hollow laugh. I was dead. How was I supposed to text her? Through a Ouija board? “If Ethan were even half as considerate as you, Julian, my life wouldn’t be this exhausting,” she sighed. There it was again. In her eyes, Julian was a saint, and everything I did was a crime. Because of her job, Chloe spent long hours in front of a computer, which gave her chronic back and eye strain. Worried about her health, I bought her the best massage chairs and wellness supplements, constantly reminding her to use them. My reward? Angry outbursts. *”Can you stop nagging me, Ethan? Don’t you have your own life? Stop suffocating me, I’m not your prisoner!”* Yet, Julian only had to offer a few cheap, empty words of comfort, and she would beam with joy. “Don’t say that, Chloe. He only acts that way because he loves you so much. Since his whereabouts are still unknown, maybe you should call the search and rescue team again?” Julian suggested. “There’s no point,” Chloe dismissed coldly. “If he’s dead, it’s his own damn fault.”

Listening to Chloe’s heartless words, I realized something shocking—my heart didn’t hurt as much anymore. After all, what could I expect from a woman who didn’t care about her missing husband, yet treated her ex-boyfriend’s mild cold like a medical emergency? My only regret was realizing her true nature so late. I didn’t want to watch them play house anymore, but the moment I saw Chloe, I felt an invisible chain binding me to her. I couldn’t move more than a few yards away from her. I felt like an absolute clown. I was miserable while alive, and now I was forced to watch my wife and her lover as a ghost. Frustrated, I turned my gaze to the empty wall in the hallway. Our wedding photo used to hang there. A bitter feeling washed over me. After all these years together, did Chloe really have no feelings for me at all? Suddenly, a phone vibrated. Julian had fallen asleep. Chloe quietly stepped out of the bedroom, eagerly grabbing her phone. But when she saw the caller ID, her excited expression instantly collapsed. It was Marcus, my one and only best friend in this city. “What do you want?” Chloe’s tone was incredibly sharp. Marcus’s voice came through, cold and dark. “Chloe. Where the hell are you?” Chloe rolled her eyes. “None of your business. State your purpose, I’m busy.” A heavy silence fell over the line before Marcus exploded. “Busy with what?! Busy playing nurse to that pathetic loser, Julian?! Do you have any idea what happened to Ethan—” “Don’t shout at me, Marcus!” Chloe barked back. “Watch your mouth, or go to hell!” Marcus took a deep, shaky breath. “Let me ask you something. Have you even checked the rescue updates for Ethan recently?” “No. He’s a grown man. Can’t he find his own way home? He survived the crash and didn’t even bother to text me. His ego is getting way too big,” Chloe scoffed. “He can’t text you, Chloe! He will never text you again! Because he is dead! Ethan is dead! You are his wife, how can you be this fucking heartless?!” Marcus roared into the phone. Chloe let out a condescending laugh. “Oh, please. Does Ethan know his best friend is making up fake deaths for him now?” Marcus gasped, utterly bewildered. “You don’t believe me?” “Why should I? Use your brain, Marcus. Ethan can swim, and he had a lifebuoy. Staying afloat until help arrived would be a piece of cake for him. Besides, he’s too stubborn to die.” Marcus was practically hyperventilating with rage. “He *used* to swim, Chloe! That was ten years ago! Ever since he almost drowned saving your worthless life, he developed a severe phobia of water! He hasn’t touched water since!” “Chloe, you are a monster. Ethan was your husband. He loved you more than life itself, and you left him to die alone in the dark!” Chloe froze. “What rubbish are you talking about? Julian was the one who saved me back then.” “Bullshit! Julian didn’t show up at the hospital until hours later! If you had waited for him to save you, you’d be a skeleton by now! Think back to that day, Chloe! Who actually dragged you out of the water?!” “That’s impossible… I clearly remember…” Chloe’s voice trailed off. The annoyance on her face cracked, revealing a sliver of panic. Marcus let out a humorless laugh. “What’s the matter, princess? Memory coming back?” Ignoring his mockery, a sudden dread crept into Chloe’s eyes. Her voice trembled. “You… what did you say happened to Ethan just now?” “He’s dead, Chloe! He’s dead!”

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My twin brother and I look exactly alike, but our parents have only ever loved him. Even after I got early admission to Harvard with a full ride, my mother got down on her knees and begged me to take the SATs for my brother, Dylan, who was failing all his classes. I told them it was a federal crime, but my father kicked me so hard he broke my ribs, watching me gasp for air on the floor. “If you won’t take the test for him, you might as well die.” In sheer despair, I agreed. But once I got into the exam room, I wrote “DUMBASS” in giant letters on every single page of the test. I completely destroyed Dylan’s dream of getting into an Ivy League school. In fact, he wouldn’t even be allowed to retake the test… “You selfish brat! You got your golden ticket to Harvard, but you’re going to let Dylan’s future rot? You know his grades are terrible! What kind of brother are you?” My mother’s face was twisted in rage as she screamed at me, as if I had committed some unspeakable crime. But all I did was refuse to commit exam fraud by taking the SATs under Dylan’s name. It was illegal. If we got caught, my Harvard admission would be revoked, and I could even face prison time. But my mother wouldn’t listen to a word. After she finished screaming, she dropped to her knees with a heavy thud. She sobbed, begging, “Ethan, please. I’m begging you. Just take the test for him! Have you forgotten what you did to him? You pushed him down the stairs when you were kids! If you hadn’t pushed him, he’d be a hundred times smarter than you. He wouldn’t be struggling to get into college! You ruined his life, and now you won’t even help him with this? How can you be so heartless?” I hadn’t forgotten. How could I ever forget? When we were kids, Dylan wanted the last piece of cake in my hand. He tripped and fell down the stairs trying to snatch it. But when he woke up, he told our parents that I pushed him. From that day on, I was branded as the evil twin. No matter how much I explained, they never believed me. Dylan got double the cake, double the toys, and all the love because of his “injury.” In the years that followed, he framed me over and over again. My life became a living hell, and my parents treated me like I was invisible. Even now, my mother’s heart only beat for Dylan. She wanted me to take all the risks, face prison, and throw my life away just for him! But I was her son, too! Richard, my father, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke. “I’m not asking for a perfect score. Just get a decent score so Dylan can get into Columbia or NYU. You are twins. I raised you to support each other. Are you really going to be this selfish when your brother needs you?” Because of my refusal, my father’s face was dark. He looked like a wild animal ready to tear me apart if I said no again. His cold glare made me shiver, and my heart bled. Before I could speak, Dylan, who had been staring at his phone like a ghost, finally looked up. He smirked at me with pure disdain. “Look at this coward, scared of his own shadow. Just shut up and go, Ethan. We have the exact same face. No one at the testing center will ever know.” My mother quickly chimed in, “Exactly! You two look identical. Even we can barely tell you apart sometimes, let alone a bunch of exam proctors.” I felt a wave of absolute despair. How could they say they couldn’t tell us apart? We looked the same, yes, but since we were kids, they always managed to identify Dylan perfectly whenever there was a toy to buy or delicious food to give. All their love went to him. And now, they wanted me to ruin my life for him. What about me? What would happen to me if we got caught? In their eyes, was Dylan’s life meant to be bright and glorious, while mine was meant to rot in the mud? I wanted to fight back. I wanted to run away. But looking at the deep wrinkles on my parents’ faces, I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and forced myself to speak. “Exam fraud is a federal crime. If they find out, I will go to prison. How about this? Starting today, I will tutor Dylan every single day. We still have time before the test—” Before I could finish, Dylan’s fist slammed into my face. The rest of my words were cut short, drowned in the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth. Dylan glared at me, his eyes filled with fury. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Trying to rub your high grades in my face? If I could study, would I need you to take the damn test for me? I’m letting you do this because I’m throwing you a bone. Don’t be ungrateful!” With that, Dylan threw me to the floor and turned to scream at our parents. “Look at the perfect son you raised! So selfish! He gets to go to Harvard while I don’t even get into college! I already made a bet with the guys. If I don’t get into a top school, they’re going to break my hands! You’re trying to ruin me! I’ll just go die! Is that what you want? Are you happy now?!”

Dylan kicked the coffee table over with a loud crash. The boiling hot soup on the table splashed all over me, burning my skin. My vision went blurry from the sharp pain. My mother, who had been kneeling on the floor just a moment ago, scrambled up to grab Dylan’s hands, crying tears of pity. “My poor baby! Your hands are so beautiful. What would you do without them?” Then she whipped her head around to glare at me, her eyes filled with pure malice. “Look at what you’ve done to your brother! How did I ever give birth to a monster like you?” She acted as if I was the one who made the bet, as if I was the one threatening to chop Dylan’s hands off. Faced with Dylan, she was a loving mother. Faced with me, she was a vengeful enemy. It was as if I wasn’t her son, but her mortal foe. My father finally threw off his fake mask of civility. He walked over and slapped me hard across the face. “I told you this ungrateful little shit wouldn’t help. You wanted to negotiate with him, Eleanor? I say we just beat him until he learns to obey.” The slap made my ears ring loudly. I couldn’t hear anything for a long time. When the ringing finally faded, I heard my father’s voice. “If you don’t agree to take the test for Dylan today, I will beat you to death, you ungrateful bastard.” My father raised his hand to strike me again, but my mother stopped him. For a split second, a tiny spark of warmth rose in my battered heart. But then, my mother said, “Don’t hit his face, Richard. We never hit Dylan’s face. People at the testing center will get suspicious.” Ah. They were just worried about getting caught. Of course. Since we were kids, whenever I was beaten until I bled, Dylan was coddled like a fragile glass doll. If he even scraped his knee, they would rush him to the ER. “Are you going to do it or not, you piece of shit?” Dylan snapped, losing his patience. Looking at my “family” standing over me like a pack of wolves, I suddenly let out a bitter laugh. So this was the family I had been craving love from. Seeing me laugh, my father lost his temper completely. He lunged forward and kicked me squarely in the chest. A sharp, sickening crack echoed in my ears. A wave of agonizing pain exploded from my chest, radiating to every nerve in my body. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision, and I coughed up a mouthful of blood as I collapsed onto the floor. Looking up at them standing over me like demons, feeling the cold touch of impending death, I finally gave in. I didn’t want to die… So, I had to agree. Once I agreed to take the SATs, Dylan suggested that I should start “living his life” to get used to the identity. As soon as my broken ribs healed enough for me to move, I was forced to go to Dylan’s school pretending to be him. The moment I walked through the school gates, a guy with a messy, loose outfit slung his arm over my shoulder. “Yo, Dylan! You’re finally back.” I glanced at him but didn’t say a word. He kept talking, “You promised to buy the boys drinks to celebrate your upcoming graduation and your new sports car. You’ve been MIA for days, man. We’ve been waiting!” I didn’t want to talk to these people, but his words caught my attention. “What new sports car?” “Come on, Dylan! You said your parents promised you a new Mustang once you graduate high school. Don’t tell me you’re backing out now!” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a sleazy whisper. “Besides, didn’t your mom sign that exclusive contract for your brother with that tech firm? Your family must be loaded right now! How about lending some cash to your boy?” A tech firm contract… An alarm went off in my head. I suddenly remembered a shady, third-rate tech startup that had offered me a “technical advisor” position a few weeks ago. I had researched them. The company was notorious in the industry for wage theft, extreme exploitation, and senior executives who sexually harassed interns. The contract was a predatory 20-year binding agreement. They only recruited top-tier students from elite schools to use them as cheap labor and positive PR before tossing them aside. Signing it meant throwing away your entire life. I had rejected them outright. I never imagined my mother would forge my signature and sign it behind my back. She was selling my future! A suffocating weight pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. The guy beside me kept rambling, “Man, your mom is awesome! Selling your brother’s future just to buy you a sports car!” Yes. My parents were so good to Dylan. They forced me to commit a federal crime for him, signed away my life to a toxic company, and used the signing bonus to buy him a luxury car. What about me? My parents had never given me a single penny of allowance. I was so poor I couldn’t even afford lunch at school. When I got sick, I had to endure it alone. I almost died of a high fever in my dorm room once. But whenever I asked them for money, they would scream at me, calling me a financial burden, telling me to drop out of school and work in a factory. We were born from the same parents, so why was there such a brutal difference? What did I do wrong? Looking at my stolen future, a wave of helplessness washed over me. I couldn’t even take another step. I just wanted to collapse on the pavement and scream.

It didn’t take long for me to realize that Dylan was incredibly popular at school. He spent money like water, constantly buying drinks and fast food for his classmates and teachers, so everyone loved him. Meanwhile, because I always wore old, ragged clothes and couldn’t afford to pay for class activities, I was constantly bullied and isolated. Only my desk mate, Daisy, was kind to me. She never looked down on me. My chest still throbbed with pain, making it hard to speak, but I forced myself to stay at school until the final bell. I knew if I went home early, my parents would only find something else to scream at me for. Back when I was studying for my own exams, they never cared. But now that I was taking the test for Dylan, they watched me like hawks, terrified I would ruin his chance. Even when I was recovering from my broken ribs, they piled SAT prep books on my bed, forcing me to study. When I finally walked through the front door, they were already eating dinner. Sitting at my spot was a paper plate and a plastic fork, with a pile of cold, leftover rice. I couldn’t remember when it started, but I was always forced to use paper plates and plastic forks, treated worse than a stray dog. Meanwhile, Dylan always ate from the finest china, and when he was angry, he would throw those heavy plates right at my head. And today was no exception. The moment I walked in, Dylan muttered, “Ugh, my appetite is ruined,” and slammed his plate onto the table. The beautiful ceramic plate shattered into pieces. My mother gasped. “Oh, my sweet boy!” Then she turned to me, screaming, “Grab your garbage plate and get upstairs! Stop ruining our dinner!” Then she turned back to Dylan, her voice dripping with honey. “Dylan, honey, you need your nutrition. Have some more lobster.” Looking at this family that I would never be a part of, the urge to run away flared up again. I sighed inwardly, picked up my paper plate, and turned to head upstairs. Suddenly, Dylan’s tone changed. He let out a nasty, mocking laugh. “Hey, come here. I want to show you something.” He pulled out his phone and played a video. Seeing the intimate, blurred figures on the screen, my heart stopped. A cold, suffocating terror gripped my throat. Dylan chuckled, “That little fat girl is actually pretty fun in bed, though she kept crying and calling out your name. Annoying as hell.” He burst into a loud, mocking laugh. “By the way, dear brother, that stupid girl is Daisy, right? She actually thought I was you. She kept crying, ‘Ethan, please stop…’ It was fucking hilarious!” Daisy… The only person in the world who was kind to me, the only person who gave me warmth! And she was defiled by this monster, Dylan! If she found out it wasn’t me, if she knew there was a video… she would be completely destroyed! How was I supposed to face her now? My blood ran cold, and my heart felt like it was about to explode. Looking at the face that looked exactly like mine, I threw a heavy punch right into his laughing mouth. In that moment, I genuinely wanted to kill him. I agreed to take his test. I gave him my future. I gave him everything. But why did he have to touch Daisy?! He took my parents’ love, he took my toys, he took my entire life, and now he had destroyed the only beautiful thing I had left. I went feral, pinning Dylan to the floor and slamming my fists into his face. But watching his bloody, crying face didn’t bring me any peace. I only felt a deep, agonizing ache in my chest, and tears finally spilled over. The chaos ended when my mother slammed a heavy wooden rolling pin against the back of my head, knocking me out cold. In the days that followed, they locked me in my room, forcing me to study until the day of the SATs. During those dark days, something inside me broke, and then rebuilt itself into something cold and sharp. Originally, I just wanted to get it over with, let Dylan have his Ivy League spot, and leave this family forever. But now, I wanted to destroy him. I wanted him to regret ever touching Daisy. I wanted to burn his entire world to the ground. If he wouldn’t let me live, I wouldn’t let him win. On the day of the exam, my parents escorted me to the testing center like prison guards. Before I got out of the car, they warned me, “You better get a score high enough for Columbia, or we’ll skin you alive.” I nodded obediently. But once I sat down in the quiet exam room, surrounded by nervous, hopeful students, I calmly wrote Dylan’s name on the bubble sheet. Then, on the essay section and every single page of the test booklet, I wrote “DUMBASS” and “LOSER” in giant, bold letters. I wrote down every disgusting, vile insult my parents and Dylan had ever thrown at me. You want to go to Columbia? Go work at a drive-thru, you piece of trash. I let out a quiet smirk, unable to wait to see the look on their faces when the results came out.

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My younger brother, Daniel, was in a horrific car accident and needed emergency surgery. Since I was stuck abroad on a business trip, I had to beg my wife to go to the hospital and sign the consent forms. She promised she would. But the moment she hung up, she booked a flight out of the country with her newly purchased humanoid robot to go on a vacation. When the hospital desperately tried to find someone to sign for the surgery, they couldn’t reach her. By the time I rushed back, all that was waiting for me was Daniel’s cold corpse. A few days later, my wife—who barely ever posted anything—updated her Snapchat Story. “A brand-new life experience. Honestly, nothing beats a robot.” Attached was a picture of her and the robot in a hotel room, both of them disheveled and barely dressed. With a numb face, I tapped the screen and left a like on her story. Then, I decided to press the activation button for the robot’s self-destruct system. “Let’s get a divorce, Chloe.” The moment I learned of Daniel’s death, I wiped the tears from my face and sent this text directly to my wife. Five years. I never expected our marriage to end like this. After all, I used to love her to the point of losing all my dignity. I chased her for three long years before she finally agreed to be with me. When we finally walked down the aisle, I couldn’t even bring myself to say a harsh word to her. Even though I knew deep down she didn’t love me that much, I accepted it. As long as I could keep looking at her, it was enough. Everyone around us could see I was the pathetic doormat in this relationship, but I was happy to be one. But Daniel’s death was something I could never forgive. Our parents died when we were young. Daniel and I raised each other. Just when I finally started making good money and things were looking up, he got into that car crash. It happened so fast, catching me completely off guard. I didn’t give up on him. I kept hoping he would wake up and call me his big bro again. And Chloe Vance completely shattered that dream. A week later, I had already finished Daniel’s funeral services. During this entire time, that divorce text was like a stone dropped into the ocean—no reply at all. But the second I liked her Snapchat Story, her call instantly came through. “What is your problem, Ethan? Did you like my story just to disgust me, or are you trying to mark your territory? Leo is just a robot! Are you seriously jealous of an AI?!” “Besides, I’m not a doctor. How was I supposed to save Daniel anyway? It’s your own fault for being useless. You ruined my vacation experience. You are so incredibly annoying.” Her dismissive, casual tone made my heart, which had already gone numb with pain, ache violently all over again. The moment I landed from my business trip, I had rushed to the hospital, only to be met with my brother’s death certificate. Only later did I find out that Chloe had actually flown first-class to Europe with that robot. The hospital had called her dozens of times to get her signature for the emergency surgery, but her phone was turned off the entire time. The blood in my veins felt like it was boiling. I bit my lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. “Do you even have a conscience, Chloe? You promised me you would take care of Daniel! Instead, you turned around and went on a trip with that machine! Is he even human? Does he understand human feelings?!” Before I could finish, Chloe cut me off sharply. “Leo is different! He understands my heart! He’s not like those other cold blocks of metal! So what if I want to make him more perfect?” “When I said I wanted to order him, you agreed to it! You said it would be nice to have someone keep me company so I wouldn’t be lonely. Why are you standing on a moral high ground accusing me now? Don’t you think you’re being ridiculous?” “Whatever. Leo is waiting for me. Don’t call me unless it’s important. Maybe you should think about what you did wrong to force me to rely on a robot in the first place. Got it?” Her self-righteous tone made my blood run hot, followed by a deep, hollow chill. It was the middle of summer. Sweat was dripping down my forehead, but my body wouldn’t stop shivering. I actually thought Chloe loved me. I thought she cared when she promised to visit Daniel. But even now, as I brought Daniel’s ashes back to our empty apartment, she hadn’t asked about him even once. Right. She was probably drowning in the manufactured tenderness of her robot. Watching the guests leave the funeral, I finally understood. My heart was completely dead. You can’t force love. If it’s rotten, you might as well throw it in the trash.

I returned to our quiet house. It was empty and covered in a thick layer of dust. Taking a deep breath, I cleared a spot on the couch, sat down, and started drafting the divorce papers and the division of assets. She was a spoiled rich girl; she probably wouldn’t care about my modest savings anyway. But I wasn’t going to leave her a single penny. After consulting with a lawyer, I suddenly remembered something. I dug out the manual for the robot we had ordered and began studying its specifications. With the rapid advancement of AI, humanoid robots had become the latest trend. When Chloe eagerly ordered one, I hadn’t objected. I thought it would keep her company when I was busy with work. Who knew things would turn out like this? Right then, Chloe’s call came in again. “Have you reflected on your behavior yet? It’s been days. You should have figured out what you did wrong by now.” I stared at the text on the manual for a long time, and a cold, self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. Oh, I figured it out, alright. If you love the wrong person, you have to take your heart back. “What did I do wrong? Why don’t you tell me?” My cold, indifferent tone caught her off guard. There was a long pause on the other end. “How dare you speak to me like that?! Ethan Miller, don’t think you can throw a tantrum at me just because your brother died!” No wonder she was shocked. For the past five years, I had always spoken to her in a gentle, pleading voice. I had never shown an ounce of attitude. I didn’t have the right to. Whenever we had a disagreement, I would swallow my pride. If she was even slightly unhappy, she would yell at me. And even when I did nothing wrong, I would beg for her forgiveness like a dog. I really was a pathetic, text-book simp. But starting today, I was done being a doormat. Seeing that I was silent, Chloe got bolder over the phone. “I seriously don’t get why you’re giving me attitude. If you hadn’t been so busy with work, would I have turned to Leo? Honestly, this is all your fault!” “Ever since he arrived, have you shown him any kindness? He’s so fragile and innocent. He needs our love and care. He and I just… did a few things. Why is that such a big deal?!” Even through the phone, I could picture her throwing her head back in that arrogant, snobbish way of hers. A dull, crushing pain squeezed my chest, making it hard to breathe. Thinking of Daniel’s lonely death, I clutched my chest, unable to speak. Five years of marriage, and she had never once stood by my side. She used my love as a weapon to walk all over me. I used to be blinded by love, even enjoying the pain. But Daniel’s death tore away the last veil of my self-delusion. How ironic. I cleared my throat and said flatly, “Are you done?” Chloe choked on her words, her voice softening slightly. “Fine, whatever. I’m coming home in a few days. My mom wants us over for dinner. You’re coming, right?” She was offering an olive branch. She wanted things to go back to how they were—with me being obedient and never complaining. But I would never let that happen again. There were too many things to settle. We might as well lay it all out. With that in mind, I didn’t say much and simply replied, “Sure.” Chloe let out a tense, slightly guilty laugh. “Should I pick you up?” “Sure,” I said. Her usual arrogance was gone, replaced by a sudden, anxious need to please. How amusing. Don’t worry, Chloe. This is only the beginning.

A few days later, in the evening, I stood by the driveway waiting for Chloe. It was pitch black by the time her car finally pulled up. “Sorry I’m late. Leo wasn’t feeling well, so I had to run some diagnostics on him first.” Chloe looked apologetic. Following her gaze, I saw Leo sitting in the passenger seat. “Hello, Ethan. Long time no see.” I had to admit, the technology behind these humanoid robots was terrifyingly advanced. If you didn’t know, you’d never guess he was a machine. His looks, movements, and even his facial expressions were identical to a human’s. “Chloe said the passenger seat has a better view, which helps me learn about the human world. So she let me sit here. You don’t mind, do you?” His deep, smooth voice made my hands freeze. Was this robot seriously trying to gaslight me like a cheap green tea b*tch? Chloe didn’t hesitate to chime in. “Why would he mind? It’s just a seat. It’s no big deal.” I silently got into the back seat without saying a word, my mind drifting back in time. It seemed that ever since we got married, anything concerning me was always “no big deal” to her. Two weeks ago was our fifth anniversary. I had left work early and prepared a candlelit dinner to celebrate. But I waited until midnight, only to see her walking in, arm-in-arm with Leo. “I took Leo out to the amusement park. I totally forgot today was our anniversary. Oh come on, it’s a small thing. We can just celebrate it next time.” Even now, I could clearly remember Chloe’s careless shrug, and the smug, subtle smirk on Leo’s face. Seeing that I was quiet, Chloe kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror. I stared back, expressionless. “Something on my face?” She seemed hurt by my coldness and smiled awkwardly. “No, you just don’t look very happy.” That was a first. Chloe had never cared about my feelings before. She usually wished I didn’t exist. “My brother just died. It’d be weird if I were happy.” My words instantly made her stiffen, and her face turned pale. Leo turned around from the passenger seat, his lips curling into a perfectly simulated, innocent smile. “Daniel’s injuries were too severe, Ethan. Even with the surgery, his survival rate was less than five percent. According to my database, his death was inevitable. I believe you should have prepared yourself for this grief earlier.” A surge of hot anger rushed to my brain. Before I knew it, I threw a heavy punch straight at his face. “Ethan!” Chloe screamed as she slammed on the brakes. Leo’s smile didn’t even flinch. Instead, my hand felt like it had struck a block of solid steel. My knuckles immediately swelled up and began to bleed. “I apologize, Ethan. It is my fault.” The sincerity in Leo’s eyes looked incredibly real, and the anger I had bottled up for days finally erupted. I let out a harsh laugh. “You’re a piece of scrap metal. Don’t talk to me about human feelings.” Leo’s artificial smile slowly froze, his eyes darkening. Wow. This robot’s programming was truly impressive. “Ethan, can’t you be nice to Leo?!” Chloe snapped, immediately jumping to his defense and glaring at me. “He is a member of our family! Don’t go too far!” I looked at their shoulders touching. They looked like a beautiful, loving couple. And I was just the unwanted third wheel. Even though I had resolved to let go, seeing this still made my heart sting. Pulling myself together, I cast a cold glance at her. “Not for long.”

“What does that mean?!” Chloe wanted to press further, but the cars behind us started honking loudly, forcing her to hit the gas. Soon, we arrived at the Vance estate. Her parents were already waiting at the front door. “Chloe, sweetheart! And Leo, you’re here!” Chloe’s mother, Eleanor, took Chloe’s bag and greeted Leo with a massive grin. The three of them chatted happily as they walked into the house, leaving me standing alone by the car. They weren’t welcoming me. I had known this for a long time, but being there forced me to face the harsh reality all over again. Chloe’s parents had never liked me. Since the day we married, they had never given me a warm look. No matter how much I tried to please them in the past, it was never enough. Once, when I couldn’t take it anymore, I complained to Chloe. But she just brushed it off. “You’re lucky to have married a girl like me. It’s normal for them to be a little cold. Just deal with it. You’re living with me, not them.” So, I dealt with it. I even felt grateful for her words back then. How pathetic. I thought I was the luckiest man alive. But Leo’s arrival changed everything. “Leo, dear, just sit down. You don’t need to help!” In the kitchen, Eleanor stopped Leo from picking up the dishes, her face practically glowing with affection. “You sweet boy, you’re so thoughtful. You always try to help every time you come over. Unlike some people.” She shot a nasty glare in my direction. “Some people just sit there like statues, doing absolutely nothing.” If this were the past, I would have panicked, rushed into the kitchen to apologize, and started scrubbing dishes with a flushed face. But today, I sat back, crossed my legs, and smiled. “You’re right, Eleanor. I wasn’t born to be a servant. I don’t do manual labor.” Eleanor froze, clearly shocked. She didn’t expect the usually obedient Ethan to suddenly bite back. She opened her mouth to snap at me, but Chloe shot her a warning look, so she stayed quiet. At the dinner table, Eleanor kept putting food on Leo’s plate. Even though Leo couldn’t eat, he politely declined with a charming smile. “Thank you, Eleanor. Your cooking looks lovely. However, my digestive system cannot process organic food yet, so I must politely decline.” Eleanor waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, it’s fine, dear! Just hearing you say that makes me happy. Some people just stuff their faces without saying a single nice word.” She was targeting me again. I put down my silver fork and laughed coldly. “I’d love to compliment the food, Eleanor, but considering you know I have a life-threatening seafood allergy, and literally every single dish on this table is seafood, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say.” Eleanor gasped. She looked at my empty plate and felt a brief flash of embarrassment, which she quickly masked with annoyance. “You know Chloe loves seafood. Can’t you just tolerate it for once? Or take an EpiPen?” Tolerate. Always asking me to tolerate. I used to do it because I was a simp. But Daniel’s death taught me that staying silent gets you killed. “Forget it. If any of you actually cared, you wouldn’t serve me a plate of dry, stale bread every single time I come here. Do you think I like eating cardboard? No, I just don’t have a choice.” Eleanor’s face flushed red with anger. She pointed a trembling finger at me, speechless. “Ethan, you are being completely out of line!” Chloe slammed her fork down and screamed. “How dare you speak to my mother like that!” I looked at her calmly. “She’s your mother, Chloe. Not mine.” Chloe stared at me in disbelief. “What is that supposed to mean?” My eyes grew cold and distant. “It means I’m done being the idiot husband of a woman who uses an AI robot to satisfy her sexual needs.” “And besides,” I turned to look at Leo, whose face had gone completely dark, “this robot was custom-made to look exactly like your dead high school sweetheart, wasn’t it?”

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Every time I argued with my boyfriend, Ethan, he would call off our wedding. We had been together for three years, and he had postponed our big day ninety-nine times. On the hundredth time, during a severe storm, his ex-girlfriend’s power went out. He literally kicked me out of the car in the pouring rain just so he could rush over and spend the entire night with her. When he came home the next morning, he handed me a box of cake. I didn’t take it. He sighed, his voice laced with impatience. “Stop acting crazy, Chloe. Nothing happened between us. I just stayed with her because she was scared.” “If you’re going to make a scene over this, consider next month’s wedding canceled again!” Right then, his phone rang. He turned around to answer another call from his ex. This time, I didn’t chase after him to apologize. I just calmly called the venue and canceled the wedding myself. Just like every other time, Ethan slammed the front door on his way out. I knew he did it on purpose. He was waiting for me to swallow my pride, run after him, and beg for his forgiveness. But I just sat on the couch, not moving an inch. There were no tears, no panic, and no desperate urge to fix things. Suddenly, I was just incredibly exhausted. I had done nothing wrong, yet I was always the one on my knees, begging for his love. The AC was blasting, but the cake on the coffee table was already starting to melt. Just like my relationship with Ethan. No matter how hard I tried to patch things up, the cracks between us only grew wider. I dipped my finger in the cream and tasted it. It was sickeningly sweet, but it couldn’t mask the bitterness in my heart. Ethan and I had been dating for three years. In our first year, on the night of our engagement party, he ran off to Hailey’s house to fix her fuses and didn’t come back all night. In our second year, when we were supposed to finalize the wedding date, he took Hailey on a road trip to a neighboring city because she “needed a friend.” And today, because of one phone call from her, he left me stranded in the middle of a storm. As I sat there in a daze, the bedroom door suddenly opened. My heart skipped a beat as Ethan walked toward me. Seeing a bit of cream on the corner of my mouth, he let out a soft, helpless sigh. He pulled out a tissue and gently wiped it away. “Chloe, I’m sorry. I lost my temper earlier.” “I know you don’t like her. I’ll try to avoid seeing Hailey in private from now on.” My defenses crumbled. Hearing those words, tears finally rushed to my eyes. This was the first time in three years he had ever initiated an apology. But before I could even speak, he continued: “When I was at Hailey’s last night, someone took a picture of us and posted it on Instagram. Now everyone is calling her a homewrecker.” “She lives alone, she was terrified of the blackout, and now she’s being dragged into our drama. I need you to post a statement on your Snapchat and Instagram to clear her name.” In an instant, all my warmth turned into a sick joke. He had abandoned me time and time again for his ex. And now, the only reason he was lowering himself to apologize to me was to protect that very same woman. I looked at the face of the man I had loved for five long years, and a laugh escaped my lips. Ethan took it as a yes. “I knew you’d understand, Chloe.” “I’ll send you the screenshots. Once you clear the air, maybe write a quick apology to Hailey so everyone can move on…” Before he could finish, I cut him off. “In your dreams.” Ethan froze. The tenderness on his face vanished, replaced by instant irritation. “Chloe, there is nothing going on between Hailey and me! Why do you have to be so malicious?” “Do you know what these rumors are doing to her reputation? She was crying hysterically on the phone just now!” I stood up from the couch, staring directly into his eyes. “I don’t care about her feelings, and I don’t want to hear her name.” “You want me to defend her? Not a chance.” I clenched my fists, forcing my voice to remain steady. Ethan let out a bitter laugh. “Fine. Fine. Fine.” “If you’re going to be like this, next month’s wedding is officially off.” “And Chloe, don’t you dare come crawling back to me this time!” ***

The heavy thud of the door closing felt like a fist squeezing my heart. It hurt so bad I could barely breathe. Right then, my phone buzzed. I thought it was Ethan. But when I picked it up, it was a message from Hailey. *Chloe, my power went out last night and I was so scared of the dark. Ethan only came over to keep me company. Please don’t misunderstand.* *Honestly, only insecure women get paranoid every day.* I stared at the screen for a few seconds. I didn’t reply, nor did I delete it. So, the emergency that made Ethan kick me out of his car in a raging storm was just a simple power outage. Yet, when I had a high fever and could barely move, I asked him for a glass of water, and he called me “dramatic.” I let out a bitter laugh. When a man doesn’t love you, it’s so obvious. Even if they hadn’t slept together yet, his heart was already gone. Over the next three days, Ethan didn’t return. I didn’t waste any time. I started packing my things. The apartment belonged to him, so I was the one who had to leave. On the fourth day of our silent treatment, my best friend Sarah invited me out to clear my head. In the past, I would have declined just to stay home and wait for Ethan’s call. But this time, I agreed immediately. I also needed to go to the bridal shop to cancel my wedding dress. But I never expected to run into the last two people I wanted to see. Ethan and Hailey were standing right inside the shop. When Ethan saw me, his eyes lit up for a fraction of a second before quickly turning into a look of sheer annoyance. He frowned. “I told you the wedding was called off. Why did you follow me here? If you’re not embarrassed, I am.” Before I could speak, Hailey piped up with a smirk. “Ethan, don’t be so harsh. Chloe’s probably just terrified you’ll actually dump her. After all, the wedding date is so close.” “But Chloe, you’re really embarrassing us women. If I were you, I’d at least hold out until the day before the wedding to beg for him back.” The friends standing with them laughed and chimed in. “Man, Ethan, you really have your woman on a tight leash. One word and she comes running to the bridal shop. Teach us your ways, bro.” The flattery clearly boosted Ethan’s ego. He looked at me like he was granting me a royal pardon. “Fine, I get it. Since you want to get married so badly, I’ll agree to it. Happy?” I used to tolerate these jokes. But today, looking at Ethan’s smug face, I felt nothing but disgust. I looked him dead in the eye and said coldly, “I’m not here for you. I’m here to cancel my dress.” I walked past them straight toward the counter. Everyone froze. They didn’t expect this reaction from me. Hailey was the first to recover. She grabbed my wrist. “Chloe, stop playing hard to get. Ethan already said he’s coming home tonight.” “If you make him angry now, you’re just going to blame me for it later.” “Hailey, the only way you can get back with Ethan is if we break up. Stop acting so innocent. It’s pathetic.” With that, I snatched my wrist back. I didn’t use much force, but she let out a dramatic shriek and fell backward—right into Ethan’s arms. With teary eyes, she whimpered, “Ethan, maybe I should just leave.” “Your friends already think I’m a homewrecker because Chloe keeps misunderstanding us.” “I can take her hitting me today, but what if she comes to my house next time? How am I supposed to live like this?” Ethan’s face darkened completely. He wrapped his arm tightly around Hailey and glared at me. “Chloe, apologize. Now.” His tone left no room for argument. But I didn’t flinch. “No.” His jaw clenched. “If you don’t apologize, we are done. For real.” Even though I had already checked out of this relationship, hearing him say it still made my chest ache. But I kept my face blank and smiled coldly. “Fine. Let’s break up.” ***

My mood was ruined, so after canceling the dress, I went straight back to the apartment. I thought I would toss and turn all night, but I actually slept peacefully. In fact, I slept so well that when I walked downstairs the next morning and saw Hailey in the kitchen, I thought I was still dreaming. She was wearing Ethan’s oversized white button-down shirt, her bare legs fully on display. Ethan, who never cooked, was actually standing at the stove making breakfast. Hearing me walk down, they both turned. Ethan frowned but said nothing. Hailey, however, immediately started explaining. “Chloe, please don’t misunderstand! I drank too much last night and threw up on my clothes. I couldn’t find my keys, so Ethan had no choice but to bring me here.” I let out a dry laugh. “No choice? He looks pretty thrilled to me.” Ethan slammed his spatula onto the counter. He whipped around, glaring at me with pure irritation. “Chloe! That’s enough!” It was laughable. He had brought another woman into our home, and he was telling me *that’s enough*? He only dared to do this because he knew how much I loved him. He had used the “cancel the wedding” threat to control me for three years, and it had worked every single time. I used to think my love and patience would eventually change him. But I forgot that constantly lowering your standards only teaches a man to look down on you. Seeing my silence, Hailey bit her lip dramatically. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I’m just causing more trouble. I’ll leave right now.” She made a show of walking toward the door, but Ethan caught her wrist before she could take two steps. “You’re barely wearing anything. What if you run into some creep outside?” “Eat breakfast first. Once your clothes are dry, I’ll drive you home myself.” He then shot me another annoyed look. “Chloe, is your goal in life just to make everyone miserable first thing in the morning?” “Acting like this only makes me regret ever dating you.” The living room fell into a dead silence. Even Ethan seemed to realize he had gone too export. He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t give him the chance. “Ethan, you’re not the only one who regrets this.” “And you don’t have to leave. I am.” I walked upstairs. Ten minutes later, I came back down rolling my packed suitcase. Ethan’s eyes widened. A flash of joy crossed Hailey’s face, though she quickly masked it with her usual innocent act. “Chloe, please don’t do this. Ethan and I are just friends.” “I literally had nowhere else to go last night and no clothes to wear. He was just being nice.” I usually didn’t bother wasting my breath on her, but her acting was so insufferable I couldn’t resist. “Nowhere to go? No clothes to wear?” “Did every single hotel and mall in New York shut down last night, forcing you to sleep at another woman’s boyfriend’s apartment in his shirt?” Hailey’s face turned pale. Unable to find a comeback, she looked at Ethan with puppy-dog eyes. “Chloe…” “Shut up, Ethan. I don’t want to hear a single word from you.” I grabbed my handle and walked out. Behind me, Ethan’s furious voice echoed down the hall. “Fine! Have it your way! Don’t marry me then, see if I care!” Then came the deafening sound of the door slamming shut. He left with Hailey. From that day until the day before our scheduled wedding, he never contacted me once. And I didn’t sit around waiting. I handed in my resignation at my design firm and started finalizing my departure. Ethan didn’t call, and I enjoyed the peace. By the time my resignation went through, it was the day before what should have been our wedding. My phone was blowing up all day. They were all messages from our mutual friends. *Chloe, are you still throwing a tantrum? Ethan’s already cooled down. Just text him first and this will all blow over.* *Chloe, Ethan hasn’t even seen Hailey lately. You’re taking this too far!* *The wedding is tomorrow, Chloe. Stop playing hard to get. Men like Ethan don’t grow on trees. If you actually dump him, you’re just handing him over to the girls waiting in line.* Looking at the messages, I just smiled. Ethan was the one who crossed the line, yet everyone assumed I was the one who had to beg for him back. I sent a mass reply to the group chat: *Ethan and I are officially over. Anyone who texts me to take him back will be blocked. Thanks!* I cleared my chat history, blocked everyone associated with Ethan, and deleted my fingerprint from the apartment’s smart lock. I left my engagement ring on the coffee table, sent Ethan one final text, and headed to the airport without looking back. ***

On the other side of town, Ethan was pacing around his apartment, utterly restless. He kept checking his phone. But the screen remained black. In the past, Chloe would always come crawling back within three days. But it had been a week, and there was nothing. Was she actually furious this time? All he did was stay over at Hailey’s for one night. Was that really worth this massive reaction? Then, a sudden thought hit him. He had called off the wedding last year and the year before that. Both times were because of Hailey. No wonder… A pang of guilt hit his chest. Maybe he had crossed the line. He pulled out his phone and typed a message: *Chloe, didn’t you say you wanted to go to the beach? Once I’m done with this busy week, I’ll take you.* But when he hit send, a red exclamation mark appeared. Chloe had blocked him on Snapchat. His chest tightened. He tried calling her number, but a cold, automated voice told him the call couldn’t be completed. She had blocked his number, too. The apartment felt instantly freezing. Just as he was about to call Marcus to find out where Chloe was staying, a text notification popped up from an unknown number. It was Chloe’s final text. *Ethan, we’re done. I left the ring on the coffee table.* Ethan froze. He ran to the living room, and there it was—the diamond ring, sitting silently on the glass table. He picked it up, panic rising in his chest. He snatched his friend’s phone and dialed the number he knew by heart. It rang for a long time before a calm voice answered. “Hello?” Ethan’s breath hitched, his heart aching at the sound of her voice. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to tell her to come home. But his damn pride got in the way, and the moment he opened his mouth, his voice came out sharp and defensive. “Chloe, blocking me and sending breakup texts? Do you really think this petty drama is going to scare me?” “I was already planning on cutting Hailey off, but your behavior is ridiculous. If you don’t come home right now, the wedding is off for good!” Silence met his words. Ethan gripped the phone, his heart practically in his throat. *Just give in a little, Chloe. If you just say sorry, I promise I’ll never see Hailey again,* he thought desperately. But Chloe’s response shattered his hope. “Suit yourself.” “Ethan, we are done. Don’t call me again.” The line went dead. When he tried to call back, he was blocked on that number, too.

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At a college alumni dinner,someone brought up happy marriages and suggested we all place our phones in the center of the table. Whoever got the first call from her husband to pick her up would be the happiest woman there that night. Everyone assumed it would be me. Instead,the first phone to light up belonged to Selena,Nora’s younger sister. She reached for it with a smile,and I saw the number on the screen. It was exactly the same as my husband Ethan’s. I was sitting beside her,close enough to hear Ethan’s voice through the phone. “Why aren’t you at the apartment?” Selena smiled sweetly. “I was bored at home,so I came to Nora’s alumni dinner with her.It’s almost over.” “You’re pregnant.Don’t tire yourself out.I’m coming to get you now.” My fingers went cold. Soon,everyone else’s phones began ringing one after another. Mine stayed dark. Selena seemed to be kindly helping me out. “Nora told me Chloe’s husband is an investment banking executive.He must still be busy.” I looked up at her. “He’s already on his way.You’ll see him soon.” ……… “When Chloe’s husband gets here,you’ll see how much he adores her.” The one who said that was Mia,my college roommate. Over the years,she had watched Ethan and me go from dating to marriage. Ethan was transparent about his salary,reported his schedule,and treated both me and my parents with care. In seven years of marriage,he had never even raised his voice at me. And yet this was the man who had built another home outside our marriage. I forced down my emotions and deliberately turned the conversation back to Selena. “The first man to call must be the one who loves his wife most.” Everyone’s eyes fell on Selena. She wore a Chanel suit,a Patek Philippe on her wrist,and an Hermès Birkin by her hand. Every inch of her looked carefully maintained by money. Someone asked,”Selena,what does your husband do?” She smiled. “He works on Wall Street.The pay is decent.His family’s old house was bought out by a developer a couple of years ago,so he has a little cushion.” My chest sank. Ethan’s family did have an old townhouse. Two years ago,his parents moved in with us and said they would not be going back to the old neighborhood,so they sold the house. I kept my tone casual. “How much did it sell for?My relatives are negotiating a buyout too.I wanted a reference.” “A little over 1.3 million dollars.Not that much.” Nora immediately joined in. “You have no idea how lucky Selena is.Her husband gave her all the money from the sale.” “Her mother-in-law Margaret adores her too.The first time they met,she gave Selena the emerald pendant necklace that’s been passed down in the family.”

Nora nudged Selena. “Take it out.Let everyone see it.” Selena took an emerald pendant necklace from her bag. The center stone was clear and vivid,ringed with small diamonds. Under the table,my hands clenched. I had seen that necklace when I married Ethan. Ethan’s relatives had laughed and said it was the piece the Walker family passed down to the new Mrs.Walker.One day,it would be mine. Last Thanksgiving,his aunt had brought it up on purpose. “Chloe has been married into this family for seven years.Are you still not giving her that necklace?” Margaret’s face had stiffened. Ethan smoothed it over for her. “There’s no rush.Chloe understands.She said it can be passed down later.” I had never said that. For seven years,Margaret and I had no open conflict. When she was hospitalized,I took time off to care for her.When she moved into my home,I never complained. But she was always distant with me,and she was just as cold toward my son,Noah. So she was not slow to warm up. She had simply accepted another woman as Ethan’s wife long ago. I pretended to gossip. “How long have you been married?Margaret treats you so well.” “One year.”Selena lowered her head and smiled.”Ethan’s parents are wonderful to me.” Someone asked how she and her husband had met. Nora rushed to answer. “Selena used to be a consultant at a wellness center.She’s honest and knows how to charm older people.Margaret really liked her.” Selena added,”I met Ethan because I knew Margaret first.If she hadn’t brought us together,Ethan and I wouldn’t have gotten together so quickly.” My nails dug into my palm. The woman I had called Mom for seven years had built another family for my husband with her own hands. Nora was still gushing. “Margaret is so generous.She gives Selena her pension and investment dividends to spend.” I finally understood. After Ethan and I got married,Margaret asked us for three thousand dollars a month for living expenses,saying she and father-in-law William had no steady income. Ethan and I both earned well,so we had paid it for seven years. It turned out they were not broke. They were using my money to subsidize another woman.

Nora kept going. “That’s not all.Ethan’s parents have already prepared the down payment for a house in a good school district and an education trust for the baby.” Everyone around the table looked envious. I kept my voice low. “Ethan’s parents must have a lot saved.” Selena shook her head. “It’s mostly Ethan.Every month he gives them half his salary and says it’s for the baby’s education trust.” My throat tightened. Starting from the first month after our wedding,Ethan had also split his salary in half. Half went to me,and half went to Margaret. He said that money was for Noah’s education fund. I had never doubted him. After all,Noah was her grandson too. Only now did I realize that money had gone into the account for the child in Selena’s belly. Just then,my phone rang. Nora led the teasing. “Chloe’s husband is calling!” But the screen showed:My Sweet Boy. I answered.Noah’s hurt voice came through. “Mom,Dad lied to me again.He promised he’d take me to Disneyland tomorrow,but Grandma just said he has another business trip.” He sniffed. It felt as if my heart had been crushed. This past year,Ethan had barely spent time with our son. He said he was busy,said he was traveling,said the market was bad and we had to save money. The Orlando Disney trip became a local amusement park,and in the end,even that local amusement park was canceled. He had missed our wedding anniversary too. I had kept making excuses for him. Only tonight did I learn that he did have time,He had simply given it to someone else. I comforted my son softly. “Noah,be good.Mommy will make Dad give you an answer.” After I hung up,someone tried to smooth things over. “Chloe,Your husband’s busy because the company values him.” I smiled. “Yes.I’m used to it.”

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The day Nina got her acceptance letter from City Werewolf Academy, Mom and Dad threw her a party — and made me work as a waitress. Mom shoved a tray loaded with drinks into my hands. “You couldn’t even get into Community Werewolf Academy. Sitting at the family table would only make people laugh. Might as well make yourself useful with the guests.” My brother Ethan frowned. “Getting in wasn’t easy for Nina. Nothing can go wrong today. If any Pack members ask about your scores, it’ll ruin the whole mood.” My boyfriend Caleb spoke flatly. “Ava. Today’s Nina’s big day. Don’t screw it up.” I clutched my backpack tighter. The strap dug into my shoulder until it hurt. When I was twelve, I placed first at the Silver Creek Pack training camp. Nina took it hard and slit her wrists that same night. The whole family decided I’d done it on purpose. To show off. After that, I learned to hide what I could do — filling in wrong answers on tests, deliberately finishing last in training. Six years. I turned myself into the well-known good-for-nothing of the Pack. Only the Final Trial gave me one chance to actually try. Right now they were gathered around Nina, their faces lit up like she was made of sunlight. And the words in my throat — I got into the Royal Elite Werewolf Academy — I swallowed them back down. If they found me an eyesore, then there was no point mentioning that I had to report in three days. … Seeing I hadn’t moved, Ethan tossed a stained, mildew-smelling uniform at me. “Your grades are trash. You can at least manage waitress work, can’t you?” I looked up. In the center of the hall, gold balloons spelled out the words that made my eyes ache: CONGRATULATIONS NINA — CITY WEREWOLF ACADEMY Ethan had put them up himself that morning. I wanted to ask him: if it had been me who got in, would any of this exist? Before I could speak, Mom’s voice hit me again. “Ava. If anyone asks later, do not tell them you couldn’t even get into Community Werewolf Academy.” She was afraid I’d embarrass her. But she seemed to have forgotten. Back when Nina first came to us, she’d seen my perfect test papers and my Trial certificates, and she’d sobbed into Mom’s arms: “Ava’s so amazing. I don’t deserve to be part of this family.” She slit her wrists that same night. Mom was the first to turn on me. “You knew Nina had just lost her parents. Why would you provoke her? Did you have to show off?” She tore up my certificates. Right in front of Nina. It hurt. But I understood, too. Nina’s parents had once saved her and Dad. For the sake of this family, I hid my claws and became what they saw — lazy, useless. I dug my fingernails into my palm and said softly, “Okay.” Dad nodded, satisfied. “Bad grades — well, we’re your parents, we’ll figure something out. Spend a little more, get you into a decent Community Werewolf Academy.” Something struck me hard in the chest. Nina’s grades had always been shaky, so before the exams they’d already lined up a private academy as her fallback. Back then they’d said: “Community Werewolf Academy is nothing to be proud of. Even at her worst, Nina has to go somewhere good.” “That’s not necessary. I’ve already —” I tried to say. I already got in. “Auntie, before people start showing up — let’s take a photo with Nina!” Caleb’s voice sailed right over mine. “Ava. Come take the picture.” He ordered it, pushing the camera into my hand. Mom and Dad flanked Nina; Ethan and Caleb stood behind her. A perfect composition. No spot for me. I swallowed and pressed the shutter, mechanical as a machine. When I handed the camera back, I asked Caleb quietly, “Could we take one, too?” Royal Elite Werewolf Academy is a closed campus. Several states away. I wanted a picture of him to take with me. Caleb paused, then let out a small, mocking laugh. “Aren’t your parents sending you to that Community Werewolf Academy nearby? We’ll see each other all the time — why bother?” But Nina was going to City Academy. He’d happily pose with her, shot after shot. For me, even one photo was too much trouble. Whatever hope I still had left in my chest went cold. My eyes fell to my backpack. Inside was the acceptance packet from Royal Elite Werewolf Academy. I’d wanted him to be the first to know. Now I was grateful I’d said nothing at all.

When the party ended, Mom threw a rag at me and told me to clean, then piled all the cash and checks the Pack members had brought straight in front of Nina. “Starter funds. If it’s not enough, tell your dad and me.” Dad, smiling, added a card of his own to the pile. Nina hugged Mom, all sugar. “Mom, Dad — you’re the best. I’m so lucky to be your daughter.” She glanced my way. “Ava’s going to school soon too. Should I split it with her, half and half?” Mom patted her indulgently. “You earned that yourself. Why would you give it to her?” Only then did she turn to me, sighing. “Ava, don’t be jealous. You’ve been a disgrace these past few years. With your Final Trial score, throwing you a party would only get us laughed at.” “Once we’ve arranged Community Werewolf Academy for you, you’ll work while you study. Feed yourself. Stop expecting the family to carry you.” Casual tone. Casual disdain. It cut anyway. The pressure in my chest went tighter. I was tired. Tired of hiding, tired of playing the fool. At sixteen, I’d wanted to test them. During the training camp evaluations, I used only half my strength — just enough to place one rank above Nina. Nina came home and cried for a whole day. “I’m so stupid. I stayed up all night training and barely scraped into the top twenty. Ava does it once and she’s better than me.” Mom and Dad spent hours soothing her. In the end, Mom looked at me with tired disappointment. “Ava. We want you to do better. But you can’t cheat just to steal attention.” In that moment, all I felt was exhaustion. Do well — they said I was hurting Nina. Do badly — they called me useless. Try to test the waters — they called it cheating. There was no right answer. Ethan hauled out an entire set of gifts for Nina: brand-new laptop, tablet, phone. Nina squealed and threw her arms around him. “Ethan! You got me all this? I love you so much!” I looked at the pile, and something in my blood went slowly cold. The night before, Ethan had given me a “gift” too — his three-month-old laptop. “Still practically new. Something too fancy would just be wasted on you. Make do for a few years.” That was always how it went. The best for Nina. Whatever’s left over for me. He seemed to have forgotten I was the one who was actually his sister. I turned to leave for my room. Nina followed. “Ava, everyone gave me presents. Where’s yours?” I hated Nina. And now, since I was about to leave, I didn’t feel like swallowing it anymore. I said flatly, “I don’t have one.” Nina blinked, then smiled again. “I know you can’t afford anything expensive. Just give me any little thing. It’s fine.” She walked in as she spoke, her eyes locking onto the rocket model on my desk. “Dad made that for me. You can’t have it.” I reached out to stop her, but she was faster. The model was already in her hand. My heart shot straight up into my throat.

“Ava, I want this one. If I keep it in my dorm, I’ll think of you.” “No! Put it down!” My voice shot up before I could stop it. That model had been my tenth-birthday present, made by Dad, back before Nina came. That day I’d told him, “I’m going to get into the best werewolf academy. I’m going to learn how to build rockets.” After that, Mom and Dad’s hearts belonged entirely to Nina. Through all those years of hiding what I was capable of, that model was what kept my aviation dream alive. And I had done it. I’d gotten into Royal Elite Werewolf Academy — Aviation Defense track. The commotion pulled everyone in. The second Dad saw Nina’s red-rimmed eyes, the accusation came out on reflex. “Ava, are you picking on Nina again? A cheap little model — do you really have to be that petty?” So he’d known Nina wanted it. My fists tightened. “It’s not a model. It’s my dream.” Ethan laughed. “With your grades? You’re lucky any academy will take you. And you’re dreaming about aviation?” Caleb laughed too. “Ava, Aviation Defense isn’t something you can touch. If you like it that much, I’ll buy you a few models to play with.” I ignored them and looked only at Dad. “When I was little, I told you my dream. You said you were behind me.” Dad hesitated, then his face soured with impatience. “So what if you have a dream? Royal Elite Werewolf Academy only takes the top of the top. You think dreaming gets you in?” The air froze for two seconds. So it wasn’t just favoritism. They were mocking my dream, too. I turned to Nina, my voice unnaturally calm. “You’re right. I was being petty. If you want it, take it.” As long as it made her happy, I should give way. I should have known that a long time ago. Once they were all gone, I locked my door from the inside. Booked a flight for the day after tomorrow. Slid the acceptance packet into a folder. The next morning, after breakfast, Caleb came over. He was carrying two bags. The pretty one, he handed to Nina. “Your gift. I forgot to bring it yesterday.” Nina tore it open, thrilled. A diamond necklace. “It’s beautiful! Caleb, put it on me!” Caleb tossed the other bag at me without looking, then walked over behind Nina, smiling as he fastened the clasp at her nape. That smile stung my eyes. I opened my mouth. Closed it. Said nothing. That necklace. It was the one I’d picked out. Caleb had been in a good mood that day. He’d said, “When you get into a werewolf academy, I’ll buy it for you. You’re my girlfriend, aren’t you?” The day the Final Trial scores came out, I wanted to tell him I’d done well. But everyone was cheering for Nina. No one asked me. Even Caleb had quietly accepted that I couldn’t even make it into Community Werewolf Academy. And now — the thing he’d promised me, he’d given to her. Necklace secured, Caleb finally turned to look at me. “Ava, this is study material for you. Your foundation’s weak. Don’t waste yourself once you’re at Community Academy. Work hard — maybe you can transfer to the city.” I stared at him for a long time. My throat ached with the pressure of everything sitting in it. In the end, all I said was: “Caleb. As of today, we’re done.” Caleb froze. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I didn’t answer. I threw the bag on the table and walked out. Behind me, Ethan’s irritated voice carried through the hall. “She loses it over the tiniest thing. She’s got nothing on Nina. Let her go. Don’t chase her.” My feet paused a moment. Then I stepped through the front door. I wandered outside all day. No one called. Around dusk, one text from Mom: Get home. Now. Nothing else. Not a word more. I wiped the corner of my eye, and suddenly I laughed. What was I still hoping for, exactly? When I got home to pack, I pushed open the door — and my room looked like it had been ransacked. The folder on the desk. The one with my acceptance packet. It was gone. My brain whited out. The next second, Nina appeared in the doorway, looking pleased with herself, like she was waiting for a thank-you.

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Kellan’s wolf howls — and it’s not for me. I’m standing under the full moon, and the future Alpha’s eyes are blazing gold. But he’s not looking at me. His whole body is being pulled toward the other end of the Ceremony grounds, toward Meadow — the Omega, the quiet girl who always sits at the edge of the pack. His wolf howls again. Raw. Guttural. Like something cracked open inside his chest. The Moon Goddess has spoken. Kellan and Meadow. True mates. I watch my brother Ronan sprint after him, shoulder-checking wolves out of his path. Flynn is right behind, clearing the way. Not toward me. Toward her. Kellan and I have been together eight years. Eight years of him telling me he’d mark me soon — not yet, not now, the timing isn’t right. I never pushed. Then a few weeks ago, he had Ronan sign me up for the Mating Ceremony behind my back. By the time I found out, it was too late to pull my name. “Just a formality,” he said. “If the Goddess pairs us, I’ll mark you that same night. It’s best blessing, isn’t?” I believed him. But lately something had been off. The way Kellan’s eyes lingered on her a beat too long at pack gatherings. The way he tensed when she stood too close. I noticed. I always noticed. I just told myself it didn’t mean anything. Now the Goddess didn’t pair us. She paired him with her. My scent is still drifting through the crowd. Unmatched. Unclaimed. I feel exposed — stripped bare on a stage no one’s watching anymore. Then I feel it. A pull. Not warm. Not safe. Something raw and jagged, like a hook dragging through my ribs. A howl rises from the far edge of the grounds — low, broken, starving. Gold eyes lock onto mine. Garrick Thane. The rogue who wandered onto our territory three moons ago. No pack. No rank. Three previous mates — all dead. His wolf is responding to my scent. I feel the bond trying to latch on — my wolf stirs, restless, confused. She wants to answer. My body wants to step forward. I don’t move. The Ceremony grounds go dead silent. Then the whispers start. “A Gamma’s daughter — Moon-paired with a rogue?” “Well… at least it matches.” The crowd parts as Kellan walks away with Meadow, Ronan and Flynn flanking them. Nobody looks back. The crowd is thinning out. Kellan, Meadow, Ronan, Flynn — they’ve already disappeared around the Elder’s tent. I follow, not sure what I’m going to say. Not sure what there is to say. Then I hear their voices. Kellan’s voice. Ronan’s. Flynn’s. Low. Careful. Pleased. “I knew it.” Kellan exhales like he’s been holding his breath for months. “I’ve been sensing her for weeks — every time Meadow walked past, my wolf went insane. I just needed the Ceremony to make it official.” Ronan keeps his voice down. “So that’s why you had me sign Briar up.” “If the Goddess confirms it in front of the whole pack, nobody can say I chose this. It’s not me leaving Briar — it’s the Goddess’s will.” Kellan pauses. “Who’s going to argue with that?” “What about my sister?” Kellan’s voice doesn’t waver. “She’s a Gamma’s daughter. No wolf is lining up for her. As long as she thinks nothing’s changed between us, she’ll stay.” “Worst case — she rejects the rogue. She’ll feel some pain. After that, she’s got no Moon-given mate. Nowhere to go. She’ll have no choice but to stay by my side.” Flynn laughs softly. “Just sweet-talk her a little. She’ll get over it. She always does.” I stand in the dark, and a bitter laugh scrapes out of me. So the Ceremony wasn’t a formality. It was a trap. He needed the Moon Goddess to hand him an excuse — and she did. Fine. If this is what the Goddess gives me, I’ll take it.

The walk home is short. When I push through the door, the smell of stew hits me first. Ronan gets to me before I’ve taken two steps inside. Voice low. “So? What are you going to do?” Dad and Mom both look up from the table. I hang my coat on the hook by the door. “Nothing.” Dad slams his mug down. “Eight years with the future Alpha, and you couldn’t even hold onto him at the Ceremony? How do you let something like this happen?” I don’t answer. I learned a long time ago — all he does is point fingers. He never stands up for me. Never once took my side. Maybe because Meadow is the daughter of his old flame. Anything involving that family, he bends over backward. Every single time. This time, none of it is my fault. Mom opens her mouth. All she does is push a bowl of stew closer to me. She’s never had a spine. Whatever Dad and Ronan say goes. I smile — thin and knowing. I stopped expecting her to speak up for me a long time ago. As long as she’s safe. That’s enough. Who I end up with doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve barely sat down when there’s a knock at the door. Ronan opens it. Kellan and Flynn walk in side by side. Meadow is right behind them. She steps inside and her whole face lights up when she sees my father. “I came to join dinner — is that okay?” Dad beams. “Of course. Sit down, sit down.” He pulls out a chair for her himself. By pack law, Kellan and Meadow are Moon-blessed. As for me — I didn’t accept Garrick’s claim. I didn’t reject it either. To everyone at this table, that’s not worth discussing. Meadow sits next to Kellan. He sets a cut of venison on her plate, then seems to remember I exist and drops something onto mine. “Briar. Eat.” I look down. Root vegetables. Overcooked, the way I’ve hated since I was a pup. He found his true mate tonight and he’s so happy he can’t even remember what I don’t eat? Ronan starts cracking jokes. “Did you see that rogue at the Ceremony? Garrick Thane actually showed up. What she-wolf would ever accept him?” Flynn jumps in. “No pack, no rank. Been on our territory less than three moons. And every mate he’s ever had? Dead.” Dad takes a slow sip from his mug. “The Goddess chose Kellan and Meadow. You can’t fight the Goddess’s will.” “Meadow and her mother have had it hard enough. Nobody is going to force them to reject a Moon-given bond.” He glances at Kellan. “The Moon Blessing would be held in two days. After that, things will settle. Briar will figure it out.” Mom’s eyes go red. She stares down at her plate. I’m about to tell her not to worry when Kellan takes my hand. His voice is patient. Almost rehearsed. “Briar, nobody wanted this. I didn’t expect my wolf to respond to Meadow.” “But nothing changes between us, okay? You’re still mine.” I take a sip of stew. “Okay.” He blinks. I never give in this fast. Before, I’d push back — make him coax me, reassure me, say it again. But he blinks once, and his hand slips out of mine. Quick. Relieved. Like setting down something heavy he’d been dreading. “Meadow, you alright?” Her cheeks flush. “My mom made me join the Ceremony. I didn’t have a choice either. I’m just glad it was you — at least you’re someone I know.” “I’ll go along with whatever you all decide.” They start planning. The bonding ceremony. The feast. The pack howl. Like this was always the plan. I finish eating in silence and set down my bowl. “You all keep talking. I’m done.” The chair scrapes the floor. The table goes quiet for a beat. As I walk away, I hear Meadow whisper, “Is she upset?” Kellan, calm and sure: “Don’t overthink it. Briar’s not the sensitive type. Probably just tired.” I slow for half a step. Tired. So that’s what it means now. It explains away everything — every last thing I’ve swallowed. And everyone at that table sleeps just fine.

I walk out into the yard. The moon is high but the light feels cold. “Briar.” Kellan comes after me. He still carries Meadow’s scent on his skin — soft, sweet, clinging. “You barely ate. Are you mad?” “Yes.” He lets out a short laugh. “Don’t be like that. The Goddess pairs it — nobody could’ve predicted what happened.” “I told you — nothing changes between us. You’re still—” “Kellan.” I cut him off. He stops. I look him in the eyes. “I told you from the start. I didn’t want to join the Mating Ceremony.” It’s ancient. Sacred. The Goddess reveals your true mate through scent. For thousands of years, the pack has honored this. I respect it. But I didn’t want to join — I already had a mate. Apparently I was the only one who thought that mattered. He stiffens. “It already happened. What’s the point of bringing this up now?” “Exactly. Nothing I say matters. Because you never listen.” That look — the one I’ve seen for eight years — slides across his face. Annoyed, but holding it in. He knows he’s in the wrong. He just doesn’t think being wrong means he has to bend. “Briar, what’s the point of dragging this out? It was the Goddess’s will, not mine. If you’re really that upset, I’ll talk to Meadow. We’ll smooth things over—” “Smooth things over?” I stare at him. “You heard my dad at dinner. Meadow can’t reject the bond. You want to put an Omega and her mother through that kind of pain? How are you going to smooth that over?” He pinches his temple. “Briar, be reasonable—” “Reasonable?” A laugh scrapes out of me. “I try to reason with my dad — he says I’m talking back. I try with my mom — she tells me not to make a fuss. I try with my brothers — they calls me petty. I thought it’d be different with you, Kellan. But you’re telling me to be reasonable too?” His mouth opens. “I’m not—” “You’re not listening. You just assume I’ll give in. Every time.” The way Dad assumes I’ll shut up. The way Mom assumes I’ll swallow it. The way Ronan assumes I’ll let it go. “Briar…” His voice goes soft. He reaches for me. I step back. Turn into the dark. His footsteps follow — two steps, then stop. Someone calls his name. Meadow’s voice, probably. Soft and worried. Or someone inside, wanting to talk about the ceremony. He doesn’t come after me. Three years ago, when he asked me to be his chosen mate, his eyes were full of light. Warm and sure and mine. I can’t even tell where that light went now. When I circle back to the yard, they’re gathered around the bonfire. Meadow pokes at the flames with a long stick, her face lit by the glow. “Kellan, do you think Briar minds us being out here…?” Ronan waves it off. “Forget about her. The more you tiptoe, the worse it gets. Just ignore her.” Flynn grins. “Kellan’s wolf answered your scent. If that’s not the Goddess’s will, what is?” Meadow’s cheeks burn. “Don’t say that — she’ll hear…” Kellan smiles but doesn’t correct a word. “I’m going to make sure it’s done right. You deserve that.” A Moon Blessing. A feast. A pack howl. Everything a she-wolf dreams of. Everything that was supposed to be mine. Meadow ducks her head. “But my mating cloak… there’s no time to have one made.” Ronan laughs. “Kellan already handled it. Briar’s cloak has been resized to fit you.” Meadow looks up. “Really? But what about Briar?” “She won’t need it.” Kellan’s voice is easy. He tucks a strand of hair behind Meadow’s ear. Firelight spills across his shoulders. I go still behind the old oak. That cloak. I had it commissioned from the old she-wolf who crafts the finest pelts. Kellan offered to take my measurements himself. It came back a little too tight. I thought it was an honest mistake. Now I know whose body he was measuring for. Meadow’s voice drops. “But nobody in this pack has been rejected by the Goddess in thirty years. She must be hurting so much…” Kellan looks at her — soft and sure, like she’s already his. “She worries about everyone when she almost got claimed by a stranger.” He tucks the hair tighter behind her ear. “Briar does what her family tells her. She’s got no Moon-given mate now, nowhere else to go. She’ll stay.” “Did she fight me earlier? She didn’t. She’s more scared of losing me than anything.” Meadow mumbles. “I just feel bad for her…” “Don’t.” He watches the fire. “She’s only giving up a title. She’ll still be by my side. That’s more than most Omegas get.” The night wind carries his voice and his laughter to where I stand. A chill crawls down my spine. Slow. One vertebra at a time. I shut everything down. And I walk straight in.

Everyone in the yard sees me at the same time. The voices cut in half. Kellan is standing by the bonfire, hands in his pockets. Meadow runs toward me and grabs my sleeve. “Briar! You’re back! I was just about to come find you—” I lift my hand to pull free. She stumbles backward with a gasp and drops to the ground. “Meadow!” Kellan crosses the yard in three strides. He shoves past me so hard I stagger back, my foot catches on the pile of burned-out logs from the bonfire, and I go down. My palm lands flat on the embers. The pain is instant — white-hot, searing through skin. My whole body curls inward. Ronan and Flynn rush over. All three of them crouch around Meadow like she’s made of glass, lifting her up, brushing dirt off her clothes. Nobody looks at me. Kellan turns. His eyes land on me, and all I see is anger. “What is wrong with you?” “Meadow was worried about you — worried you were out there alone. And the first thing you do when you come back is shove her?” The pain pulses up my arm in waves. Moonlight catches the blisters already swelling across my palm. He notices my hand. His voice drops half a degree. “…You okay?” I don’t look at him. I push myself off the ground on my own. A laugh scrapes out of me. “Worried about me? So worried she’s out here celebrating around a bonfire?” Kellan stiffens. “What are you talking about? A bonfire after the Ceremony is pack tradition.” Sure. Tradition. But what does any of it have to do with me? “Move.” My voice is quiet. His jaw tightens. “You shoved her and you’re walking away without even an apology?” I lift my head and look him straight in the eyes. My palm throbs with every heartbeat. “Apology?” I say. “Ask her. Did I touch her?” He doesn’t turn around. But behind him, Meadow sniffles — soft, barely there. That one sound swallows everything he was about to say. “Briar. For both our sakes — apologize. Now.” “If this is really for both our sakes,” I look at him, “then come with me. Right now.” “Reject the mate bond. Leave the pack. Forget the Ceremony, the Goddess blessing — all of it. Walk away with me. Do you dare?” His lips move. I wait for him to speak. Wait for him to step toward me. He hesitates. His head turns — just slightly — and I see what he sees. Meadow standing behind him, chin tilted up, watching him with those wide eyes. “Briar…” His voice sinks low. “Don’t push me like this. We don’t have to figure everything out tonight. Meadow, she’s—” “Forget it.” I cut him off and brush the ash from my clothes. “I was joking.” I already knew the answer. Why wait for him to say it out loud? I turn to leave. Behind me, Meadow’s voice wavers. “Her hand is burned — I’ll get the med kit—” Kellan catches her arm. His voice is a low rumble, thunder buried under skin. “Don’t. She shoved you first. She’s putting on a show. Don’t give her the satisfaction.” I push open the bedroom door and walk in. The footsteps outside fade. I sit on the edge of the bed and look at my hand. The burn sits right in the softest part of my palm. It hurts. It hurts so much that everything else has gone numb.

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