Author: Momo Chan

In the fifth year of my marriage to Chloe, she brought her first love, Ryan, right in front of me and asked: “Ethan, if I divorce you and marry Ryan, would you be our best man?” She had no idea that the man standing in front of her was actually my clone. He was created with only one purpose: to obey her every command. Without a single second of hesitation, my clone smiled and agreed. Chloe flew into a rage. She glared at him and spat, “You spineless wimp! Do you just do whatever the hell I tell you to do? If I asked for your life, would you just give it to me?” My consciousness, trapped deep inside the clone’s body, could only let out a bitter, silent laugh. *Chloe, I don’t have a second life left to give you.* 1 *BANG!* My body was sent flying by Ryan’s car. The man who hit me scrambled out of the driver’s seat, rushing over with a face full of fake, theatrical panic. He cried out, “Chloe! I swear Ethan threw himself in front of the car! It’s not my fault!” Chloe is my wife. Today is our fifth wedding anniversary. She rolled down the car window, frowning slightly as she glanced at my crumpled body on the asphalt. Her voice was ice-cold. “Don’t worry about him, Ryan. He’s just acting. He’s fine.” She sat comfortably in the passenger seat, not even bothering to open the door. “Ethan, stop embarrassing yourself with such pathetic acting.” Her feet seemed glued to the car floor. She wouldn’t take a single step toward me. Seeing that I wasn’t moving, her frown deepened. “Enough, Ethan. How long are you going to play dead? Get up.” If this were before, the clone would have jumped up the second he received her command. But the violent impact of the car had caused a temporary glitch in his neural system. So, she waited, but there was no response. Losing her patience, Chloe finally opened the door, seemingly planning to drag me up herself. But before she could step out, Ryan grabbed her arm. His voice trembled slightly. “Chloe, don’t touch him. Let’s just call 911. If something actually happens to him, we don’t want to get sued…” Before he could finish, Chloe interrupted him with an annoyed huff. “He got hit at barely fifteen miles per hour. What could possibly happen to him? He’s just throwing a tantrum.” Sure, fifteen miles per hour won’t kill a man. But it still hurts. It still breaks bones. But Chloe didn’t care. Then again, if she had ever cared, how could she have failed to notice over the last five years that the “Ethan” standing by her side was a fake? The real me died five years ago when I failed my mission to win her heart. This body was just a clone I created to fulfill my promise of “loving her forever.” My soul was bound to this synthetic shell. I could feel its emotions and its physical pain. But I couldn’t control it. And honestly, there was no need to. When I made this clone, besides giving him my DNA, I only programmed him with my happiest memories of Chloe. He was literally engineered to be a simp customized just for her. I thought that by leaving him behind, he would keep Chloe happy and loved in a world without me. But there is always an exception to every rule. And the exception in our marriage was Ryan. 2 Today was supposed to be our fifth anniversary. Following the programmed memories of her favorite things, the clone bought a bouquet of blood-red roses and went to Chloe’s office building. The lobby was packed with people whispering and pointing. The clone squeezed through the crowd, only to see Chloe standing in the center, blushing as Ryan knelt before her on one knee. Ryan held her hand, looking up at her with puppy-dog eyes. “Chloe, will you marry me and let me give you the life you deserve?” The clone stood frozen in the crowd, his database unable to process this scenario. This was something that had never happened in my memories. Under Ryan’s intense gaze, Chloe’s eyes began to wander. She swept her gaze over the crowd and stopped right on my clone. Her eyes locked onto him, her voice dripping with provocation. “Ryan, I’m not technically divorced yet. Are you sure you want to propose to me right now?” Ryan followed her gaze and smirked when he saw my clone. The next second, he pulled out a diamond ring. He slid my wedding band off Chloe’s finger without any resistance and slipped the new diamond onto her ring finger. Chloe stared at the clone, waiting for a reaction. But the clone just walked up to her, holding out the roses. “Chloe, happy anniversary. I got these for you. Do you like them?” The smugness in Chloe’s eyes instantly vanished, replaced by an explosive rage. She slapped the bouquet out of his hand, scattering red petals all over the floor. “Ethan! Are you blind? Didn’t you just see another man propose to your wife?!” The clone looked down at the ruined roses, confusion flickering in his eyes. He gently grabbed Chloe’s hand and asked anxiously, “Chloe, why are you angry? Is it because you don’t like roses anymore?” Chloe didn’t say a word. She just stared into his eyes. I knew what she was looking for. She wanted to see some real emotion—jealousy, anger, madness. But the clone disappointed her. His eyes held nothing but pure, innocent confusion. Not a single trace of anger. After staring at him for what felt like an eternity, Chloe let go of his hand and let out a cynical laugh. “Ethan, you really are incredibly generous. Since you’re so open-minded, how about you serve as our best man when Ryan and I get married?” 3 Nobody knew that my soul, trapped inside this artificial body, was curling up and screaming in agony. My original mission in this world was to make Chloe fall in love with me. Technically, once we got married, my mission was complete. According to the System’s original script, Chloe was supposed to die in a car accident shortly after our wedding. But I truly, deeply loved her. I couldn’t bear to let her die. So, I traded my own life with the System, asking it to transfer her fatal car accident to me. The System agreed. With the last of my remaining time, I built this clone. The clone was born for Chloe. He would love her forever and obey her every word. Even if her commands were ridiculously cruel, he would comply. Hearing Chloe’s request, the clone’s confusion melted away into a bright, innocent smile. “Really, Chloe? If I act as your best man, will that make you happy?” Chloe’s gaze turned incredibly cold. “Ethan, you are unbelievable. Is it true that you’ll do literally anything I ask?” “Yes, Chloe,” the clone answered instantly. Chloe’s face turned pale, completely choked by his response. Ryan chimed in from the side, “Chloe, since Ethan is totally cool with it, why don’t we go to City Hall today? We can sign the divorce papers and register our marriage at the same time.” Chloe didn’t say no. She let Ryan drag her by the arm toward the exit. As Ryan passed my clone, he intentionally shoved his shoulder hard against him. The contempt and triumph on Ryan’s face were clear. The clone stood there, a look of mild confusion on his face. He didn’t understand why Chloe still looked so unhappy even though he had agreed to her request. Halfway to the parking lot, Chloe stopped. She told Ryan to go bring the car around while she marched back to the clone. “Ethan, do you think this is a joke? You stopped loving me a long time ago, didn’t you?” Chloe screamed at him, her voice shrill with frustration. I found it hilarious. The one who stopped loving was clearly her. If she still cared, how could she be flaunting another man in my face? Maybe she just wanted to see the old me—the one who would get jealous and lose his mind for her. But she would never see that man again. The man who could feel jealousy and rage was already dead. The clone didn’t possess complex human emotions. He couldn’t feel jealousy or resentment. Unlike the real me, he would never complain about her lifestyle. Even if she stayed out all night partying with Ryan, the clone would only quietly prepare a perfect breakfast for her when she returned. He would never question her. Isn’t this exactly what she wanted? So why did she still look so miserable? 4 Chloe waited for a response, but the clone just stood there, waiting for her next command. Her voice raised another octave. “Ethan! I’m talking to you! Why aren’t you answering me?!” The clone listened to her carefully, his voice firm and sincere. “No, Chloe. I will love you forever.” Chloe sneered, her lips curling with disgust. “I hate your hypocritical face more than anything, Ethan. Fine. You said you’d fulfill any request, right?” The clone nodded. “Yes, Chloe. Anything.” Chloe laughed darkly as she opened the passenger door of Ryan’s car. She looked back and said, “In that case, if I tell you to go die, would you do it?” The clone nodded. “Yes.” Chloe laughed hysterically, almost like a maniac. It took her a long time to calm down before she said: “Fine. Go die then.” My soul felt like it was being ripped apart. I never, in my wildest dreams, thought Chloe would ever say those words to me. Having received the direct command, the clone didn’t hesitate. The moment Ryan started the engine and accelerated, the clone threw himself directly in front of the car. Maybe because I had been lying on the ground for too long, Chloe finally got out of the car. She walked over in her high heels, her steps slow and deliberate. Due to the heavy impact, my clone’s automatic gene-repair sequence had kicked in. When she finally pulled me up, she saw the small pool of blood on the pavement. For the first time, panic flashed across her face. She let go of me instantly, letting my body drop back onto the asphalt. Chloe clung to Ryan, her hands shaking violently as she dialed 91

She kept whispering to Ryan, trying to convince herself: “Ryan, it’s fine. It’s not your fault. Ethan threw himself at the car. Even if he dies, it has nothing to do with you.” A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind. *“Ethan, do you regret it now?”* Five years ago, when I transferred Chloe’s fate to myself, the System had asked me the exact same question. Back then, I had answered without hesitation: *“No.”* I had even begged the System to delay my physical death so I could finish building the clone to love her in my place. The moment the clone was successfully activated, my original body finally died. The car crash had left my body completely mangled. To prevent Chloe from being traumatized, I begged the System to erase all traces of my physical corpse. At that moment, the cold mechanical voice of the System actually showed a hint of pity. *“Ethan, do you want to know why Chloe was supposed to get into that car accident in the first place?”* In my silence, it told me: *“In Chloe’s life script, she was destined to die in a car crash on her way to see the person she loved most.”* On the day I took that crash for her, the person she was rushing to see was Ryan. It was only then that I realized Chloe’s true love had never been me. Even though the clone’s self-healing sequence had started, the physical pain was excruciating. The suffocating sensation made my soul tremble. For some reason, I suddenly remembered the first time I met Chloe. That day, when I first arrived in this world, she had risked her own life to save a little girl playing in the middle of a busy street. In my original world, people were cold and indifferent. Nobody would have cared about a stranger’s child. Maybe her heroic aura back then was just too bright. It blinded me so completely that even now, I still looked at her through a soft-focus filter. Before my consciousness faded again, I whispered to the System: *“System, I don’t regret it.”*

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The day I was kidnapped, the abductors called my fiancée of five years, demanding a $50,000 ransom. But she only sounded irritated on the other end. “Ethan, you know I don’t have that kind of money.” “I just lent our remaining fifty thousand to Julian.” My fiancée was supposedly poor, yet she didn’t hesitate for a second to give away all our savings to rescue her childhood crush. But after my death, as my spirit floated by her side, I discovered the truth. She was actually a billionaire heiress from New York’s elite high society. She hung up the phone and laughed about it with her friends. “Ethan has officially gone crazy. He actually thought I’d fall for some fake kidnapping scheme just so he could play the victim.” But when my cold corpse was finally laid out in front of her, she completely lost her mind. The sharp blade pierced my heart. Strangely, the pain only brought a sense of relief. Nobody knew the pure hell I had endured in those final hours before my death. They had used a knife to carve into my skin, inch by inch, letting my blood pool onto the cold floor. They were professional torturers. Every single cut was calculated to bring maximum pain without killing me instantly. Finally, they drove the blade straight into my heart, ending my miserable life. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing inside a luxurious VIP lounge. The loud, chaotic music gave me a pounding headache. I looked around, completely lost as to why my soul had ended up here after death. Then, my eyes fell on Madelyn, who was sitting right in the center of the crowd, leaning comfortably in Julian’s arms. Julian gently stroked her hair. Madelyn didn’t pull away. She just rested her shoulder against his, looking completely relaxed. They looked like a perfect, picture-perfect couple. It pierced my eyes like a physical blow. I rushed forward, trying to pull her away from him, but my hands passed straight through her body. It was useless. Both Madelyn and Julian were dressed in designer clothes. The people surrounding them kept tossing out flattering compliments. Didn’t Madelyn tell me that Julian’s family was going through a financial crisis? Wasn’t that why she kept taking our money to bail him out? But looking at this luxurious lounge, the groveling crowd, and the effortless aura of wealth and arrogance radiating from both of them… None of this looked like a family struggling to survive. My mind went blank. Suddenly, the words of my killers flashed back to me. “Man, this guy is pathetic. What’s fifty grand to a billionaire heiress like Madelyn Sterling? But she wouldn’t even spend a single penny to save his life.” “She and Lord Julian are a match made in heaven. Who does this trash think he is? Pathetic.” I felt something wet on my face. One of the kidnappers had spit on me. In my memory, I raised a hand to wipe the filth away, but I could only watch helplessly as they threw me back into the dark corner of the warehouse to rot. Before I closed my eyes for the last time, I actually thought it was funny. I thought those thugs had the wrong person. Maybe it was just someone with the same name. Because in my world, Madelyn was just a hardworking girl from a poor background, struggling to get by. How could she have anything to do with some elite high-society family? But now, looking at the glamourous Madelyn in front of me, raising her champagne glass as everyone toasted to her… Her dominant status in this room was glaringly obvious. I stared at her, memorizing every detail of her face. I desperately searched for even a single difference between this woman and the Madelyn I knew. But no matter how hard I looked. She was Madelyn. The girl I had loved for five years. The fiancée who had promised to marry me. I remembered the phone call the kidnappers had made to her. They had asked for fifty thousand dollars. But she had only reacted with annoyance. “Julian is in a tough spot. I already gave him the last fifty thousand we had. Your little tantrums won’t work on me anymore.” “I literally have no money.” The kidnapper had paused, letting out a dark chuckle. “Miss Sterling, if you don’t pay up, Ethan Vance is going to die today.” “Then let him die.” Those were the very last words I heard from her before my heart stopped. And just as she wished, I was dead.

I first met Madelyn at a charity event for low-income college students. She was wearing a simple white dress. Her innocent, fresh face stood out instantly in the crowded room. When I approached her, she looked up and smiled softly. “Are you here to help me, sir?” That single smile completely captured my heart. I nodded like an idiot. She let out a sweet laugh. “You’re funny.” After that, I sponsored her through her remaining college years. She told me she was an orphan. She said she had been bullied constantly at the orphanage. I was the very first person who had ever reached out to help her. I thought I was saving her life. After graduation, Madelyn struggled to find a job. Knowing how hard it was for a young girl to survive in the city, I offered to take care of her. She agreed. And just like that, we became a couple. Even on the nights I worked late, no matter how exhausted I was, I would always bring home small surprises for her. Anything to make her smile. Seeing her happy was enough for me. During our five years together, she told me she wanted to focus on her fashion design. So, I told her to stay home and focus on her art. I took care of all the bills. I started working double shifts and doing DoorDash deliveries after my regular job. It was exhausting, but the thought of Madelyn waiting for me at home made all the pain melt away. She used to curl up in my arms, her voice incredibly sweet. “Ethan, once my designs get noticed, we’ll finally live the good life.” The good life. I gave everything I had for that promise. But now, the stranger standing before me had clearly been living the good life all along. Just as Madelyn was about to bring the champagne glass to her lips, Julian gently stopped her. “Your stomach has been acting up lately. Don’t drink so much.” Madelyn looked at him, her eyes filled with tenderness. “Since when do you control me?” Julian snatched the glass from her hand and drank it in one gulp. He teased, “How can I not? Your stomach issues only started because you used to skip breakfast every single day.” So… that was the real reason? I stared blankly at the empty glass in his hand. I first found out about her stomach problems when she had a severe case of acute gastroenteritis. She told me it was because she had to drink too much during client dinners at her previous jobs, and her stomach was practically ruined. Back then, my heart ached for her so much. I spent hours learning how to cook gentle, stomach-soothing meals for her every day. But the more it had hurt back then, the more ridiculous I felt now. Someone in the crowd started teasing, “So, Miss Sterling, when are you and Julian finally getting engaged? We’re all waiting for the big news.” Madelyn didn’t answer. Instead, her gaze fell onto the diamond ring on her finger. The diamond wasn’t huge, but its brilliant cut showed it wasn’t cheap either. I had saved up for months, working endless overtime and delivery gigs, just to buy her that ring. When I placed it on her finger, she had looked so incredibly happy. Another friend noticed her gaze and sneered, “Don’t tell me our billionaire heiress actually fell for that poor loser? That ring looks so cheap.” Julian also looked at the ring, waiting for her reaction. Madelyn casually slid the ring off her finger and tossed it to the person who had spoken. “You like it? Keep it. It’s not worth anything anyway.” A wave of laughter erupted in the room. “Of course! What high-end jewelry hasn’t Miss Sterling seen? Why would she care about this piece of garbage?” The ring was kicked onto the floor. Someone stepped on it maliciously, and the once-shiny band was quickly covered in dirt and dust. Julian smiled, pinching Madelyn’s cheek gently. “Who called you earlier, by the way?” Madelyn replied lazily, “Ethan. He hired some cheap actors to stage a kidnapping. He actually tried to extort fifty grand from me.” “He’s completely lost his mind.” A sharp pain flared in my chest—a pain far worse than the blade that had pierced my heart. Julian’s eyes darkened. “Aren’t you afraid it might be real?” Madelyn let out a dismissive laugh. “Ethan is dirt poor. Who in their right mind would kidnap him?” So, in her eyes, the life I had worked myself to the bone to provide for her was just a “dirt poor” existence she looked down on. As she spoke, Madelyn pulled a luxurious velvet box from her bag and handed it to Julian. Julian opened it. Inside was a ridiculously expensive luxury watch. “What’s this for?” Madelyn shrugged. “I bought it with Ethan’s money. He saved up fifty thousand over the years. This watch was basically all he could afford.” “That’s what he gets for fighting with me. Consider this his punishment!” My soul felt entirely cold, even though I was already dead. Madelyn had taken the savings we had pinched and scraped for years to buy Julian a luxury watch, yet she refused to use that exact same amount to save my life. Before my kidnapping, Madelyn and I had the biggest fight of our lives. She had demanded our savings, claiming Julian’s family business was in trouble and she needed to help him. Naturally, I refused. Ever since Julian had reappeared in her life, Madelyn had changed. Her warmth and sweetness were gone, replaced by endless cold shoulders and insults the moment I walked through the door. When I refused, she had screamed at me, “Ethan, how can you be so heartless! This is a person’s life we’re talking about!” We had parted on terrible terms. I had driven to a quiet park to clear my head, and that was when I was snatched. And now, the money she claimed was to “save a life” was used to buy a toy to make Julian smile. Julian frowned, tossing the watch casually into the trash can. “His money? Gross. I don’t want it.” I felt a rush of cold despair wash over my soul. The watch bought with my life was thrown into the trash like garbage. Just like how Madelyn had thrown me away.

After the party, Julian wrapped his arm around Madelyn’s waist as they walked to his car. He leaned over to fasten her seatbelt. The air inside the car grew warm and heavy. Julian stared into her eyes, slowly leaning in for a kiss. The moment his lips touched hers, Madelyn flinched as if she had been shocked. She quickly pulled back and wiped her mouth. Julian’s face immediately turned incredibly dark. “Maddy, what is wrong with you?” Madelyn seemed surprised by her own reaction too. She sat up straight, flustered. “Just drive. I’m tired. I want to go home.” Watching her pull away, I remembered how I used to protect her. Madelyn was beautiful, and she used to get harassed quite a lot. Every single time, I was the one who stood up to chase those creeps away. Afterward, I would look at her seriously and say, “Maddy, you’re my girl. Promise me you won’t let other guys get too close to you.” “I get jealous easily.” She would hug me and pout, “I know, dummy. My heart only has room for you. Why would I ever look at anyone else?” Was she… remembering those times now? I laughed at my own foolishness. To a rich girl like Madelyn, I was probably just a temporary distraction. Why would she ever care about my words? To her, I was just an entertaining clown. Madelyn had Julian drop her off at our apartment. Before leaving, she gave the still-pissed-off Julian a brief hug. “Don’t be mad. If I don’t go back tonight, Ethan will get suspicious.” Julian spat coldly, “Why don’t you just dump him already?” Madelyn hesitated for a second before mumbling, “I’m not bored of him yet.” After watching Julian drive away, she walked into our apartment. In the past, whenever I didn’t have to work late, a warm, home-cooked meal would be waiting for her on the table. But lately, she had been coming home later and later, and she hadn’t touched a single bite of my food. Now I knew why. It all started when Julian came back. Madelyn called out into the empty, dark apartment. No one answered. Annoyed, she threw her designer bag onto the couch. “Still throwing a tantrum? Get over yourself.” *I won’t. I will never fight with you again, Madelyn. Because I will never appear in front of you again.* I whispered the words into her ear, but she couldn’t hear a thing. After removing her makeup, she sat on the couch scrolling through her phone until midnight, but the front door never opened. She cursed under her breath and dialed my number. It went straight to voicemail. Her anger flared. She slammed her bedroom door shut and locked it. “Fine! If you don’t want to come back, then never come back!” She kept checking her phone, but there was not a single Snapchat notification or text from me. Eventually, she fell asleep with her phone in her hand. I stood by her bedside, quietly watching her all night. The next morning, Madelyn rubbed her sleepy eyes and opened her bedroom door, habitually calling out, “Ethan, I want bagels from the bakery down the street. Go grab them.” It had been her routine for years, and eventually, it became my habit too. Every single morning, before the sun even rose, I would stand in line to get her favorite fresh bagels. But today, there was only silence. The apartment was exactly as she had left it last night. No one had been home. Her face went cold as she dialed my number again. After a long ring, just when I thought it would go to voicemail, the call actually connected. But a stranger’s voice came through. “Hello? Do you know the owner of this phone?” She had blocked my main number during our last fight, so she must have used her work phone to call me this time. Madelyn frowned, her voice icy. “Where is Ethan? Put him on the phone!” There was a long pause on the other end. “He’s… he’s dead.” “It looks like a homicide. The police are currently investigating. If you know him, please contact the station immediately.” My breath caught. I stared intently at her face, searching for any sign of grief. But after a brief shock, she actually laughed out loud. “Are you kidding me? Has Ethan gone completely insane with this acting?” “Tell him to stop playing games. I’ll find a way to give him back that fifty thousand.” The voice on the other end sounded incredibly weary. “Ma’am, I am serious. He is dead…” Madelyn’s tone snapped. “Are you done? Is Ethan really going to act like this just because he’s throwing a fit?” “Fine! Tell him he never has to come back!” She slammed the phone down, turned on the TV, and began aggressively flipping through channels. Then, a local news broadcast caught her eye. I looked at the screen too. It was a breaking news report about a homicide. A male body had been found in a warehouse. His face had been heavily mutilated beyond recognition. Looking at the blurred-out photo on the screen, the feeling of my blood draining away rushed back to me. The phantom pain made me want to scream. There was no doubt about it. That mutilated corpse was me. But Madelyn merely scoffed, quickly switching the channel. She muttered, “Why is the news always so depressing? Ethan actually thinks he can scare me with this cheap drama.” “So pathetic.” 3 The doorbell rang. Madelyn opened it to find Julian standing there with breakfast. Julian looked around the modest apartment with clear disgust before handing the food to her. Madelyn smiled, taking the food and curling up on the couch to eat. Julian paced around the small living room, finally stopping in front of a framed photo on the shelf. It was a photo from our very first trip together, after we had saved up for months. We had taken so many photos that day, but this was the only one Madelyn had liked. Julian frowned, picking up the frame and walking over to her. Madelyn glanced at it casually. “Oh, that’s just a photo from some old trip. What about it?” Julian leaned in close, his breath brushing against her ear, his voice dropping low. “I don’t like seeing photos of you with him.” “Throw it away, okay?” Madelyn stared at the photo, showing a rare moment of hesitation before gently pushing him back. Seeing her hesitate, Julian’s expression soured. “Madelyn, you know Ethan was nothing but a toy to you.” “I am your real fiancé. You are supposed to marry me.” “Our families arranged this years ago.” Madelyn quickly softened her voice to soothe him. “Okay, okay, I know you get jealous easily. It’s just a stupid picture. If you want to throw it away, go ahead.” Satisfied, Julian pulled the photo out of the frame and slowly tore it into tiny pieces right in front of us. I lunged forward, trying to grab the pieces, but my hands swept through nothing but air. I could only watch as our only memory was shredded into dust. Just like the love I once had for her. I had cherished that photo more than anything. Madelyn knew that. She just didn’t care about my feelings. To her, I was just a fool she could manipulate at her whim. She and Julian were the ones who truly belonged together. Once the photo was completely destroyed, the playful mood seemed to vanish. Madelyn asked quietly, “What are we doing today?” Julian took her hand, gently rubbing his thumb over her skin. “Let’s go shopping.” Madelyn hesitated. “Today…” She unlocked her phone, checking the date. An alert popped up on her screen—it was the same news report from earlier. The police were now desperately trying to identify the victim’s body. Madelyn frowned, quickly swiping the notification away and locking her phone. “Not today…” Julian cut her off. “Why? Do you have other plans? With Ethan?” Madelyn remained silent. Her silence was the answer. Because today was our scheduled appointment to finalize the wedding suit and gown. I stared at her quiet face, a pathetic spark of hope rising in my chest. Did she… actually remember? Julian’s voice broke the silence, cold and demanding. “Madelyn, choose. Me or Ethan?” “Don’t tell me you actually fell for that loser.” Madelyn’s eyes widened, and she immediately denied it. “Are you crazy? How could I ever be serious about Ethan?” “I don’t have any plans today. Let’s go.” Once again, when given a choice between me and Julian, she chose Julian. It wasn’t the first time. Ever since Julian returned, she had made this choice countless times. And no matter how much I begged, she always chose him. Because she knew I would never truly get mad at her. She knew how desperately I loved her, which was why she felt she could trample all over my dignity without consequence. On Madelyn’s last birthday, both Julian and I had prepared celebrations for her. I had booked the absolute best restaurant I could possibly afford. She had invited a group of her friends, and after dinner, I drove her and Julian to a club. On the way there, a truck suddenly lost control and swerved directly into our lane. My instinct took over instantly. I threw my body over Madelyn in the passenger seat. The impact was deafening, and the entire world spun as our car flipped over. The driver’s side door was crushed completely, pinning my legs beneath the steering wheel. But my first thought was still Madelyn’s safety. When I blinked through the smoke, my heart shattered. Madelyn had a small cut on her forehead, but otherwise, she was completely fine. Because I had shielded her with my own body. But she was already dragging a semi-conscious Julian out of the backseat, walking toward the crowd gathering on the street. She never once looked back at me. Shard of glass dug deep into my legs, the agonizing pain keeping me brutally conscious. I croaked her name, begging for help, but she kept walking. Only when the ambulance arrived did she finally mention to the paramedics that someone was still trapped in the front seat. I was rushed into emergency surgery. Julian, having received immediate attention, was completely fine. But my leg was permanently damaged from being pinned under the wreckage for too long. During my entire hospital stay, Madelyn only visited me once. She looked at my bandaged leg, a flicker of guilt and disgust crossing her eyes. “About that night… I panicked and forgot you were still in the car. It wasn’t on purpose.” I had stared at her quietly, feeling something die inside me. But I still forced a smile. “It’s fine. I know.” I loved her so much that I chose to ignore the obvious truth: her heart had already left me.

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My mom told me my dad had terminal lung cancer, and his treatment would cost $500,000. So, I dropped out of middle school and went to work in an illegal, underground sweatshop. I got paid ten cents for every part I assembled. I worked sixteen hours a day. For the sake of my dad’s life, I didn’t dare to stop for even a second. But on my sixteenth birthday, I ran a dangerously high fever. Clutching a ten-dollar bill I had secretly saved, I wanted to slip out to a local clinic. My mom ripped the bill right out of my hand. “Stop being so dramatic! Just drink some hot water and get back to work. Taking half a day off means losing your attendance bonus!” So, I dragged my shivering, burning body back to the assembly line. Until a bank notification popped up on my phone screen: *“Your account ending in 8888 has transferred $50,000 to Hunter. Memo: Down payment for son’s new townhouse.”* I froze. Then, my mind flashed to my dad’s rosy, healthy cheeks. And my brother Hunter’s brand-new truck and expensive Yeezys. ###

My heart went completely, utterly cold. Late that night, I crawled out of the sweatshop’s moldy dorm. An agent stopped me in the alley and asked if I wanted to make real money. Free housing, free meals, and $25,000 a month. My brain was foggy from the fever, but I still muttered out of instinct, “How much is the agency fee?” He stared at me, shocked, and said, “No fee. Actually, I’ll give you a $300 advance right now.” I took the cash and, without a single shred of hesitation, stepped onto the bus heading toward the border. I squeezed the three hundred dollars tightly in my hand. This was the first time in my entire life that I actually held money that belonged to me. Before this, my paycheck was automatically routed to my mom’s bank account the second it hit my card. The bald man sitting next to me, Frank, kept eyeing me up and down with a greasy, creepy smile. “Hey kid, you look pretty young. What’s a girl like you going to a place across the border for?” I ignored him, burying the cash deeper into my jacket pocket. “That place eats people alive,” Frank muttered, leaning in. “Once you cross over, your life isn’t yours anymore.” I wasn’t afraid of dying. In fact, that place sounded like heaven to me. Because the agent said they provided free food and housing. I wouldn’t have to drink tap water to fool my stomach just to save fifty cents on a piece of bread. I wouldn’t have to collect plastic bottles in the freezing winter in thin canvas shoes just to buy my brother limited-edition sneakers. “We’re here,” the driver barked, slamming on the brakes. The metal door rattled open. In front of us was a towering barbed-wire fence. A few heavily tattooed men carrying rifles walked toward the bus. The passengers started panicking. Some cried; some wanted to turn back. Only I stood up quietly. I was the first one to step off the bus. The smuggler in charge was a guy with a nasty scar across his face. People called him Scarface Nick. He gave me a surprised look. “You aren’t scared?” I shook my head. I flashed the three hundred dollars in my hand and tucked it back. “I took the money. I’ll do the work.” Nick smirked. It was the kind of look a merchant gave to a cheap piece of cargo. “Great. I love the ones who know their place. Take her to Zone C.” Zone C. Even though I had never been here, I had heard the whispered rumors on the bus. That was the holding pen for the “hostages.” If you didn’t meet your quota, you were beaten, forced to sell your blood, or worse—harvested. I was shoved into a damp, mold-smelling room. There were only a few filthy, stained mats on the concrete floor. A terribly thin girl, Lily, shivered in the corner. She looked at me with terror-filled eyes. “Run… run while the gate is still open…” she whispered, pointing a trembling finger at a small, half-welded window. I walked over, looked out at the pitch-black jungle outside, and then shut the window tightly. I lay down in a corner. “I’m not running.” Why would I go back? To keep earning medical bills for a father who faked cancer? To keep buying houses and cars for a brother who did nothing but drain my blood? To listen to my mother scream at me about how I was a useless, worthless daughter? My fever was still raging, making my skin burn. Before my consciousness drifted away, I touched the cheap phone in my pocket. There was a scheduled text message I had drafted a long time ago but never dared to send. Now, I could finally send it. ###

Meanwhile, inside the family’s newly purchased luxury apartment, the lights were bright. The dining table was piled high with ordered lobster and premium ribeye steaks. Hunter chewed on a lobster claw, impatiently tapping the table. “Mom! When is the rest of the renovation money coming? The designer said we still need ten grand for the custom furniture!” “Why hasn’t Chloe’s salary been deposited yet?” The “Chloe” he was talking about was me—his younger sister, who was currently working herself to the bone in a sweatshop. My mom, Brenda, wiped the grease from her mouth, her forehead creasing into a deep frown. She unlocked her phone and checked her banking app. It was empty. “That little brat is losing her mind!” Brenda slammed her phone onto the table. “Today is payday. Her money is usually in my account by now.” “Is she slacking off again? Just because I took ten dollars from her last time, she dares to throw a tantrum?” Sitting at the head of the table was my dad, Arthur. He looked completely healthy, his face flushed red as he poured himself another glass of expensive Bourbon. Did he look like someone with terminal lung cancer? Not even close. He let out a loud burp and waved his hand dismissively. “Call her! Is she trying to quit?” “If she doesn’t want to work, bring her back and marry her off! The creepy old landlord down the road offered $30,000 for her. That’s enough to buy Hunter a private parking space.” Brenda immediately dialed my number. “The number you have dialed is currently switched off…” Hearing the automated voice, Brenda’s temper flared instantly. “She turned off her phone? How dare she!” She immediately called the manager of the sweatshop—her distant cousin, who was paid to keep an eye on me. As soon as the call connected, loud machine noises and angry shouting echoed through the speaker. “Brenda! I was just about to call you!” “Your girl ran away!” Brenda froze. Her mind went blank. “Ran… ran away?” She looked out the window at the dark night, murmuring, “It’s the middle of the night. Where could a young girl go? The streets are so dangerous… what if she runs into bad people?” “Mom! What the hell are you thinking about?” Hunter slammed his fork onto the plate, violently cutting off Brenda’s tiny shred of motherly instinct. “If she ran away, what about my house renovations? What about my parking spot?” “If she actually cared about this family, why would she run? She’s just selfish! She wants to keep all her money for herself!” With that roar, the last bit of worry on Brenda’s face vanished. It was replaced by a furious sense of betrayal and panic over losing her cash cow. Yes. If her daughter ran away, who would pay for her son’s lifestyle? Worry? How much was that worth? Arthur’s face darkened too. He slammed his glass down, a vicious glint in his eyes. “Find her! We must bring her back!” “I don’t care if she’s dead or alive, as long as she’s breathing, drag her back to work!” “If she refuses, we’ll pack her off to that landlord immediately. Not a single penny of that thirty thousand can be missing!” Brenda spat, her chest heaving with rage. She gritted her teeth and dialed 911. “Dispatcher? I want to report a theft!” “My daughter stole $50,000 from our home and ran off with some guy!” “Go arrest her! She’s been a thief since she was a kid. She’s evil to the core!” To force the police to act, and to drag back the daughter who dared to escape her cage, she effortlessly threw the filthiest lie onto her own child. ###

At the police station. Officer Miller, an experienced cop, frowned as he looked at the couple sitting across from him, both dressed in flashy, expensive clothes. Brenda was still throwing a hysterical fit. “Officer! Why are you guys so slow?” “It’s been two hours! Why haven’t you caught that little brat yet?” “That’s fifty thousand dollars! That’s my husband’s life-saving money!” Arthur chimed in, clutching his chest and coughing weakly. “Yes… I have terminal lung cancer. I need that money for my surgery…” Officer Miller threw a folder onto the table with a cold stare. “Terminal lung cancer?” “Arthur, this is your medical report from the general hospital last month.” “Aside from a slightly fatty liver and mild high blood pressure, you are as strong as an ox. Your lungs are perfectly clear. Not even a single spot. Care to explain your ‘terminal cancer’?” Arthur’s face stiffened, his eyes darting around. “That… that was a misdiagnosis! The first doctor told me it was cancer…” “Enough!” Miller slammed his hand on the desk. The loud bang made Hunter drop his phone. “We checked Chloe’s bank statements.” “Every single payday, her entire check was instantly transferred to an account under the name of Hunter. Is this what you call ‘theft’?” “Also, we just raided that illegal sweatshop.” Miller turned his screen around, showing several shocking photos. A dark, damp workshop, piles of heavy metal parts, and a wooden cot with nothing but a thin, torn sheet. On the small crate next to the bed sat a half-eaten jar of cheap pickles and a pack of the cheapest painkillers. “This is where your daughter lived?” “Her coworkers said she worked sixteen hours a day. She didn’t even dare to take a sick day when she had a 104-degree fever.” “Because she believed her dad was dying and needed the money.” Miller’s voice shook with suppressed fury. “You took the blood money she earned with her life to eat steaks, buy luxury apartments, and drive trucks.” “Yet you lied to her that her father had a terminal illness just to force her to slave away for you?” “Are you people even human?!” The interrogation room fell dead silent. A young female cop standing next to Miller, Officer Avery, had red eyes, glaring at the three of them with pure disgust. Brenda’s face flushed red, then turned pale. But she quickly raised her chin defensively. “So what? I’m her mother! I gave birth to her and raised her. She owes me!” “Besides, we only lied to give her some motivation to work hard!” “Young people today are lazy. If you don’t push them, they’ll never know their potential!” Hunter muttered under his breath, “Exactly. I’m the son, the one who carries the family name. It’s her duty to support me.” “Officer, stop lecturing us and just find her. Since she left, there’s no one to clean the house.” Miller’s hands were shaking with rage. He had been a cop for twenty years. He had seen bad people, but he had never seen parents this vile. Just then, a tech officer burst into the room, his face completely pale. “Captain! We tracked her!” “Chloe’s phone signal pinged one last time near the southern border!” “And… the border patrol cameras caught the bus she boarded last night.” “It belongs to Scarface Nick. He’s a notorious cartel smuggler who takes captives to the lawless compounds across the border!” “What?!” Miller stood up so fast his chair screeched against the floor. Brenda and Arthur looked completely clueless. “Across the border? Like a vacation? How did that brat have money for a trip?” Hunter, however, realized what it meant. His face drained of all color. He spent all his time online. He knew exactly what those cartel compounds were. “Mom… that’s… that’s where they run scams and harvest organs…” “Once you go in, you never come out.” Brenda froze, the color slowly leaving her face. “Har… harvest what?” she stammered. “But… people die there! Why would she go to a place like that…” Terror washed over her, but then she shrieked, “That stupid girl! She must have been blinded by the high pay they promised! She got scammed! What does that have to do with me?” “I gave her food and clothes! She walked into that hellhole herself! She’s doing this to punish us! Even if she dies out there, she brought it on herself!” ###

Arthur panicked too. He gripped the edge of the table, his lips trembling. “Officer, you must have made a mistake. She’s usually too scared to even walk down a dark street. How could she cross the border? What if… what if she really doesn’t come back…” But he quickly straightened his back, coughing to cover his fear. “Hmph! Maybe a little suffering will do her some good! Kids today think they’re so tough. Once she gets beaten up out there, she’ll realize how good she had it at home!” “I bet she went to that dangerous place on purpose just to scare us and make us beg her to come back! No way!” … In the briefing room of the Border Police Station. The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. The family had been brought here overnight. Officer Miller threw a freshly intercepted video onto the table in front of them. “Take a look.” “This was sent by an informant across the border. It shows the group of captives smuggled in yesterday.” The video was blurry and shaky. The background showed a dark, thick jungle and armed guards holding rifles. A group of exhausted, thin people were being forced off a truck like cattle. In the corner, a small, frail figure stood out. She was wearing a faded school hoodie, clutching a small bottle of water. Though her face was blurry, Brenda recognized her instantly. It was Chloe. The daughter who always kept her head down at home and never dared to speak loudly. In the video, a muscular guard was whipping a man who walked too slowly. The sound of the whip hitting bare skin made everyone in the room shudder. “Officer! Can… can you still save her?” Arthur finally lost his composure. “I don’t need the treatment anymore… I don’t want the money! Just bring her back to work on the farm! That place looks like a death trap!” Miller looked at him with sheer disgust. “Save her? That is a lawless wasteland controlled by ruthless cartel syndicates.” “Going in there is a death sentence.” “And according to our intel, this batch of people was bought to be ‘blood bags’ and ‘donors’.” “Donors?” Hunter squeaked. “Living organ donors,” Officer Avery added coldly. “They drain your blood, take your corneas, and harvest your organs until there’s nothing left of you. That is the place you forced her into.” “She literally sold herself to raise the surgery money for a father who faked cancer.” “According to the smuggler we arrested, right before she crossed, she was still asking if she could get a $50,000 advance on her salary.” “Because her mother told her that her dad’s surgery was still $50,000 short.” At that moment, the last bit of color drained from the family’s faces. Brenda slumped into her chair, her lips shivering. “I… I just said that randomly…” “I just wanted her to make more money… I didn’t want her to die!” Suddenly, Brenda lunged forward, grabbing Miller’s sleeve so hard her nails tore into the fabric. She screamed hysterically: “Officer! You’re a cop! You have to save her! She went there to save her father’s life! We lied to her… we ruined her!” “Please, go save her! If you’re too late… Chloe will be gone forever!” Miller coldly pushed her hand away. “You’re crying now? It’s too late.” *Ding.* Suddenly, Brenda’s phone lit up on the table. A scheduled text message from Chloe popped up on the screen: *“Mom, the boss gave me an advance of $50,000. Dad can have his surgery now. Don’t worry about me.”* Those few words felt like a red-hot iron branding Brenda’s eyes. She shrieked in pain, and the phone clattered to the floor. Arthur stared at the message, then raised his hand and slammed a hard slap across his own face, letting out a guttural, animal-like sob. Just then, the border patrol radio crackled to life. Through the static, a tense voice came through. “Report! We have an update from the border!” “The cartel compound’s weapons depot just exploded!” “It triggered a massive chain of explosions and a raging fire! The entire compound is swallowed in flames!” “No survivors!” “While clearing the perimeter, we recovered a charred backpack.” “Inside was an ID card. The name is… Chloe.”

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My biological mother thought my six-year-old self was a drag on her chances of marrying into a wealthy estate. So, she dumped me under a highway overpass. To get a bite of food, I grabbed the leg of a passing street punk and wouldn’t let go. “Hey, big brother, your boots are dirty. Let me wipe them for you.” “Hey, big brother, are you thirsty? I can go steal some water for you.” A bunch of street punks looked down at me. “Damn, this kid knows how to hustle. Fine, let’s keep her. She’s our little sister now.” From that day on, I had twelve gangster brothers. They never taught me any grand life philosophies. They only taught me one thing: if someone bullies you, beat them to a pulp. Because of this, in twelve years, my twelve brothers had never actually been in the same room together. Either one was doing time for breaking someone’s leg, or another was locked up for cracking someone’s ribs. But against all odds, I studied hard, got into college, and became the only university student from our run-down neighborhood. Yet, on the very first day of classes, my roommate lost her luxury necklace and pointed the finger straight at me. Our academic advisor, the dorm supervisor, and the roommate’s rich parents marched right to my place, demanding to search it. I blocked the doorway. “Can we please just resolve this at the school office?” The roommate’s mother shoved me aside. “Guilty conscience, huh? I want to see exactly what kind of trashy home breeds a thief!”

I stood at the door of my off-campus place, looking at Mrs. Miller, our academic advisor, who had her usual “just-following-protocol” face. Behind her stood a middle-aged couple practically dripping in designer labels, and Chloe, my roommate, leaning against the hallway wall with a smug smirk. “May,” Mrs. Miller said, adjusting her glasses. “If you really have nothing to hide, you should let us and Chloe’s parents take a look inside. It’s the best way to clear your name.” Chloe’s mother sneered at me, scanning me from head to toe before her eyes settled on my faded, worn-out canvas sneakers. She let out a loud, dramatic sigh. Chloe stepped forward, lowering her voice, but making sure everyone in the hallway could hear: “May, you could barely afford the tuition deposit, right? I heard you’re only here on financial aid. With your background, who else would steal my four-thousand-dollar Tiffany necklace? Who’s going to believe you?” I ignored her and looked straight at Mrs. Miller. “Mrs. Miller, can we please just handle this through the campus board?” “Why are you so scared?” Chloe’s father took a step forward. He had a massive gold pinky ring and pointed his finger right in my face. “My daughter’s necklace is the latest Tiffany collection! Four grand! If it wasn’t you, then who? We are searching your place today. I want to see what kind of trashy family raises a thief!” Chloe laughed out loud beside him. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s go.” As we walked out of the campus gates, Chloe kept pace right next to me, her high heels clicking loudly on the pavement. “May, do you even know who bought me that necklace? My boyfriend. The one who drives the Mercedes,” she said, tossing her hair. “Honestly, you’re not ugly. Why do you do stuff like this? Why not just find a guy to take care of you? What’s the point of finishing college if you’re just going to be broke forever?” I stopped and turned to look at her. “Was that Mercedes rented or borrowed?” I asked flatly. “Because last week, I saw him riding a rental scooter outside the gate.” Chloe’s face went rigid. Her mother overheard and immediately rushed over. “How dare you speak to my daughter like that! Chloe’s boyfriend is in business! What does a charity-case student like you know about anything?!” I didn’t reply. I just kept walking. But my mind drifted back to my twelve brothers. When I was six, my birth mother, Eleanor, abandoned me under a highway overpass because I was getting in the way of her marrying a rich guy. She left me with twenty dollars and never looked back. I huddled under that overpass for two days, dizzy with hunger. Then, I saw a crew of guys walking down the alley. The leader had bleached blonde hair, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and walked like he owned the streets. I was tiny, but I had survival instincts. I rushed out and wrapped my arms around his leg. “Hey, big brother, your boots are dirty. Let me wipe them for you.” “Hey, big brother, are you thirsty? I can go steal some water for you.” The crew looked down at me. “Kid’s got game,” the blonde guy said, spitting out his cigarette. “Fine, we’re keeping her. She’s our little sister now.” From that day on, I had twelve brothers. The oldest was Jax, the blonde leader. The second was Leo, the big guy with a scar across his face. The third was Blade, skinny as a rail. The fourth was Hammer, the one with fists like iron. All the way down to the twelfth, whom we called Gizmo. He picked the name himself, saying a weird street name keeps you safe. They never taught me morals. They only taught me one rule: *If anyone messes with you, let your fists do the talking.* So, for twelve years, the twelve of them were never all together. Someone was always in county jail for breaking a collarbone or cracking a rib. But they loved me fiercely. When I was a kid, we were dirt poor. We lived in a rundown trailer park that leaked rain in the summer and let in freezing wind in the winter. But my plate always had the best cuts of meat, scooped out of my brothers’ own bowls. When I was seven, a boy at school cut a chunk of my hair off and mocked me for having no parents. I didn’t cry. I didn’t say a word when I got home. But Jax somehow found out. The next day, that boy showed up to school with a completely shaved head, crying his eyes out all day. When the teacher asked who did it, the boy just whimpered that someone had pinned him down in the bathroom with a razor. When I asked Jax about it, he was eating instant ramen and didn’t even look up. “What? I was at the internet cafe all night. Don’t look at me.”

But I saw the electric clippers tucked in his back pocket. When I was eight, a local creep tried to touch my face in the alley. Again, I said nothing. But the next day, that creep was kneeling in front of our porch, his face swollen like a balloon, begging for my forgiveness. Blade was leaning against the wall, smoking. He smiled when he saw me. “Hey, sis. This guy wanted to apologize, so we helped him find his manners.” Later, I found out Blade had taken on that creep and four of his friends by himself. Blade spent two weeks in the hospital, but when he came home, he brought me a cheap hair clip. “Got it from a street vendor for two bucks. Don’t hate it,” he grunted. I still have that clip. … “May! Why are you walking so fast? Guilty conscience?” Chloe’s voice snapped me back to reality. She jogged up to match my pace, a smug smile plastered on her face. “Are you scared of us seeing how you live? I heard the area you live in is basically a slum. Are you renting some sketchy room? Or do you live with your weird relatives?” I ignored her. My phone buzzed. I pulled it out and saw a text from Gizmo, my youngest brother. *“Hey sis, how was orientation? Get your butt home quick, the guys put together a huge surprise for you!”* A surprise. My palms started sweating. I knew exactly what their “surprises” looked like. The day I finished my high school exams, they said they had a surprise. I ran home excited, only to find a guy kneeling on our living room floor. It was a bully from the high school next door who used to corner me for lunch money. My brothers had handled him before, but that day, he was black and blue, sobbing. “I’m sorry! I’ll never do it again! Please tell your brothers to let me go…” Jax was sitting on a lawn chair, eating watermelon. He tossed the rind aside when he saw me. “Sis, this guy wanted to apologize face-to-face. We just facilitated. You satisfied? If not, I can make him kneel a bit longer.” What was I supposed to say? So, seeing the word “surprise” now made my heart race. Chloe leaned over to peep at my screen before I could lock it. “Ooh, who’s texting you?” she sneered. “Some street trash boyfriend? Figures. With your background, you’d only attract lowlifes.” I shoved the phone into my pocket and remained silent. She leaned in closer, whispering, but loud enough for Mrs. Miller and her parents to hear. “May, are you embarrassed of your home? Don’t worry, being poor isn’t a crime.” She tossed her hair. “But stealing is. That necklace is four grand. You can’t even pay your tuition—how are you going to pay me back? If you hand it over now, we can settle this privately. Otherwise, once we search your place and find it, I’m calling the cops.” I stopped walking. “I didn’t take it.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Sure, you didn’t. Let’s see what you say when we find it.” Her mother caught up and grabbed my arm tightly. “Why are you stopping? Trying to run?” “I’m not running,” I said, trying to pull away. “Not running?” Her mother gripped harder, her sharp acrylic nails digging painfully into my skin. “You look like you’re about to bolt! We should hold her down, otherwise, she’ll run for sure!”

Chloe chimed in immediately, “Yes! Hold her!” Mrs. Miller turned around, frowning, but she didn’t stop them. Chloe’s father walked over. “Mrs. Miller, I agree. If she runs, who pays for the four-thousand-dollar necklace? We need to secure her.” Mrs. Miller hesitated, then nodded. “May, just cooperate for now. It’s for everyone’s peace of mind.” Chloe’s mother pulled a nylon strap from her designer bag, trying to bind my wrists. I violently yanked my arm back. “Back off.” Chloe’s mother gasped. Chloe froze. Mrs. Miller’s frown deepened. “May! Show some respect to your elders!” “I said, back off,” I glared at them. “I didn’t steal anything. You have no right to bind me.” Chloe’s father lunged forward to grab me. I dodged. Chloe sneered, “May, you want to fight? I can get you arrested for assault!” “Go ahead,” I spat, staring her down. Her father lunged again. I raised my hand to block, and somehow, my fist connected squarely with his jaw. Honestly, I don’t even know how I threw that punch. Maybe it was the muscle memory from the self-defense moves my brothers drilled into me, or maybe I was just pushed to my limit. Chloe’s father groaned, stumbling back against the brick wall. “You struck my husband!” Chloe’s mother shrieked, throwing herself at me and grabbing my hair. Chloe joined in, clawing at me. Mrs. Miller was shouting “Stop it! Stop it!” from the sidelines, but no one listened. I was pinned to the gravel ground. My scalp burned from being pulled, and I took a couple of hits to the face. During the scuffle, something slipped out of my pocket and clattered onto the concrete. It was a jade amulet. A pale green piece, carved in the shape of a little rabbit. Blade had given it to me. On my thirteenth birthday, Blade had just gotten out of county jail after a three-month stretch for protecting his crew. He was visibly thinner, but he smiled when he saw me and pulled this amulet from his pocket. “Happy birthday, sis.” When I asked where he got it, he just told me not to worry about it, that it was a good piece. Later, Jax told me Blade had taken it from some rich prick who tried to hustle their crew. The guy used the jade to buy his way out of a beating. Jax said it was worth a lot of money and told me to keep it safe. I had kept it close to my chest for years. I never took it off. Chloe snatched the jade off the ground. “What’s this?” She turned it over, her eyes lighting up. “Mom, look! This is real jade!” Her mother leaned in, and the two whispered frantically. Then Chloe looked up at me, triumphant. “May, you can’t even afford college. Where did you get a piece of jade like this? This is worth thousands! You definitely stole this from somewhere!”

“Give it back!” I scrambled up from the ground, reaching for it. Chloe held it high, stepping back. “You dare try to steal it back?” Her mother shoved me away. “This is clearly stolen property! We’re giving this to the police!” “Give it back!” I lunged, grabbing for the amulet. In the chaotic struggle, there was a sharp, sickening *crack*. The jade flew out of Chloe’s hand, smashed against the brick wall, and fell to the pavement. It shattered. It broke into several pieces. The little carved rabbit split right down the middle. I froze. Chloe froze too. Then she shrugged. “Whatever. It was stolen anyway. Let’s go to your place. I want to see what else you’ve hidden.” I knelt down, carefully picking up the broken shards of jade, cradling them in my palm. My eyes stung. But I didn’t cry. My brothers told me: *Our family doesn’t cry.* I tucked the shards into my pocket, stood up, and kept walking. Chloe muttered behind me, telling her mom I was definitely a serial thief. I ignored them. After a ten-minute walk, we reached the trailer park at the edge of the city. The alleyways were narrow, littered, and overhead wires hung like chaotic spiderwebs. Chloe laughed out loud. “May, you actually live here? Is this even fit for humans?” Her mother covered her nose. “Ugh, what is that smell? Disgusting!” Chloe’s father, nursing his bruised jaw, sneered, “No wonder she’s a thief. Growing up in a dump like this, how else would she survive?” Mrs. Miller pinched her nose but remained quiet. I walked up to our rusty metal gate. Chloe nudged me. “What are you waiting for? Open it! Let’s see your little rat hole.” Her mother added, “Yes, open it! Get your parents out here! I want to see who raised a brat like you!” I pulled out my keys, my hands trembling slightly. Not out of fear. But because I could see shadows moving through the cracks of the door. There were voices. More than one person was home. I pushed the door open. And I stopped dead in my tracks. Sitting in the living room was a massive circle of men. Twelve of them. Every single one was there. Jax, the oldest, still had his bleached hair, but today it was neatly combed. He wore a brand-new T-shirt and actually looked presentable. Leo, the second, still had his facial scar, but he had squeezed into a buttoned-up white shirt, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Blade, skinny as ever, sat upright, smiling the moment he saw me. Hammer, the fourth, sat with his hands on his knees, posture perfectly straight. The fifth, the sixth, the seventh… All the way to Gizmo, who had actually washed his hair and slicked it back with so much gel a fly would slip off it. On the table in front of them sat a massive cake. Written on it in clumsy frosting was: *Congrats on College, Sis!* Jax was the first to stand up, smiling as he walked toward me. “May, you’re back! We were waiting for you. It’s your birthday, so we all chipped in and got a—” He stopped mid-sentence. He saw the people behind me. He saw the red marks on my face. He saw my messy hair, my dirty clothes, and the mud on my sleeves. The smile vanished from Jax’s face. Leo stood up. Blade stood up. Hammer stood up. One by one, all twelve of them stood up. Behind her mother, Chloe whispered, “Who are these guys? May’s relatives?”

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My mom has severe mobility issues, so I hired a nanny to look after her. But my mom kept insisting that the nanny was verbally abusing her and stealing her money. I installed security cameras all over the house, but the footage only showed my mom screaming like a lunatic at a silent nanny. Because of this, I had several huge fights with her. The nanny, Martha, looked incredibly hurt every time: “If it weren’t out of respect for you, Claire, I would have quit months ago!” But I started to wonder… if she was suffering so much in our house, why did she refuse to quit? *** **1** My mom sneered when she heard Martha’s tearful words. “Oh, cut the act, Martha!” “Claire, listen to me. I might be old, but I am not losing my mind!” “Fire her! Right now!” I was drowning in a major project at work, my husband, David, was out of town on business, and I had already left our kid with my mother-in-law. I literally had zero time or energy to take care of her myself. “Mom, this is the fourteenth nanny we’ve had! If we fire her, the agency won’t even send us anyone else!” “I checked the cameras, Mom. Martha didn’t say a single word. Can you please stop making a scene?” Maybe it was because I was so stressed lately, but I snapped. My voice was sharp, and I even had stress ulcers in my mouth. Seeing my exhausted state, my mom’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. Once you’re old, you’re just a burden to everyone.” I rolled my eyes, walked out of her room, and turned to Martha. “I’m so sorry, Martha. My mom has a terrible temper. Thanks for putting up with her.” I pulled out a $100 Target gift card that my company had given me and slipped it into her hand. “Take this. Get yourself some treats on your day off. Please, just hang in there for me.” Martha sighed and took the card. “Claire, honestly, if I didn’t see how hard you work, I would have… well, never mind. It’s my job, after all.” “Oh, by the way, I made some organic honey grapefruit tea. You should take a jar home. It’s great for stress.” Martha took a glass jar from the fridge. She insisted I take it. Before leaving, I looked back at my mom’s room. “Mom, I’m heading out. Call me if you need anything.” My mom just waved her hand dismissively, not even looking at me. As soon as I got into my car, I opened the security app on my phone. The live feed showed Martha kneeling on the floor, massaging my mom’s feet. “Helen,” Martha said on screen, her voice gentle. “You’re older than me, but you have to understand your kids have it hard. You keep calling Claire back home every two days. I know you miss her, but she has a career to focus on.” My heart ached when I heard that. It was true. I had been chasing this client for three months. It was the peak of my busy season. But at the same time, my mom’s diabetes complications had left her bound to a wheelchair. I was desperate, which was why I had gone through fourteen nannies. Her temper had only gotten worse since she got sick. Martha was the only one who had lasted. She had been with us for six months now. I sighed. But suddenly, my mom’s sharp scream pierced through my phone speaker. “You’re mocking me again! You psycho! Get away from me! Get away!” “Let go of me! It hurts! Claire, look at her! She’s stabbing me!” I quickly rewound the footage. But Martha’s mouth hadn’t moved at all! There was no sound of abuse on the recording, yet my mom was screaming in terror. She shoved Martha away, causing Martha to stumble onto the floor. Martha looked up with tears in her eyes. “Helen, I know you don’t like me, but I’ll stop talking, okay?” “Just please don’t stress Claire out. She’s so busy.” “Get out of here! You snake!” I couldn’t watch it anymore. I wanted to yell at my mom through the camera’s speaker, but I stopped myself. Just then, my coworker leaned over my desk, seeing my miserable face. She tapped my shoulder. “Is your mom throwing another tantrum?” “Yeah. She keeps saying the nanny is abusing her. I installed cameras, but they show absolutely nothing. She was never like this before.” “Maybe you should get her evaluated for Alzheimer’s? I heard sudden personality changes and paranoia are early signs of dementia.” Her words made me freeze. It was true. Ever since my mom lost her mobility, she had become a completely different person. I thought it was just because of her illness, but could there be another reason? After finishing my shift, I went back to my own apartment. I didn’t go to my mom’s place because I was just too exhausted. I wanted to get one day of rest and visit her the next morning. But that night, my phone rang. It was my mom, sobbing. “Claire, come quick! She’s doing it again!” *** **2** I jumped out of bed, threw on a hoodie, and rushed to my car. When I parked downstairs at my mom’s place, I instinctively opened the security app to check the playback. The footage showed Martha bringing a basin of warm water to wash my mom’s feet. But out of nowhere, my mom suddenly started screaming obscenities at her and kicked the basin over, splashing water everywhere. My head throbbed. I went upstairs, unlocked the door, and walked in. Martha was on her knees, drying the hardwood floor with a towel. Seeing me, she let out a long sigh. “Claire, I think Helen’s mental state is deteriorating. You really need to take her to a neurologist.” My mom went ballistic. “You liar! You fake bitch! How dare you frame me!” “Claire, she—” “Enough, Mom! I am exhausted!” My head was pounding so hard I felt sick. I had never felt this level of frustration before. “Why do you keep doing this? We’ve gone through fourteen nannies! Are you trying to drive everyone away?” “Do you have any idea how hard my life is right now?” My mom gasped, staring at me in shock, unable to speak. Martha stood beside her, looking deeply hurt. “Helen, I’ve told you a hundred times, I never said those things. If you keep doing this, I’m going to lose my mind!” Hearing this, my mom lost it. She furiously rolled up her sleeves. “Look! She doesn’t just abuse me, she stabs me!” She grabbed my hand. “Claire, I raised you. I’m your mother. Do you really not believe me?” I sighed, completely drained. “Mom, if you really believe that, let’s just call the police.” My mom choked. “The police?” Martha stepped in. “Actually, let me call them. I don’t want Helen to think I have something to hide, and I don’t want you caught in the middle, Claire.” Martha pulled out her phone and dialed 911 right in front of us. My mom sneered. “Fine! Call them! Let’s see how long you can keep up this act!” I watched Martha’s face closely. There wasn’t a single trace of panic. Ten minutes later, two police officers arrived. My mom immediately told them that Martha was abusing her and stabbing her with needles. “Look at my arms! Look at these marks!” I leaned in to look. Indeed, there were tiny, red, swollen puncture wounds on her arms. Martha calmly spoke to the officers. “Sir, nanny agencies have strict rules against carrying sharp objects. I was fully vetted. I have no idea why she is accusing me of this. You are welcome to check the security cameras.” I nodded and showed the officers the footage. There was absolutely no sound of Martha speaking, let alone abusing her. My mom was shaking with rage. “You’re all in on this! Get out! All of you, get out of my house!” One of the officers looked at my mom, his face serious. “Ma’am, if you call us out here for a false report again, we will have to take legal action.” My mom froze. “What?” “Filing a false police report is a crime.” The officer then turned to me. “Does your mother have a history of mental illness? You should really get her checked out.” I was mortified. I apologized profusely, escorted the officers out, and turned to apologize to Martha. Martha patted my shoulder gently. “It’s okay, Claire. Before I took this job, the agency told me your mom was difficult. But you’re around my daughter’s age, so I understand.” “Taking care of parents is just a heavy cross we have to bear.” My mom screamed from her room, “Shut up, you witch!” Martha shook her head. “I’ll ignore that.” I couldn’t control my anger anymore and turned to my mom. “Mom, stop it! I’m working overtime, sleeping three hours a day, and you’re pulling this crap? Look at me! I look like a corpse! I beg you, just stop!” *** **3** I threw my hands up in defeat. My mom took a deep, shaky breath, slowly turned her wheelchair around, and rolled into her bedroom without saying another word. I wondered if I had hurt her feelings, but I literally had nothing left in me to comfort her. I asked Martha to keep an eye on her, and since I couldn’t bear the thought of driving back to my place, I went into the guest bedroom and collapsed onto the bed. Right before I drifted off, a thought popped into my head. I pulled out my phone and opened the camera app. I watched the footage again, frame by frame, zoomed in. Martha’s lips definitely did not move. Yet, my mom’s physical reaction—the way she flinched and screamed—was extremely genuine. My mom was a gentle, sweet woman before she got sick. She wouldn’t act like this for no reason. And those puncture wounds on her arms were real. But Martha didn’t have any needles in her bags. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Finally, I opened Amazon and ordered a few hidden spy cameras. The next morning, I took a sick day from work. I sent Martha out to the grocery store, and while she was gone, I hidden-installed the cameras all over the house. I even attached a tiny button-sized spy camera to one of my mom’s cardigans. My mom watched me do this, looking confused. “Claire?” “Mom, I want to protect you. But you have to cooperate with me. Tell me the absolute truth—what is going on?” “I couldn’t find any evidence before. If you’re telling the truth, I won’t let anyone hurt you. But I can’t accuse someone without proof.” My mom looked incredibly vulnerable. “She really does abuse me, Claire. But her mouth doesn’t move. The voice… it just comes out of her.” I stared at her, stunned. Later that afternoon, I drove to the agency, *Joyful Care*, bringing a box of expensive donuts. The manager, Leonard, recognized me immediately and smiled. “Hey, Claire! Are we looking for nanny number fifteen?” I shook my head. “Actually, no. I’m here to thank you for sending Martha. She’s been a lifesaver.” “My mom’s mind has been a bit fuzzy lately, and she’s been giving Martha a hard time. I just wanted to make sure Martha feels appreciated.” “I’m sure you’ve heard about the police incident.” Leonard waved his hand. “Oh, don’t worry about it. It’s part of the job. You shouldn’t feel guilty.” “By the way, what does Martha like? I want to get her a nice gift, maybe send her and my mom on a small day trip to get them out of the house.” Hearing this, Leonard let his guard down completely and started chatting away, telling me all about Martha’s background and habits. When I walked out of the agency, my hands were clenched into tight fists. I ran to my car and sped back home. Halfway there, my phone buzzed. It was a video from Martha. She was in the kitchen making apple pies, while my mom was yelling in the background. *“Are you coming home for dinner, Claire? I’m baking pies,”* Martha’s text read. In the video, my mom’s eyes were bloodshot. “My daughter will destroy you when she finds out!” Then, Martha walked closer to my mom. Her back was completely blocking the main security camera. The audio on the main feed was silent. But the tiny button camera on my mom’s cardigan captured everything crystal clear: “You old piece of trash. Keep crying. Let’s see if anyone believes you.” “You think complaining to your daughter will save you? You called the cops, and they almost locked *you* up. You’re a useless, paralyzed waste of space.” Hearing those words, I almost blacked out from rage. That psychopath! She had fooled us all! On screen, Martha suddenly shoved my mom into the bathroom. My mom let out a blood-curdling scream! Through the hidden camera, I saw Martha pull something small and sharp from her pocket and viciously jab it into my mom’s mouth!

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As I was about to sign the papers and pay the $200,000 down payment for our future house, my girlfriend suddenly stared at the realtor. “Only my name goes on the deed and the purchase agreement,” she said. I froze, thinking I had misheard her. “Chloe, this is two hundred thousand dollars. My parents sold their old house just to scrape this together. We can’t even put both our names on it?” Chloe’s face instantly turned cold. “Ethan, are you seriously keeping score with me right now?” “I gave you the best years of my youth. I’m just asking for this house to give me some security. Is that too much to ask?” Seeing other home buyers whispering and looking at us, I quickly lowered my voice to soothe her. “It’s not about keeping score. Having both our names is just the legal way to protect our marriage.” Chloe sneered. “Don’t talk to me about the law. I only care about your attitude!” “My bestie’s husband bought a house in full cash and only put her name on it. Why is it so hard for you when it’s just a down payment?” “Ethan, if your name is on this deed today, the wedding is off!” She turned to leave. My chest tightened. We were so close to getting married. If things fell apart now, I wouldn’t know how to face my parents. “Fine! We’ll write only your name!” I gritted my teeth and called her back. Chloe stopped. Her frown instantly turned into a beaming smile. She threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. “You’re the best, babe! I knew you loved me the most!” But I never expected that very night, she would give me the lesson of a lifetime.

To celebrate “her” new luxury apartment, Chloe booked a table at a high-end restaurant that night. She even ordered an expensive vintage wine. After a few glasses, her face was flushed with excitement. “Ethan, this house is my leverage now. My mom is going to be so thrilled.” I forced a smile, but my heart felt like it was crushed under a boulder. Two hundred thousand dollars. All for her smile and my uncertain future. By the end of the dinner, Chloe was completely wasted. She slumped over the table, mumbling, “I have a house now… I have a home…” I sighed and got up to pay the bill. When I came back, I noticed her phone on the table. It was buzzing non-stop. I didn’t mean to snoop, but the notifications were coming in too fast. And the name of the group chat popping up on the screen made my eyelid twitch: [High-Society Wannabes & Simp Harvesters (Group 3)] I instinctively picked up her phone and used her thumb to unlock it. The pinned chat was scrolling frantically with messages. “@BrightSky (Chloe’s handle) Babe! How did it go? Did that idiot swipe his card?” “Make sure you don’t get the marriage certificate first. Otherwise, it becomes marital property. You must buy it now, and only in your name!” Ten minutes ago, right before she passed out, Chloe had sent a voice note. I tapped it. Her smug, drunken voice came through the speaker. “Got it! A $200,000 down payment, all paid by him. Only my name is on the deed!” “Add his name? No way! A little drama, and I had him wrapped around my finger.” The group chat exploded. The screen was flooded with “Queen behavior!” and “Teach us your ways!” A user named @Simp_Slayer messaged: “Incredible job, babe! This guy is just a stepping stone anyway.” “Now that the house is yours, it’s pre-marital property. Even if you divorce him later, he won’t get a dime.” “He paid the down payment voluntarily. In court, the judge will just rule it as a gift. He’ll be crying in the corner!” My hand started to shake. A cold shiver ran up my spine. The “security” drama this afternoon was a carefully planned trap. This was the woman I had cherished and loved for three years? I kept scrolling up. I saw a screenshot Chloe had shared from a Twitter thread. The title read: *Girls, how do I get my boyfriend to pay for a house but only put my name on it? Urgent!* The comments below were packed with toxic advice. “Threaten to break up. Works every time.” “Accuse him of not trusting you. Gaslight him.” “If all else fails, cry, scream, throw a tantrum.” Chloe had replied: *Noted. Trying this tonight. The guy has some savings, can’t let him slip away.* Looking at those words, my stomach churned. Still in denial, I tapped into her chat with her mother, Eleanor. The timestamp was from this afternoon, right when we were signing the papers. Eleanor: “Chloe, is the deed signed? Are you sure that poor boy’s name isn’t on it?” Chloe: “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s done. This house belongs to our family now. Ethan has nothing to do with it.” Eleanor: “Good! By the way, Aunt Susan set you up with a PhD who just came back from abroad. Free tomorrow night for a date?” “I heard his family owns factories. Way better than Ethan, who’s just a corporate slave.” “Now that you have a house, your value is different. Keep Ethan as a backup, but keep your options open. Don’t tie yourself to one tree.” Chloe had replied with an “OK” emoji. “I know, Mom. Now that the house is mine, I can easily ghost Ethan later with some random excuse.” “He already paid the money anyway. No loss for me.” “Send me a picture of the PhD. Is he hot?” *Slam!* I slammed the phone onto the table in fury. The noise startled the nearby diners and woke Chloe up. She rubbed her eyes, looking dazed. “Babe… what’s wrong? Are we going home?” She reached out to grab my arm, acting cute as usual. I stepped back to avoid her touch, my eyes freezing cold. Looking at this beautiful woman with a snake’s heart. I suddenly laughed. I laughed at how stupid I had been. I laughed at how I had used my parents’ hard-earned money to feed an ungrateful leech. She thought she could ruin me just because she had Twitter gurus and toxic strategies. Too bad, Chloe. You don’t know my background. You have Twitter. But I have the law.

I took a deep breath and calmed myself down. Confronting her now was not smart. The house contract was just signed, and the paperwork wasn’t complete. Since you want to play, I’ll play with you. While she was still groggy, I took her phone again. I quickly took photos and screen recordings of all the chats, the group, and the Twitter posts. Then, I uploaded everything to my cloud drive. Once done, I cleared the transfer history, put her phone back, and put on a warm smile. I helped her up. “It’s nothing. My hand slipped.” “Come on, honey. Let’s go home.” Chloe leaned heavily on me, her breath smelling of alcohol. “Ethan… you’re so good to me…” “We’re going to be so happy…” I sneered inwardly. Oh, yes. I will make sure we are “happy.” The next morning, Chloe woke up with a pounding headache. She reached for her phone first thing. Seeing it untouched on the nightstand, she let out a sigh of relief. “Good morning, babe.” She walked out of the bedroom in her pajamas and saw me on the balcony making a call. I said to the phone, “Yes, I kept all the transfer records of the $200,000. The notes are very clear.” Chloe froze. Her eyes instantly filled with suspicion. “Ethan, who are you talking to? What transfer records?” I hung up, turned around, and smiled naturally. “Oh, I was just thinking. Since the house is only in your name, I wanted to make sure your mom feels secure.” “I just consulted a lawyer friend. He said to protect your rights, we should complete some formalities.” Hearing “protect your rights,” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “What formalities?” I walked over and poured her a glass of warm water. “The lawyer said that even though only your name is on the deed, I paid the money.” “To avoid any future disputes—like if I ever regret it and try to sue you.” “We should sign an agreement stating this money is a ‘voluntary pre-marital gift’ conditional on our marriage.” Chloe was ecstatic. Wasn’t this exactly what her group chat sisters had taught her? Lock in the gift status! She grabbed my hand excitedly. “Babe, you’re so thoughtful! Draft it quickly, and I’ll sign!” Looking at her eager face, I sneered inside. Greed really makes people stupid. “Sure, I’ll write it now.” I took out some paper and a pen I had prepared. I drafted a few quick terms. The core was: *Ethan paid $200,000 for the property down payment, registered under Chloe’s name.* But the killer clause was at the end: *[If the parties fail to marry, or if the marriage lasts less than one year, the female party must return the full amount plus interest.]* This is the standard legal concept of a conditional gift in contemplation of marriage. It was my first trap for her. Chloe took the agreement and scanned it. Her eyes stopped at “fail to marry.” She frowned. “Ethan, what is this? You don’t trust that I’ll marry you?” “If I sign this, doesn’t it make me look like a debtor?” She wasn’t entirely brainless. My face didn’t betray a thing. I put on a hurt expression. “Chloe, it’s $200,000. My parents’ retirement money.” “If I don’t have some guarantee, my parents will disown me.” “Besides, we’re getting married next month. This clause is just a piece of useless paper to you.” “Unless… you never planned on marrying me?” I turned the tables on her. Chloe’s eyes flickered. She thought of her mom’s words last night and that Yale PhD. But if she didn’t sign now and I backed out of the house deal, her dream of owning a luxury home would shatter. Besides, as long as they got married, she could just drag it out for a year or so before divorcing him. Then the money would be hers legally, right? Her online friends had said that once married, the money is considered spent on marital life or a gift, and it’s almost impossible to get back. She bit her lip. She felt she couldn’t lose. “Fine! I’ll sign!” “But I have one condition. Don’t show this to my mom before the deed is finalized. I don’t want her overthinking.” Just what I wanted. “Deal.” As I watched her sign her name and press her fingerprint onto the paper, the heavy weight in my chest finally lifted. But this was only the beginning.

After signing, Chloe was in high spirits. She immediately got dressed and put on makeup, claiming she was going to meet her bestie to share the good news. But I knew she was actually going to meet that Yale PhD. I didn’t expose her. I even kindly ordered an Uber for her. “Have fun. I’ll pick you up tonight.” As soon as she left, I headed straight to another law firm. I was there to meet Mark, the best litigation lawyer in town for financial disputes. “Mr. Miller, your evidence is rock solid,” Mark said, pushing up his glasses as he looked at the chat records and the agreement. “The chat records prove she had intent of fraud and using marriage for financial gain.” “And this agreement, although called a pre-marital gift confirmation, is actually a conditional gift contract.” “Now, all you need to do is make sure that ‘condition’ is never met.” I nodded. “Mark, if I break up with her now, how much of the money can I get back?” Mark smiled. “According to the law, since you two didn’t marry, the conditional gift must be returned in full.” “Plus, she is the party at fault. Not only does she have to return the principal, but if we play this right, she won’t even touch a cent of the property’s appreciation.” “However, since she’s still going on dates, why don’t we…” Mark leaned in and whispered a strategy. A cold gleam flashed in my eyes. “Great. Let’s do exactly that.” That night, I didn’t pick up Chloe. Instead, I sent her a Snapchat: *Sudden overtime at the office. Working through the night. Go home by yourself.* Chloe replied instantly: *Okay, honey. Work hard! Love you, mwah!* Even through the screen, I could feel her indifference and excitement. With me out of the way, she could do whatever she wanted with her PhD. Sitting in my dark living room, I opened Instagram. Sure enough, using my alt account, I could see the post she had blocked my main account from seeing. *Finally met a soul who understands me. Wish we met sooner.* The photo was a selfie at a Michelin-star restaurant. Opposite her sat a man in a suit. Although his face was blurred, the Patek Philippe on his wrist was screaming wealth. The location was tagged at the W Hotel downtown. I sneered and took a screenshot. Chloe, you think you’re keeping your options open. You don’t realize the backup plan you’re riding is actually a tiger ready to tear you apart. Over the next few days, I acted incredibly busy. I left early and came home late, treating her with cold detachment. Chloe was so wrapped up in her new romance and the joy of her new house that she didn’t care about my attitude at all. Until the home purchase invoice and contract were delivered to our apartment. Chloe tore the package open impatiently, kissing the contract with her name on it. “Ethan, let’s go choose the curtains this weekend. I want the French royal style.” She said casually, posing in front of the mirror. I sat on the sofa, playing with my lighter. “Chloe, let’s not rush the curtains.” “There’s something I need to tell you.” Chloe stopped and turned around. “What is it?” I looked up, staring straight into her eyes. “My parents changed their minds about the wedding.” “They said since the house only has your name, your family should pay for the renovations and appliances.” “It’s about $50,000.” Chloe instantly exploded. “What?! Fifty thousand?” “Ethan, are you insane? Where would my family get fifty thousand?” “Besides, I’m marrying you, not buying you! You want my family to pay for renovations? In your dreams!” She slammed the contract onto the floor and pointed her finger at my face. “I’m telling you, not a single penny! You will renovate this house beautifully for me, and you will buy me a BMW as a wedding gift!” “Otherwise, the wedding is off!” She finally said it. That was exactly what I was waiting for. Slowly, I took out the copy of the agreement from my briefcase. Along with a thick stack of printed chat records. And photos of her kissing the Yale PhD in front of the hotel. I had hired a private investigator to take those. “Wedding off? Perfect.” “I was thinking the exact same thing.” “Chloe, since you called off the wedding, let’s follow the agreement.” I threw the stack of papers onto the coffee table. “The $200,000 down payment, plus the $30,000 I spent on your designer bags and watches over the past few years.” “Plus interest.” “Total of $240,000.” “Wire it to my account within three days.” “Or I’ll see you in court.”

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My son was dying in the ICU, and I was pulling a double shift as a DoorDash driver at midnight just to pay his medical bills. I accepted a high-priority, express order to deliver a box of condoms to the penthouse at the Westwood Tower—the most expensive residential building in the city. When the door opened, my heart stopped. Standing there was Carter Westwood, my ex-husband of five years. I froze. But the desperate need for a five-star rating forced a professional, polite smile onto my face. I handed over the package. “Your DoorDash order is here, sir. Please leave a five-star review if you’re satisfied.” Carter’s face turned into a storm of complex emotions. Before he could speak, a pair of slender arms wrapped around his waist from behind. Amelia Miller, the biological daughter of my former adoptive parents, purred in her sweet, dripping voice: “I ordered that, babe.” “Carter, you said you didn’t want kids yet, so I thought…” *SLAM!* Carter snatched the package from my hand and slammed the door shut in my face. Through the heavy wood, I could hear their muffled, intimate whispers. “I only want my own kids. Tonight, we don’t need that.” I stood frozen in the dimly lit hallway, my fingernails digging so hard into my palms that they drew blood. What Carter didn’t know was… He did have a child. A four-year-old boy, currently clinging to life in the hospital. *** ###

“New delivery offer. Tap to accept.” The loud ping from my phone pulled me back to reality. None of this mattered anymore. Leo was still in the hospital waiting for me to make enough money to save his life. I couldn’t afford to break down. The moment I stepped out of the Westwood Tower, the sky opened up, pouring down a torrential rainstorm. I didn’t have a raincoat, and the freezing rain pelted against my skin, stinging like needles. But the worse the weather, the higher the surge pricing on DoorDash. Ignoring my shivering body, I slipped my phone into a ziplock bag and rushed back onto my scooter to continue taking orders. It wasn’t until dawn that I finally stopped taking orders, planning to go back to my tiny apartment to take a hot shower and rest. Suddenly, an unknown number popped up on my screen. “Hello?” I answered, my voice hoarse. “Bring me a hot latte. I need to be at the office by eight-thirty.” That voice… “Carter?” He let out an impatient, irritated sigh. “Aren’t you a delivery driver? Get it here in thirty minutes, and I’ll tip you five hundred dollars.” The line went dead. I didn’t understand what Carter was trying to play at. But five hundred dollars was more than I could make in a whole day of back-to-back deliveries. Without hesitation, I rushed to a high-end cafe nearby, bought a premium latte, and drove as fast as I could back to the Westwood Tower. I rang the doorbell, and Carter opened it almost instantly. His eyes swept over my dripping wet hair and soaked clothes, a contemptuous smirk playing on his lips. I knew exactly what he was thinking. He was enjoying this. The proud Chloe Miller, who had supposedly walked away from him five years ago for a five-million-dollar payout, was now willing to swallow her pride and beg for a mere five-hundred-dollar tip. My throat felt tight, but I forced a smile and handed over the coffee. “Your coffee, Mr. Westwood.” Carter took a sip. His face instantly darkened, and his tone became venomous. “This coffee taste like cheap trash.” “Chloe, I offered you five hundred dollars to get me a decent drink, not this garbage.” I quickly explained, “That cup cost fifteen dollars, sir. It’s not cheap.” But Carter wasn’t listening. He sneered, “Get another one.” Then, *SLAM*. He shut the door in my face again. I had no choice. For that five hundred dollars, I had to ride back out into the freezing rain. This time, I learned my lesson. I went to the most expensive artisanal coffee shop near the building. A single cup cost thirty-five dollars—a ridiculous price. But Carter was still not satisfied. “I wanted an espresso macchiato, not a standard drip. Do it again!” Another thirty-five dollars down. But when I delivered the next one, he changed his mind again. “I don’t want a hot coffee anymore. It’s too warm in the office. Get me an iced Americano. Do it again!” “It’s too watery. Double shot of espresso. Do it again!” “You took too long. The ice melted. Do it again!” … Again and again. My wet clothes clung to my shivering body. I was shaking uncontrollably. Even a fool could see that Carter was doing this on purpose to humiliate me. I looked at my phone. The entire morning had been wasted. Taking a deep breath, I looked up at him, my voice trembling with exhaustion. “Mr. Westwood, you don’t have to play with me like this. I know my life is a mess right now. Just consider it my karma. I don’t want the five-hundred-dollar tip anymore. Let’s just say I owe you.” “But the six cups of coffee cost me nearly two hundred dollars in total. Can you at least reimburse me for that?” “I have to go to the hospital this afternoon. I can’t waste any more time.” Hearing my words, Carter’s expression grew even uglier. He let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Losing your patience already? When you were scamming me for my money five years ago, you seemed to have all the patience in the world.” “I get it. A woman like you always has a price.” “Five hundred isn’t enough? How about five thousand?” Before I could reply, Carter pulled out his designer leather wallet. He grabbed a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills and threw them directly at my face. “Pick it up.” “Consider it a tip from me. Didn’t you always love cash more than anything else?” The bills were brand new. Their sharp edges whipped against my skin. One of them sliced across my cheek, leaving a thin, stinging cut that began to bleed. The cash scattered all over the floor. It was way more than five thousand. It was enough to cover Leo’s chemotherapy for the next two weeks. Dignity? Poor people don’t have the luxury of dignity. My heart ached with a sharp, suffocating pain, but I quickly forced myself to go numb. I knelt down on the cold floor and began picking up the bills one by one. Suddenly, a black designer shoe stepped heavily onto one of the hundred-dollar bills. I paused. I looked up, meeting Carter’s cold gaze. I forced a shameless, desperate smile. “Mr. Westwood, I’m sorry.” “Your shoe… seems to be stepping on one of my bills. Would you mind moving your foot?” Carter’s eyes locked onto the bloody scratch on my cheek. He froze for a fraction of a second, and then quickly looked away. With a look of pure disgust, he pulled his foot back, turned around, and walked back into his penthouse. Seeing his cold back, tears finally stung my eyes. I suddenly remembered a time, long ago, when even a slight cough from me would make this same man panic. He would wrap me in blankets and force me to drink warm soup. Forget it. I swallowed the bitterness in my throat. I got the money. That was all that mattered. Leo was waiting for me at the hospital. I finished gathering the cash and left quietly. Inside, Carter walked back to the doorway, holding a cheap band-aid he had frantically dug out of his cabinet. But the hallway was already empty. He let out a self-deprecating laugh. *Carter, it’s been five years. Why are you still so pathetic?* Just as he was about to throw the band-aid into the trash can, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He slid to answer. His assistant’s hesitant voice came through the speaker. “Mr. Westwood, we found something.” “Miss Miller… she seems to have a child. The boy is currently in the ICU.” *** ###

By the time I rushed to the hospital with a lunch box, it was already one-thirty in the afternoon. Leo had already eaten and was fast asleep. I turned to his primary care physician, Dr. Luke Evans, with a grateful smile. “Dr. Evans, how much was the lunch? I’ll Venmo you right now.” “Thank you so much. I got caught up with some work this morning. I’m sorry for making you watch over Leo.” Luke smiled gently and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. It was just some food from the cafeteria. It’s nothing. When I saw you hadn’t arrived by noon, I knew you must be busy working. So, I grabbed him some lunch.” He stepped closer, his eyes focusing on my left cheek. “What happened to your face?” “Did you scrape it while delivering in the rain again?” Luke reached out, intending to examine the cut. I flinched, pulling my head back instinctively. Seeing Luke’s hand frozen in mid-air, I realized I had overreacted. I quickly offered an apologetic smile. Before I could explain, Luke, ever understanding, smiled warmly. “You need to treat it, or it will get infected. It’s not deep, but you’ve been out in the rain and dirt. It’s better to be safe.” “My shift just ended. Come to my office. I’ll clean and disinfect it for you.” I couldn’t decline his kindness again. Just as I was about to follow him, someone slammed hard into my shoulder from behind. Unprepared, I stumbled, and my elbow crashed violently against the cold corridor wall. My entire arm went numb with pain. “Ah…” I gasped, unable to hold back the pain. I clutched my throbbing shoulder and looked up. It was Carter. Amelia was clinging tightly to his arm. As if I was just some annoying trash blocking his way, he didn’t even look at me. He threw a careless, insincere apology over his shoulder. “My bad.” And then he kept walking with Amelia. Amelia, however, turned her head to look at me. Last night, Carter had blocked her view, so she hadn’t seen my face. Today was our first official encounter. Her eyes first landed on my wrinkled, dirty food delivery uniform, and then swept over my miserable state as I clutched my bruised arm. A smug, mocking smirk appeared on her face. She didn’t even think I was worth wasting her words on. She giggled and leaned closer to Carter as they walked away. “Chloe, are you okay?” Luke immediately held my arm to support me. Seeing how pale I was, his face darkened, and he was about to chase after them. I grabbed his arm to stop him. “I’m fine, Luke. They were probably in a rush. He apologized anyway.” “Let it go.” Seeing my stubborn insistence, Luke sighed and nodded. He helped me to his office. After treating the cut on my cheek, he gave me some ointment for my bruised shoulder. I thanked him and insisted on paying for the medical supplies. After a brief argument, he finally accepted the money. Checking the time, I knew I had to get back on the road for the afternoon rush. But the moment I walked into the hospital parking lot, my heart sank. The seat of my electric scooter had been slashed to ribbons with a utility knife. And the entire vehicle was covered in dripping, wet red paint. “You pathetic gold-digger!” A sharp, hostile voice echoed from behind me. Amelia stepped out from the shadows of the concrete pillars. She was holding a bright red box-cutter, a cruel smile on her face. “Five million dollars, and you already spent it all?” “What? Are you so broke that you have to come back and… try to seduce Carter again?” *** ###

“Amelia, it was just a coincidence. We ran into each other.” “Hah! Who do you think you’re fooling? You already stole twenty years of my life as a fake Miller. Now you want to steal my fiancé too? Have you no shame?” Facing Amelia’s accusations, I felt a familiar wave of guilt. In the eyes of the Miller family, I was the imposter who enjoyed their wealth while Amelia suffered in the foster system. And in my current position, fighting back would only hurt me and Leo. So, I tried to speak to her as calmly as possible. “Amelia, I am truly sorry about what happened in the past. But please believe me, today was purely an accident. I will never interfere with your and Carter’s lives again.” Amelia clearly didn’t believe a word. She mocked, “I really don’t get if you’re playing dumb or if you’re actually stupid. Carter loved you so much back then. If you had stayed with him, you could have had all the money you wanted. But instead, you chose to run away to Europe with some shady foreign billionaire to be his side-chick.” “Tell me, how much money do you want this time?” I shook my head violently, my voice tight. “I don’t want any money. I will never show up in front of you two again.” “Amelia, you are really misunderstanding this.” “Misunderstanding?” She laughed loudly, cutting me off. She pulled out a checkbook from her designer purse, quickly scribbled on it, and shoved it against my chest. “Here. One million dollars.” “Take it and disappear from Carter’s life forever.” I frowned, refusing to touch it. I couldn’t understand why Amelia would suddenly act so “generous.” I remembered the day the Millers kicked me out. Amelia wouldn’t even let me take more than two changes of clothes. It was pouring rain, and a kind maid had tried to slip me an umbrella and a warm coat. Amelia had screamed at her: “Don’t you dare give her anything! Every single thing she’s wearing was bought with my family’s money! Letting her leave with those rags is already charity!” Seeing that I wasn’t taking the check, Amelia forcefully grabbed my hand and shoved the check into my palm, forcing my fingers to close around it. At the same time, she slipped the open box-cutter into my other hand. I was startled by her sudden, aggressive movements. I instinctively tried to throw the burning check back at her. “What are you do—” Before I could finish my sentence. “Help! Help me!” Amelia suddenly let out a blood-curdling shriek. “She’s robbing me! She has a knife! Help!” My entire body went rigid. In an instant, I realized I had been set up. Heavy, hurried footsteps and the shouts of security guards echoed from the entrance of the parking lot. “Stop right there! What’s going on over there?” “Drop the weapon!” “Get away from her! We’ve called the police!” Everything happened too fast. Before I could even drop the knife, two security guards and Amelia’s personal bodyguards rushed forward. Someone kicked me hard in the back, sending me crashing face-first onto the dirty concrete. My cheek scraped against the rough ground, sending a blinding flash of pain through my face. I tasted dust and metal. A heavy security guard pinned me down, locking my arms behind my back. I was pressed flat against the filthy ground, my body twisted in a painful angle. It was hard to breathe. I had absolutely no dignity left. “Let me go! It wasn’t me… she set me up!” “Shut up! We caught you red-handed!” The guard pinning me down yelled in my ear, as more onlookers gathered around. From my position on the ground, I could only see a sea of expensive shoes. I could hear Amelia’s trembling, tearful voice explaining to the guards how I had “threatened her with a knife” and “demanded a million dollars.” Soon, the police arrived. The guards, who had clearly been bought by the Miller family, exaggerated the story, describing me as a desperate, violent criminal. As the officers hauled me up from the ground, I saw Carter running toward us. He pushed past the crowd and immediately took Amelia into his arms. “Amelia, are you okay? Did she hurt you?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. Amelia buried her face in his chest, sobbing hysterically as she shook her head. Only then did Carter turn his gaze toward me. His eyes were filled with absolute, unfiltered disgust, as if he were looking at a piece of rotting garbage. “Chloe, do you have any shame left?” “It’s been five years, and you’ve degraded yourself to this level? I guess the five million wasn’t enough, so now you’re trying to extort Amelia because she’s gentle?” I was entirely alone, tears of humiliation and helplessness streaming down my face. “I didn’t do it…” I choked out. But my tears only made Carter look more disgusted. “You didn’t do what?” he snapped, his voice cold as ice. “You didn’t hold a knife? Or you didn’t demand money? Chloe, five years ago you sold yourself to the highest bidder without a second thought. Is it really a surprise that you’d do something this disgusting for cash now?” “I never thought you could be this pathetic. You are no different from a parasite living in a sewer, crawling around looking for someone else’s wallet. Do you even have a soul left?” I wanted to scream, to explain, but the officers slammed the police car door shut, cutting off my voice. Armed robbery was a felony. That night, I was locked in a holding cell. *** ###

No matter how many times I explained or begged the detectives, it was useless. The investigation was pending. I couldn’t leave. My heart was in my throat as I worried about Leo. Did his fever go down? Did he take his medicine on time? Was he crying in the dark, calling for his mommy? Did I have enough money left in my account to keep him in the ICU? The terror and anxiety gripped my chest, tightening until I could barely breathe. But things only got worse. The stress, combined with riding in the freezing rain all night, caught up to me. A raging fever took over my body. I shivered violently in the cold cell, my vision blurring, unable to even hold a pen to write a statement. *No. I can’t go to prison.* *What will happen to Leo?* He had just survived a major surgery. He was only four years old. He couldn’t survive without me. But my body was giving up. Just as I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness, a guard’s voice echoed through the metal bars. “Chloe Miller, you’re free to go. Your bail has been posted.” It was Luke. He rushed in, supporting my weak body as we walked out of the precinct. But as we reached the lobby, we ran right into Carter. Carter’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Luke’s hand supporting my waist. His voice dripped with malice. “Chloe, your son is literally fighting for his life in the emergency room.” “And you’re already out here throwing yourself into another man’s arms?” My heart stopped. I looked up at Luke, my eyes wide with panic. Luke pressed his lips together, throwing a furious glare at Carter before looking down at me reassuringly. “It’s an infection-induced fever. His vitals dropped, and things got complicated… they had to rush him back in.” “But the chief of pediatrics is personally leading the procedure. He’s going to be okay.” The news hit me like a physical blow. My knees buckled, and I would have collapsed if Luke hadn’t caught me. I gripped Luke’s sleeve, sobbing hysterically. “Take me there. Luke, please, I beg you.” “Leo is so small… he can’t leave me…” I sat outside the operating room, my face pale as death, staring at the bright red “In Progress” sign. Every second felt like an eternity. I was trembling so hard I could barely sit upright. “Chloe, please sit down. You’re still running a high fever…” I shook my head blindly, my eyes glued to the double doors. Seeing that I refused to leave, Luke had no choice but to step away for a moment to grab me some water and a warm blanket. Carter had followed us to the hospital. He stood a few feet away, watching me with a tense, conflicted expression. He eventually walked over to Luke, demanding answers. “Why is she raising a kid alone? Did she tell you?” “Did that rich foreign guy dump her? Did he leave her with nothing, not even child support?” Luke remained silent, ignoring him. This only made Carter more agitated. He finally asked the question that had been burning in his mind: “What kind of disease does the kid have? Why is Chloe so desperate for money?” Luke knew everything about Leo’s parentage. But right now, he didn’t have the patience to deal with Carter’s ignorance. Holding back the urge to punch Carter in the face, Luke turned to walk away. Suddenly, a nurse rushed out of the operating room, her voice filled with panic. “Miss Miller!” “Miss Miller, wake up!” Both Luke and Carter froze, then bolted toward the bench. I had fainted, sliding off the seat onto the cold floor. Clutched tightly in my hand was Leo’s unsigned critical condition notice. The nurse held me up, looking at Luke frantically. “Dr. Evans, the blood bank is completely out of O-negative blood. Can we get an emergency transfer from another hospital?” “The boy is hemorrhaging!” In the face of life and death, even Carter’s anger vanished. Seeing the dying child who carried half of Chloe’s blood, his heart softened. He stepped forward, rolling up his sleeve. “I’m O-negative. Draw my blood.” The nurse’s face lit up with relief, and she immediately reached out to guide him. But Luke stepped in, blocking Carter with a fierce, iron-clad grip on his shoulder. “No!” “You are his biological father. You cannot donate blood to him!”

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Early on the morning of our tenth wedding anniversary, a giant bouquet of ninety-nine red roses from my husband arrived at our company’s front desk. My coworkers gathered around, squealing with envy, gushing about how we were still as madly in love as newlyweds even after a decade of marriage. But as I was getting a vase to arrange the flowers, I overheard the cleaning ladies gossiping in the breakroom. “Elena is so clueless. Ethan literally brought his side piece into the company three years ago, and she still has no idea.” “Exactly. Every anniversary, he gets his wife a generic bouquet of roses, but he buys his little mistress designer bags, sports cars, and luxury apartments. It’s pretty obvious who he actually loves, right?” My heart violently seized. A year ago, Ethan said he wanted to buy a luxury condo downtown, claiming it would be convenient for hosting high-end clients. I bought it. Last month, he wanted to upgrade his car to a Porsche, saying it would make him look more professional when meeting investors. I put down the deposit. And just last week, he asked me to use my VIP account at Hermès to buy a bunch of lifestyle accessories, claiming he needed to gift a VIP client a rare handbag. Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my hand. “Hi, is this Mrs. Elena Vance? The limited-edition Hermès Birkin you ordered has arrived at our boutique.” I took a deep breath, turned on my heel, and headed straight to the luxury store. Since these things were never meant for “clients” in the first place, it was time for me to take them all back.

“Hey babe, did that Hermès bag you helped me order finally arrive?” I had just walked into the private VIP lounge and picked up the limited-edition orange Birkin—which required over a hundred thousand dollars in pre-spending—when Ethan’s call came through. I looked up and caught the sales associate’s smile freezing on her face. So, my husband had his own eyes and ears inside this store. “Yeah, I just got it,” I replied, my voice sounding flat even to my own ears. Ethan’s voice was instantly pumped with excitement. “Awesome! I’ll swing by and grab it after work. I actually have a dinner meeting with a major client tonight to lock down that new project.” I slowly ran my fingers over the supple, pebbled leather of the bag. It was the classic Hermès orange. Bright, flashy, and attention-grabbing. I had always hated loud colors like this. Most of Ethan’s high-profile business clients were around my age; none of them would realistically carry a bag in this shade. That was why, when I placed the order last week, I had specifically requested a classy, understated Etoupe Gray. “Which client are you gifting this to? I can just have my assistant deliver it directly to their office,” I said casually. Silence stretched over the line for two agonizing seconds. “Babe, come on, it’s our anniversary today. Why would I want to stress you out with work errands?” Ethan chuckled nervously. “Plus, you haven’t been involved in this specific project. You wouldn’t be able to chat with them about the details if they ask.” He was dodging the question, talking in circles. Since last year, Ethan had practically moved into the gym. He was constantly flexing his new abs in the mirror and spending thirty minutes styling his hair every single morning before leaving for “work.” My best friend had joked once, *“Is your husband going through a midlife crisis, or is he having an affair?”* I had laughed it off back then. Ethan and I had been together for ten years, surviving the transition from college sweethearts to business partners. I was the one who stood by him when he had absolutely nothing. I was the one who ignored my wealthy family’s warnings and used my own inheritance and connections to fund his startup. I watched him grow from a clueless boy into a polished CEO. We survived the worst of times together. Why couldn’t we share the best of times? My eyes burned with unshed tears. “Fine. Come pick it up now then,” I said, hanging up before he could respond. I closed my eyes. Memories of us huddling together in our cramped, freezing studio apartment years ago flashed across my mind. But they were instantly shattered by the image of him today, meticulously styling his hair in front of the vanity. As it turned out, the pain of a breaking heart was far worse than physical labor. My hands trembled as I unlocked my phone and texted the real estate broker who had helped us buy the downtown condo last year. “I need you to sell the downtown condo immediately. List it for one million dollars cash today.” The broker replied almost instantly. “Elena! Are you serious?! That is way below market value! You paid nearly double that amount last year!” My heart felt completely numb. “Just sell it. Today.” Right after I locked my phone, Ethan rushed into the VIP lounge. “Babe! What made you decide to come pick up the bag yourself today?” I glanced at my watch. It had taken him less than twenty minutes to get here. Was he really that terrified of me uncovering his little secret? “The store manager called me and said my VIP order was ready, so I happened to be in the area,” I said smoothly. Ethan shot a sharp, warning glare at the sales associate, Sarah. But when he turned back to me, his face softened into his usual warm, loving expression. I smiled faintly, pretending not to notice their little exchange. “By the way, Ethan, I distinctly remember ordering the Etoupe Gray last week. Why did Sarah hand me an orange one?”

Ethan’s face went stiff, and he fell silent. I tapped my fingers on the luxury bag and turned my gaze to Sarah. “This isn’t the bag I ordered. You’ve completely wasted my time and my husband’s.” I paused, my voice cold. “Should I file a formal complaint with corporate?” Sarah panicked, shooting a desperate, pleading look at Ethan. But Ethan remained quiet, sweat practically beads on his forehead. “No, ma’am, it wasn’t my mistake. Your husband was the one who—” Sarah started to stammer. Ethan quickly cut her off. “Babe, the bag is actually for the client’s daughter,” he lied smoothly, flashing a reassuring smile. “I was worried a young girl wouldn’t like the boring gray you chose, so I called Sarah back and had her switch it to the orange one.” *A young girl?* I caught my reflection in the polished glass storefront. I still looked virtually the same as I did ten years ago—stylish, sharp, and well-kept. But in his eyes, I was already the “old wife.” Sensing the tension, Sarah quickly pulled a silk scarf from the display cabinet and placed it gently near my hand. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Vance. This was miscommunication on our part for not notifying you beforehand. Please accept our sincerest apologies.” Ethan reached over, rubbing his hand through my hair, and slid close to me on the plush velvet sofa. To avoid office gossip, he had always refused to show any form of physical affection toward me at the office. I felt a wave of discomfort and subtly shifted away from his touch. He frowned slightly, then gave Sarah a quick wink. “Sarah, go grab some of your latest arrivals. Let my wife pick out whatever she wants.” Watching him play the doting, guilty husband made me feel physically sick. I rarely visited this boutique myself. Usually, whenever he claimed a “client” needed a gift, I would just call and put it on my card. But seeing how comfortable and familiar he was with Sarah, it was obvious he had been spending a lot of time—and my money—in this store. “Babe, I know you’re upset about the color mix-up,” Ethan cooed, trying to wrap his arm around my waist. “Tell you what, whatever you want in the store today, it’s on me. Happy anniversary.” Sarah brought out a dozen gorgeous bags, laying them out in front of me. Every color, every style. But I felt absolutely nothing. I waved my hand dismissively. “Forget it. I have a meeting with some partners this afternoon anyway.” I looked at him. “Didn’t you say you had to deliver that gift to your client? You should get going.” Right on cue, Ethan’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He quickly planted a soft kiss on my forehead. “Don’t be mad at me, okay? I promise to make it up to you tonight.” I watched him stand up, check his phone, and practically skip out of the boutique. His steps were so light, so full of anticipation. I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. You really can’t hide the energy of someone who is freshly in love. I had been so blind for so long, busy running the actual business while he was out playing boyfriend. The moment he disappeared from view, I stood up and walked over to Sarah. “I want to see the full transaction history under his authorized user card.” Sarah looked me up and down, a hint of hesitation in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Vance, but that is private client information. We aren’t authorized to share transaction details without the primary user’s consent.” There was a subtle, condescending smirk on her face, as if she assumed I was just a wealthy trophy wife throwing a tantrum. “Even if you complain to corporate, our policy stands,” she added. I reached into my Chanel wallet, pulled out my Centurion Black Card, and slammed it onto the glass counter. Sarah’s eyes went wide, and her smug attitude instantly evaporated. “The card he uses? It’s just an authorized user card linked directly to my primary account,” I said, my voice deadpan. “Now, do I have the right to see where my money is going?” Sarah bowed her head quickly, taking the card with trembling hands. “Of course, ma’am. I will pull up the records immediately.” A second later, the computer screen populated with page after page of transaction history. In the past month alone, there was over eighty thousand dollars of spending on high-end jewelry, women’s shoes, and ready-to-wear pieces. I scanned the customer profile linked to those purchases. The phone number listed wasn’t Ethan’s. I memorized the number instantly. “Print the entire history out for me. Now.” Holding the thick stack of printed receipts, I walked out of the store into the crisp afternoon air. I pulled out my phone and texted my personal assistant, Amy. “Find out who owns this phone number immediately. Also, run a forensic audit on Ethan’s personal bank accounts and our corporate expense reports for the last three years.” Less than two minutes later, Amy replied. “Elena, I found it.” “The phone number is registered to Chloe Miller. Our front desk receptionist.”

When I walked back into our corporate headquarters, I immediately spotted a group of girls crowded around the reception desk. That bright, limited-edition orange Hermès Birkin was being passed around like a trophy. “Oh my god, Chloe! This bag is absolutely stunning! Isn’t this like, virtually impossible to get?” one of the girls squealed in awe. I walked over, casually reached into the circle, and snatched the bag right out of their hands. I examined it for a few seconds. Yep. It was the exact bag I had just authorized at the boutique. “It is incredibly hard to get,” I said, looking up with a cold smile. “I’ve been on the waitlist for a month and couldn’t even get my hands on one.” Chloe’s face instantly twisted in annoyance. She snatched the bag back from my hands, clutching it to her chest. “Well, my boyfriend bought it for me. Doesn’t Elena’s husband buy her things like this?” Chloe smirked, her voice dripping with malice. “Oh, wait. I guess when a man has to go home to a wrinkly, exhausted wife every day, he probably doesn’t feel like buying her luxury gifts anyway.” The other girls exchanged knowing, amused glances, clearly enjoying the drama. “Yeah, did Elena only get a cheap bouquet of roses for her anniversary today?” one whispered. “My boyfriend says roses are so basic. They’re just for show. If a man really loves you, he buys you the best,” Chloe bragged, tossing her curled hair. I looked at the smug, mocking faces of the girls around her. It clicked. The entire office knew Ethan was sleeping with the receptionist. I was the only fool kept in the dark, working myself to the bone to fund their lifestyle. The pain in my chest was so suffocating I could barely breathe. Since we got married, Ethan had stopped buying me real gifts. He always used the same excuse: *“Babe, we’ve been together forever. My money is your money. There’s no point in wasting cash on flashy gifts.”* Yet, every single anniversary, he’d order a generic bouquet of roses. He used to tell me roses represented “eternal devotion.” But the truth was, I hated roses. I had sent him countless hints on Pinterest of the wildflowers and orchids I actually liked. But the next year, it would be the same lazy roses. I had always excused it, thinking he was just a typical, clueless guy who didn’t understand aesthetics. But he wasn’t clueless at all. He knew exactly how to pick out the perfect, vibrant orange bag for his twenty-something mistress. He knew how to buy her a BMW and rent her a luxury condo. He didn’t lack effort. He just didn’t want to waste it on me. Seeing that I remained silent, Chloe grew even bolder, puffing her chest out. “Oh dear, is Elena going to cry?” she mocked. “It’s just a bag. If you want one so bad, I have plenty of older designer bags in my closet. I can toss you one of my hand-me-downs if you ask nicely!” Over the past two years, Chloe had been showing up to work every day draped in different designer brands. I had actually wondered once how a receptionist making $15 an hour could afford a wardrobe like that. I had naively assumed she was just a spoiled trust-fund kid working an easy job for fun. Who would have thought that her lavish lifestyle was entirely funded by my sweat and tears? Half the bags she owned were ordered through my own VIP accounts. A cold rage surged through my veins, but my face became terrifyingly calm. “No thank you,” I said, my voice ice-cold. “Keep your trash to yourself.” Chloe rolled her eyes and gasped dramatically, covering her mouth. “Are you jealous, Elena? But honestly, you’re pushing forty. This bright orange really doesn’t suit an older, washed-up woman like you anyway.” I let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “You’re right. This color doesn’t suit me.” “It suits a pathetic, home-wrecking gold digger perfectly.” Chloe’s face flushed red with anger, her eyes instantly welling with fake tears. “What did you just call me?! Elena, just because your husband doesn’t love you anymore doesn’t give you the right to abuse your employees!” The other girls quickly chimed in to defend her. “Yeah, Elena, just because you have marriage problems doesn’t mean you can bully Chloe!” “No wonder Ethan always looks so exhausted and miserable around the office. Having a toxic boss for a wife must be a nightmare.” They were already treating Chloe like she was the next CEO’s wife. I stared at Chloe with absolute detestation. “You know exactly what you are.” I didn’t waste another second arguing with them. I turned around and walked straight back to my office. “Ugh, whatever! She only got her position because of Ethan anyway. Without him, she’s absolutely nothing!” “I know, right? Don’t let her get to you, Chloe. You’re young, beautiful, and actually capable. Soon enough, you’ll…” Their loud, petty whispers echoed down the hallway. *I got my position because of Ethan?* A dark, mocking smile spread across my face. I pulled out my phone and messaged my assistant. “Amy, cancel the Friday happy hour early dismissal for everyone involved in that conversation at the front desk.”

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At the party, my husband had a gift for everyone. He even gave his ex-girlfriend, Maya, a bottle of designer perfume worth over five hundred dollars. But when he got to our daughter and me, his hands were empty. Everyone at the table froze. “Wait, Zach, where are Chloe and Lily’s gifts? Isn’t today Lily’s birthday?” Zach blinked, waving his hand dismissively. “Chloe and I have been married for seven years. We don’t need that stuff. And Lily is just a kid, she doesn’t care about these things.” Our friends exchanged awkward glances. The atmosphere in the bistro instantly turned tense. Someone tried to break the ice. “Oh, come on, Zach must have prepared a huge surprise and is saving it for later!” The others laughed along to ease the tension, but I couldn’t force a smile. Lily looked up at me and whispered, “Mommy, did Daddy forget my birthday?” I gently stroked her hair and whispered back, “How about we leave Daddy behind, okay?” Maya smelled the perfume, her eyes lighting up. “You actually remembered I love this scent? I only mentioned it to you years ago.” Zach replied casually, “When have I ever forgotten anything about you?” A few people at the table started teasing them. “Alright, alright, we get it. You have a great memory, Zach.” “Honestly, Chloe is so lucky. With Zach’s memory, he probably never forgets an anniversary or a birthday!” Zach smiled and turned to look at me. I didn’t say a word. I just kept my head down, wiping Lily’s hands with a napkin. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cheap plastic keychain, and tossed it to Lily. “Here. Go play with this.” Lily stared at it but didn’t reach out to take it. Maya laughed from across the table. “Zach, you are so cheap! Kids don’t like things like that. Lily was staring at my plush keychain last time, she clearly loved that one.” Lily shrank back into my side, shaking her head. “Daddy, I don’t want this.” Zach’s face darkened. “I bought you a toy and you’re rejecting it? Why are you being so spoiled?” I frowned and pulled Lily closer to me. Maya chimed in, “Yeah, Chloe, are you sure you’re not babying her too much?” I took a deep breath and picked Lily up. “Lily isn’t being ungrateful. She just doesn’t like this.” The table went dead silent for a few seconds. Zach’s expression shifted, but he quickly forced a smile. “Fine, what do you want then? Tell me, and I’ll buy it.” Lily whispered, “I want the chocolate cake Mommy talked about this morning.” Zach looked confused. “What cake?” I didn’t answer. I carried Lily over to the lounge sofa in the corner of the room. Lily whispered in my ear, “Mommy, does Daddy not know it’s my birthday today?” I brushed her hair back. “Daddy forgot.” She nodded, not fully understanding, and buried her face in my shoulder. Zach didn’t look at me again. He turned back to Maya and kept chatting. They were already reminiscing about high school, laughing hysterically. I looked down at Lily, my heart completely cold. This was our seventh year of marriage. He remembered Maya’s favorite woody-scented perfume. He remembered our friend Carter’s bad neck. But he couldn’t remember his own daughter’s birthday. Zach stopped talking, and Maya kept her head down. The atmosphere in the room was incredibly awkward. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my lawyer. I glanced at it, then locked the screen. On my way to the restroom, I heard laughter behind me. As soon as the restroom door shut, the noise from the hallway grew louder. “Come on, Truth or Dare! Maya, you lost! Truth or Dare?” Maya giggled. “Dare.” “I dare you to kiss Zach right now!” I didn’t hear Zach say no. I leaned against the bathroom stall, forcing down the lump in my throat. On the phone, my lawyer asked me, “Mrs. Miller, have you reviewed the divorce papers? If there are no issues, you can sign them.” I closed my eyes. Outside, after a brief silence, a loud cheer erupted. “Yes, I’ve read them,” I said. “I’ll mail them to you tomorrow.” When I walked out of the restroom, the lounge was empty. A waiter was clearing the table and looked surprised to see me. “Are you Zach’s wife? He said they were going to a late-night club and already paid the bill.” I looked down at Lily. She was rubbing her sleepy eyes. “Mommy, where is Daddy?” “Daddy is busy. Let’s go home first.” I slowly unclenched my fists and let out a quiet sigh. He forgot about us again.

It was so late that I had to wait on the curb for a long time to get an Uber. The moment we walked through the front door, Zach called. His voice was filled with harsh accusation. “Why didn’t you follow us? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?” I put the sleeping Lily onto her bed and lowered my voice. “When you guys left, I was in the restroom taking a call.” “What call could be that important?” “My lawyer.” He paused. “What lawyer?” “My divorce lawyer.” The line went dead silent. After a long pause, he finally spoke. “What are you throwing a tantrum for now?” “Zach, I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’ve signed the papers. I’ll give them to you tomorrow.” “Are you insane? You’re divorcing me over a stupid mistake?” “It’s not a stupid mistake. Today is Lily’s birthday. She’s been looking forward to your gift since last month. But you never care.” He didn’t say another word and hung up. I sat by Lily’s bed, watching her peaceful face. She rolled over, mumbling in her sleep, “Daddy… birthday…” I tucked her in, and tears finally ran down my face. Actually, when we first got married, Zach was incredibly sweet to me. He always chose restaurants I liked and bought me clothes that suited me. When we got married, I remarked that the rented wedding dress was so beautiful. He went ahead and bought it, saying we would wear it again on our anniversary. When I was pregnant, he never let me lift a finger. When I craved mango crêpes in the middle of the night, he drove across the city to find them for me. Once I casually mentioned I wanted jasmine tea. I forgot about it minutes later, but he soon handed me a bottle, wiping sweat from his forehead, making sure it was room temperature so it wouldn’t hurt my stomach. But just last month, he mistakenly thought the wedding dress was a rental we forgot to return. Claiming it took up too much space in the closet, he threw it away. In its place was a box of expensive jewelry. He said Maya’s birthday was in six months, and he was buying her gifts in advance. I stared at the box for a long time before nodding. His memory was indeed amazing. Every single piece in that box was exactly what Maya liked. In his mind, Maya’s preferences could be stored forever. But I was just a passing guest. I had my time, and now I had to leave. The next afternoon, Zach came home with Maya, laughing and talking. Maya was holding two cups of drinks. She smiled as she walked in. “Chloe, we passed by the cafe and grabbed some smoothies for you and Lily.” Lily was playing with her Legos in the living room. She looked up, then looked back down. Maya handed a cup to Lily. “Lily, look what I got for you. Try it.” Lily shook her head. “That has mango in it. I can’t drink that. It makes me break out in really itchy hives.” Zach snapped from behind, “Look at how you’ve raised her, Chloe. She’s scared of eating anything.” Maya gasped. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! I totally forgot Lily is allergic to mangoes.” Zach patted her shoulder. “It’s fine. If she won’t drink it, you can have it.” Maya took the cup back and started drinking it herself. I watched them, staying silent. Lily pulled on my shirt, whispering, “Mommy, did I say something wrong?” I knelt down and told her, “No, baby. You did perfectly.” Zach stood up and looked at me. “Chloe, we need to talk. Privately.” “There’s nothing to talk about.” “What is your problem? It was just one forgotten birthday!” “Zach, you knew yesterday was her birthday, and you didn’t even bother to buy a card.” “I can change.” “You said that four years ago.” Maya whispered from the side, “Chloe, Zach really knows he messed up. Just forgive him this once.” I looked at her cold. “This is between my husband and me.” Maya lowered her head, her eyes welling with tears. Zach sighed and grabbed Maya’s arm. “Let’s go.” As they reached the door, Zach turned around. “Chloe, I’ll talk to you later.” The door shut. Lily looked up at me. “Mommy, Daddy left again. When is he coming back?” I didn’t know how to answer her.

Suddenly, everything felt so ridiculous. When Lily was one, Zach set up a trust fund for her, saying she could use it when she turned eighteen. A few days ago, I checked the account. The money had been cleaned out long ago. When did he stop caring about me? When did he stop caring about our daughter? At 8:00 PM, Zach still wasn’t home. He sounded excited on the phone. “What are the odds! The seafood place Maya wanted to try finally had an opening! I invited Carter and the guys out. I won’t be home tonight!” I looked at the cold dinner on the table. The ice cream cake had already melted into a sticky puddle. “But you promised…” He hung up. A text popped up: “It’s too loud here. I’ll head back after dinner. You and Lily go to sleep.” My fingers hovered over the screen, but I didn’t have the energy to type. After a long moment, I opened Instagram. The top post was a video of Zach putting food on Maya’s plate. Maya’s caption read: *“All these years, and you still remember what I like to eat.”* Zach’s voice in the video was clear: *“Of course. How could I ever forget anything about you?”* I closed my eyes. My phone vibrated with a new email. *“Hello Mrs. Miller, your divorce petition has been finalized and sent to your address.”* I stood up and scraped the dinner and the melted cake into the trash. I had wanted to give Lily a proper birthday celebration tonight. Now, the “Happy Birthday” chocolate plaque was melted and distorted, looking incredibly ugly. The cake couldn’t wait for him. And Lily and I didn’t want to wait anymore, either. Zach didn’t get back until midnight. “You’re still awake? Sorry, I forgot to bring you some cake. But Maya made some homemade cookies for Lily to apologize.” I took one look at the box. They were peanut butter cookies. “You eat them,” I said. “Chloe, seriously? There’s a limit to your tantrums. Maya went out of her way to—” “Lily is allergic to peanuts.” He froze. “Since when?” “Since she was born.” His tone turned defensive. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Maya made these specifically for Lily. You’re wasting her sweet gesture!”

I turned around and looked at him holding the cookie jar with a frustrated look on his face. Zach saw the look on my face and softened his tone. But his voice still held that familiar sense of superiority, like he was making a grand sacrifice. “Fine, fine. I won’t bring peanut butter cookies home for Lily anymore. Happy?” He let out a sigh. As if he had made a massive compromise for me, and I should be grateful. From beginning to end, he thought I was just throwing a tantrum, and that if he played along, this would blow over. “Okay,” I replied quietly. I turned around and started putting our IDs and passports into a small backpack. Zach sat at the dining table, eating one of the cookies, and looked up at me. “A business trip?” “I’m going back to my parents’ place.” He nodded. “Right, you haven’t been back to Ohio in a while.” “Oh, by the way, Maya said she loved that local organic honey and homemade hot sauce from your hometown. Make sure to bring some back for her.” “Check the label on the hot sauce, though. She doesn’t eat peanuts.” I didn’t reply. Assuming I agreed, he stood up and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a plastic bag. “For the road. Don’t go hungry.” It was a ziplock bag containing a half-eaten bag of chips and half a chocolate bar. A few days ago, when Maya came over, Zach had bought hundreds of dollars worth of snacks for her. This was just what she left behind. I walked past him and packed some tissues into my bag. Zach’s voice went cold. “Still mad?” “I bought you things, I apologized. What more do you want from me?” “Fine. Go back to your parents’ for a few days to cool off. When you get back, we’ll take Lily to that new escape room downtown. Maya already booked the tickets for us.” I kept my back to him, gently shaking my head. “No. Lily is afraid of the dark.” The next second, he grabbed my arm, forcing me to face him. “Since when is Lily afraid of the dark?” “Chloe, do you even consider me your husband?” “You didn’t tell me about the allergy, you didn’t tell me about her being afraid of the dark. How was I supposed to know? You didn’t say anything, and now you’re mad at me!” I looked into his angry eyes. When we first got married, he always said I couldn’t hide anything from him. Whether it was good news or bad, he could read it off my face instantly. But now, he couldn’t see anything. He couldn’t remember anything. His phone rang on the table. Zach let go of me and answered it. Maya’s voice was loud and clear. “How were the cookies? Did Lily like them? Are you guys okay now?” Zach pinched the bridge of his nose, irritated. “No. Chloe says Lily is allergic to peanuts.” “Oh my god… I am so, so sorry! I didn’t know she was allergic! Did you guys fight again? It’s all my fault…” Maya sounded frantic, apologizing repeatedly. I looked at Zach’s back and heard him take a deep breath. “It’s not your fault, Maya. She didn’t tell me. She only has herself to blame.” Right. I only had myself to blame. I bent down to put on my shoes and tied the laces. “Why are you crying, Maya? I told you it’s not your fault. You had good intentions.” “Besides, even I didn’t know Lily was allergic. How could you?” I pulled my suitcase toward the door as he continued comforting her. “Three years ago,” I said, my voice calm, “I brought Lily to your office party. She accidentally ate a peanut butter pretzel. You were the one who rushed her to the ER. You promised me that night you would never let peanuts near her again.” “And when Carter organized an escape room for his birthday, you were the one who declined, saying Lily was too afraid of the dark to go.” “It seems even Maya remembers things better than you do.” Zach went completely stiff. His lips parted, but no sound came out. I opened the nightstand drawer, pulled out the signed divorce papers, and placed them on the dining table under his coffee mug. Then, I opened the front door and dragged my suitcase toward the elevator. “Zach.” Across the threshold, I took one last look at the apartment. “Let’s get a divorce.”

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When Ethan Grant pushed the key card in front of me, the tape from last night’s ER visit was still stuck to the back of my hand. “Spend one night with Michael Bennett and get the contract signed.” He kept his head down, flipping through documents without even looking at me. “This is the last bit of value you have to me.” I stared at that key card, the back of my throat tasting metallic. “I had a gastric hemorrhage. The doctor said if I drink again, I could die.” Only then did he finally lift his eyes, but his gaze went right past me to the door—Nina Shaw was walking in with a hand pressed to her forehead, saying in a soft, pitiful voice that her head hurt. Ethan immediately got up and pulled her into his arms, his tone so gentle he seemed like a completely different person. “Ethan, what if she won’t go?” Nina leaned against his chest, but her eyes stabbed straight at me. Only then did Ethan turn his head. He swept me a glance like he was handing out charity. “Won’t go? If the company goes bankrupt, are you going to take responsibility?” I lowered my head and saw the white scraps scattered inside the shredder by my feet. They were my name, and Boston University. I said, “Fine. I’ll go.” I’ll go to Boston University. I’ll never stay where I am and wait for you again. 1 Stella Hayes POV In the fifth year of helping Ethan Grant build his startup. He handed me the key card to a strange man’s room and told me to exchange myself for a contract for his first love. The name on the business card was Michael Bennett. It also listed the hotel address and room number. Beside it lay an itinerary confirmation, clearly stating it was a business suite and that check-in was tonight. A sharp, stabbing pain twisted my insides, each step sending cold sweat prickling across my skin. Last night, to help Nina Shaw close a difficult channel partner, I had taken three full bottles of hard liquor on her behalf, drinking until my stomach bled and I was dragged into the ER. Clinging to the last of my strength, I placed the bloodstained ER medical record on Ethan Grant’s desk. “Ethan Grant, I had a gastric hemorrhage. The doctor said if I keep drinking, it could kill me. I really can’t go to tonight’s dinner.” My voice was so weak it was barely audible, my face pale as paper. Ethan was looking down, flipping through documents. He did not even lift his eyelids. Just then, Nina Shaw pushed the door open in high heels and walked in, pressing a hand to her forehead as she leaned against the back of Ethan’s chair. “Ethan, I didn’t sleep well last night. My head hurts so much.” Ethan immediately put down the documents, stood up, and pulled Nina into his arms. His warm palm gently rubbed her head, his voice tender enough to drip water. “How were you so careless? I’ll have the driver take you back to rest right away.” After soothing Nina, Ethan turned his head. The moment his eyes landed on me, they dropped to freezing. He did not even look at the ER medical record. He swept it straight into the trash can by his feet. “Spend one night with him and help Nina secure this contract.” Ethan fastened the custom cuff link on his wrist without even raising his eyes. “This is the last bit of value you have to me. Once this is done, Nina will have a solid foothold with the board.” The penthouse’s AC cranked down to frigid temps, the cold seeping deep into my bones. I stood quietly in front of the large desk, my fingers trembling violently, disbelief filling my eyes. “Ethan Grant, are you insane?” My voice drifted in the air, full of incredulity. “We’ve been together for five years, and now you’re asking me to keep an old man who could be my father company, just to pave the way for Nina Shaw?” Ethan finally lifted his eyelids and glanced at me. His eyes held only condescending appraisal and indifference. “You were never worth much to begin with. Why are you acting so pure? The company needs this funding right now. Nina is too delicate to handle Michael Bennett, so it has to be you.” I dragged my eyes off the business card, skimming his polished, heartless features before settling on the dark carpet beside the paper shredder. Pale scraps of paper were scattered across the floor. They were my name, and Boston University. The admission letter I had personally given up back then to stay and help him build his company now lay shredded across the expensive carpet. My eyes instantly turned red. I pointed at the mess on the floor, my voice sharp with anguish. “What about my admission letter? I gave up my education for you back then. Even if you don’t love me, why did you have to shred it? Did you have to destroy the last thing I had left to hold on to?” “It was just a piece of useless paper. Keeping it in the drawer only took up space.” Ethan gave a cold laugh, pulled a first-class ticket to New York out of the drawer, and tossed it lightly onto the business card. “Did you really think you could go back to school? Face reality. Take the ticket and fly over tonight.” I bit down hard on my lower lip until the sharp taste of blood filled my mouth. I looked at the man I had loved for five years. It felt as if an invisible hand had clenched around my heart, squeezing so hard I could barely breathe. Suddenly, I understood. My five years of love, the life I had nearly sacrificed for him, was nothing more than a joke he could sell at any moment. “Fine. I’ll go.” I reached out with pale fingers, picked up the business card and ticket, folded them in half, and mechanically stuffed them into my coat pocket. “Ethan Grant, I hope you don’t regret this someday.” Ethan withdrew his hand in satisfaction and gave a scoff. “As long as you bring the contract back, what would I have to regret?” I turned around and walked out step by step. When I passed the discarded cardboard box, I saw the photo frame he had written on himself back then. On the back, it said, Without you, I wouldn’t be where I am today. What an absurd joke. Expressionless, I bent down, grabbed the scraps bearing my name from the shredder’s collection bin, put them into my bag, shut the door, and left. When I got back to my place, I did not turn on the lights. I placed the business card, itinerary confirmation, and ticket on the counter by the door. Ethan Grant must have thought I had given in. I stood in the dark for a long time, then crouched down on the cold floor and opened the Notes app. I recorded everything that had happened tonight. When I typed the sentence, This is the last bit of value you have to me. At last, I let out a very low, deeply suppressed, miserable laugh. It turned out that when a person was pushed to the edge, the first thing to shatter was not tears. It was that pathetic habit of still desperately trying to make excuses for the other person. 2 Stella Hayes POV Before dawn, I called the landlord. “Mrs. Wilson, this is Stella Hayes. I want to terminate the lease. I won’t be renting for the remaining four months. I’ll pay the penalty fee in full.” My voice sounded especially hoarse in the empty living room. The landlord on the other end was a little surprised. “Why so sudden? Didn’t your boyfriend tell me last time that he wanted to rent this place for that sister of his named Nina Shaw? He also said you should move out as soon as possible.” My hand tightened around the phone, my nails digging deep into my palm. So Ethan Grant had planned to drive me out long ago, just to make room for Nina. The home I had carefully built over five years was nothing more than a hotel room that could change owners at any time in their eyes. I took a deep breath, my eyes dead still. “We’re not getting married. We never will. I’ll return the apartment to you. He can rent it to whoever he wants. We broke up.” After hanging up, my fingertips slid across the phone screen until I reached the third photo. Time rewound three years. The album stopped on an old yellowed picture. In the photo, Ethan Grant was smiling smugly at the camera. My admission letter sat right beside his hand. I gave a cold laugh, took a screenshot, walked to the bookshelf, and yanked open the dusty old document box. From the very bottom, I pulled out that familiar note. The handwriting was forceful. It said, We are one and the same. I placed the note, the discarded photo of us, and the admission letter shredded into snowy scraps side by side on the table. On the way to the company, I opened my old email. I sent a message to a friend in Boston whom I had not contacted in years. “May I ask, is the legal aid center you work at hiring lately? I want to leave this place.” The other person quickly called me on voice chat, their tone full of worry. “Stella, what happened? You gave up school for Ethan Grant back then. Why do you suddenly want to come here? The pay is low, the work is messy and heavy, and it takes a huge emotional toll. Are you sure you want to come?” Standing in the cold wind, I tightened my grip on the phone, my voice firmer than ever. “I’m sure. I’ve been drained dry for five years. Now, I want to find myself again.” After hanging up, I listed every account jointly linked to Ethan Grant in the Notes app. Automatic utility payments, the residential community group chat, the company backup email. Every time I canceled one, I marked a heavy check on the paper. When I canceled the emergency contact, a red warning box popped up, asking if I wanted to sever the relationship. Expressionless, I pressed confirm. After finishing all of that, I took out a blank sheet of paper and wrote down my next plan. Terminate the lease, resign, go to Boston. Before folding the paper into the inner pocket, I uncapped my pen and wrote one sentence hard across the back. Never give myself up for anyone again. I returned to the company’s Executive Office. The area outside the Executive Office was quiet. When Nina Shaw pushed the door open, she did not even knock. The door slammed heavily into the filing cabinet beside it with a dull thud. Nina walked in, her gaze landing on my handbag. “I lost an expensive piece of jewelry. Let me see what’s in your bag.” I looked at her coldly and yanked my bag into my arms. “These are my personal belongings. You have no right to touch them.” Nina laughed contemptuously, her voice shrill. “Personal belongings? Even you are being kept by Ethan. What personal belongings do you have? Everyone, come look. She’s acting guilty because she stole something, right?” Coworkers outside who did not know what was going on began peering in one after another. I was shaking with anger. I turned to look at Ethan Grant in the office chair. “Ethan Grant, you’re just going to let her slander me and humiliate me in public like this?” Ethan frowned slightly, impatience in his tone. “Stella Hayes, let her look. If you didn’t steal anything, what are you afraid of? Don’t waste time.” That one sentence was like a rusty, blunt knife stabbing viciously into my heart. I clenched my teeth hard, tears spinning in my eyes, but I forced them back. I released my grip and pushed the bag to the edge of the desk. “Fine. Look. Look carefully!” 3 Stella Hayes POV A flash of triumph crossed Nina Shaw’s eyes as she reached in without the slightest courtesy. She did not care about my silence at all. She turned the handbag upside down. Everything inside scattered across the floor with a clatter. All of it was exposed under the eyes of every coworker in the office area. “Oh my god, what is this piece of junk?” Nina shrieked, her high heel stomping hard onto an old pocket watch that had rolled out. It was the birthday gift Ethan Grant had bought me at a flea market during the first year of his startup, using the only three hundred dollars he had left. The glass on the watch face had cracked long ago, but I had always treasured it and kept it close to me. There was a crisp crack. The thin heel of her shoe pierced straight through the face of the pocket watch. The gears and hands inside shattered apart, completely ruined. “Move your foot!” My eyes instantly turned bloodshot. Like I had lost my mind, I lunged forward, trying to shove Nina’s foot away. But Nina took the opportunity to fall backward, letting out an exaggerated cry as she collapsed right into Ethan Grant’s arms, who had just walked out of the office. “Ethan! I only wanted to see if she had stolen anything from the company, but she actually hit me!” Nina’s eyes immediately reddened as she huddled in Ethan’s embrace, looking wronged. Ethan’s face turned livid. He grabbed my wrist and flung me away hard. I staggered a few steps. My knee slammed heavily into the hard corner of a desk, and the pain made me suck in a sharp breath. I lifted my head and looked at Ethan Grant with red eyes. “She broke the pocket watch you gave me! That was five years of memories between us!” Ethan coldly swept a glance over the pile of scrap metal on the floor. There was not the slightest trace of warmth in his eyes. “A piece of trash worth a few hundred dollars. So what if it’s broken? What’s there to make such a fuss about? If Nina had gotten hurt, could you afford to compensate her? Clean up the trash on the floor, then apologize to Nina.” I stared fixedly at the remains of the pocket watch on the floor, then looked at Ethan Grant’s heartless face. At last, I understood. What had broken was not the watch. It was the five years of my youth. Nina not only rummaged through the handover documents, she also forcefully pulled out a kraft paper envelope. Several pages of lease-termination consultation records slid out of the envelope with a rustle. Nina deliberately raised her voice. “Lease-termination consultation records. So you already knew you weren’t worth anything and were preparing to move out? No wonder you didn’t even dare enter the client’s room.” I looked coldly at this shameless pair and said icily, “Are you done looking? You didn’t find any jewelry. Shouldn’t you apologize to me now?” Nina twisted her waist and turned to leave, tossing out one sentence. “Who knows if you moved it somewhere else beforehand?” At five thirty in the afternoon, the noisy company gradually quieted down, leaving only me in the break room. Ethan Grant walked in carrying a freshly brewed cup of hot coffee and placed it by my hand. “I just didn’t want to argue in front of her earlier. It wouldn’t have looked good. Don’t be so petty. It was just a bag. Don’t take it to heart,” Ethan coaxed in a low voice. I turned off the faucet. I turned around, picked up that cup of coffee, walked to the sink, and without warning, flipped my wrist. The entire cup of hot coffee poured into the drain without a single drop left. “Ethan Grant, do you think what I poured out was just a cup of coffee?” I lifted my head, my eyes cold as ice. “I’m not petty anymore. From now on, I won’t care about any of your business. Your first love is yours to serve.” Ethan’s face darkened. “What do you mean?” “You know exactly what I mean.” I picked up my own glass cup. When I passed by him, I did not pause for even a step. 4 Stella Hayes POV The handover checklist in my hands had already been checked carefully for the third time. The door to the CEO’s office was half open. Ethan Grant’s voice came from inside as he spoke on the phone. I only heard the name Michael Bennett. After the call ended, he walked to the door and ordered me around. “Come in. We’re talking about the project.” I picked up the handbag on the corner of my desk, stood up, and walked in. Nina Shaw was sitting on Ethan Grant’s lap, playing with an expensive diamond necklace. Ethan dotingly kissed Nina on the cheek. When he turned to look at me, his eyes immediately became the way someone looked at cheap merchandise. He pulled out a black bank card and tossed it onto the desk like he was giving alms to a beggar, pushing it to the center against the tabletop. The card faced upward. The direction he pushed it in pointed right at my heart. “This is your bonus for this project. There’s one hundred thousand in it. After the deal is done, there will be another payment. This money is enough for you to spend for a long time.” I looked at the diamond necklace glittering around Nina’s neck, then at the one-hundred-thousand-dollar bank card on the desk, and found it absurd beyond words. Ethan Grant could spend millions buying jewelry for Nina without blinking. Yet with a mere one hundred thousand, he wanted to send me into another man’s bed. My eyes reddened, my voice trembling, full of despair and self-mockery. “Ethan Grant, in your eyes, what exactly am I? An object you can sell off whenever you want?” Ethan frowned, his tone stern. “Don’t be ungrateful. Plenty of people would kill for this opportunity. Nina needs results right now. You’re part of the company, so you should contribute to the company. You won’t go? If the company goes bankrupt, are you going to take responsibility?” As soon as he finished speaking, Ethan Grant’s phone suddenly vibrated. The caller ID was Michael Bennett. He answered casually and leaned back into the leather chair. The man on the other end seemed to ask about me in a frivolous tone. The corner of Ethan’s mouth lifted into a smile, and he answered without hesitation. “She’s fine with it. Arrange it however you like. She’s very obedient.” That sentence completely shattered the last line of defense in my heart. I stared at him and suddenly asked, “Ethan Grant, what if after I go to New York, I never come back?” The call had already ended. Ethan gave a cold laugh, his tone thin and cruel to the extreme. “That’s your freedom. As long as you bring the contract back, you can go wherever you want.” My gaze slowly moved up from the bank card and fixed on his face. In the end, the tears never fell. I nodded. “Okay. I understand.” Back at my workstation, I sent out the second version of the handover documents. The body of the email was clear and orderly: “As of 5:30 p.m. today, all project materials handled by me have been fully archived. Any new arrangements from this point forward do not fall within the scope of my responsibilities.” Rachel Chen walked past with a cup of water and lowered her voice, concern in her tone. “Stella, you sent this email… Are you really leaving?” I closed my laptop with a crisp snap. “Yes. I’m leaving, Rachel. Take care of yourself from now on. Don’t be as stupid as I was, throwing everything away for a garbage man.” At ten that night, the company’s HR system opened the pre-resignation application portal right on time. I filled it out very slowly. When I reached the question asking whether I would accept an exit interview, I clicked the mouse and decisively selected no. When I left the company with my bag, the phone in my pocket vibrated. It was a hotel location pin from Ethan Grant. After reading it, I forwarded the location to my new email with a blank expression and marked it as Evidence No. Then I deleted his chat window completely. This five-year nightmare was finally about to end.

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