Author: Momo Chan

1 As my due date drew closer, I kept having the exact same dream over and over. In the dream, a little girl was crying, begging me not to bring her into the world. “Please, Mom, just let me go.” “He cheated on you with his intern the moment you got pregnant. This family isn’t worth breaking yourself over!” “Without me, without him, you’ll finally be free!” I bolted upright in a cold sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs. Beside me, my husband immediately wrapped his arms around me. “Hey, sweetie, are you okay?” Nolan’s eyes were filled with pure worry. We had grown up together, knowing each other’s deepest secrets. Since our marriage, he had been the neighborhood’s poster child for the perfect husband. Him? Cheating? While he was in the kitchen pouring me a glass of warm water, I reached over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. The passcode used to be my birthday. Now, it had been changed. Before I could process the cold dread settling in my chest, the doorbell rang. Late at night, a heavily intoxicated woman was standing outside our door, slurring his name repeatedly. When she saw me, her smile grew even more unhinged. “Hey there. I’m just here to grab something from Nolan.” “Do me a favor and check under his pillow. Is there a pair of black lace stockings there?” I didn’t say a word, but my stomach suddenly tightened in a sharp, sudden spasm. It was her. Charlene, the intern from my nightmares. Charlene wanted to cause more of a scene, but Nolan had already hailed a cab and bundled her into it. By the time he came back into the bedroom, I was already tossing the covers aside, searching. “What are you looking for?” “You don’t seriously believe a drunk girl’s rambling, do you?” Nolan let out a casual, disbelieving chuckle and took the initiative to lift his pillow. “See? Nothing here.” He reached out to pull me into his arms, but I quietly stepped out of his reach. “A woman gets drunk in the middle of the night, calls you repeatedly, and then shows up at our doorstep.” “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation?” I stared at him, trying to find even a sliver of guilt on his face. But he only sighed, his expression a mix of gentle exhaustion and forced patience. “I get it. You’re pregnant, and your hormones are making you hyper-sensitive.” “Young people get drunk and do stupid, reckless things. It happens.” “Paige, let’s not let silly paranoia get between us, okay?” That night was the first time we slept in separate rooms. The next morning, I didn’t wake up early to make him breakfast as I always did. The atmosphere in our home slowly froze over. By the fourth day of our cold war, Nolan didn’t return home even after midnight. Restless and frustrated, I dialed his number over and over. When the call finally connected, it wasn’t his voice that answered. “Paige? Is something wrong?” I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “I’m calling my own husband. Do I need to report to you?” “You sound so hostile, Paige. I didn’t mean anything by it.” “It’s just that Nolan is completely wasted. Since you have such a big belly, are you sure you want to come pick him up?” The line went dead. I threw on a coat, ordered a cab, and rode to a private lounge downtown. Before I even pushed the heavy double doors of the VIP suite open, the raucous cheering from inside hit my ears. “Chug! Chug!” Through the glass panel, I saw Charlene coyly holding a shot glass, leaning close to Nolan. His tall frame hovered over her. He cupped her face, tilted her head back, and shared a mouthful of wine, pressing his lips against hers in a sloppy, alcohol-fueled kiss. I kicked the door open with a resounding bang. The laughter died instantly. “Paige?” Nolan frowned, his eyes narrowing as he looked at me. “What are you doing here?” I gestured toward the trembling woman beside him. “She already threw down the gauntlet. Did you really think I wouldn’t show up?” Charlene scrambled to defend herself. “Nolan, when you went to the restroom, she kept calling. I was just worried she’d be anxious, so I told her we were here for business networking.” Instead of getting angry at her, Nolan gently patted the back of her hand. “It’s not your fault.” He stood up, walking past her to face me. “Are you happy now that you’ve made us the laughingstock of the room?” Without waiting for my response, he pushed past me and stormed out of the suite. I wanted to chase after him, but a sudden, violent spasm racked my abdomen. I slid down against the wall, clutching my belly. “Nolan, it hurts…” I was admitted to the hospital that night for emergency observation to prevent preterm labor. Nolan ran around handling the paperwork and medical supplies, finally collapsing into the chair beside my bed just as the horizon began to turn gray. Exhausted, he tucked my hand back under the blanket. “Just listen to the doctor. Everything will be fine.” “Look at you, making such a mountain out of a molehill.” His dismissive tone set off a spark of pure rage in my chest. “A molehill?” “Nolan, if I hadn’t shown up tonight, would the two of you have ended up in bed?!” “Paige!” He roared, his eyes flashing with a terrifying, bloodshot anger. “Do you have any idea what business networking is?!” “I swear, you’ve got too much free time on your hands. Do you have any idea how exhausting my job actually is?!” Silence fell over the room. During my first trimester, the morning sickness had been brutal. I had spent weeks practically living on the bathroom floor, losing twenty pounds in a single month. He was the one who had begged me to quit. “Just stay home and let me take care of you. I can easily support us.” “Earning money is a man’s job. Don’t worry your pretty head about it.” The sweet promises of yesterday had become the sharpest daggers of today. A flicker of guilt crossed his face. He ran a hand through his messy hair, trying to reach for my hand. “Sweetie, I didn’t mean it like that.” “What do you want to eat? I’ll go buy it.” I stared at him, extending an open palm. “Your phone.” He froze for a second, offering a strained laugh. “What? You don’t trust me?” I didn’t blink. “Your phone.” “Why did you change the passcode?” “What is on there that I’m not allowed to see?” Nolan shoved his hand into his pocket, his fingers tightly gripping the device. He glared at me, his jaw clenching. Suddenly, he pulled it out and smashed it onto the linoleum floor. The screen shattered into a million glittering pieces right before my eyes. “Are you happy now?” “Are you done throwing tantrums?” He turned on his heel and stormed out, leaving me entirely alone in the sterile white room. I stayed in the hospital for seven days, and Nolan never showed his face again. The nurses watched me with pity. Compared to the other pregnant women whose husbands hovered over them with endless warmth, I looked pathetic. When it was time to handle the discharge paperwork, a young nurse finally couldn’t help but ask, “Do you want me to call your emergency contact? There are a lot of post-discharge care instructions.” I remained quiet, which she took as a yes. Deep down, a small, foolish part of me still hoped. Unfortunately, after she tried calling him five times, Nolan still didn’t pick up. She looked at me awkwardly. “Maybe he’s in a meeting?” I forced a smile, thanked her, and called a cab myself. As the taxi pulled up to our building, I noticed the lights in our apartment were on. Nolan was home. So why hadn’t he answered the phone? Was he still playing his petty silent game? Anger flared in my chest. I marched upstairs, determined to demand answers. But the moment I unlocked the door, I froze. There was a pair of high heels sitting on the shoe rack. Loud music was pulsing through the apartment, so loud that neither of them had heard the door open. “Nolan, grab the bowls! Dinner is ready!” “Want a glass? I bought red wine today!” Charlene’s voice drifted from the kitchen. I walked forward like a zombie, only to see Nolan wrapping his arms around her waist from behind as she stood there in her apron. “Smells amazing.” “But honestly, I’d rather eat you first.” I stood there in a daze, watching them. They looked like a loving, happily married couple. I was the intruder. Charlene giggled, turning her head to kiss him, and that was when their eyes landed on me. I slowly walked toward them. Nolan instinctively stepped in front of Charlene, shielding her. Tears spilled over my cheeks, and when I spoke, my voice was raw and broken. “Nolan…” “Why?” My mind flashed back to a dusty afternoon during my childhood. I had come home early from school, eager to show my parents my report card. Instead, I found my father and another woman in the bedroom, behaving like animals. My mother had come home early that day too. She had been carrying two heavy bags of groceries, smiling warmly as she told me, “Go do your homework, sweetie. I’m making pork chops tonight!” We never got to eat those pork chops, because she spent the evening chasing my father with a kitchen knife while he scrambled to pull up his pants. I didn’t grab a knife. I just stood there like a statue, watching Charlene scramble to gather her things and flee. Shortly after she left, Nolan tried to slip past me carrying a heavy black trash bag. “Sweetie, I’m just going to take the trash out. I’ll be right back.” I snatched the bag from his hands. Before he could stop me, I ripped it open and dumped the contents onto the floor. Stockings, handcuffs, lipstick, a toothbrush, lace lingerie, remote-controlled toys… The air in the room turned ice-cold. Trembling, I locked the front door and took the key. “Starting today, you’re not going anywhere.” “If you dare cross that threshold, I’ll take both of us down.” On the first day of our confinement, Nolan acted completely normal. He knelt before me, weeping and begging for forgiveness, claiming it was just a temporary lapse in judgment. “You’ve been pregnant and we couldn’t do anything. Charlene just happened to be assigned to my team.” “I’m a man, Paige. I have needs!” “I promise it will never happen again, okay?” He repented like a devout sinner, hovering around me, cleaning every corner of the house, and cooking elaborate meals to appease me. On the third day, his phone rang incessantly. Finally, he looked at me with a strained, pleading expression. “There’s so much going on at the office.” “Let me go out just for a bit, sweetie. You can set a timer, track my location. You can monitor the office security cameras if you want!” I gripped his hand tightly, refusing to let go. “Charlene is at the office, isn’t she?” “You’re just going to see her!” Nolan sighed with exhaustion, running a hand over my hair. “Fine, fine. I won’t go.” “Stop overthinking. I’ll stay right here with you.” We managed to survive another day in fragile peace, until the early hours of the fifth morning. A soft rustling woke me. I got out of bed to find Nolan quietly trying to pick the lock on the front door. “What are you doing?” He jumped, startled, then rubbed his temples in sheer frustration. “Paige, you are seriously ruining my career.” “I promise you, the moment I finish this meeting, I’ll come straight back.” I lunged forward, grabbing his arm and shaking my head violently. “I won’t let you leave.” “You’re going to her, aren’t you? No!” Fear and hysteria consumed me. I blocked the door with my entire body, completely losing my mind. “Paige! You’re acting like a complete psycho!” Nolan shoved me, and when I kept fighting, his patience finally snapped. He raised his hand and slapped me across the face. The sting on my cheek was burning. His harsh, mocking words rang in my ears. “Now I see why your dad walked out on your family.” “Your mother was a psycho, and so are you!” “Why don’t you just go join her in the grave!” The front door slammed shut, leaving me alone in the dark. My mother had indeed gone mad. She had refused to get a divorce, spending her days screaming and crying, her face covered in saliva and tears. She would hit me and yell at me, and I had been too terrified to even cry out loud. Back then, Nolan would always find excuses to drag me to his house. He would share his snacks and let me read his comic books. “Don’t worry, Paige!” “I’ll protect you!” Later, when my mother committed suicide, he was the one who stayed by my side to handle the funeral, bowing to every guest who came to offer condolences. “Paige, from now on, I’m your family.” He had been the only light in my dark childhood, healing my deepest scars. Yet now, he was the one ripping those scars open and pouring salt into them. Nolan refused to answer my calls, and I didn’t sleep a wink. His friend was the one who finally called me. “Paige, you’ve gone way too far this time.” “What man doesn’t make a mistake? Did you really have to leak their private photos online? How is Nolan supposed to show his face again?” Confused, I hung up and opened my browser. I quickly found a trending post featuring explicit photos of Nolan and Charlene. The title was vicious: A Trashy Whore and a Dog Belong Together. There were uncensored photos and videos of them in the office, the bedroom, the car, the park. Nolan was pouring his desire into her, his eyes, which had once belonged only to me, filled with lust for another woman. But I hadn’t posted any of that. I frantically dialed Nolan’s number. When he still didn’t pick up, I left a voice message: “Tonight at eight. The Ferris wheel where you proposed. I’ll be waiting.” After a long time, he sent a short reply: “Fine. Eight o’clock.” Those few words calmed my racing heart. I even put on lipstick, something I hadn’t touched during my entire pregnancy. I arrived two hours early, sitting beneath the Ferris wheel. Watching the couples walking past, a deep, hollow ache settled in my chest. Many years ago, we had been one of them. When the Ferris wheel was first built, Nolan had dragged me there. “Paige, legend says that if a couple kisses at the very top of the Ferris wheel, they’ll stay together forever.” Blushing, he had gotten down on one knee in the high-altitude cabin, pulling out a diamond ring. “Will you marry me? I swear I’ll cherish you for the rest of my life!” The memory was so warm that by the time I snapped out of it, Nolan was already sitting silently beside me. “Nolan…” “Let’s go.” His voice was dead flat. I followed him, trying to reach for his hand, but he pointedly evaded my touch. We stepped into the cabin, and even then, he refused to look at me. After a long, agonizing silence, I finally spoke. “About the photos, I swear I didn’t do it…” “You didn’t?” He let out a sharp, mocking laugh, finally turning to glare at me. “Paige, stop acting.” “You wanted to ruin my life, didn’t you?” “Well, congratulations! You got exactly what you wanted!” “But let me tell you something. You ruined her reputation, so now I have to take responsibility for her!” His voice escalated, screaming in the very place where he had once promised to love me forever, telling me he had to take responsibility for another woman. It felt like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. I shook my head frantically. “It wasn’t me! I swear it wasn’t me!” “You said you only loved me, Nolan!” His face was contorted with anger as he violently shoved my hand away. “I absolutely despise you right now.” “Paige, you disgust me.” His words froze the blood in my veins. As the Ferris wheel cabin touched the ground, he quickly leaped out, slammed the door shut, and locked it from the outside. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Charlene. “Don’t you love the Ferris wheel?” “Then stay up there and enjoy it!” I looked toward the control booth; it was completely empty. Through the glass, I watched Nolan wrap his arm around Charlene’s waist as they walked away. Suddenly, a warm gush of fluid pooled between my thighs. I pounded frantically on the glass, screaming in sheer terror. “Help!” “Stop the wheel! I’m in labor!” By the time the ambulance arrived, I had already given birth to my daughter inside the cabin. With severe tearing and blood staining the floor, I used the last ounce of my strength to hand the baby to the paramedics. “Where is the father? What is his number?!” I weakly signaled that I would sign the forms myself, offering a faint, weary smile. “I don’t have any family. They’re all dead.”

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1 After two months of complete silence, Rain on a Sunny Day suddenly claimed the number one trending spot online. It began when a close friend of the author posted a brief statement on social media. “This book is a young woman’s private diary. Before she passed, she asked me to publish it, leaving me with only one request.” “She said, ‘I hope if he ever reads this, he’ll finally stop hating me.’” Will sat at the dining table, casually scrolling past the trending post. He didn’t even tap it, setting his phone aside face down. Across from him, Renee was meticulously studying the menu, her brow slightly furrowed as if she were solving a complex equation. “Is the wild mushroom soup good here?” “It is.” Renee nodded, satisfied, and looked up to smile at him. He closed the menu for her and smoothly reached out to slide her chair an inch closer to the table. Renee had her head down, arranging her napkin, so she didn’t notice. But I did. He used to do that exact same thing for me. Except back then, I was still alive. My name is Mamie. I have been dead for eight years. Before I died, I spent two years in prison. Not long after I was released, I slipped away. Leukemia, a damp, drafty cell, a scratchy wool blanket: a fever burned for three months before it finally consumed me. I have been tethered to Will’s side, a silent ghost, for eight long years. Will and I met in high school. That winter, the city was hit by the heaviest blizzard of the year. The school’s heating broke, and we could see our own breath inside the classroom. He sat directly behind me. During a break, he swiped the small metal hand warmer from my desk. When I turned around to demand it back, he said with utter seriousness, “Your hands aren’t cold. Mine are.” “How do you know my hands aren’t cold?” I asked. He reached out, squeezed my hand briefly, and let go. “See? Warmer than mine.” He handed the hand warmer back to me, but then rested his own hands on top of it to steal some heat. “You don’t mind, do you?” By the time he asked, he was already soaking up the warmth. “What’s the point of asking now?” I grumbled. He smiled, a quiet, boyish grin. “No point. Just polite.” Later, I realized he was just that kind of person. He would do things first and only ask if you minded afterward. He would barge into your life and then ask if he was welcome. Eventually, he left a folded slip of paper on my desk. It had only six words: I like you. Do you? I took my pen and wrote beneath it: I do too. He folded the paper carefully, slipping it into his chest pocket. For the rest of the afternoon, he sat incredibly straight, as if he were trying desperately to keep a burst of joy from bubbling out of him. Sitting in front of him, I couldn’t stop smiling. He had this habit: he always drank his soup incredibly slowly. Whenever I tried to rush him, he would say there was no hurry, and that burning your tongue was no fun. “It tastes terrible once it’s cold,” I would argue. And he would reply, “If it’s cold, I’ll drink it. If it’s hot, you drink it. It’s a perfect match.” He had an old injury on his left shoulder. Every time the weather turned damp and rainy, it would ache, though he never complained. I only found out one rainy day when I caught him secretly massaging his shoulder. I went to the pharmacy and bought medicated heat patches, but he refused to use them, calling it dramatic. “Are you going to put it on, or do I have to force you?” I demanded. He looked at me, then quietly submitted. “Put it on.” From that day on, whenever rain was in the forecast, I made sure to buy the patches in advance. One day, he asked, “How do you always remember?” “Because you never do,” I answered. He finished applying the patch, and after a quiet moment, he murmured, “Mamie.” “Yeah?” “Always remember.” I thought he was talking about the patches. It was only after I ended up in prison that I realized he wasn’t talking about the patches at all. He meant he wanted me to always be there. But I couldn’t stay. All I could do, as I lay burning with fever in that damp, dark cell, was hold onto every memory of him, keeping them safe before I had to leave this world ahead of him. The waiter served the mushroom soup. Renee leaned in to inhale the aroma, her eyes crinkling. “It smells absolutely amazing.” Will ladled a bowl for her, sliding it gently across the table. “Careful. It’s hot.” I stood by the table, watching them, and felt a dull, familiar ache swell in my chest. The restaurant was quiet. Outside, the streetlights stretched their shadows long across the floor. Renee suddenly spoke up. “Will, I’ve been reading this book lately called Rain on a Sunny Day. It’s a young woman’s diary, and it’s beautifully written. Would you like to read it too?” Will placed some food onto her plate, his voice completely flat. “You’re pregnant, sweetie. You shouldn’t read things like that. Emotional rollercoasters aren’t good for the baby.” Renee nodded and dropped the subject. I stared at his lowered eyelashes for a long time. He hadn’t even grasped the significance of the title. As their dinner neared its end, the voices of two women at the neighboring table drifted over. “Did you read Rain on a Sunny Day? That poor girl’s story is heartbreaking.” “I know, I cried so much. She was locked up for two years, and after she got out, she passed away before she could even see him one last time.” Will picked up his water glass and took a slow sip. I saw his knuckles whiten slightly against the glass. It was there for only a split second, then gone. After dinner, Will went to settle the bill, leaving Renee waiting alone at the table. She looked down at her phone, the trending post still open on her screen. In the photo, the girl’s smile was soft and faint. Renee stared at the picture, her brow furrowing slightly. She felt as if she had seen this girl somewhere before. Was it an illustration from the book, or was it something else? “All set. Let’s go.” Will returned from the register, snapping Renee out of her thoughts. She stood up, took his arm, and walked out. As she passed the spot where I stood, she suddenly turned her head, casting one final, lingering glance toward the photo on her screen. Then she pulled her gaze away, stepping with him into the cool night air. I watched her retreating back, a heavy dread settling in my chest. She had recognized me. 2 The next morning, Will accompanied Renee to her prenatal checkup. He held her hand the entire time, listening intently as the doctor explained every detail of the ultrasound. When the checkup ended, Will went to the front desk to handle the paperwork, leaving Renee to wait in the lounge area. The television in the waiting room was playing a morning show about literature. “The book we’re discussing today, Rain on a Sunny Day, is a diary written in prison by a young woman who served two years for someone else before passing away shortly after her release.” “The most heartbreaking part is that the person she saved still has no idea she went to prison in his place.” “She wrote in her diary that on the day she was released, she stood at the gates for a long time, debating whether to find him. Ultimately, she chose not to.” “She said: ‘He doesn’t know what happened. Telling him would only bring him pain, so it’s better to just leave it like this.’” I stood in the corner of the waiting room, not looking at Renee. Instead, my mind drifted back to the days before those two years. It happened eleven days after my leukemia diagnosis. Will’s company ran into severe legal trouble. It wasn’t his fault; his business partner had fled, leaving Will’s signature on a fraudulent document. He called me that night, his voice dangerously calm. “Mamie, I might have to go away for a while. The lawyer says it could be two years.” I sat in the hospital corridor for hours. The diagnosis was still tucked in my bag: Leukemia. Confirmed. Prognosis highly uncertain. I sat there thinking until the sun went down. Two years. If he went to prison for two years, his career and his company would be ruined, and he would come out only to face a girlfriend who was already dying. So I called his lawyer. “I have some information I want to discuss regarding the case.” I had a way to take the blame. The price was two years. The lawyer had asked me, “Does Will know about this?” “No,” I replied. “And he never will.” When Will called me later, saying there was a sudden turn of events and asking if I knew anything, I lied. “I don’t know. Maybe there was a problem with the evidence. Don’t worry about it, just wait for the outcome.” Hanging up, I stared at my medical report. In two years, I would likely be dead anyway. So he would never have to find out. I thought disappearing quietly was the kindest way to end it. I never realized that to him, my disappearance would be a wound that never healed. “I hope he knows she didn’t just run away,” the TV host said. I stood there, a heavy lump forming in my throat. Will. I didn’t run away. I just didn’t know how to tell you where I was going. Renee sat with her head lowered, her phone screen glowing, though she wasn’t looking at it. Will returned after finishing the paperwork, and they walked out together. As they passed the television, Will’s pace slowed. He turned his head, casting a brief glance at the screen. “I hope he knows she didn’t just run away.” He pulled his gaze back, pushing open the heavy glass doors of the clinic. His steps were steady. But I saw his hand linger on the door handle for a full second before he finally pushed it open. After lunch, Will drove Renee home, explaining that he had some urgent documents to handle at the office and would return by evening. Renee stood on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye, then headed inside. He waited until the elevator doors closed before turning toward the parking garage. But halfway there, he stopped. He stood in the empty corridor for a very long time. Then he pulled out his phone, opening the search bar. I held my breath, watching his fingers hover over the keyboard. They stayed there, trembling slightly, for a long time. Ultimately, he slipped the phone back into his pocket and kept walking. That night, Will sat alone in the study. Renee was already asleep, and the house was dead silent. He reached into the very back of his desk drawer, pulling out a worn manila envelope. The edges were frayed, and the seal had a thin rip, as if it had been opened and then hastily pressed back down. He placed the envelope on the desk, staring at it. In the bottom right corner, my name was written in tiny, elegant script. It was my handwriting. Will reached out, his fingertips stopping just short of the envelope’s edge. Standing beside the desk, my heart hammered in my chest. Will, open it. It says I didn’t do those things. It says I didn’t run away. His hand hovered there for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he pulled his hand back. He placed the envelope back into the drawer, pushed it shut, and locked it. That letter was something I had written before going to prison, intending to mail it to him, but I never did. I didn’t know how he had gotten hold of it. I had written: Will, I didn’t do those things, but I can’t explain it. Don’t wait for me. I thought that by not sending it, he would never have to know. Yet he had kept that letter locked in his drawer for eight long years. He had never thrown it away. 3 Will had a close friend from high school named Jared. That afternoon, Jared came to visit, immediately sliding his phone across the desk the moment he sat down. “Have you seen this?” Will glanced down. It was the trending page for Rain on a Sunny Day. He pushed the phone back. “Not interested.” Jared frowned. “Will, don’t you want to know what actually happened back then?” “We are not discussing this.” The room fell quiet. The television on the wall was playing the news, reporting the weekly bestseller list. “In first place, Rain on a Sunny Day, a poignant memoir about…” Will picked up the remote and shut the television off. They drank in silence for a while, but Jared ultimately couldn’t hold back. “She didn’t leave you the way you think she did, Will. It’s all written in the book. If you just read it, you’ll understand.” “Understand what?” Will’s voice was entirely flat. “I waited for her for three months, Jared. She didn’t leave me a single word.” “But the story you believe is a lie.” “That’s enough.” He stood up, grabbing his coat. “She left, and that’s all that matters to me.” With that, he walked out. The night wind was howling, and he walked quickly, as if trying to outrun the thoughts chasing him. Reaching the parking lot, he leaned against the car door, looking up at the dark sky. Back when he was waiting for me, I was burning with fever in that damp cell, constantly dreaming of him standing in the cold, waiting. In those dreams, I tried to run to him, but my legs wouldn’t move. Only later did I realize those weren’t just dreams. He pulled his car keys from his pocket, holding them tightly, but didn’t open the door. He just stood there under the dim parking lot light, staring blankly into the distance. Finally, he lowered his head, whispering a single sentence into the dark. “Mamie, where did you go?” It wasn’t an angry accusation. It was just a lonely man asking a question to a ghost who couldn’t answer. I stood right beside him, my throat tight. Will. I’m right here. I’ve always been here. He got into the car and drove out of the lot. Passing a bookstore, he saw a display of Rain on a Sunny Day in the illuminated window. The car slowed down for a brief second. Only a second, before he accelerated again. When he got home, Renee was waiting on the sofa. She hung up his coat and led him to the kitchen. “I warmed up some soup for you. Drink it before you go to sleep.” Will sat down, watching her busy profile. Renee turned around with the bowl, freezing when she caught his gaze. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing.” He lowered his head and took a sip. Renee sat across from him, hesitating. “Will, about that book…” “Let’s not talk about it,” he said softly. “Finish your soup and get some sleep.” Renee closed her mouth. Will walked into the bedroom. Renee remained at the table, motionless. Only after a long time did she pick up her phone, dialing a number and keeping her voice hushed. “Mom, he still doesn’t know about the book, but I’m afraid we can’t hide it much longer.” 4 The next day, Will went to his office to handle some paperwork. His assistant walked in to deliver coffee, placing a book on the corner of the desk. “Mr. Collins asked me to give this to you. He said it’s incredibly popular right now and highly recommended it.” It was Rain on a Sunny Day. He didn’t touch it. Throughout the entire morning, the book remained on the corner of the desk. He signed documents, held meetings, and made phone calls, never once letting his gaze drift toward it. As midday approached, he finally spoke. “Take this book away.” “But Mr. Collins said…” “Take it away.” After the afternoon meeting, two colleagues were chatting in the hallway. “The saddest part is when she wrote about standing outside the gates on her release day, wondering if she should find him, but ultimately deciding not to.” “Why didn’t she go?” “She said he had no idea what had happened to her. Telling him would only bring him pain, so she decided to let it go.” Will walked out of the conference room, passing right by them. His pace faltered for a fraction of a second. But he didn’t stop, continuing back to his office. Sitting in his chair, he didn’t immediately return to work. He just sat there, staring out the window. After a long time, he opened his drawer and pulled out the worn manila envelope. He placed it on the desk, staring at it. This time, his fingers touched the seal. He paused. I held my breath. Will, open it. His fingers slowly moved down, grasping the edge of the seal. Just then, his phone vibrated. It was a text from Renee. “Will, what do you want for dinner? I can come pick you up after work.” He stared at the screen for a long time. Finally, he placed the envelope back into the drawer and locked it. He picked up his phone to reply: “No need, I’ll drive home myself.” I watched the locked drawer, a heavy despair settling deep in my chest. So close. Every single time, it was so close. That evening, Will went to the grocery store alone. Renee had been craving strawberries, so he spent a long time carefully selecting two of the best cartons. While waiting in the checkout line, his eyes drifted to a display of bestsellers near the register. Rain on a Sunny Day was stacked in the most prominent spot, its cover facing out. Will reached over, picked up a copy, and flipped it open to the first page. “Today is my first day here. The cell is damp, and the blankets are stiff. I didn’t tell him where I am, and I don’t plan to. But I don’t know why, every time I close my eyes, I see him waiting for me.” Will’s finger trembled. The line moved forward. But he didn’t move. He kept reading. “Day 17. I heard it’s snowing outside. I wonder if anyone reminded him to use his heat patches. His old injury always flares up when it snows.” “Day 41. I have a fever. I was delirious and called his name out loud. My cellmates teased me for a long time.” His breathing slowed as he flipped the page. “Day 63. Someone visited me today and brought oranges. I ate one, but it wasn’t very sweet, which made me think of him. He hates oranges because they’re too sour, always lecturing me whenever I bought them. I wonder if anyone is eating dinner with him now.” The cashier called out, “Sir, you’re next.” Will didn’t hear. He kept flipping the pages. “Day 90. I’m out. The wind is freezing today. I stood at the gates for a long time, wondering if I should find him. Ultimately, I didn’t. He doesn’t know what happened these past two years, and I don’t plan on telling him. Let’s just leave it at this.” “Sir?” He ignored the cashier entirely, flipping to the final pages. The handwriting there was shaky and uneven, written with a trembling hand. “My health is failing; I don’t think I have much time left. I still don’t plan on telling him the truth. Not because I don’t want to, but because it’s pointless now. It would only make him miserable.” “Let it be.” “Will, I didn’t abandon you.” “I just couldn’t tell you where I was going.” Will stared at that final line. For a long time, he didn’t turn the page. Slowly, he flipped to the back cover. In the bottom left corner, the publisher had printed a tiny biography. “Author: Mamie Lin. Born… Died eight years ago in the spring, at the age of twenty-three.” The grocery store’s intercom continued to blare advertisements. Will stood there, completely frozen. I hovered beside him, watching him stare at those words for what felt like an eternity. Then, he raised his head. His gaze swept past the registers, past the bookshelves, locking directly onto the empty space where I was standing. I gasped. His eyes were entirely bloodshot. We were separated by eight years, by a truth he had never known, by all the words I had never gotten to say. Yet, he looked straight at me, his eyes locking with mine.

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The day Lexi left for college, she posted on Instagram: [Does it count as growing up if I finally stop relying on my big sister?] In the photo, she wore the Jordans I bought her, held the designer bag I paid for, and beamed at the campus gates. Half an hour earlier, she’d texted: “Hey, transfer another thousand.” “Mom and Dad said I need to treat my new roommates to dinner. You’re footing the bill.” I stared at the screen and let out a dry laugh. Growing up, when she broke something, I paid for it. When she cheated on a test, I went to the principal’s office to apologize. When she lost a classmate’s phone, my parents forced me to replace it with my scholarship money. Their excuse was always the same: “You’re the older sister. If you don’t look out for her, who will?” I had looked out for her for eighteen years. When I checked her post, my parents were already flooding the comments: [Our little girl is finally independent.] I closed the banking app, opened Instagram, and replied: [Since you’re all grown up now, starting today, you can pay your own tuition, earn your own spending money, and clean up your own messes.] A minute later, Lexi called. “Sloane, what the hell is your problem?” “It means your big sister is finally growing up, too,” I said calmly. 1 “Seriously, what is your problem?” Lexi’s voice hissed through the speaker, competing with a chaotic background noise. I could hear the clinking of expensive glassware, the hushed giggles of her roommates, and a waiter politely reminding them about the bill. I glanced at the automated text message that had just popped up on my screen. “Your supplementary credit card ending in 0716 has been frozen.” I swiped the notification away. “The first step to me growing up is securing my own financial independence.” A few seconds of dead silence passed before Lexi let out a forced, venomous laugh. “Are you mentally ill?” “I am sitting at The Grand Regent. My three roommates are staring right at me. Are you seriously going to humiliate me right now?” I raised an eyebrow even though she could not see me. “Didn’t you just announce to the world that you were done relying on me?” Lexi lowered her voice, completely dripping with disgust. “That was just for social media clout, you idiot. Did you actually take it seriously?” “I am your flesh and blood. What is the big deal if I spend a little of your money?” “You don’t even have a boyfriend. Who else are you hoarding all that cash for?” My grip on the phone tightened until my knuckles turned white. It wasn’t that I never wanted to date. I just couldn’t afford a decent dress, and I could never justify spending twenty bucks on a movie ticket. Every single time my paycheck hit my account, it immediately went toward Lexi’s tuition, her new iPhones, and filling the endless financial sinkholes she created. My entire existence had been reduced to discount ramen, dollar menus, and clipping digital coupons. Meanwhile, her social media feed looked like a luxury influencer’s mood board. “Figure out how to pay for your own dinner,” I said softly. I heard the harsh scrape of a chair pushing back against a marble floor on her end. “Sloane, don’t you dare!” I didn’t stick around to hear the rest of her tantrum. I just hung up. Less than thirty seconds later, my mother called. Since the day she was born, Lexi never had to solve a single problem on her own. All she had to do was shed a single tear, and my parents would violently bulldoze anyone in her path. Especially me. “You ungrateful brat! Are you bullying your sister again?!” my mother shrieked. “It is her first day of college. What is wrong with her treating her roommates to a nice meal?” “Transfer the money right now. Actually, send her an extra two thousand so she can take them out to a club afterward.” I looked down at the soggy, overcooked instant noodles in my cheap plastic bowl. “My entire paycheck this month went to her tuition. I am broke.” “If you don’t have cash, put it on credit!” my mother snapped without skipping a beat. “Max out your cards! Take out a cash advance! Just do it!” I let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. “Her social status is priceless, but my actual survival means nothing to you?” I heard my father’s heavy, aggressive breathing take over the receiver. “If we hadn’t given you life and fed you, you would have starved in the gutter years ago.” I had heard that exact phrase my entire life. They gave birth to me, which meant I owed them a blood debt until the day I died. Whatever Lexi wanted, I had to provide. And the justification was always the same. You are the older sister. But there was exactly one person in this world who never saw me that way. My Grams. Before she passed away, she transferred the deed of her house entirely into my name. “Sloane, this is the only safe harbor I can leave you,” she had told me, holding my hands in her frail ones. “From now on, if anyone tries to force your hand, if anyone tries to bully you, you come back here and lock the door.” That same afternoon, she looked me dead in the eye and said the words that saved my sanity. “You are a person, Sloane. Not a walking ATM.” Because of her, this small house was the only real home I had. I hung up on my parents and permanently blocked both of their numbers. A warm, furry head nudged against my knee. Biscuit, my golden retriever, looked up at me with huge, soulful eyes. I knelt down and buried my face in his soft fur. “It’s just going to be the two of us from now on, buddy.” Half an hour later, a violent pounding shook my front door. My father was outside, roaring at the top of his lungs. “Sloane! You worthless animal, get your ass out here right now!” 2 Biscuit crawled out from behind the sofa, planted himself in front of my legs, and started barking aggressively at the door. I gently pushed him behind me. “Whatever you want to say, say it tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?!” my father bellowed through the heavy wood. “Your sister is being held by hotel security because she can’t pay the bill, and you are hiding in there playing dead?!” I looked through the peephole. His face was twisted into a vicious, ugly snarl. My mother was standing right behind him. “Fine, you don’t have to open the door today,” her voice cut through the wood, entirely devoid of warmth. “But that house your grandmother left behind was never supposed to go to you in the first place.” My fingertips slowly slid off the deadbolt. “What are you talking about?” My mother completely dropped the act. “That old woman was always horribly biased toward you.” “Lexi is the one who needs to finish college, establish her career, and marry into a good family. You are a washed-up spinster who is never getting married. What right do you have to hoard a whole house to yourself?” I didn’t answer. A split second later, I heard the metallic click of a key turning in the lock. I stumbled back. The door swung open. My mother was holding a shiny spare key, a cold, triumphant smirk plastered across her face. It hit me like a physical blow. Last month, she had visited, claiming she just wanted to see if I was living comfortably. She had wandered into my bedroom alone. That was when she stole my emergency spare key. My father stormed into the living room and immediately backhanded me across the face. The slap echoed like a gunshot. A high-pitched ringing pierced my eardrums. The left side of my face instantly ignited in blistering heat, and the sharp, metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. He pointed a thick finger at my face. “You think you have the right to lock me out?!” Biscuit lunged forward, baring his teeth and barking fiercely to protect me. My father spun around, grabbing a heavy glass ashtray off the coffee table. “Shut up, you useless mutt!” I lunged to stop him, but I was a second too late. The solid glass smashed directly into Biscuit’s hind leg. The dog let out an agonizing, piercing yelp. His claws frantically scraped against the hardwood floor, but his back leg completely gave out. He couldn’t stand up. “Biscuit!” I dropped to my knees, wrapping my arms around his trembling body. My father just marched over to my work desk and swept his arm across the surface. My company laptop crashed onto the floor. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of dead pixels. It held the final, unsaved draft of a massive project I had spent the last three months agonizing over. I reached out to salvage the pieces, but my fingertip grazed the broken glass, slicing open a deep, bleeding gash. My mother just stood in the doorway, watching me bleed with absolute indifference. “Don’t blame us for this, Sloane.” “If you had just listened and behaved, Lexi wouldn’t have been humiliated at that hotel tonight.” I looked up at her, my vision blurry with tears of pure rage. “So you smash up my home, break my dog’s leg, and then demand I behave?” “Your home?” My father stomped his heavy boot directly onto the shattered laptop screen. The plastic casing let out a sickening crunch. “You have my blood in your veins. Everything you own belongs to me.” “Bring your ID and the deed to the county clerk’s office tomorrow at ten in the morning. We are transferring the title to Lexi.” My mother had already walked into my bedroom. I heard drawers being yanked open and the annoyed clicking of her tongue as she rummaged through my things. A few minutes later, she walked out holding my old iPad. She shoved it roughly into her designer tote bag. “You care so much about your pride, right?” she sneered. “Let’s see what your coworkers think of you tomorrow when I show them what kind of monster you really are.” Before stepping out into the hallway, my father slipped the stolen house key into his jacket pocket. “Ten o’clock tomorrow. If you don’t show up, I am going to your office building with a megaphone and a protest banner.” The front door slammed shut. The only sound left in the ruined apartment was Biscuit’s suppressed, agonizing whimpers. I gently scooped him into my arms and walked out the door. Grams had told me to lock the door when people tried to bully me. But this time, closing the door wasn’t going to be enough. I was going to throw them out of my life entirely. 3 I sat in the sterile waiting room of the emergency veterinary clinic until three in the morning. “He has a severe fracture in his hind leg, along with deep soft tissue contusions.” Biscuit was lying flat on the stainless steel examination table. The anesthesia hadn’t fully worn off, and his eyes were only half-open. When he saw me, his tail gave a weak, pathetic thump against the metal table. I stroked his golden head, my tears dropping silently onto his fur. After bringing a heavily medicated Biscuit back to the apartment, I walked into my office building the next morning with the left side of my face still visibly swollen. The second I stepped into the bullpen, every single pair of eyes locked onto me. I walked to my cubicle. Sarah, the senior analyst sitting across from me, quietly slid her phone across the desk. “Sloane, your mother is dragging your name through the mud in the company Slack channel.” I tapped the screen. The messages were coming from my own account. Technically, it was my mother typing on my stolen iPad. [To all management and colleagues. I am Sloane’s mother.] [I am reaching out here because I am completely out of options and desperate for help.] [Sloane refuses to support her elderly parents, financially abuses her little sister by cutting off her food money, and is trying to illegally embezzle a house left behind by her grandmother.] [Her personal life is completely degenerate, and as her parents, we simply cannot control her anymore.] She attached several photos to the diatribe. The first photo was my completely trashed living room. Caption: [Sloane threw a violent tantrum and destroyed our home.] The second was a photo of Lexi crying outside The Grand Regent hotel. Caption: [My youngest daughter’s first day of college, humiliated because her cruel sister refused to pay for a simple meal.] The third was a cropped snapshot of the official property deed. Caption: [An inheritance meant for the whole family, hoarded entirely by her.] I stared at that third photo for a very long time. Before Grams died, she was absolutely terrified that I wouldn’t be able to protect the house from my parents. Even though she could barely walk, she forced herself to go down to the notary office. The clerk had asked her, “Ma’am, are you absolutely certain this property is to be transferred solely to your granddaughter, Sloane?” Grams was sitting in a wheelchair. Her voice was incredibly slow, but every single syllable was forged in steel. “I am certain.” “This child has never known a day of real love in that house. This property is her armor. No one is allowed to take it from her.” That was the last time she ever left the house. On the cab ride home, she leaned against the window, looked at me with a soft smile, and asked, “Sloane, are you happy you finally have a home of your own?” I had cried so hard I could only nod. Now, my mother had taken that sacred gift and publicly labeled it as ’embezzlement.’ The HR assistant walked up to my desk, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “Sloane, Greg wants to see you in his office.” Inside the glass-walled office, an official suspension notice was already sitting on Greg’s desk. “Your personal drama has severely impacted the company’s professional image,” my manager said coldly. “We are reassigning your current project to Justin.” I stared at the piece of paper. That project was the result of three months of agonizing overtime. I had rewritten the core proposal seventeen times. Now, he was just handing it over to a junior employee. “Greg, this is a coordinated smear campaign,” I kept my voice steady. “I can provide full documentation to prove it.” He clicked his expensive pen and tossed it onto the desk. “I have zero interest in playing referee for your toxic family disputes. Please leave my office.” I grabbed the suspension notice and walked out of the building. Standing right outside the lobby’s revolving doors was Lexi. She was wearing a pristine white sundress, expensive strappy heels, and carrying the newest season Chanel bag I had paid for. The second she saw me, she jogged over, her eyes perfectly rimmed with red like she had been weeping. “Sloane, please don’t be mad at Mom and Dad anymore.” A few of my coworkers purposely slowed their pace as they walked past us, eavesdropping. Lexi grabbed my sleeve, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you just go to the clerk’s office and transfer the deed to my name today, I will make Mom go into your company chat and clear everything up.” “She’ll just say it was all a big misunderstanding.” I looked down at her completely flawless makeup. “That is Grams’ house. She left it to me.” Lexi furrowed her brow, looking genuinely annoyed. “You live alone. Keeping a house that big is a complete waste of space.” “Mom and Dad said that house is much better suited for me.” I calmly pulled my phone out of my pocket and hit record on the voice memo app. “So, what you just said is… as long as I sign my house over to you, you will clear my name at work. Is that correct?” Lexi’s eye twitched. She lunged forward, trying to snatch the phone out of my hand. “You’re recording me?! Sloane, you are literally psychotic!” I sidestepped her easily. “Go back and tell Mom and Dad.” “I am not giving up a single square inch of that property.” “And none of you will ever see another dime of my money as long as you live.” Lexi stood frozen in front of the glass lobby doors, her voice rising to a hysterical screech. “You are going to regret this! Mom and Dad are going to ruin you!” I didn’t even look back. But when I finally got back to my apartment complex that evening and slid my key into the deadbolt, it wouldn’t turn. I looked closer. The entire lock cylinder was brand new. I could hear the television blaring inside my living room, mixed with the loud, abrasive laughter of my parents. I pounded my fists against the door. The apartment went dead silent for two seconds. Then, my father’s smug voice drifted through the heavy wood. “Ready to go sign the transfer papers?” 4 I stood in the cold hallway, my fingers gripping the original key Grams had given me until the metal teeth dug into my palm. “This is my property,” I yelled through the door. “What right do you have to change the locks?!” My father just laughed from the other side. “You have my blood in your veins. Everything you own is mine by right.” My mother chimed in immediately. “Sloane, stop being so incredibly stubborn.” “Just give the house to Lexi, and we’ll let you move back into the guest room. You are the older sister. Fighting your baby sister over real estate is absolutely humiliating for everyone.” I closed my eyes, forcing down the panic rising in my chest. “Where is Biscuit?” No one answered. I kicked the door as hard as I could. “Where is my dog?!” My mother let out an annoyed sigh. “That useless mutt? Your father threw him downstairs hours ago.” I spun around and sprinted down the stairwell. I checked the landscaping bushes by the lobby. I ran down the ramp into the underground parking garage. I screamed Biscuit’s name until my throat was raw. Nothing. Finally, I ran to the far edge of the complex, where the massive industrial dumpsters were kept. I found him. He had been violently stuffed into a soggy cardboard box next to a pile of rotting garbage. His beautiful golden fur was matted into dark, filthy clumps. Fresh blood was caked around his muzzle. His broken hind leg was twisted at a grotesque, unnatural angle. The only sign he was even alive was the incredibly shallow rise and fall of his chest. I dropped to my knees in the puddles of filthy rainwater. When I reached out to touch him, my hands were shaking so violently I was terrified of hurting him worse. “Biscuit…” He didn’t open his eyes. Only the very tip of his black nose twitched faintly. I scooped him into my arms, ignoring the blood and garbage water soaking through my clothes, and sprinted for the street. “Don’t go to sleep. Biscuit, please, stay awake.” When I finally reached the emergency vet, the technicians took one look and rushed him straight into the trauma bay. When those double doors swung shut, my legs completely gave out. I slid down the waiting room wall and buried my face in my hands. My phone started vibrating endlessly in my pocket. I pulled it out. Lexi had just posted a new viral video on social media. [My older sister cut off my food money, stole my house, and kicked our elderly parents out onto the street—all because I wanted to be independent. I guess growing up really does come with a price.] She uploaded a carousel of photos with the video. A selfie showing her violently sobbing with red eyes outside the hotel. Screenshots of my mother’s smear campaign in my company’s Slack channel. And a photo of my trashed living room, entirely devoid of context. The comment section was an absolute bloodbath. [What a psychotic control freak. The second her sister stops obeying her, she cuts off her money.] [Kicking her own parents out onto the street? What a total sociopath.] Even people from my graduating class were blowing up my direct messages. [Sloane, is that video real?] [Your sister is a freshman. You don’t need to be so aggressive with her.] Even an old college roommate, someone I used to consider a close friend, sent a single text: [Whatever happened, she is still your flesh and blood, Sloane.] I stared at the flashing cursor in the text box. I typed out half a sentence explaining the truth, then slowly deleted it, letter by letter. I closed the app and didn’t reply to a single person. The doors to the trauma bay finally opened. The vet pulled down his surgical mask, his expression incredibly grim. “It doesn’t look good. We’re going to have to monitor him through the night.” When I signed the authorization forms, my hands were trembling so badly my signature was completely illegible. The receptionist handed me the invoice. Four thousand, eight hundred dollars. My debit account had exactly two hundred bucks in it, because I had drained it paying for Lexi’s tuition a week ago. I stood in front of the billing counter, pulled out my last remaining credit card, and handed it over. When the transaction approved, a dark, hollow laugh escaped my chest. I left the clinic and walked straight to my apartment complex’s property management office. The young girl working the front desk took one look at me and her entire demeanor shifted. She quickly placed her phone face down on the desk. The screen had been paused on Lexi’s crying video. “I need you to pull the security footage for my floor,” I demanded. Her voice was instantly dripping with icy judgment. “We do not release security footage to anyone who isn’t a verified property owner.” I pulled up a high-res photo of the deed on my phone and shoved it in her face. “I am the owner.” She barely glanced at it before pushing my phone away. “You still have to file a formal request through the proper channels.” The security guard lingering by the water cooler decided to chime in. “Look, lady, just drop it. Your parents raised you. So what if they crash at your place for a few days?” “Calling the cops and demanding security tapes? Do you know how psychotic that makes you look?” I stared at the two of them. The sheer ignorance was suffocating. I couldn’t even force words past my teeth. I left the office and drove straight to the county clerk’s public records division. The clerk handed me a freshly stamped, certified copy of the deed and the notarized will. Grams’ signature was a little shaky, but it was the ultimate shield she had forged just for me. I sat on a bench in the government building lobby for a very long time, clutching the paperwork to my chest. My phone buzzed. A new friend request from Lexi. [Transfer the house, and I’ll delete the videos.] I tucked the certified documents into my bag and drove back to my complex. Looking up from the street, I could see the lights blazing in my living room windows. My parents were probably sitting on my couch, watching my television, completely unbothered. I stood in the freezing wind, pulled out my phone, and dialed 911. “Hello? I need to report a home invasion.”

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A new intern joined James’s company last month. Armed with a so-called “System,” she quickly wrapped everyone around me around her little finger. My older brother turned into her loyal lapdog. My in-laws basically adopted her as their own. Even my husband, James, started taking her on secret business trips. She stood in front of me, her lips curling into a sneer of pure disdain. “Give it three months. James will divorce you for me. A useless woman like you deserves to be wiped out by the System.” She expected me to scream. She wanted jealousy, twisted rage, a desperate vow of revenge. Instead, I slowly folded the terminal illness notification in my hand and tucked it away. I looked at her, my eyes filled with nothing but genuine pity. “Run. This is your last chance.” 1 James and I were childhood sweethearts. Our families had been close for three generations. We were each other’s first loves. Married for two years, we never had a single argument. That was, until the new intern showed up at his corporate headquarters. Lindsay. The first time I saw her was at the cemetery on the outskirts of the city. She was young, dressed in a flowing white sundress, her hair tied in a simple ponytail. Her eyes were wide and innocent as she timidly hid behind my father. My father led her to my mother’s gravestone and offered a bouquet of white roses. His voice was heavy with grief. “Sylvia, your mother has passed, and you’ve moved out to start your own family. The estate feels too empty. I’ve decided to bring Lindsay home to live with us.” I gave him a sharp, incredulous look. “You’re a grown man, Dad. Have you not figured out how to sleep in an empty house yet? Mom hasn’t even been gone a year, and you’re already replacing her?” My father faltered, his mouth opening and closing without a sound. It was Lindsay who stepped forward. “Sylvia, I am the illegitimate daughter of the Sinclair family. I know you look down on me. But we are all born equal. In the eyes of the law, we share the exact same inheritance rights.” I let out a dry laugh. Before I could even formulate a reply, a strange, echoing voice filled my head. [System, are you absolutely sure my identity as the illegitimate daughter is flawless?] A robotic chime responded. [Affirmative, Host. I have directly replicated the female lead’s DNA. No matter what tests they run, you are a blood-relative of the Sinclair family.] Lindsay’s inner voice dripped with mockery. [Tsk. And here I thought her parents had this grand, epic romance. Turns out, all it takes is a single piece of paper from a DNA lab to make Arthur’s affection for me skyrocket from zero to one hundred percent.] The System replied. [Congratulations, Host! As long as you successfully conquer everyone close to the female lead, you will perfectly replace her.] Female lead? Me? I kept my face completely blank, quietly lowering my gaze to the grass. Lindsay’s confident thoughts continued. [Aside from being born lucky, the female lead is utterly useless. Are you sure that once I replace her, everyone’s memories of her will be completely erased?] [Guaranteed. You have my word.] Under the sleeve of my black coat, my thumb brushed against the plastic of my hospital wristband. My heart pounded a slow, heavy rhythm against my ribs. Just then, Lindsay’s gaze shifted to someone standing a few yards away. My older brother. “He’s my next target,” she whispered under her breath. [Host, scanning target Tristan. Current affection level is negative two hundred percent.] A faint smile touched the corners of my mouth. My brother was a man of rigid principles. An Ivy League law graduate with a moral compass made of iron. If there was one thing he despised, it was the exact kind of scandal Lindsay represented. Later that evening, back at the Sinclair estate. Lindsay immediately demanded my old bedroom. “Sylvia doesn’t even live here anymore. It’s a waste to leave it empty.” I flat-out refused. We exchanged a few heated words at the top of the staircase. Suddenly, she threw herself backward, tumbling down the carpeted steps with a dramatic cry. Tristan happened to be walking through the foyer. He paused, his cold, sharp eyes sweeping over her. A look of profound disgust crossed his face. Lindsay scrambled to her feet, looking perfectly pathetic. A scrape on her forehead beaded with fresh, bright red blood. She looked up at my father with tear-filled eyes. “I know Sylvia didn’t push me on purpose. And I know I don’t deserve such a beautiful room. It’s just… before I found you, Dad, I spent nights sleeping in my car. I used to dream of having a real canopy bed of my own.” Tristan stared at her in dead silence for three agonizing seconds. His lips barely moved. “Get lost.” The robotic voice chimed in my head again. [Host, Tristan’s affection level has dropped by another one hundred points. Current level is negative three hundred percent.] Lindsay bit her lip, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. 2 Her acting was incredibly sloppy. Did she really think she could fool a top-tier corporate litigator like my brother? Tristan took the stairs two at a time and grabbed my hands. His brow furrowed in genuine concern. “Sylvia, you look terrible. You’re so pale. Is James not taking care of you? If that bastard is neglecting you, tell me right now. I’ll break his jaw.” I gently shook my head. “James is in Paris on business. He won’t be back until tonight.” Whenever James traveled, he called me at least ten times a day. If I took longer than five minutes to text back, he would panic. Just to make sure I got to eat the fresh croissants from my favorite bakery in Montmartre, he was flying back on his private jet tonight. Night fell. James’s Maybach pulled up to the driveway of the Sinclair estate. The heavy door swung open, and he stepped out. His tailored suit clung perfectly to his frame, and the moment his eyes found me, a hopelessly indulgent smile broke across his handsome face. Standing nearby, Lindsay was mentally screaming. [System, is this the male lead?! He is gorgeous! He is exactly my type! I hate to admit it, but the female lead really hit the jackpot.] [Do not underestimate the male lead, Host,] the System warned. [His mind is dark and incredibly complex. He is not what he seems.] Lindsay scoffed internally. [What is there to be afraid of? Look at Sylvia. She’s a spineless coward who doesn’t even have the guts to tell her own husband she’s dying. All I need to do is plant a tiny seed of misunderstanding, and they’ll tear each other apart.] James walked straight past her and stopped in front of me. He handed me a beautifully wrapped bakery box. “Baby, the pastry isn’t as warm as it was out of the oven. Promise me you’ll come with me next time?” Tristan glared at him from the porch. “Flying across the Atlantic just to drag my sister to your boring meetings? Leave her alone.” James ignored him, wrapping his arms securely around my waist. He ducked his head, burying his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply. He shot Tristan a provocative look over my shoulder. “I missed my wife. I can’t sleep when she’s not in my bed.” Tristan gritted his teeth, utterly helpless against James’s shamelessness. He looked at me. “Don’t listen to him, Sylvia. He’s been clingy since he was ten years old. He has no boundaries.” James smirked. “Sylvia and I are actual family. You, brother-in-law, are just an extended relative at this point.” They had hated each other since childhood. Tristan guarded me from James like he was fending off a thief. On my wedding day, my tough, stoic brother locked himself in the bathroom and cried until he hyperventilated. He hated James even more after that. I tugged on James’s sleeve, silently pleading with him to dial it back. But as I did, I noticed his eyes drift. He was looking at Lindsay. Lindsay’s inner voice shrieked with joy. [System! He looked at me! Oh my god, those eyes could make anyone melt. Is he interested?!] [Apologies, Host. Current scan shows the male lead’s affection for you is negative one thousand percent.] Lindsay refused to accept it. [But my DNA is identical to Sylvia’s! I look at least seventy percent like her, and I’m younger. No man can resist a younger version of his first love!] [Sylvia is only two years older than you,] the System stated flatly. Then, it hitched. […Wait. Alert. The male lead’s affection is rapidly rising. Negative eight hundred… negative five hundred… zero… positive one percent. Host, what did you just do? In less than a minute, his affection is in the green!] Lindsay puffed her chest out with pride. [What’s so surprising? I’m fresher, newer. They’ve been together for seven years and married for two. He’s probably bored out of his mind by now.] 3 My fingers tightened around the bakery box. James had only ever had eyes for me. He secretly bought a diamond ring when we were eighteen. The day we turned twenty-two, he practically dragged me to the courthouse to sign the marriage papers. In the early days of our marriage, he was insatiable. Even if my fingers just accidentally brushed against his arm, his eyes would darken with a heat that made my breath catch. But… it had been a long time since we shared a bed properly. Three months? Maybe longer? I couldn’t even remember. I forced my heart to slow down and kept my voice perfectly casual. “Let’s go home, James.” He took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. As he did, his fingertips accidentally pressed against the plastic hospital band hidden beneath my cuff. His entire body went rigid. His jaw tightened, but he didn’t say a single word. A week passed in quiet routine. James was drowning in work. This time, his business trip was to London. Before he left, dressed in a sleek charcoal suit, he pinned me against the wall in the entryway, kissing me breathless. He kissed me over and over, like he was afraid I would vanish. “Be a good girl, Sylvia. Wait for me to come home.” I nodded, just like I always did. He lingered, his voice dropping low. “If anyone upsets you, you tell me immediately. Understand?” My fingers twitched. I thought about the post Lindsay had uploaded to her social media a few days ago. Just started my new job! My direct boss is painfully gorgeous. I want him so bad. The photo attached was her new corporate badge. The department listed was the Executive Office of Kensington Holdings. In the blurry background of the photo, you could clearly make out James’s broad shoulders as he stood looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office. James had never allowed female assistants in his inner circle before. He always said he hated the drama, hated the rumors, and mostly, hated having to coax me if I ever got the wrong idea. I looked up at him. “Are you flying out alone this time?” James gave a soft “Mm.” Then he sighed, resting his forehead against mine. “Baby, you never come with me anymore. I wanted to take you to see the fireworks over the Thames.” I pinched his cheek gently. “Next time.” The moment his car pulled out of the driveway, I grabbed my keys and drove straight to the Sinclair estate. I pushed the door to my old bedroom open. Everything—my books, my clothes, my childhood memories—was gone. Replaced by Lindsay’s cheap perfumes and fast fashion. I slowly turned to look at Tristan, who had followed me upstairs. I waited for an explanation. Tristan looked incredibly guilty. He rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to meet my eyes. “Sylvia, you hardly ever stay here anyway. Since Lindsay liked the room, I figured it was easier to just let her have it. She’s a Sinclair, after all. She’s spent years struggling out in the world… it’s quite pitiful, really.” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. “Since when did you become the patron saint of charity, Tristan?” He didn’t have an answer. Just then, Lindsay walked out of the guest bathroom. She was wearing a sharp pencil skirt and carrying a small designer suitcase. I blocked her path. “Where are the things from my room?” She looked at me and offered a sickeningly sweet, mocking smile. “The maids threw them in the storage room downstairs. Now move, please. I have a flight to catch for a business trip. We can’t all sit around doing nothing like you.” Tristan stood right there. He watched my face carefully, evaluating my reaction. But he didn’t say a single word in my defense. The System’s voice echoed in my mind. [Host, Tristan’s affection level is now at one hundred percent. Congratulations, your progress is halfway complete! Once you conquer the Kensington family, you will successfully replace the female lead.] After Lindsay left, I turned my gaze to my brother. “Did you know she got a job at Kensington Holdings? As James’s personal assistant?” Tristan walked over and reached out to pat my head, just like he used to do when we were kids. “I pulled the strings to get her in, Sylvia. Kensington is a massive corporation. It’s completely normal for them to have female employees. You need to be more generous. Stop being so paranoid. Look, if having her around bothers you, just tell me what you want. I’ll buy you anything to make up for it.” My hands curled into tight fists, my nails biting into my palms. The Tristan standing before me—completely brainwashed by Lindsay’s System—was a stranger. The betrayal settled in my bones like ice. “And what if she wants to sleep with my husband?” I asked softly, a bitter smile on my lips. “What exactly are you going to buy me to make up for that?” Tristan’s face instantly darkened. His mouth pressed into a thin, hard line. After a long, tense silence, his voice turned uncompromising. “You’re overthinking this. James would never allow something like that to happen. Lindsay interning at Kensington Holdings was a family decision. It is not up for debate.” 4 I was in a daze all the way to the hospital. Dr. Aris stared at my lab results, his brow deeply furrowed. “Sylvia, you need dialysis twice a week. You are constantly missing your appointments. This is your body, your life. How can you be so reckless? …Are you even listening to me?” I blinked, pulling myself back to reality. I offered him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I know I’m making things difficult.” He let out a heavy, exhausted sigh. “Your file says you are married. Why does your husband never come with you? Where is your family? If we miraculously find a kidney match, we need a family member to sign the consent forms for the transplant.” I hadn’t told a single soul that I was dying. I only snuck into the hospital when James was out of town or buried in board meetings. “I don’t need a transplant,” I said softly, but firmly. “Conservative treatment is fine.” He looked at me like I was insane. “Without a transplant, your life expectancy is three months. At most.” “I know.” I forced the corners of my mouth up into a smile. “I don’t like taking things that belong to other people. Kidneys included.” The old doctor looked ready to throw his pen at me. The truth was, I was just too tired to fight. My mother died on an operating table during a transplant due to severe organ rejection. I refused to let my final days be a mirror image of her suffering. I had been agonizing over how to break the news to my family. But now… it was fine. Lindsay had arrived. Once her conquest was complete, the System would wipe me from existence. It would erase every trace of me from the minds of everyone I loved. That was perfect. They wouldn’t have to grieve. I lay back in the chair as the dialysis machine began to hum. I stared out the window at the gray sky. It suddenly occurred to me that James hadn’t sent me a single text all day. I unlocked my phone and opened my feed. Lindsay had just posted an update. So clumsy! Sprained my ankle out here. Attached was a photo taken inside a luxury private clinic. A man in a bespoke suit was kneeling in front of her, gently holding an ice pack against her bare ankle.

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My husband is practically useless when it comes to basic survival. He mixed bleach and ammonia toilet cleaner, gassed himself, and ended up in a vegetative state. The internet hailed me as an absolute saint for refusing to leave his side. But they have no idea. I just could not bear to abandon my own masterpiece. 1 My phone rang while I was at the local organic market haggling over the price of jumbo shrimp. Zane had texted me his mandatory menu for the day. He demanded a medium rare ribeye steak, garlic butter fried shrimp, and a delicate asparagus soup. Dessert was supposed to be homemade tiramisu. My plan was to grab the shrimp, hit the supermarket for espresso powder, and pick up that specific brand of cold pressed orange juice he liked. I absolutely despised this daily grocery run. But I had no choice. Zane refused to eat anything that wasn’t bought fresh that exact morning. The last time I caught a fever and dared to serve him frozen fish fillets, he locked me in the pitch black basement for two days to think about my mistakes. Right as I was bagging the shrimp, my screen lit up. “Hello, is this Olivia? This is Memorial General Hospital. Your husband…” A loud ringing drowned out the rest of the sentence. I dropped the groceries. Ignoring the vendor yelling at me to pay, I hailed a cab straight to the emergency room. By the time I arrived, Zane had already been wheeled into the resuscitation bay. Standing awkwardly by the double doors was Jason, his newly recruited gaming sidekick. “What happened? He gets regular checkups. How could he just pass out?” I grabbed Jason by the sleeves, shaking him with wide, panicked eyes. “Ma’am, please try to breathe. Let the kid explain.” I turned around to see two uniformed police officers walking toward us. I put on my best face of utter confusion. “Why are the cops here? Was Zane attacked?” Jason gently patted my back. “Liv, take a breath. I was the one who called 911.” He wore a mask of sorrow, but I caught the briefest flicker of cunning in his eyes before he looked down. I wiped a dry hand over my face. “Tell me what happened.” Jason explained that he showed up at our house at eight in the morning for their usual streaming session. He knocked for ten minutes. No answer. He called. Voicemail. “I figured he just overslept, so I called you, Liv. You gave me the garage keypad code.” I nodded, confirming the story. I originally told him to wait in his car since Zane hated people in his space, but Jason claimed he was about to wet himself, so I let him inside. The moment Jason opened the door, a thick, burning chemical stench hit him. Covering his mouth, he followed the smell to the master bathroom. “Zane was just lying there dead still on the tiles. I freaked out and called the cops. That is all I know.” 2 I looked away from Jason and stared blankly at the closed doors of the emergency room. Honestly, I was tearing myself apart inside. Half of me was terrified the doors would open and Zane would walk out completely fine. The other half was worried he would just drop dead on the table. After an eternity of waiting, the red light above the doors finally shut off. They wheeled Zane out. I stumbled forward, my face twisted into a perfect portrait of agony and desperation. Anyone watching would have sworn I was a woman deeply, madly in love. In reality, I just needed to know exactly how the rest of my life was going to play out. The doctor pulled down his mask. “We did everything we could. But he inhaled a massive amount of toxic gas. The lack of oxygen to the brain was severe. He will likely remain in a vegetative state.” Vegetative state. Those two words struck me like a bolt of pure electricity. I threw myself over Zane’s unconscious body and wailed. “Zane! It is all my fault. Why wasn’t it me? Please wake up!” One of the officers stepped forward to comfort me. “Olivia, his life is saved. The doctor said he might stay in this state, but medical science does miracles every day. There is still hope.” I nodded vigorously, keeping my mouth shut. I did not dare speak a single word. I knew if I opened my mouth, a wild, hysterical laugh would burst out. A vegetative state. This was absolutely perfect. Rest easy, my sweet husband. I promise to take exceptionally good care of you. 3 After filling out the endless admission paperwork, the police pulled me aside for a formal statement. “Our forensics team checked the scene. Someone mixed bleach with an ammonia based toilet cleaner. It created a massive cloud of chloramine gas, which dropped your husband instantly.” I nodded slowly. It sounded exactly like the tragic accident it was. Detective Harrison leaned against the wall, his sharp eyes locking onto mine. “Except… it is common sense not to mix bleach and ammonia. Did your husband really not know that?” He was probing. He was suspecting me. It made sense. Whenever a spouse nearly dies under weird circumstances, the partner is always suspect number one. Especially when the victim brings in the kind of money Zane did. I sniffled loudly, wiping my nose with a tissue. “He is utterly clueless about real life. His brain only has room for video games. I am not even joking, Detective. Whenever he uses the bathroom, he leaves the toilet brush for me. He does not know how to clean a single thing in that house.” “So he is a giant toddler?” a younger cop muttered under his breath. People outside our world could never fathom this kind of dynamic. Detective Harrison shot the rookie a glare before turning back to me. “He cannot even clean a toilet? Does he have a physical disability?” “Of course not!” Jason chimed in, eager to defend his idol. “Zane is one of the top gaming streamers on the platform. The guy pulls in six figures a month. Why would a guy like that scrub his own toilet?” Jason puffed out his chest. “You have no idea how jealous his fans are of Liv. If I could marry a guy with that kind of bank account, I would gladly wipe his ass for him!” Zane had used those exact words on me. He used to tell me that if I did not want to do the chores, I could pack my bags. He had a line of girls wrapped around the block begging for the chance to scrub his floors. Under the shocked gaze of the two cops, I offered a pathetic, embarrassed nod. Zane had no outside vices. He did not drink or party. His entire existence consisted of sleeping and screaming at his monitors. Every dime he made went straight into a joint bank account with my name on it. Unlike the toxic gamer bros online, Zane built his brand on being the ultimate romantic. He loved showing me off on stream. Whenever chat called me average or asked why he was with me, he would pull me into the frame and kiss my cheek. He would tell thousands of people, “My wife is the most perfect woman on earth. I would be nothing without her.” He wasn’t lying. He would literally be nothing without me. We met back in college. I spent my evenings studying in a dingy local gaming lounge where he worked the front desk. We were both broke kids from the boondocks, which drew us together instantly. Zane was incredibly handsome. Girls threw themselves at him constantly, but they only wanted his looks and the thrill of a bad boy. They always vanished after a few weeks. Then we got together. He told me I was the only girl who didn’t care about money, and he promised to give me the world once he made it big. During my junior year, I secretly recorded a clip of him landing an impossible sniper shot and uploaded it to social media. His ridiculous good looks combined with top tier mechanics made him go viral overnight. Once he tasted that ad revenue, the obsession began. He streamed day and night. At first, the goal was sweet. He wanted to buy a house in the city and marry me. But slowly, buried under a daily avalanche of people calling him a gaming god, he completely lost his mind. Right after graduation, he locked me away in his fortress. He proposed, handed me his bank card, and told me he owed his life to me. He said he wanted me to live like royalty. He said I never had to work a miserable office job or take orders from a boss ever again. He wanted me to be his little princess. He repeated this fairy tale on stream constantly. To his millions of followers, he was the wealthy, devoted, flawless husband. They thought I was the luckiest girl on the planet. “But what about reality?” Detective Harrison asked, his voice cutting through my memories. 4 I froze, genuinely caught off guard by the question. “Behind closed doors. Were you two really that in love?” Harrison pressed. Behind closed doors? Behind closed doors was a living nightmare. There was no princess. I was an unpaid slave. I served him like a dog. When he ate, I had to sit on the floor beside his chair in case he dropped his napkin. If he woke up thirsty at 3 AM, I had to have ice water ready before he even asked. He constantly sent me screenshots of toxic forum posts about how miserable other men’s wives were. He made his streamer friends complain on voice comms about their nagging girlfriends just so I could hear it. He brainwashed me into believing that taking care of his every bodily need was a privilege. He devolved into a monstrous infant. Sometimes, I would watch videos of exhausted women working two jobs just to feed their deadbeat husbands, and I would actually feel a sick sense of relief. I convinced myself I was lucky. Sure, Zane was lazy and demanding. But at least he wasn’t cheating on me. At least he didn’t hit me. We existed in that suffocating bubble until the afternoon I accidentally overheard his Discord call with Jason. Jason was hyping him up. “Bro, you have the cash, the fame, and you are insanely loyal. You are literally the perfect guy.” Zane snorted, a wet, ugly sound. Jason kept pushing. “Man, with all the IG models sliding into your DMs, do you really not get tempted? What exactly does Liv have that makes you so obsessed?” I heard the flick of Zane’s expensive lighter. He took a long drag. “Because she is obedient. And she is stupid.” My blood turned to ice. “What is the difference between Liv and those club girls? They all spread their legs the same way. Plus, who knows how many guys those models have been through. At least Liv is clean. Maybe those other chicks know a few more tricks, but whatever I want, Liv does it. Nurse, flight attendant, whatever messed up thing I ask for, she obeys.” Then came a dark, vulgar laugh that made my skin crawl. My face burned with a fiery shame. I felt like I had been stripped naked and thrown onto a busy intersection for strangers to laugh at. Zane kept talking. “And get this. She is incredibly dumb. I put all my stream money into that account, and she thinks I love her to death. But the PIN code? She only knows the first three digits. I changed the backend password months ago. She has zero access. Besides, the stupid bitch never leaves the house anyway. It is not like she has anywhere to spend it.” I stood in the hallway, completely paralyzed. The grand romance I had sacrificed my youth for was nothing but a cheap, calculated cage. But he was right about one thing. I never left the house. He claimed his gaming lifestyle made him out of shape, and he was terrified that if I went out, I would find a better looking guy. He weaponized his own insecurities to trap me inside. To make him feel “secure,” I was banned from buying nice clothes. I only wore the cheap, trashy lingerie he ordered online. At the same time, he demanded I stay perfectly thin. He said my weight gain would make me depressed, and he just cared about my mental health. So he bought a treadmill and forced me to run every morning while he slept. He said growing up poor made him paranoid about money, so he gave me a strict, humiliating weekly allowance for groceries and forced me to haggle over pennies at the market. Standing in the police station, I wiped a single, genuine tear from my eye. The only thing he ever calculated was how to break me. When I heard that conversation, I felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to my ribs. I couldn’t hear the rest of their chat over the deafening ringing in my ears. That was the first day I ever rebelled. At exactly three in the afternoon, the time I was supposed to serve his daily dessert, I was sitting on a dirty curb a mile away, just watching the cars go by. I realized I had spent years existing as a mindless drone. I had no thoughts of my own. My entire universe revolved around Zane’s moods. If he smiled, I smiled. If he raged, I scrambled to fix it. I felt like the tragic female lead in a bad novel who suddenly gains sentience. For the very first time, I knew with absolute certainty that I could not live like this anymore. 5 That night, I declined every single call Zane made to my phone. I went to a noisy sports bar, ate a massive plate of spicy wings, and went to a late night movie completely alone. When I finally unlocked the front door, Zane was sitting in the dark on the living room sofa. The air in the room was heavy and toxic. “Did you lose your phone or get kidnapped? Why the hell didn’t you answer me?” I glanced at him. The words I want to get a real job were right on the tip of my tongue. Before I could speak, his hand cracked across my jaw. The force sent me stumbling backward. “Are you deaf or just retarded?” he roared, his face twisting into something demonic. “I pay for your pathetic life! I keep a roof over your head! You cannot even do one simple task right. What is the point of you breathing?” Pure instinct took over. I swung back and scratched his neck. He did not expect me to fight back. His eyes widened in shock before pure rage took over. He kicked me square in the stomach, sending me crashing to the hardwood floor. He knew he had a live sponsor stream the next day and needed me to bring him drinks on camera, so he expertly avoided my face. He aimed his boots at my ribs and thighs. “You ungrateful bitch! You are nothing without me! I own you!” He only stopped when the doorbell rang. It was the pizza delivery guy. Zane froze, staring at his own trembling hands. Then he collapsed to his knees, crawling toward me with tears streaming down his face. “Liv… oh god, baby, I am so sorry. I do not know what came over me. I am a monster. Please forgive me.” He started aggressively slapping his own face. “I am garbage. Hit me, Liv. Punish me. I am so sorry.” I lay on the floor, staring blankly at the man sobbing over my bruised body. I thought about a stray dog my dad took in when I was a kid. The dog was sweet for years. Then one day, it snapped and bit my dad’s hand down to the bone. My dad didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his shotgun and put the animal down right there in the yard. I cried and asked him why he did it. My dad looked at me with cold, hard eyes. “Once a beast tastes blood, it will bite again. It is easier to just kill it and save yourself the trouble.” But Zane wasn’t a dog. If I shot him, I would spend the rest of my life in a concrete cell. That was a terrible trade. I needed a flawless plan. Something that would strip away his power, silence him forever, but keep his heart beating just long enough for me to take everything. I reached out, gently grabbing his wrists to stop him from hitting himself. I forced a wet sob out of my throat. “It is okay. I know you didn’t mean it. Just promise you will never do it again.” The very next day, he bragged to Jason on Discord that I was completely broken in. He said I didn’t even flinch anymore when he raised his hand. Of course I didn’t flinch. He was never going to get the chance to raise his hand at me again.

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1 “Mom, I cannot breathe. Ms. Melinda made me eat a peanut butter cookie…” The smartwatch speaker crackled with my daughter’s weak groans. Underneath her tiny voice was a high pitched, terrifying wheeze. I glanced at my phone screen. Exactly six minutes had passed since she was force fed that peanut cookie! For severe anaphylaxis, the golden window for emergency resuscitation is only fifteen minutes! I shoved the conference room doors open and sprinted toward the stairwell like a madwoman. My department head was still shouting my name from the head of the table. My husband David was on a business trip. My mother in law was completely useless and could not even tell the difference between a common cold and a severe allergy. I could not rely on anyone else. I was the only one who could save her. The preschool was only three traffic lights away. I slammed my foot onto the gas pedal and dialed the teacher’s number, roaring into the Bluetooth mic. “Stab her with the EpiPen right now! It is in the front pocket of her backpack!” A condescending giggle echoed through the car speakers. “Oh please, Rachel. Are you auditioning for a soap opera? It is just psychosomatic. She is throwing a tantrum. Let her drink some warm water and she will be perfectly fine.” “Shut up!” I screamed. My eyes were completely bloodshot. “If my daughter suffers permanent brain damage from oxygen deprivation, I will make sure you rot in a prison cell for the rest of your miserable life!” Without waiting for her to respond, I dialed emergency services. “911, what is your emergency?” “Southwood Avenue, Sunflower Academy! A teacher force fed my daughter peanuts. She is going into anaphylactic shock right now!” I jammed my wireless earbud into my ear and jerked the steering wheel hard. The Range Rover tires shrieked against the asphalt. I cut off a black sedan with a violent brake check. The other driver leaned out his window and cursed at me, but I could not hear the outside world. My brain was completely consumed by the sound of my daughter’s fading breath. The dispatcher remained professionally calm. “Ma’am, please take a deep breath. Does your daughter have a documented allergy history? What are her exact symptoms?” “Severe peanut allergy! I signed a medical waiver and a strict dietary restriction form the day she enrolled!” I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted copper. “She is suffocating! The teacher is actively refusing to administer her EpiPen! This is medical negligence! This is attempted murder!” “Copy that. I am dispatching paramedics to your location right now.” The rapid clacking of a keyboard echoed over the line. “Officers from the local precinct should arrive on scene within five minutes. Please drive safely.” The moment the call disconnected, my dashboard screen lit up with an incoming call from my boss. The second I answered, he unleashed a barrage of corporate rage. “Rachel, have you completely lost your mind? Where the hell are you going? The international pitch is at two thirty!” “The entire executive board is sitting in this room waiting for you. Get your ass back here right now!” The traffic light ahead flipped to red. I did not even touch the brake. I pressed the accelerator all the way to the floorboards. “Cancel the pitch. My kid is dying at preschool. I am going to save her.” “Dying? Stop giving me these pathetic excuses!” my boss sneered over the line. “You called out sick last month because she had a fever. What is the game this time? Do you even want this job anymore?” The heavy SUV launched through the intersection. A chaotic symphony of car horns blared from both sides. I stared at the congested traffic ahead with absolute ice in my veins. “Do whatever you want. Fire me. Dock my pay. Just leave me alone.” I cut the call and immediately blocked his number. Nothing in this universe mattered more than Deborah’s life. The smartwatch control app was still broadcasting live audio. Through the static, I heard Jessica Melinda’s shrill, nasty voice. “Stop playing dead! Get up off the floor.” “All the other kids ate my homemade cookies and they are perfectly fine. Why are you acting like such a fragile little brat?” “Oh, you are going to fake a panic attack now? Is this how your mother lets you act at home?” A loud screech of a chair being dragged across the tiles followed. “Deborah!” I screamed into the phone, my voice cracking. “Deborah, do not be afraid! Mommy is almost there. Just hold on!” There was no response from my sweet girl. Only a heavy, agonizing wheeze that sounded like someone was crushing her throat. “Jessica!” I yelled the teacher’s name, my entire body violently shaking. “Open her backpack right now! Take the red pen and stab it directly into her thigh!” “If you do not want to go to jail, you will do exactly what I say!” Jessica seemed slightly startled by the sheer ferocity in my voice. But a second later, she let out a scoff dripping with arrogant contempt. “Rachel, do you suffer from some sort of persecution complex?” “I took a child psychology seminar. This is a classic somatic symptom disorder. She just wants adult attention.” “The more you coddle her, the worse this behavior gets.” “I am going to cure her little princess syndrome today. She needs to learn that this classroom is not her personal kingdom!” My vision went black at the edges. My fingernails dug so deeply into the leather steering wheel they almost drew blood. This self righteous, ignorant fool had absolutely no idea how fast anaphylactic shock could kill. “I am going to say this one last time. Give her the shot.” My voice dropped into a terrifyingly calm, dead register. “If she dies, I will tear your entire world apart.” The line went dead silent for two seconds. Jessica was clearly rattled by the pure malice in my words. But her deep rooted arrogance prevented her from admitting a mistake. “Stop threatening me. I am going to take her to the washroom to splash some cold water on her face. That will wake her up.” Her footsteps faded away. The smartwatch only picked up the faint buzz of static. I checked the dashboard clock. Eight minutes had passed since the allergic reaction triggered. Ahead of me was a long, narrow one way street. Two massive delivery trucks were driving side by side, blocking the entire road at a snail’s pace. I laid on the horn. The truck driver just lazily tapped his brakes in response. Every single second of that fifteen minute window was slipping through my fingers. I caught a glimpse of my own bloodshot eyes in the rearview mirror. I whipped the steering wheel to the right. The Range Rover hopped the curb and plowed directly onto the pedestrian sidewalk. The undercarriage scraped against the concrete with a deafening screech. Pedestrians screamed and dove into the bushes. I kept my foot pinned on the gas, squeezing the massive vehicle between two thick oak trees. The entire right side of the car was violently scraped. The passenger side mirror shattered and snapped off completely. I did not care. As long as the engine was running, I was going to get there. I blasted out of the bottleneck. There was only one traffic light left before the academy. The smartwatch picked up the sound of running tap water. Then came Jessica’s impatient voice. “Are you done washing your face? Stop pretending you are dying. Nobody is buying it.” “Cough… Ms. Melinda… it hurts…” Deborah’s voice was a microscopic whisper. She sounded like she was fading away. “What hurts? You just want to skip afternoon gym class.” I heard a sharp smack. Jessica was physically slapping something. “Stand up straight! Stop sliding onto the floor!” Listening to those sounds felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer to my heart. She was abusing my daughter. My child was collapsing from asphyxiation, and this monster was physically punishing her. “Jessica, if you touch her one more time, I swear to God!” I roared at the microphone. Jessica snorted dismissively. “Look, Rachel. If you bring your kid to our academy, you need to trust our educational methods.” “We are building her resilience.” “Your toxic coddling is going to ruin this child.” She reached out and manually severed the smartwatch connection. The car cabin plunged into a suffocating silence. Only the sound of my own ragged breathing echoed off the glass. The traffic light ahead turned red. The countdown timer displayed a full sixty seconds. Cross traffic began to flow into the intersection. I never touched the brake. I pressed the gas pedal flat against the floor. The engine roared, and I launched the car straight into the crossfire. A massive dump truck loaded with gravel was barreling in from the side. The driver slammed his horn in panic. The giant steel grill of the truck missed my rear bumper by an inch. The pure kinetic force whipped my body sideways. My head slammed against the driver side window. A sharp burst of pain exploded across my forehead, and warm liquid began to drip down my eyebrow. I did not even wipe it away. My eyes were locked onto the brightly colored building sitting on the corner block. Sunflower Academy. Before the car even came to a full stop, I shoved the door open. The seatbelt dug painfully into my chest as I scrambled to unbuckle it. Because the car was still rolling, I basically tumbled out of the driver seat. My knees slammed brutally onto the concrete pavement. My sheer tights shredded instantly. A blinding pain shot up my legs. Blood and gravel mixed on my skin. I crawled up using my hands and feet, stumbling frantically toward the academy’s main entrance. The automatic sliding glass doors were locked tight. Inside the lobby, a young receptionist was looking down, endlessly scrolling on her phone. “Open the door!” I threw myself against the glass, pounding on it with both hands. “My daughter is dying! Open the fucking door!” The receptionist jumped in her chair. She looked up, her face twisting into a scowl when she saw a disheveled woman covered in blood banging on the glass. She walked over slowly, standing safely behind the glass. She tapped a printed sign taped to the window. “Ma’am, it is two thirty. This is not a designated pickup time.” “According to campus protocol, parents are not permitted inside.” I glared at her. My eyes were completely bloodshot and feral. “My daughter is in anaphylactic shock! Her rescue window is closing!” “Unlock this door right now! I will take full legal responsibility!” The receptionist rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Look, lady, do not try that dramatic nonsense with me.” “Every single day, parents make up ridiculous excuses to pull their kids out early.” “If it is really an emergency, scan the QR code on that podium outside.” “Fill out the digital release form, wait for the homeroom teacher to approve it, and then I will unlock the door.” She pointed a manicured finger at a dusty sign sitting on the sidewalk. Looking at her cold, bureaucratic face, every last thread of my sanity snapped. “Screw your protocol!” I took two steps back and threw my entire body weight against the glass doors. My shoulder slammed into the tempered glass with a heavy thud. The glass did not break, but my entire left side went numb. The receptionist stepped back in shock. All the color drained from her face. “What are you doing? That is destruction of private property!” “If you do not stop, I am calling security!” She grabbed her walkie talkie and started calling for the guards. I ignored her entirely. Through the transparent doors, I looked deep into the main corridor. At the very end of the hall, right outside the children’s washroom, a tiny, familiar figure slowly slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor. It was my Deborah. She was wearing the little pink sundress I had put on her this morning. Now, she was lying completely motionless on the cold ceramic tiles. Jessica was standing over her. The teacher actually used her foot to nudge my baby’s lifeless body. “Stop playing dead. Get up!” Her muffled voice drifted through the corridor. I lost my mind. I completely lost my mind. “Deborah!” I let out a bloodcurdling scream. I clawed at the seam of the glass doors with my bare hands. My fingernails bent backward and snapped. Blood smeared across the pristine glass. Seeing me act like a wild animal, the receptionist did not open the door. Instead, she pressed her entire body against the glass to ensure the magnetic lock held firm. “Where is security? Get to the front lobby right now! There is a crazy woman trying to break in!” She screamed into her radio, looking at me with pure disgust. “I am warning you! These doors are custom imported! You cannot afford to replace them!” I stood there panting heavily, staring at her through the glass. “Move away… my daughter is in there… she is dying…” My voice was hoarse and broken, laced with a despairing sob. A few other parents who had just dropped off paperwork stopped on the sidewalk. They stood a few feet away, whispering and pointing at me. I turned around, my knees buckling as I dropped to the ground in front of them. “Please. Please help me.” I grabbed the pant leg of a well dressed father. “Help me smash this door open. My daughter is in shock in there. We are running out of time.” “Please have some mercy…” The man quickly took a massive step backward. He aggressively yanked his leg out of my grip and brushed off his expensive slacks. “Lady, do not touch me.” “The school has security rules for a reason. You cannot just break in like a maniac.” A woman next to him with perfectly curled hair chimed in. “Seriously. Parents these days are so dramatic.” “What could possibly happen inside a premium academy? The teachers know what they are doing.” “If you keep screaming, you are going to terrify the children inside!” They stared at me with completely dead eyes. Not a single one of them was willing to help. Not a single one of them thought a child’s life was worth more than a glass door. I looked at them, then turned back to look at the receptionist leaning against the glass. A crushing wave of despair swallowed me whole. I slowly pushed myself up from the pavement. The blood on my knees had already mixed with the gravel and begun to clot. I was done begging. Expecting strangers to care was a death sentence. I turned my head and scanned the exterior of the building. Within seconds, my eyes locked onto a bright red emergency fire cabinet mounted on the brick wall. Behind the glass doors, the receptionist was still yapping. “You need to leave right now. Security is on the way. You are going to get arrested…” I ripped the designer high heel off my foot. I held it upside down, exposing the solid steel stiletto heel. I aimed for the four corners of the fire cabinet glass and swung with every ounce of strength I had left. Smash! Smash! The impact tore the skin on my palms. Blood splattered across the cabinet. With a loud crash, the reinforced glass spiderwebbed and collapsed onto the pavement. A few jagged shards sliced deep into the back of my hand and forearm. Bright red blood instantly welled up and dripped onto the concrete. I did not even flinch. I reached my bleeding arm straight into the jagged opening of the cabinet. I pulled out the heavy, solid steel fire ax. The red handle and the gleaming silver blade caught the afternoon sunlight, reflecting a cold, merciless shine. The surrounding parents let out terrified shrieks and scattered in every direction. The woman with the curled hair tripped over her own feet and scrambled away on all fours. I dragged the ax along the ground and walked back to the glass doors. The smug superiority on the receptionist’s face completely vanished, replaced by sheer, unadulterated terror. Her legs shook uncontrollably as she tried to back away, only to realize she was cornered against the security desk. “What… what are you doing?” She stuttered, her voice cracking in panic. “That is a felony! I am calling the cops!” I stared at her through the glass. My eyes were completely dead. “You make minimum wage. Do not throw your life away for this.” I raised both hands and lifted the heavy fire ax high above my head. “Go find your security guards.” The receptionist let out a piercing scream and abandoned her post. She scrambled away toward the back corridors, leaving her phone sitting on the desk. I took a deep breath, channeling every drop of adrenaline and fury in my body into my arms. I aimed the heavy steel blade directly at the U shaped metal lock connecting the two glass panels. I swung down with absolute brutal force. Crack.

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I bought a mini-fridge out of the goodness of my heart to help a student store her medication. Two weeks later, the medicine spoiled. She collapsed in the classroom, leaving her permanently disabled. Her parents protested at the school gates, weeping and hoisting banners that read, “Heartless teacher ruined our daughter!” I took care of her for ten agonizing years, but it was never enough. They demanded I marry her and support her for the rest of her life. I had a girlfriend whom I was forced to leave behind. On the way to her wedding, I suffered a sudden heart attack. When I opened my eyes again, I was back ten years in the past. Amy stood right in front of me, looking fragile and helpless. “Mr. Mercer, my medicine needs to be refrigerated, but there isn’t a fridge in the classroom…” I looked at her and said, “That sounds like a question for Facilities.” 1 I was reborn. I woke up at the exact moment Amy first claimed she needed a refrigerator for her medication. Behind her stood her three roommates, all of them my students. Four pairs of eyes stared up at me, wide and pleading. I was twenty-four, fresh out of a top-tier master’s program in philosophy. Hoping to eventually secure a tenure-track position, I had taken a temporary assistant job at this private university to build up my resume, all thanks to my mentor’s recommendation. In my past life, I was fueled by nothing but naive idealism. Hearing a student in need, I ran myself ragged trying to help. But when the administration told me to just submit a formal request and wait, I couldn’t bear to let her suffer. I paid out of my own pocket for a small fridge to speed things up. Two weeks later, she collapsed during a break. Only at the hospital did the truth come out. She didn’t have diabetes, and she wasn’t refrigerating insulin. She suffered from osteogenesis imperfecta, commonly known as brittle bone disease. It was incurable, requiring lifelong medication. An investigation revealed her medication had degraded because the fridge’s plug had slipped from the outlet, cutting off the cooling. Her parents demanded answers from the school, but the administration washed their hands of the matter, claiming the appliance wasn’t university property. They threw me under the bus. The public backlash was suffocating. My family was relentlessly doxxed and harassed online. Broken and desperate, I surrendered and took on the burden of caring for her. I carried that cross for ten years. But her family’s greed was bottomless. They demanded I marry her and support her parents too. I had a girlfriend whom I loved with all my heart. She waited for me for a decade. Realizing I would never escape this nightmare, I forced myself to be cruel, pushing her away so she could find a real life. She went back home to settle down. The night before her wedding, Amy had a flare-up, and I stayed up all night taking care of her. The next morning, as I drove toward the wedding venue just to catch a glimpse of her in her dress, my chest seized. A massive heart attack. My emergency medication was sitting right in the cup holder, but I didn’t reach for it. I didn’t call 911 either. Instead, a strange, profound peace washed over me. My only regret was for my girl. Today was supposed to be her happiest day, and here I was, ruining it one last time. 2 Now, I was back. Looking at these four hopeful faces, my chest burned with nothing but cold hatred and disgust. “Is the applicant Amy?” I asked, my voice flat. “If you require a refrigerator, you need to download the medical accommodation form online. Detail your condition, the storage requirements of the medication, fill it out, and submit it to Facilities. They will forward it to administration for procurement.” Her roommate, Maddie, a loud and self-righteous girl, frowned. “That sounds incredibly tedious. Won’t that take forever? Amy has diabetes. She needs insulin shots before every meal, right, Amy?” Exactly. Amy had never actually stated what her illness was. The diabetes rumor started because people saw her giving herself injections, and she simply let the rumor run wild without ever correcting anyone. Just like how she had never explicitly asked me to buy the fridge. In my past life, her roommates and I had made that decision for her. In my previous life, when her parents protested at the gates and made the evening news, the internet came for my throat. My parents, both respected high school teachers on the verge of a proud retirement, were forced into early resignation because of the scandal. Stripped of their pensions and forced to support me, they hid their own failing health from me to spare me the worry. Within a few years, they both passed away. I knew that even in death, my name would remain dragged through the mud. And the heroes of that story would be the four young ladies standing before me. Amy was the delicate princess, and the other three were her loyal handmaidens, eager to charge into battle on her behalf. In my past life, they were the ones who posted online, fabricated testimonies, and painted me as a creepy predator who bought the fridge to hit on his student. This time, I was going to sit back and watch who got burned. “The bureaucracy is what it is,” I said, gathering my lecture materials. “If you have any questions, take it up with your academic advisor.” I turned and walked away, feeling lighter than I had in a decade. I hadn’t even cleared the hallway before Amy’s whimpering voice drifted after me. “What’s wrong with Mr. Mercer today? He was so cold.” Maddie scoffed, comforting her. “Just dodging responsibilities. He’s just a green intern who can’t make a real decision to save his life. Don’t worry, babe, I’ll handle this.” 3 I was just a teaching assistant, barely two months into my internship. Aside from teaching, I was burdened with every scrap of administrative grunt work, and I didn’t even have my own desk. Back in my dorm, I pulled up the resignation portal, but my finger hovered over the submit button. First, my mentor had gone out of his way to secure this position for me to build my resume, and I hated to throw his kindness back in his face. Second, in my past life, I had tried to resign, but the university HR rejected the immediate release. By contract, even if I quit, I had to give a thirty-day notice. A month was more than enough time for everything to go to hell. If I couldn’t quit gracefully, I would have to get myself fired. Right then, my phone buzzed with a message in the family group chat. My uncle wrote: “Your grandmother hasn’t been feeling well. Her blood pressure spiked to 200 today, and the doctor is admitting her.” I had chosen this college because it was barely sixty miles from my hometown. I was about to reply that I would drive back tonight, but my cousin Mike, who worked as a doctor in the city, messaged back: “I’m heading home in a bit. Silas, someone gifted me two crates of fresh lychees. I’ll drop them off at your campus on my way out.” An idea sparked in my mind. I hurried back to my room, threw off my cheap teaching clothes, and changed into a high-end designer outfit that accentuated my height and sharp jawline. I looked ten times sharper than usual. My roommate, noticing the upgrade, raised an eyebrow. “Who’s the hot date? Is your girl coming to town?” I just smirked, offering no explanation. In my past life, when the walls closed in on me, not a single colleague spoke up for me, including this roommate. After all, we were both interns competing for the same permanent slot. I grabbed a designer leather bag worth thousands, the prominent luxury logo practically blinding him. His jaw dropped. “Silas, since when are you loaded?” Ignoring him, I swept out of the dorm and strode toward the campus gates like a peacock in full display, turning heads all along the way. 4 From a distance, I spotted Mike’s luxury SUV. I stood at an even six feet, but he was taller, wearing wire-rimmed glasses and exuding an effortless, scholarly charm. He was dressed in a similar style. In fact, most of my nice clothes were gifts from him, and the bag I held was one of his hand-me-downs. It was perfectly normal for an older, established cousin to help dress his younger, broke relative, right? Mike stepped out and popped the trunk to haul out the crates of lychees. Without warning, I threw myself onto his back, wrapping my arms around his shoulders just like we used to do when we were kids. He nearly stumbled into the trunk under my weight, but he caught himself, hooking his hands under my thighs to support me. “You absolute menace! You’re not ten years old anymore. You weigh a hundred and sixty pounds, you’re going to snap my spine!” He was a gym rat with solid muscle beneath his shirt, so I wasn’t worried. Instead of climbing down, I clung tighter. “Is Grandma going to be okay?” Mike sighed, adjusting his grip. “Don’t listen to my dad. Her blood pressure was fine when I checked her last week. He’s just using her as bait to drag me home for a blind date.” “Oh, I see.” Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed several students slowing down, whispering and pointing their phone cameras at us. I finally slid off his back, but immediately looped my arm snugly through his elbow. Mike handed me the crates, then reached over to ruffle my hair affectionately. “How’s the new gig? Colleagues treating you well? Are the kids behaving?” I flashed him a bright smile. “Everything is perfect. Don’t worry about me.” 5 After his car disappeared down the avenue, I stood there waving for a long moment before carrying the crates back to my room. The moment I walked in, my roommate met me with a bizarre, loaded look. “What?” I asked. He let out a strained, awkward chuckle. “Oh, wow. Lychees this early in the season? Those are my absolute favorite.” Usually, he would have helped himself without asking. But this time, I pointedly loaded them into my personal locker and clicked the padlock shut. “Sorry, these are special. None for you.” His expression shifted from awkward to outright disgusted. He grabbed a box of tissues he had previously borrowed and slid it back over to his side of the desk, clearly trying to draw a line between us. I opened the campus forum on my laptop. Sure enough, several threads had already popped up featuring “intimate” photos of Mike and me at the gate. I systematically saved every single screenshot. That afternoon, during roll call, the whispers followed me. Rumors that I was keeping a sugar daddy and showing off his wealth spread like wildfire. I didn’t offer a single word of defense, letting the gossip mutate. That was when I saw Amy and her entourage again. Maddie rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. “Mr. Mercer, we went to Facilities during lunch. They said the university doesn’t buy individual appliances for students. We have to file a petition with administration. In the meantime, they suggested using the cafeteria freezer, but the kitchen staff told us it violates health codes and turned us away. Then we tried to buy a mini-fridge for the dorm, but the resident advisor threatened to write us up for a fire hazard!” I shrugged indifferently. “Well, looks like you’re out of options.” Amy looked up, her eyes wide and watery. “Mr. Mercer, could we keep a small one in your office? Or maybe your dorm room?” I shook my head. “I don’t have an office, and my dorm has the same strict utility policy.” Tears welled up in Amy’s eyes, trembling right on the edge of her eyelashes. Maddie, fiercely protective, patted her on the back. “Don’t cry, babe. I’ll buy one myself and put it in the student lounge. We’ll put a lock on it. It’ll be fine.” Yet Amy didn’t look comforted. Her gaze remained locked on me. Honestly, she was beautiful in a fragile, tragic way that naturally triggered people’s protective instincts. In my past life, I had gone out of my way to help her out of professional duty, never realizing it would feed a dark, twisted obsession. Maddie sneered, her voice dripping with venom. “Some educator you are. Dressing up like a runway model while ignoring a sick student in need. You don’t deserve this job. I’m filing a formal complaint against you today!” I rolled my eyes right back at her. “Oh, heavens, I’m absolutely trembling. Please, go right ahead. If you don’t file it by five, you’re a coward.” The four girls froze, utterly stunned. As an intern, I had always been desperate for a good evaluation, catering to every student whim. I was famous for being a pushover. This sudden hostility was completely out of character. Once they recovered from the shock, they aggressively whipped out their phones to draft emails to the dean. Instead of panic, I let out a dry laugh. “Look at you, acting like entitled toddlers. You think the universe revolves around you just because you’re pathetic? Do you ever look in a mirror?” Amy burst into tears. The other two roommates looked close to crying too, while Maddie stared at me like a raging bull. “You’re going to regret this,” she spat. I crossed my arms. “I’ll be right here. Give it your best shot.” Trembling with rage, Maddie jabbed a manicured nail in my direction. “Fine! Enjoy getting fired!” I believed her. These girls were failing students and terrible human beings, but when it came to character assassination and online harassment, they were absolute professionals. 6 By that evening, dozens of complaints flooded the dean’s inbox. The accusations were a wild, colorful mix: homosexuality, flaunting wealth, unprofessional conduct, and emotional abuse of students. The next morning, the department head called me into his office. He sat behind his mahogany desk, the campus forum pulled up on his monitor. On the screen was the photo of me clinging to Mike’s back, a bright smile on my face. He tapped the glass. “Silas, is this you?” “Yes.” “And who is this man?” “A friend.” The department head paused, adjusting his glasses. “Are you gay, Silas?” “That is personal, and it has no bearing on my job.” His expression hardened. “I asked you a direct question. I expect a proper answer.” “And I gave you one. It is irrelevant to my work.” The door clicked open, and the dean strolled in. My roommate trailed behind him like a loyal lapdog, casting a smug, victorious look my way. If I got booted, he would secure the permanent position automatically. Sometimes, this world feels like a cheap theater production run by amateurs. In my past life, I let people like this ruin me. It was pathetic. Let them burn. The dean looked down his nose at me. “Silas, I will ask you one more time. Are you homosexual?” “No comment.” “Then explain these photos.” “I am under no obligation to do so.” He let out a cold, humorless chuckle. “Who do you think you are? You haven’t even finished your internship, and you’re carrying this attitude?” I scoffed. He glared at me. “One final time. Are you gay?” “Are you discriminating against sexual orientation?” “That’s enough,” the dean interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “His roommate already told us everything we need to know. We can’t have someone like you corrupting our students.” He straightened his tie. “You’re fired.” He delivered the verdict as if he were a medieval king handing down an execution. Yet his eyes betrayed his pettiness, lingering greedily on the designer logo of my bag. I spun on my heel and walked out. Minutes later, an official termination email from HR popped up on my phone. According to my contract, a termination without cause entitled me to a month’s severance. But HR claimed I wasn’t getting a dime, not even my final paycheck. An intern’s monthly pay was barely a few hundred dollars, which normally wouldn’t be worth fighting over. But wage theft is a sin, and I fully intended to make them beg me to take it later. For the first time in ten years, I was completely free. Before leaving, I went to the student lounge. I ripped out the water dispenser, the surge protectors, and the water jugs I had purchased with my own money, smashing them and throwing them into the dumpster. “Mr. Mercer, you took the water cooler! What are we supposed to drink?” a student complained. I stomped hard on the plastic jug, cracking it in half. “I bought this with my own money, and you’ve been freeloading off me for months. If some lunatic decides to poison the water and blame me, I’d rather smash it now.” As I tossed the last piece into the bin, I turned around to find Amy standing a few yards away, biting her lip and staring at me with tear-filled eyes. Every hair on my body stood on end. She didn’t look like a fragile young girl; she looked like a venomous viper ready to strike. I took an involuntary step back. It wasn’t cowardice; it was the sheer trauma of my past life screaming in my ears. She stepped closer, her eyes glittering with an obsessive, unsettling intensity. It wasn’t the look of a student for her teacher, or even a woman for a man. It was a spider sizing up a fat fly caught in its web. “Mr. Mercer,” she whispered. My stomach turned, and I spun to run. “Don’t go!” she cried out. I stopped and slowly looked back. The hatred inside me burned so hot my bones ached. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my hands around her neck. But I couldn’t. I had fought too hard for this second chance, and a bright future lay ahead. She closed the distance, tears cascading down her pale face in the dim corridor light. “I’ll talk to Maddie. I’ll make her withdraw the complaint. Everything will go back to normal. Please, don’t leave. If you stay, I’ll do whatever you want.” Her voice was soft, but her words carried a heavy, desperate weight, as if she were offering a sacred vow. I remembered my past life. During my second year of caring for her, she had taken my hand in the dead of night, dragging it onto her blanket, whispering, “Mr. Mercer, marry me. I’ll be so good to you.” At the time, I thought it was just dependency, a drowning girl grasping at her only lifeline, or perhaps a mind warped by chronic pain. I never realized that she had been spinning this web from the very beginning, and I had walked right into it. “Amy,” I said, dropping any pretense of professionalism, “you absolutely disgust me.” She froze, tears still wet on her cheeks. Slowly, her innocent mask melted away into a chillingly confident grin. “Oh, Mr. Mercer,” she giggled softly. “You’ll be back. I know you will.” I smiled right back. “I’ll be back, alright. For your funeral.” Leaving her standing there, I went back to my room, packed my bags, and checked out. I didn’t waste a single second escaping the place that had been my living hell for half a lifetime.

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When Eliot returned to the villa after his late department lecture, I placed his favorite truffle pasta on the table. I wanted to tell him that my mother had finally relented and agreed to our marriage. Instead, he tossed his car keys onto the table and wearily tugged at his tie, “I married my young Omega yesterday.” “What?” My fork paused mid-air. “Lila, the grad student I’m supervising, is pregnant with my child. She asked me to give her the status of my Luna.” “So, I went and registered our marriage with her yesterday afternoon.” My voice trembled uncontrollably: “Then what about these eight years I dedicated to you?” Eliot looked up at me, a slight smirk on his lips. “If you’re willing, we can still be family. You’ll always be the person I trust most.” I didn’t cry. I simply picked up that steaming bowl of truffle pasta, walked to the kitchen, and poured it into the trash can. Eliot frowned, his Alpha aura instinctively intensifying. “Seren, I hate it when you’re silently accusing.” “I’m already exhausted today, can’t you be more understanding?” I turned to face him, deliberately ignoring the oppressive feeling. “When did you register?” He rubbed his temples, speaking calmly: “Yesterday afternoon. Lila didn’t have classes, and the Elder Council was less busy, so we just went along.” “Just went along.” Yesterday afternoon, I was with my mother at the medical center for her check-up. She lay on the hospital bed, clutching my hand, saying: “Seren, I’ve thought it through. If you truly want Eliot, then get married. Even though he comes from an ordinary background, he’s looked out for us all these years.” I almost teared up then, quickly texting Eliot: “Mom agreed to our marriage, I’ve already booked the wedding for next week.” He didn’t reply. Turns out, he had already registered his marriage with another woman. I asked, “Does she know about me?” Eliot was silent for two seconds. “She knows, but she doesn’t mind. She’s young, insecure, and I wanted to give her a proper title, to let her stand proudly by my side.” Hearing his words, I felt my wolf inside me howling madly. “I’ve been with you for eight years, helped you handle the dissent within the Pack, supported you in becoming the Alpha, All these years, what have I been to you?” Eliot looked up at me, his eyes showing his usual arrogance. “Seren, you weren’t at a disadvantage either these past eight years.” “And even if I have a Luna, I’ll still give you some compensation. You can continue to live in this villa, and I’ll continue to provide you with academic resources. Surely, you’re satisfied with that?” I finally understood. His so-called compensation was to let me live in his villa, clean his house, and help him organize his research materials. My identity would just shift from a partner of eight years to his and Lila’s free housekeeper. I went into the bedroom to pack my things, and my hand stopped when I opened the closet. A row of unfamiliar girl’s clothes had appeared inside. Pink knitwear, lace-trimmed dresses, and a pile of erotic lingerie. I picked one up and asked him, “Is she moving in?” Eliot stood in the doorway, his tall figure blocking the hallway light. “Lila can’t sleep alone in the dorm, so she’ll sleep in your master bedroom from now on. You can stay in the guest room for now.” I took off the engagement ring he had given me and placed it on the table. It was a silver ring he bought the year he first became Alpha, with our initials engraved on the inside of the band. He said that once things in the Pack settled down, he’d replace it with a bigger, shinier diamond ring. Later, when his power was stable, he said he’d marry me after securing the key research project. But now, he already had another Omega. I pulled out my suitcase, ready to leave. Eliot suddenly panicked. He hugged me from behind, the familiar scent of cedarwood enveloping me. “Seren, I don’t want to lose you. I’m just settling Lila in first, she’s a child and can’t be without me. You’re different; you’re mature, steady. You don’t need me to protect you every second.” Held by him, I only felt a wave of physiological nausea. The doorbell rang. Lila stood at the door, wearing a man’s cashmere coat. I had waited in line for three hours to buy that for Eliot last winter. “Eliot, I’m here to pick up our marriage certificate.” Then, she looked at me and smiled, revealing her sharp little canines: “Seren, you’re here too.” I didn’t speak. She walked into the bedroom as if she owned the place, pulling open the drawer of my bedside table. The marriage certificate was pressed under an old photo album. On top of the album, there was also a letter. A letter my mother had written to Eliot. She had just finished it yesterday and asked me to pass it on. The first line of the letter read: “Alpha Eliot, I entrust Seren to you from now on. May you protect her life’s peace and stability, and guard the White Pack well.” Lila picked up the letter, blinking. “Is this from your mother to both of you? Oh, I’m sorry, should I not be looking?” I reached out to take it. But Eliot snatched it away first. A corner of the letter was torn. Watching him shield Lila, I suddenly felt he was a complete stranger.

I forcibly snatched the letter back. Lila cowered behind Eliot, her shoulders trembling slightly, as if she were frightened. Eliot soothed Lila, then turned to face me, his expression darkening instantly. “Seren, you’re emotionally unstable right now. Don’t go to the faculty tomorrow, and don’t participate in the full professorship tenure review meeting either.” I looked at him. “I’m an associate professor in the biology department. The full professorship review is decided by the University Academic Committee, it’s not under your authority as department head. Furthermore, this is White Pack territory. You don’t have the authority to ground me.” Lila’s tears started to fall immediately, her voice soft and trembling. “Seren, I really didn’t mean to steal your things. I just love Eliot too much; I couldn’t control myself.” I laughed out loud. “Well, you certainly know how to love, loving enough to steal someone else’s mate.” Eliot lowered his voice, a warning in his tone. “Don’t be so harsh. We’re all members of the White Pack; if word gets out, other Packs will laugh at us.” My phone rang. It was the Pack’s medical center. “Seren, your mother has suddenly shown early signs of organ failure, and her blood pressure is unstable. Please come immediately.” I grabbed my bag and left. Eliot subconsciously followed. A flicker of warmth unexpectedly bloomed in my heart; Eliot wasn’t completely heartless after all. And as the Alpha of the White Pack, he had the power to mobilize the best doctors and top-tier treatment equipment. But the next second, Lila clutched her stomach and crouched down, letting out a soft whimper. “Eliot, I’m dizzy…” “I didn’t eat last night; the baby might be unstable.” Eliot’s footsteps stopped. He glanced at me, his voice reassuring. “You take a cab there first.” “I’ll take Lila to the medical center’s obstetrics department; I’ll be there to join you soon.” I didn’t speak. As the elevator doors closed, I saw him scoop Lila into his arms, holding her carefully as if she were a priceless treasure. In the taxi, I called him three times. No answer. When I arrived at the medical center, my mother’s face was ashen, and she was already semi-conscious. The nurse pushed a risk disclosure form in front of me. “Please sign, we may need to initiate organ suppression therapy or even resuscitation immediately.” My hand trembled so much I couldn’t write my name. For eight years, Eliot always said, “From now on, your mom is my mom. White Pack’s medical resources will always prioritize her.” He said I didn’t need to be afraid, he’d handle everything at the medical center. But when this day actually came, I was still the only one waiting outside the hospital room. Outside the emergency room, I opened my phone. The first post on the White Pack forum was from Eliot. In the photo, he and Lila held up their marriage certificate, both smiling happily. The caption read: “My love, my only Luna.” The post time was when I made my third call. Below it, many faculty members liked the post. Lila replied: “Thank you, everyone. Eliot said he’s treating everyone to a big dinner tonight.” I stared at that line, my palms slowly growing cold. When my mom woke up, her first question was, “Where’s Eliot? Why didn’t he come?” I flipped my phone face down in my palm. “He’s handling urgent Pack matters and can’t get away.” A family member of the patient in the next bed, an older member of the Pack, suddenly leaned over. “Alpha Eliot got married yesterday, Seren. Why wasn’t the bride you?” “Look at the photo Alpha Eliot posted on the forum.” She handed her phone to my mother. I didn’t have time to stop her. When my mother saw the photo, her breathing suddenly became rapid, and the monitor emitted a sharp alarm. I rushed out to call the doctor. As I ran to the nurses’ station, I saw Eliot and Lila, holding hands, distributing wedding favors to several familiar medical staff. He had brought Lila for her prenatal check-up and casually announced their marriage to acquaintances in the Pack. Someone joked, “Alpha Eliot, you kept that quiet! You already have a child so soon?” Lila blushed and leaned against him. Eliot saw me and frowned slightly. “Why aren’t you in the room looking after your mother? Don’t you know she’s not well? How can you be casually strolling around outside?” I threw my mother’s critical condition notice in his face. “Eliot, how dare you say such a thing?” “My mother just had an attack after seeing your post on the forum.” The medical center lobby instantly fell silent. Lila’s tears started again. She softly said, “Seren, don’t blame Eliot. It’s my fault; I insisted he post it on the forum.” Eliot shielded her, his voice filled with anger. “This is the White Pack’s medical center. Do you have to cause a scene here and let other Pack members laugh at us?” I looked at the box of wedding favors still in his hand, and suddenly found it all very laughable.

“How can you blame me?” “Didn’t you insist on making your marriage known to everyone?” No one in the lobby spoke. Lila leaned behind Eliot, softly sobbing. Eliot lowered his voice. “Seren, don’t disrupt the medical center’s order, and don’t jeopardize your own full professorship review. Don’t forget, your mother’s treatment plan still needs my signature and approval.” “You’re the one disrupting the order.” “My mom is in the emergency room, and you’re here celebrating your marriage.” Someone bowed their head, pretending to sort through patient files. Lila suddenly covered her mouth and made retching sounds. “I want to throw up…” The Pack members nearby immediately started to tease. “Already having symptoms after just getting married? Alpha Eliot, you’re quite something!” Eliot’s expression changed, and he immediately supported Lila. “Let’s go for a blood test first to check the baby’s condition.” My mom was still in the emergency room. But he stayed by Lila’s side, not leaving her for a second, as she went to get blood drawn. I stood at the lab window, watching him carefully label the blood collection vials himself, his actions painstakingly precise. Lila touched her stomach, smiling down. “I hope the baby grows up healthy.” Eliot said in front of everyone: “Once the baby is stable, I’ll give you a proper home and the most lavish wedding.” I thought those words had nothing to do with me. Until that evening, when I returned to the Pack’s Alpha residence and saw an agreement on the table. “Villa Residency Arrangement Agreement.” It stated: “To facilitate Lila’s pregnancy, Seren voluntarily moves out of the master bedroom into the guest room and provides unpaid assistance with Lila’s academic and Pack-related living affairs.” I held the paper and laughed for a long time. This villa was left by my father; it was the White Pack Alpha’s exclusive territory. Eight years ago, when I supported Eliot’s ascent, I voluntarily transferred ownership of the villa to him. I paid for the renovations, and I’ve been paying all the property management and maintenance fees all these years. Now he was making things very clear. The master bedroom for Lila. I had to give up the Luna title, and now even my bed. I asked, “What does this agreement mean?” Eliot sat on the sofa, fidgeting with the Alpha’s crest ring. “Lila is pregnant, and the master bedroom gets good sunlight, suitable for pregnancy. Plus, it’s close to my study, so I can easily look after her.” I spread the agreement in front of him. “This is my father’s villa.” “What about everything I’ve contributed to the Pack all these years?” He frowned. “It’s an eight-year relationship, don’t make it sound so ugly. We’re all White Pack members; why be so meticulous?” Lila came out of the kitchen with water. She was wearing my apron, like a real mistress of the house. “Seren, don’t worry, I won’t stay for free.” “I’ll pay you eight hundred dollars a month, okay? Just as rent.” I almost laughed out of anger. “Eight hundred?” “Are you kidding me?” I picked up the agreement and tore it to shreds. Eliot suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip astonishingly strong; I couldn’t break free. “If you continue like this, I’ll have no choice but to transfer your mother to the general treatment ward.” I looked up at him. “The schedule for organ suppression therapy doesn’t necessarily require my signature. The medical center’s top physicians only follow the Alpha’s orders. Also, the department’s recommendation for your full professorship review was written by me.” Lila suddenly stopped crying, standing behind Eliot, looking at me triumphantly. I slowly pulled my hand away. “Eliot, are you threatening me with my mother’s life and my future?” He avoided my gaze. “I just want you to calm down. Don’t escalate this to the Elder Council; it won’t be good for anyone.” I nodded. “Okay.” “I’ll make you regret it.”

The next day, I went to the department as usual. The first thing I did in my office was to export all evidence of my support for Eliot’s ascent to Alpha over the years. This included the votes I secured for him when he ran for Alpha, the chat logs of me handling the Pack’s opposition, proof of my financial contribution to the villa, and records of my mother’s medical information being managed by him. I uploaded each file to the cloud, making encrypted backups. Eliot sent me a message. “Don’t make a big fuss. Let’s talk tonight at home. I’ll make Lila apologize to you.” I didn’t reply. At ten in the morning, Lila came to my lab. She handed me an experimental data report for her graduation thesis. “Seren, this is my thesis data. Can you fast-track the review for me? The defense is next week.” The students in the lab instantly fell silent. I said according to procedure, “Get your supervisor’s signature, follow the department’s normal review process, and queue up.” Lila’s eyes welled up. “Seren, are you still mad at me? I really know I was wrong.” I handed the report back. “This is a lab, not your living room. Follow the rules.” She bit her lip and left. To avoid any appearance of impropriety, I personally handed her report to the department secretary, ensuring every step was logged. The review results came out at noon. All her experimental data was fabricated! Lila’s face changed instantly when she received the results. Half an hour later, news came from the department. Lila had fallen in the lab, bleeding from her lower body, possibly a miscarriage. A little while later, Lila appeared at the lab door, holding her stomach, supported by a classmate. “Seren, you can hate me. But the child is innocent.” The students’ gazes at me changed. The Dean also rushed over. “Seren, please suspend your work and cooperate with the joint investigation by the university and the Elder Council.” I said, “Check the lab surveillance, the data audit logs, all operations are traceable.” Eliot interrupted me. “Lila fell and miscarried because you provoked her. You knew she was pregnant, yet you deliberately made things difficult for her and rejected her thesis.” I looked at him: “How can someone who isn’t even pregnant have a miscarriage?” Lila cried, trembling all over. Eliot threw a stack of documents in front of me. The papers scattered. It was my mother’s supplementary payment notice for organ suppression therapy. And an application to adjust her treatment ward. He looked at me coldly, “Kneel down and apologize to Lila right now. I guarantee your mom will still have access to top-tier treatment tonight, and I’ll still write you a recommendation for your full professorship review.” Everyone in the lab was looking at me. My full professorship. My mom’s life. My eight years of dedication. All pressured into one apology. I bent down to pick up the documents. At the bottom was one of Lila’s medical reports. It read: “No signs of pregnancy, no fetus present.” I looked up at Eliot. Panic finally appeared on his face. Lila screamed, “That’s not mine! It’s my classmate’s!” The next second, the Dean’s office door was pushed open. Representatives from the University Academic Committee and the Elder Council stood at the entrance. “Associate Professor Seren, you are suspected of academic suppression, fabricating experimental data, and causing a student’s miscarriage. Please immediately accept a suspension for investigation.”

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To come back home and marry me, Hayden Cross spent four whole years stationed at an overseas peacekeeping base. Everyone knew Hayden would lay down his life for Vivian Sterling. In his first year, just to secure a priority slot to return home, he charged single-handedly into a war zone to rescue hostages. He came back with not a single inch of his body unscathed, but he clutched that application form like his life depended on it. In his second year, to retrieve a lost engagement ring in the jungle, he waded through a swamp for three days and three nights. Even burning up at 104 degrees, he was still calling out my name. In his third year, to earn merit, he patrolled the most dangerous border line for six straight months. When he came back, both his hands were so badly frostbitten that the flesh was raw and bloody—he nearly had to have them amputated. I had always believed he wanted to marry me more than anyone else in the world. I was carrying handmade leather candy I’d brought all the way from New York. It was Hayden’s favorite flavor. Because of the long journey, I’d been holding it carefully against my chest the whole way, terrified that even a single piece would break. “Captain Cross, the documents from headquarters have arrived.” The communications room door was ajar, and the fax machine was screeching, spitting out a red-stamped document. My hand, just about to push the door open, froze midair. Through that narrow gap, I saw Hayden with his back to me, staring at the document he’d just received. On it, four glaringly red characters were stamped: 【APPROVED FOR RETURN】. In that instant, I almost cried out loud. After 1,800 days and nights of waiting, I had finally lived to see his return. But in the next second, what Hayden did made my entire body feel like it had plunged into an ice cave. His long fingers slowly and deliberately picked up a pen, and stroke by stroke, he added a single word in front of those four red characters. 【NOT】. The red “Approved” became a black “Not Approved.” His hand was steady, the sound of the pen tip gliding across the paper was so soft—yet it shattered my five years into pieces. “Captain Cross, this is the fifth time.” The deputy captain’s voice rose, thick with confusion. “Miss Sterling has waited five years at home for you. The higher-ups finally approved it this time. Why are you turning it down again with your own hand?” Hayden set down the pen, his voice carrying a coldness that chilled me to my bones: “Vivian has a steady personality and is easy to console. She has her parents in New York to take care of her. Her life is stable. Waiting another year won’t matter.” “But Lily can’t.” He paused, his tone carrying a tenderness and helplessness I’d never heard before. “Lily has been serving as my accompanying medic these past five years. She got all her injuries trying to save me. She has severe post-war trauma. The moment I leave, she’ll self-harm from the shock.” “Lily said the day I go home to get married will be the day she ends her life. I owe her five years of companionship. I have to repay it.” I gripped the box of pastries against my chest, my fingertips turning white from the force. So all this talk of relentless gunfire and overwhelming missions for five years—it had all been lies he told to protect another woman. When he was in military academy, Lily Hartman had already been his personal assistant. They had risked their lives together on this land for five years. Meanwhile, I’d waited in New York like an idiot for five years because of his “military orders are absolute.” Just last month, he had even said in a video call: “Vivian, when I come back, we’ll have the wedding.” Liar. Hayden Cross, you are nothing but a liar.

“What about Miss Sterling? What about her five years of waiting? Aren’t you afraid of breaking her heart by treating her like this?” The deputy captain’s tone carried a hint of accusation. Hayden was silent for a long time. So long that I thought he might feel even a sliver of guilt. Then he suddenly stood up and crisply unbuttoned his uniform. He took the tactical belt down from the wall, his voice calm: “That’s why I’ll never let her find out the truth. Tonight, I’ll run a hundred laps around the field carrying sixty-six pounds of weight. I won’t stop until I finish. These hundred laps will be my atonement to her.” In tropical heat, running a hundred laps carrying sixty-six pounds—that was torturing himself to the edge of death. I stood outside the door, listening to his heavy footsteps echoing on the scorching rubber track. “Thump, thump…” Each sound felt like a slap across my face. If this had been the old me, I would have rushed over crying to stop him, would have stayed up all night applying cold compresses out of heartbreak. I remembered two years ago, when he said in a video call that he’d been slightly injured, I sobbed uncontrollably. Across the screen, his eyes were as gentle as water: “Vivian, don’t cry. Every tear you shed shatters me here once more.” But now, I just stared numbly as he ran beneath the night sky. He was using this self-harming form of penance to kidnap my guilt. He’d cover himself in wounds to make me ache for him, to make me afraid to push. These hundred laps weren’t to marry me. They were the psychological currency he paid so he could stay by Lily’s side with a clear conscience. I turned around and threw the box of pastries I had carried across three thousand miles directly into the base’s incinerator. It was his favorite New York leather candy, made by an old craftsman I had searched high and low to find. Now, in the flames, it slowly melted into black charcoal. Due to wartime communication restrictions, I could only use the satellite phone in the communications room to call back home to Brookhaven. The call connected, and my mother’s gentle voice came through. “Vivian, did you see Hayden? Is he still not coming home this year?” Mom sighed, her voice full of heartache. “I’ve said it all along—if a man truly wants to marry you, he can do it even if the sky falls down. You’ve wasted five years of your youth in New York. Are you really going to keep waiting?” I listened to Hayden’s silhouette running on the field outside the window. “Vivian, listen to Mom. Come home.” “Do you still remember Trevor Bennett? He was transferred back to Brookhaven last year as Deputy Director. He’s been waiting for you. He said as long as you’re willing to come back, the Bennett family can hold the wedding anytime. Mom just doesn’t want to watch you debase yourself any longer.” Six years ago, for Hayden’s sake, I had rejected a stable life and rejected my childhood sweetheart Trevor Bennett. “Mom,” I spoke, my voice without a single ripple. She paused on the other end: “Vivian?” I looked at the blood-red sunset on the horizon, and the last flicker of fire in my heart went out. “I’m not waiting anymore. I’ll come back to Brookhaven tomorrow and marry Trevor Bennett.” After hanging up, I didn’t go find Hayden to make a scene. I went back to the family reception room and began packing all my things. His uniform hung on the wall; a photo of us sat on the table. In the photo, he had his arm around my shoulder, smiling with such devotion. I dug out the medal he had sent home last year. He’d said he’d earned it with his life and that it would be our token of love. Now, the medal glinted coldly under the lamplight, like a resounding slap. I dropped it into the toilet and pressed the flush. It disappeared without a trace.

Because of last night’s weighted run, Hayden had collapsed right there on the field. When I walked into the base infirmary, Hayden was lying on the hospital bed, eyes closed, hooked up to an IV. Lily, dressed in a white coat, was sitting beside the bed, gently dabbing his cracked lips with a water-soaked cotton swab. Her movements were tender. “Captain Cross is just too stupid,” Lily said without lifting her head, her voice low. “He pushes himself this hard every time just to get back to New York sooner to marry that Miss Sterling. But doesn’t he think? With all these injuries, who’s going to take care of him when he gets back?” I stood at the door watching this scene, my heart constricting like it was being squeezed by a steel wire. I could barely breathe. Once upon a time, Hayden had taken care of me like this too. The year I caught a cold that turned into pneumonia, he ran three blocks through a blizzard just to buy me the pear soup I’d craved. When he came back, his eyebrows were caked with ice. While blowing on the soup to cool it, he coaxed me in a soft, heartbroken voice: “Vivian, good girl. Drink this and it’ll stop hurting. From now on, I’ll watch over you. I’ll never let you get sick again, not for the rest of your life.” Now, that same tenderness, he was giving to someone else. Hearing the noise, Lily turned her head. Seeing it was me, a flash of panic darted across her eyes. “Miss Sterling? When did you get here?” She jolted to her feet, the water cup in her hand crashing to the floor. Hayden startled awake. He opened his eyes, and the instant he saw me, his pupils contracted sharply. “Vivian… why are you here?” His voice was hoarse, and he instinctively tried to sit up, but the movement pulled at the wounds on his back, making him break out in a cold sweat from the pain. “I heard you self-harmed again to marry me, so I came to see,” I said calmly, walking to the bedside, my gaze sweeping over his blistered hands. “Hayden, I almost believed it.” Hayden’s face stiffened for a moment, then he looked urgently at Lily: “Lily, step outside first. Vivian and I have things to discuss.” Lily bit her lip, her eyes rimmed red: “Your wounds haven’t been re-dressed…” “Out!” Hayden’s tone hardened. Only then did Lily leave, glancing back every few steps. Just before stepping out, she deliberately adjusted the work badge on her chest. I saw it clearly—it was the position of Chief Accompanying Medic for the peacekeeping base. A position that should have belonged to the specialist sent from headquarters. So Hayden had used his authority to forcibly keep Lily by his side for five full years. “Vivian, listen to me.” Hayden grabbed my hand desperately. “Last night I just felt guilty, felt I’d let you down, so I wanted to burn off some energy. Lily is just the doctor here. There’s really nothing between us…” “Nothing?” I looked down at him, my eyes filled with nothing but cold mockery. “Hayden, you dared to reject the return-home marriage approval with your own hand. What am I really to you?” Hayden’s breath suddenly stopped, panic flooding his eyes: “You… you saw?”

“Saw what?” I tilted my head and gave a pretend-confused smile. “Saw you personally write an application for a one-year extension? Or saw you putting on this whole martyr act for atonement?” Hayden’s face turned from white to green. “Vivian, let me explain. Lily really is very ill. She can’t survive without me…” “Enough.” I cut him off, exhausted beyond measure. “I don’t want to hear a single word of your explanation. If you love her so much, then keep staying to be with her. One year, nine years, even a lifetime—do whatever you want.” I shook off his hand and turned to walk out of the infirmary. Behind me, Hayden was still frantically calling out my name, but I didn’t stop. Walking out of the infirmary, the sunlight stabbed at my eyes. I pulled out my phone and dialed my mother. “Mom, please contact the Bennetts. Tell Trevor I’ll be back in Brookhaven the day after tomorrow. If he’s willing, we’ll go register the marriage the first day we meet.” My mother was stunned for a long while on the other end, then answered with a trembling voice: “Okay… okay! Mom will arrange it right now! Vivian, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Mom will wait for you in Brookhaven.” I returned to the temporary guest house. This room was filled with old keepsakes I had collected for him over five years. Every letter he had written me had pressed dried flowers I loved stuck to the envelope. Every medal he’d given me, I had carefully wrapped in red velvet boxes. There were also stubs from every plane ticket from when I’d flown across the world to see him. I once thought these were proof of love. Now I saw them as evidence of my own stupidity. I found a huge trash bag and started clearing them out one by one. The medals went into the trash bag. Those memory-filled photos, I crumpled into balls and threw away. I saw the fountain pen he had once given me. I remembered him saying: “When we get married, I’ll use this pen to sign my name on our marriage certificate.” I gave a cold laugh, grabbed the pen, and snapped it hard against the corner of the desk. The expensive barrel cracked open, ink splattering across my hand. I threw away the last thing belonging to Hayden. The room became empty—just like my heart. Just then, hurried footsteps came from outside the door. Lily pushed the door open, her eyes triumphant. “Hayden has already submitted another stay application for me. In this war zone, no one can replace my position—and no one can replace his place in my heart.” She walked up to me, her tone full of venomous provocation: “What does waiting five years matter? The person who’s slept beside him for five years is me. The person who survived death with him is me. You’re just a joke living in a fantasy.” I looked at her and felt that she was pitiful. She thought she’d won. What she had schemed so hard to steal was a piece of garbage I didn’t even want. “Lily.” I looked at her calmly, even revealing a genuine smile. “Congratulations. I don’t want this piece of trash anymore. I hope you can guard him for the rest of your life.” The smile froze on Lily’s face. I picked up my light suitcase and walked right past her, out the door. “Tell Hayden for me—ninety-nine laps is too few. What he owes me, he can’t repay even in this lifetime. But it’s okay. I’m generous. I’m giving him to you two.”

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The Sterling family, who had always longed for a daughter, finally welcomed their little heiress, Lily Sterling. Grandpa Richard Sterling was so thrilled he immediately announced he’d be leaving his multi-billion dollar fortune to Lily. But at her welcome party, the private doctor, Dr. Reed, knelt on the floor, his face ashen. “Mr. Sterling, Lily is very frail. She’s in respiratory failure. I’m afraid… I’m afraid she won’t make it through the night!” Mrs. Evelyn Sterling fainted on the spot. Hearing this, Lily’s eight older brothers charged towards me, ready to give me, the newly hired intern nanny, a good beating. I was trembling with fear, about to explain, when a furious baby voice suddenly echoed in my mind: “The perfume on that woman in the white dress is poisonous! I only faked my breathlessness because I smelled it! Quick, get me to somewhere ventilated!” “After pulling a VIP spawn with 100,000 good karma points, I’m getting poisoned right out of the gate? Whoever saves me gets a billion dollars!” The next second, I lunged towards Lily.

“Don’t touch her!” I pushed away the maid blocking the crib and scooped up the baby, swaddle and all. Just then, Ethan Sterling, the eldest son, strode forward, veins bulging on the back of his hand. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” I clutched the baby and backed away several steps, my back hitting the wine cabinet, making the glasses clink loudly. “She’s not dead! She can still be saved!” Dr. Reed, who was still kneeling nearby, his face darkening, immediately stood up. “Nonsense!” “The child is in severe respiratory failure, her cardiopulmonary function is almost at a standstill. What do you, an intern nanny, know?!” Sarah White, Mr. Sterling’s secretary, had red-rimmed eyes, but her fingers were tightly clenched. “Chloe, I know you just started and are afraid of taking responsibility, but you can’t torment the baby like this.” “Lily is already so pitiful, why are you making her suffer more?” As she spoke, she moved two steps closer to me. That sickly sweet perfume scent wafted into my nose again. The little thing in my arms screamed in my head. “That’s the smell!” “Back off, back off! If I smell it again, I’ll really kick the bucket!” My scalp tingled, and I quickly dodged sideways with the baby, putting some distance between us and Sarah. Mr. Sterling, David, who had been by the unconscious Evelyn’s side, suddenly whipped his head around, his eyes bloodshot. “What did you just say?” My palms were sweating from nerves. “Lily isn’t dying naturally; she was poisoned, which caused her to stop breathing.” “She can’t stand this strong scent. She needs to be taken to a well-ventilated place immediately!” Dr. Reed’s face changed, and his voice shot up. “Absurd!” “I’ve been practicing for twenty years! Are you saying I can’t even tell if an infant is breathing or not?” “Mr. Sterling, this nanny is clearly trying to shirk responsibility and is deliberately spreading baseless rumors!” Noah Sterling, the third son, slammed his fist on the table, shattering a wine glass. “Lily has always been fine, how could she suddenly be poisoned?” Hearing this, Sarah White’s eyes immediately reddened. “It’s all my fault…” “I just thought Lily was so cute and got a bit closer to look at her. If I had known Chloe would make a fuss over it, I wouldn’t have gone near her.” The baby’s voice in my arms was trembling with anger. “She’s faking it! Still faking it!” “She didn’t spray ordinary perfume at all; it’s mixed with irritants that are deadly to infants!” I gritted my teeth and looked up. “Mr. Sterling, there’s something wrong with the perfume she’s wearing!” Sarah White’s face subtly changed, but she quickly approached me again, her eyes red. “What do you mean?” “I’m kindly comforting Mr. Sterling, and because you can’t save the child, you want to pin the blame on me?” The Sterling sons’ gazes grew colder and colder. My legs were shaking, but the little one in my arms was growing weaker, and the voice in my head kept urging me. “Get me out of here! There are too many people in this room, and the air is stale. I’m going to suffocate!” I took a deep breath, deciding to go all in. “Now isn’t the time to assign blame!” “Any more delay, and Lily really will lose her life!” Dr. Reed stepped forward with a stern face. “If we let her continue this madness, the child won’t even have her final dignity.” “Mr. Sterling, apprehend her at once!” Two bodyguards immediately closed in. My gaze swept across the room, spotting a half-open French door at the far end of the banquet hall. Then I looked at the extremely weak Lily in my arms. “Go! A billion dollars! I always keep my promises!” My mind raced, I hugged the baby tight, turned, and ran.

I had barely run two steps when someone roughly yanked my shoulder. Sarah White lunged from behind, her sharp nails digging into my flesh. “Stop her! She’s trying to steal the baby!” That shout sent the entire banquet hall into chaos. Several bodyguards rushed forward simultaneously, blocking my path to the window. I was forced to retreat repeatedly, my lower back hitting the buffet table. “I’m not stealing the baby! I’m saving her!” Liam Sterling, the fourth son, sneered, slamming a carving knife onto the table. “Saving her?” “You’re running around with a child who’s almost breathless, and you call that saving her?” Dr. Reed quickly approached, sweat beading on his forehead. “Mr. Sterling, we can’t let her continue this madness.” “Lily’s body is already naturally frail. If she falls or gets bumped, it will even be difficult to determine the cause of death!” The baby’s voice in my arms was almost crying. “I’m not dead yet! What ’cause of death’ are you talking about?!” “Why are these people more impatient than the Grim Reaper himself?!” I almost laughed at her remark, but more than that, I was alarmed. Her voice was much weaker than before. I couldn’t afford to delay. I dodged sideways with the baby, stepping on a chair and scrambling over it. Several champagne flutes crashed to the floor. Noah Sterling cursed angrily. “That crazy woman!” As I landed, a hand suddenly blocked my way. It was Mr. Sterling, David. His eyes were bloodshot, and his entire demeanor was seething with suppressed anger. “Say that again.” My breath was ragged, I clutched the swaddle tight, squeezing out each word. “Lily isn’t critically ill; she suffered from breathlessness induced by an irritating scent.” “As long as she leaves this place and breathes clean air, she can still wake up.” Sarah White, her face pale, clutched her lower abdomen, her voice choked with tears. “Mr. Sterling, she’s slandering me…” “I’m carrying your child too. How could I possibly harm Lily?” At this statement, the entire hall fell silent. The sons were also stunned. Mr. Sterling’s pupils suddenly constricted. “What did you say?” Sarah White’s tears fell, and she gently placed a hand on her stomach. “I had planned to tell you later.” “I found out at the hospital today; I’m already over a month pregnant.” “I know it’s not appropriate to say this now, but I just wanted to be by your side, and I never expected to be falsely accused like this…” Hearing this, the baby’s voice in my arms was furious. “Pfft! She’s bringing up her pregnancy now, she’s treating you all like idiots!” “Forget about her for now; I’m really running out of air!” Just then, Sarah White took another step forward. The scent wafted over, and Lily in my arms stiffened. Her already faint body temperature also began to drop. My face instantly changed, and I violently dodged sideways. “Don’t come near her!” Sarah White flinched at my shout, her tears falling even more profusely. “Mr. Sterling, did you see that?” “She’s so hostile towards me; it’s clearly premeditated.” Dr. Reed immediately chimed in. “Exactly.” “And the child’s problem occurred while she was under her care. The most suspicious person, by default, is her.” Mason Sterling, the second son, slowly advanced towards me, his voice low. “Either put Lily down, or I’ll do it myself.” Lily in my arms seemed to exert her last ounce of strength, calling out in a tiny voice. “The window! To the left! There’s a breeze over there!” My peripheral vision caught sight of a crack in the side door of the banquet hall, leading to a patio. I took a sharp breath, hugged the baby, and dashed towards it. Mason reached out to block me, but I lowered my head and shoulder-barged past his arm. Footsteps behind me scrambled chaotically. Sarah White shrieked. “Grab her! Don’t let her take the baby away!” The moment my hand touched the doorknob, I was violently shoved from behind. I instantly lost my balance. To protect the baby, I twisted my body, my knees and elbows hitting the ground hard. The swaddle was still tightly cradled in my arms. A commotion erupted around me, and the cold air from the patio finally streamed in through the door crack. The baby’s faint voice in my head trembled slightly. “It’s… it’s working a little…”

“Close the door!” Dr. Reed sharply ordered, and two bodyguards immediately rushed over, trying to re-close the patio door. I was still kneeling on the ground, my knees burning with pain, but my mind cleared instantly. I lunged forward with the baby, half my body wedging into the door crack. The bodyguards paused. Noah Sterling’s face turned livid with anger. “Are you crazy?! What if you hurt the baby?!” I bit down hard on my lip. “She needs ventilation! Not your emergency resuscitation procedures!” Dr. Reed’s eye twitched. “Ignorance!” “A baby in respiratory failure will only die faster from the stimulation of cold air!” The baby’s voice in my arms was weak and intermittent. “Don’t listen to his bullsht… What I’m most afraid of right now is that woman’s smell…” I desperately held the door open, sweat pouring down my forehead. Just then, a deep, hoarse voice came from nearby. “Let me see the child.” I looked back. It was Grandpa Richard Sterling. The old man stood not far away, leaning on his cane, his face looking terrible. Sarah White immediately went up to him, her face full of concern. “Grandpa Sterling, please don’t get upset; your health is important.” “This nanny has already caused Mr. Sterling to lose control; please don’t let her deceive you.” As she spoke, she raised her hand to help him. Grandpa Richard Sterling’s cane stopped, and he directly pushed her hand away. “Get lost.” Sarah White’s expression instantly froze. Grandpa Richard Sterling walked over step by step, his gaze falling on the child in my arms. “You say she’s still breathing. What’s your proof?” I licked my dry lips. “Just now, when the patio door opened a crack, her reaction changed the moment she felt the breeze.” “Just give me a little more time…” Dr. Reed quickly interrupted. “Mr. Sterling, the child currently has no autonomous breathing response, her face is bruised, and she is in critical condition.” “You can’t pin your hopes on an outsider’s wild claims!” The Sterling sons stood in a line, creating an oppressive atmosphere that made it hard to breathe. I knew that if any of them raised a hand, I was done for today. But Lily in my arms grew even weaker. “I’m so sleepy…” “Don’t let her get close to me…” I looked up and saw Sarah White had somehow approached a few more steps. Her face still held that pitiful, innocent look. “Chloe, you keep saying my perfume has a problem, but why don’t you show us proof?” My heart sank. Right, I had no proof. I couldn’t exactly say the baby told me herself. Sarah White saw my hesitation, a flicker of triumph in her eyes, then she covered her belly and took a gentle breath. “Besides, I’m carrying the Sterling family’s flesh and blood; I couldn’t possibly do such a thing.” “You’re so desperate to take Lily outside; who knows if you’re trying to destroy some evidence?” Dr. Reed immediately seized the opportunity. “Mr. Sterling, Grandpa Sterling, she is the one who should be investigated most thoroughly.” “The child’s problem occurred in her care; she definitely has something to hide!” Caleb Sterling, the eighth son, kicked over a nearby chair. “Enough!” “Tie her up first, then question her slowly!” Two bodyguards lunged at me again. I clutched the baby and scrambled back towards the patio, my back hitting the railing. There was nowhere left to retreat. The night wind howled in. The little one in my arms suddenly let out a very soft whimper. Though faint, my heart jumped. It’s working! My eyes welled up, and I almost screamed. “She reacted just now! Didn’t you hear it?!” Everyone looked at me as if I were a desperate lunatic. Just as the bodyguard reached out to grab me, the doctor’s assistant, Dr. Alex Smith, who had been cowering in the corner, suddenly rushed out. He wiped sweat from his brow. “Wait!” “Just now, Lily’s fingertip… seemed to move.” Dr. Reed’s face turned deathly pale. “Dr. Smith, don’t talk nonsense!” Dr. Smith’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he forced himself to speak. “I was close, I don’t think I saw wrong.” “And infants in breathlessness or feigned death can indeed experience brief recovery under specific stimulation…” Sarah White’s face instantly went white, and she sharply interrupted. “Are you all going crazy, one by one?” “Experimenting on a month-old baby? Who will be responsible if something goes wrong?!” Mr. Sterling had been silent. Only then did he slowly raise his head, his gaze fixed on the baby’s face. “Open the door.” “Let her take the child to the patio.” Sarah White’s breath hitched. “Mr. Sterling…” Mr. Sterling glared at her. “I said, open the door.” The patio door was fully pushed open. The moment the cold wind swept in, Lily in my arms suddenly gave a very soft gasp. The next second, a hoarse, broken cry came from Evelyn Sterling’s direction. “Let me see my daughter…”

Evelyn Sterling was helped by a maid, stumbling out. Her face was streaked with tears, her hair disheveled, completely disregarding her appearance, she lunged forward, wanting to touch the baby. I instinctively moved a step sideways with the baby. At this slight movement, Evelyn froze. Sarah White, however, seemed to seize the opportunity and immediately stepped forward to support her. “Evelyn, don’t worry, the child is already—” Slap! Before she could finish, Evelyn raised her hand and delivered a sharp slap. Sarah White’s head snapped sideways, and half her face quickly swelled and reddened. Evelyn was trembling all over, her voice cracking. “Get away from me!” “You are not allowed to touch my daughter!” Sarah White covered her face, tears instantly streaming down. “Evelyn, I’m just worried about you…” Evelyn ignored her completely, her bloodshot eyes fixed on me. “You just said she wasn’t gone, but was harmed and stopped breathing?” “Yes.” Dr. Reed still tried to step forward. “Evelyn, don’t let her mislead you…” Evelyn sharply turned, grabbed a vase from a nearby table, and smashed it bang! at his feet. Shards scattered. “My daughter is in this state, and you’re still telling me who to listen to?” “If she still has a breath in her, anyone who dares to stop me, I’ll make them pay with their life!” The Sterling sons all froze. Sarah White’s face was extremely grim, but she still tried to speak again. “But Evelyn—” Grandpa Richard Sterling’s cane thumped heavily on the ground. “Silence!” The old man’s chest heaved violently, his eyes completely bloodshot. “No one is to stop her today.” “But you remember this: if you’re playing games with me, you’ll join my granddaughter in the grave.” I nodded heavily at Evelyn and Grandpa Richard Sterling, then quickly rushed to the patio with the baby, placed her on a wicker chair, and unfastened her swaddle. Dr. Alex Smith also followed, his forehead beaded with sweat. “Loosen her clothes, don’t cover her chest.” “First, check for chest rise and fall!” I did as he said, my hands trembling violently. The baby’s voice in my head grew weaker and weaker. “Faster… faster…” Tears suddenly welled up in my eyes. “Don’t fall asleep!” Dr.Smith’s hands trembled with urgency, and he immediately began emergency stimulation. “Pat her feet lightly!” “Then feel her neck for a very faint pulse!” Nothing. There was nothing. Sarah White stood not far away, covering her face, a sinister glint slowly surfacing in her eyes. “Mr. Sterling, isn’t that enough?” “If we keep tormenting her like this, Lily won’t even have her final dignity.” Mr. Sterling clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking, but he said nothing. Dr. Smith’s face grew paler and paler. “It’s… it’s completely over…” I slumped to the ground, mumbling. Dr. Smith checked Lily’s chest, his eyes dimming, even his lips trembling. Sarah White subtly let out a breath, as if she had finally waited for this moment, and raised her hand to call the bodyguards. “Take her—” Dr. Smith suddenly shuddered. Then he abruptly looked up, and shrieked. “Wait! Lily… she moved!”

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