Author: Momo Chan

1 Woke at night with severe cramps, I messaged our group chat for help before passing out. When pings woke me, my boyfriend Julian and best friend Clara had swapped over a hundred messages. My plea for ibuprofen lay ignored at the bottom. They chatted wildly, debating the World Cup, griping about work, planning a Northern Lights trip. Curled under my duvet, I scrolled up. Last month, I’d cried here about my boss throwing coffee on me. No reply. But when Clara posted a puppy video, Julian blew up the chat. Last weekend, I asked about lunch. They debated games until 3 AM, ignoring me. Suddenly, I recalled Julian’s words creating this chat: “Great, right? Those who love you most sharing your joy and pain.” Notifications kept popping. I tapped “Leave Group.” They never cared. I was done with a life where my voice only echoed in emptiness. … When the sky began to turn a bruised gray, the pain woke me up again. My phone was completely dead silent. Not a single private message from either of them. I leaned heavily against the wall, dragging myself to the bathroom. The face looking back at me in the mirror was terrifyingly pale. Right after I splashed freezing water on my face, Julian called. “Wake up, lazybones. Come downstairs, we’re going to be late for work.” I grabbed a random sweater, threw it on, and stumbled down the stairs, my legs feeling like jelly. Julian rolled down the window of his sedan. Clara was already sitting in the passenger seat, aggressively typing on her laptop balanced on the dashboard. I pulled open the back door and shivered violently as the blasting AC hit my cold sweat. “What took you so long? The newsroom is swamped today.” Julian put the car in drive while Clara turned around, handing me an iced Americano. “Thanks for suffering through this early commute with us every day, Chloe!” I hesitated for a second, then quietly set the iced coffee down in the cupholder. Ever since the incident where my boss humiliated me by throwing coffee on my shirt, I hadn’t been able to drink it. But they weren’t there to see it happen, and they clearly didn’t care to remember. During the drive, Clara continued typing furiously while bantering back and forth with Julian. I sat alone in the backseat, pressing my burning forehead against the freezing glass window just to keep the agonizing cramps at bay. Their voices began to blur into white noise, as if a thick, invisible glass wall had slammed down between the front seats and the back. Clara bounced rapidly from topic to topic, and no matter what she brought up, Julian effortlessly volleyed it back. More and more of their conversation became an inside joke I couldn’t understand. “That Italian place was incredible.” “God, the new editor is such a nightmare.” A sudden thought hit me like a physical blow. When was the last time Julian and I talked like that? I honestly couldn’t remember. Only when we pulled up to the media building did Clara suddenly let out a dramatic gasp. “Oh no! I didn’t finish writing the closing segment!” Julian smoothly backed into a parking space and said casually, “That’s what happens when you stay up all night watching soccer. Just have Chloe finish it for you. She’s just doing desk work today anyway.” Clara’s face lit up. She shoved her laptop directly into my chest and pressed her hands together in a pleading gesture. “You’re the absolute best, Chloe! Please, please, please? I’ll buy you boba later!” “I don’t think I can—” Before I could even finish my sentence, she gave me a lightning-fast hug, spun around, and sprinted toward the glass doors of the building. Julian was right behind her. He pressed a completely absentminded kiss to my forehead and jogged after her. I had watched them walk away like this a hundred times. At first, I was the one who asked Julian to keep an eye on Clara because she was new to the field team. Then, I was the one standing on the sidewalk, watching them drive off together for breaking news coverage. And now, somehow, I had become the ghost they left behind. At noon, right after I emailed Clara the finished segment, a warm boba tea slid across my desk. A coworker sitting nearby let out a sharp whistle. “Well, well. If it isn’t the golden couple of the newsroom, back from the trenches.” Julian shot him a freezing glare. “Watch your mouth.” He leaned against the edge of my cubicle, his long fingers naturally reaching out to massage my temples. “Is it that time of the month? You looked like you were going to pass out this morning.” I gave a weak nod and wrapped my cold fingers around the plastic cup. The tea was already ice cold. A memory from our first year together suddenly flashed through my mind. Back then, Julian was constantly traveling for field reports. I texted him one night: My cramps are killing me. Going to sleep early. Less than two hours later, he was pounding on my apartment door, completely drenched in sweat. His arms were overflowing with heating pads, three different kinds of painkillers, and a steaming thermos of ginger tea he had somehow managed to brew on the way. That winter was brutally cold, but the heat radiating from his palms made me feel entirely safe. Before I could fully process the memory, Julian pulled his hands away. He was staring at his phone, typing a rapid response to someone. He finished his text, glanced down at me, and frowned. “Why are you wearing a giant hoodie today?” “Didn’t I mention in the group chat yesterday that we’re having dinner with the station director tonight? You can’t wear sweatpants to that.” I blinked at him. So he genuinely hadn’t noticed that I had left the group chat. “I left the group chat. If it’s about work, just message me on Slack.” The casual smile instantly vanished from Julian’s face. He let out a heavy, patronizing sigh. “Seriously? Why? Because you’re on your period and the notifications are annoying you?” “If you’re in a bad mood, take it out on me. Block my number if you have to. Don’t throw a tantrum and leave the group chat. Clara is your best friend. Do you know how hurt she’s going to be when she sees that?” His phone pinged loudly. He glanced at the screen, immediately turned on his heel, and started walking away, tossing a frustrated sentence over his shoulder. “Whatever. If you’re sick, just stay at your desk. Clara and I are going to lunch. I’m adding you back to the chat later, and you are not allowed to leave again. Understood?” I sat silently in my rolling chair, the agonizing cramps twisting my stomach into tight knots. I dry-swallowed the ibuprofen I had Postmated for myself and dropped the freezing boba tea straight into the trash can. Then, I clicked open a half-finished Word document on my desktop. Application for Overseas Correspondent. My phone started buzzing relentlessly. When I finally packed up to leave, the group chat had over 99 unread messages. The very last one was from Julian, specifically tagging me. [Clara told me about those psychotic business owners targeting female reporters lately. I don’t feel safe letting you live alone right now. I’m packing a bag and moving into your apartment tonight.] I had literally sent them a news alert about that exact same stalker situation three days ago in this very chat. But they had been too busy debating the plot of a Marvel movie to acknowledge it. I typed a quick, [No need,] locked my screen, and climbed into the back of my Uber. After staring at the passing traffic for a minute, I unlocked my phone and added one last sentence. [I applied for the overseas correspondent position today. I might be leaving the country soon.] I hit send. Not a single new message popped up. Watching the blurry city lights streak past the window, I suddenly thought about my first year at the station. We were all rookies back then. Julian and Clara were assigned to the chaotic field team, and I was the quiet copy editor working behind the scenes. Every time Julian came back from a grueling shoot, he brought me a hot chocolate. Every time Clara struggled with an opening hook, she would roll her chair over to my desk and ask me how to inject more emotion into the script. When the three of us won our very first industry journalism award, Julian picked me up and spun me around while laughing hysterically. Clara shoved the heavy glass trophy directly into my hands. She promised we were going to conquer the entire media world together. We did conquer it. Only, they were the ones standing in the spotlight, and I was just the shadow. When the Uber dropped me off, I looked up and saw the lights in my apartment were on. I assumed I had been in such a rush this morning that I forgot to hit the switch. But when I unlocked the front door, I froze. A massive suitcase was splayed open in the middle of my living room, with men’s clothes thrown haphazardly all over my clean sofa. There was the sound of chopping coming from the kitchen. Julian poked his head out, holding a spatula. “You’re back? The soup is almost done.” Clara walked out right behind him, carrying a plate of appetizers, a bright, excited smile plastered across her face. “Chloe, you’re finally home! Julian said you guys were officially moving in together, so I bought a bunch of groceries to celebrate. Surprise!” I stood paralyzed in the entryway, feeling like I had walked into an absurd sitcom. But Clara had already spun back into the kitchen, leaning over the stove next to Julian. “Don’t add the green onions to the soup. Chloe hates them.” “It’s fine, she can just pick them out. I love green onions.” “Let’s simmer it for another ten minutes, the meat isn’t tender enough yet.” “Alright, whatever you say, chef.” The two of them bounced off each other with effortless chemistry, looking exactly like a pair of ridiculously in-love newlyweds. It made me feel like an absolute stranger intruding in my own home. That familiar, suffocating wave of exhaustion crashed over me. I didn’t even bother taking my shoes off. I walked straight to the kitchen doorway. “I never agreed to let you move in.” Julian turned around, his eyes wide with genuine confusion. “What is your problem now?” “My problem is that this is my apartment. Who gave you permission to come inside?” The air in the room instantly turned to ice. Clara rushed over, reaching out to grab my arm, but I smoothly stepped back to avoid her touch. She nervously glanced at Julian’s dark expression before frantically trying to explain. “Chloe, please don’t be mad. Julian was just terrified that you were living alone with that stalker on the loose. If I knew you were going to be this upset, I never would have let him come over.” CLANG. Julian slammed the heavy metal spatula into the cast-iron skillet. “Chloe, are you done throwing your little tantrum?” “I am bending over backwards out of pure concern for your safety, moving all my stuff here just to protect you, and this is the attitude I get?” Julian’s face twisted into a mask of pure, ugly frustration. “What the hell has been wrong with you lately? You’re constantly snapping at everyone, you act like a child and leave the group chat, and now you’re kicking us out of your house? Clara is your best friend. I am your boyfriend. Do you really think we’re trying to ruin your life?” “Julian, please stop yelling. Chloe is just having a bad week because of her period, you know how it gets.” I stood there, watching them play their perfectly choreographed good-cop-bad-cop routine, and I felt so unbelievably tired. Tired beyond the 14-hour editing shifts. Tired beyond the agonizing cramps. I didn’t scream at him like I would have a year ago. I just calmly pointed my finger toward the front door. “We are breaking up. Get out of my house right now.” Clara took a step forward, trying to grab my hand, but Julian viciously yanked her back by her wrist. “Don’t even bother with her, Clara. She’s acting like a rabid dog right now.” By the time I finished throwing his clothes into his suitcase and scrubbing their mess out of my kitchen, it was 2 AM. The next morning, I walked into the main conference room for the overseas correspondent selection. The first thing I saw was Julian leaning over the table, aggressively pointing at something on Clara’s script. When they noticed me, they both froze. “Chloe? What are you doing here?” I pulled out a chair in the very back row and sat down, keeping my eyes locked on the whiteboard. “I sent a message in the group chat yesterday.” The silence that followed was incredibly uncomfortable. Julian cleared his throat awkwardly, then immediately turned his back to me and went back to whispering with Clara. Clara mumbled something in response and refused to look in my direction. The selection process began. When it was Clara’s turn to present, Julian actually gave her a thumbs-up from the front row. She hadn’t even read two sentences before I narrowed my eyes. The script she was holding was the rough draft I had ghostwritten for her yesterday. And it was painfully obvious she hadn’t bothered to read it beforehand. When she reached the emotional climax of the story, she literally read the director’s notes I had written in parentheses out loud. A wave of hushed, mocking whispers rippled through the audience of seasoned journalists. Before she could awkwardly stumble to the end, Director Vance, the head of the department, slammed his hand on the table, picked up his half-full coffee cup, and hurled the liquid directly at her. “You dare bring this garbage onto my stage? You are a complete embarrassment to this network!” Seeing the dark coffee stains splattered across Clara’s pristine white blouse, my instinct kicked in. I reached for the zipper of my jacket, preparing to run up there and cover her. But Julian was much faster. He vaulted onto the stage, throwing his body in front of Clara like a human shield. “Director, even if her script was flawed, you have absolutely no right to throw coffee at your staff.” My fingers locked in a death grip around the fabric of my jacket. The last time the Director publicly humiliated someone by throwing coffee, it was me. I had cried in our group chat about it for hours. Neither of them even asked if I was okay. Julian’s eyes pierced through the crowd and locked directly onto mine. His look was an aggressive, unmistakable command. The message was crystal clear: Stand up. Take the blame for her. This wasn’t the first time he demanded this. Whenever Clara mispronounced a foreign dignitary’s name on live television, I was the one who marched into the control room and claimed I had printed the phonetic spelling wrong on the teleprompter. Julian always justified it by saying, You work behind a desk, Chloe. It doesn’t affect your career. Clara is the face of the network. But this time, staring straight into his demanding eyes, I slowly shook my head. Julian opened his mouth to bark an order, but Clara suddenly buried her face in her hands and sprinted out of the conference room sobbing. He shot me a look of pure, venomous disgust and chased after her without a second thought. The rest of the room turned to stare at me. Some eyes were curious, some were judging, and some were hiding malicious smirks. The moderator quickly restored order, and the presentations continued. The second I stepped out of the conference room after my presentation, Julian aggressively grabbed my arm and dragged me into the stairwell. Clara was standing against the concrete wall, shivering, wearing his oversized blazer. Her eyes were swollen red. Julian’s voice trembled with barely contained fury. “Are you happy now, Chloe?” “It’s just an overseas assignment! Was it really necessary to sit there and watch her get publicly humiliated? We have been friends for years, and you just threw her to the wolves without blinking.” I let out a sharp, cold laugh and looked him dead in the eyes. “She used a script I wrote. She didn’t bother to read the notes. Why the hell should I take the bullet for her incompetence?” “Because she doesn’t know how to write that kind of copy!” Julian’s voice echoed violently off the concrete walls. “You know scriptwriting is her weak spot! Why didn’t you sit down and review it with her before she went up there?” He stepped directly into my personal space, grabbing my wrist again, trying to physically pull me toward the director’s office. “You are going to walk in there right now, tell Vance you are withdrawing your application, and give the spot to Clara.” I almost laughed out loud. “On what grounds?” “Because she needs it ten times more than you do!” Julian glared down at me, speaking as if he were explaining basic math to a toddler. “Do you have any idea how psychotic that stalker is right now? Clara is a female reporter out on the streets every single day. She is terrified for her life. You get to sit in a secure office behind a desk. Why are you trying to steal her only ticket out of the city?” “Julian, please stop.” Clara weakly tugged on his sleeve, then turned to me, forcing a pathetic, trembling smile. “Chloe, please don’t be mad at him. He’s just stressed.” She reached out and tried to loop her arm through mine, exactly like she used to do when we were college freshmen. “It’s fine, it’s totally fine. It was my fault for not prepping enough. I don’t blame you.” “Let’s just go. We can ride in Julian’s car, I’ll drop you off at your place, and you guys can talk this out. No more fighting, okay?” I ripped my arm out of her grip, feeling incredibly disgusted by the stranger standing in front of me. This was the same Clara who used to passionately defend me, screaming at Julian for prioritizing his job over my feelings. I didn’t even acknowledge them. I turned my back and walked straight toward the elevators. A heavy hand slammed against the elevator doors just as they were closing. Julian shoved his way inside. Clara practically dragged me by my coat into the parking garage. “Chloe, stop making a scene. We can talk about this when we get to the car.” But the moment we reached Julian’s sedan, Clara smoothly opened the back door for me, then confidently slid into the passenger seat. Julian glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his brow deeply furrowed, but he kept his mouth shut. Seconds later, both of their phone screens lit up. I watched their thumbs fly across the keyboards, followed by a secretive, knowing glance shared between the front seats. I leaned my head against the cold glass and completely shut them out. The car was speeding down a narrow alleyway toward Clara’s apartment building when a black SUV suddenly aggressively swerved, blocking the entire road. Julian slammed on the brakes. My head violently slammed into the back of Clara’s seat. My vision exploded into a dizzying blur of white stars. A split second later, a massive brick shattered the windshield. “Get out of the car, you parasitic scumbags!” Three large men wielding steel pipes started marching toward the sedan. Julian didn’t hesitate for a microsecond. He kicked his door open, grabbed Clara by the waist, and bolted out of the car. I stumbled out of the backseat, my vision swimming, my legs completely numb. But Julian already had his arm wrapped tightly around Clara, sprinting toward the main street with terrifying speed. He frantically flagged down a passing taxi and shoved Clara into the back seat. “Chloe! Clara is the one on television, they recognize her face! I have to get her out of here!” The taxi door slammed shut. One of the men with a pipe lunged forward and grabbed me violently by the collar of my jacket. “You’re rolling with them, right? Perfect. You’ll do.” I thrashed wildly, kicking and screaming, but my body felt completely hollow. With the absolute last ounce of strength I had, I smashed the emergency SOS button on my phone before the darkness swallowed me whole. My final thought, before I lost consciousness, was sickeningly clear. Of course. No matter what the situation is, I am always the one left behind to die. When I finally opened my eyes, the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room blinded me. Julian was standing at the foot of my bed, looking exhausted and carrying a heavy expression of guilt. Clara was standing next to him, her eyes puffy and red from crying. The second I blinked, Clara rushed to my bedside, her voice choking on dramatic sobs. “Chloe! Thank God you’re awake! We were so terrified!” Julian took a hesitant step forward, his voice completely devoid of its usual arrogance. “I am so sorry, Chloe. Everything happened so fast. That guy recognized Clara from the broadcasts, and I was terrified he was going to kill her, so my instinct was just to…” I turned my head away, staring blankly at the sterile white wall as a single tear slipped into my hairline. “We are done…” Before I could finish my sentence, Julian’s eyes darted to Clara’s forearm. The edge of a white bandage was slightly peeling off. “What happened to your arm? I told you not to move it.” “It’s fine, it just snagged on my coat. Honestly, I’m just terrified that psycho is going to leak our location to the network.” Julian reached out, instinctively and gently pressing the adhesive tape back onto her skin. His tone was casual and intimately protective. “I already called security. You’re completely off field duty for the next week. I’ll write all your scripts…” Lying in that hospital bed, watching their flawless, sickeningly sweet dynamic play out in real time, I suddenly felt incredibly bored. My phone vibrated sharply on the bedside table. It was an automated email from HR. Overseas Correspondent Application: APPROVED. I pushed my weight onto my elbows, sat up, and reached over to rip the IV needle out of my own hand. Julian finally snapped out of his trance, lunging forward to grab my wrist. “What the hell are you doing?” I looked him dead in the eyes and said it loud and clear. “Julian, I am breaking up with you. I refuse to spend another second of my life in the same room as the two of you.” They both froze in shock. Clara’s eyes instantly welled up with fresh tears. “Chloe, please don’t do this. Last night was a horrible, freak accident. Julian didn’t mean to leave you…” The guilt instantly evaporated from Julian’s face, immediately replaced by that familiar, suffocating irritation. “Chloe, can you stop using breaking up as a weapon every time something doesn’t go your way?” Clara frantically grabbed his bicep. “Julian, stop yelling at her. She just woke up, she has a concussion…” Julian violently shook her hand off, staring down at me with profound disappointment. “I know you took a hit yesterday, but I already apologized! How long are you going to drag this childish tantrum out?” He let out a sharp, mocking scoff, grabbed Clara by the shoulder, and stormed out of the hospital room without looking back. Julian never came back to visit me. After I was discharged, I went straight to the network headquarters to pack my belongings for the overseas deployment. As I was walking through the main lobby holding a cardboard box, I nearly collided with Julian. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the box. “What is this? You’re actually quitting over an argument?” “I’m taking a leave of absence. I need a break.” He let out a massive sigh of relief and casually reached out to touch my forehead. “A break is a good idea. You need to reset your mental state. Clara and I are buried in a massive investigative piece right now, but once we wrap it up, I’ll come stay with you for a few days.” He was already speed-walking toward Clara, who had just walked through the revolving doors, and he didn’t even hear my final words. “Don’t bother.” Because I will never need you again, Julian.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “515813”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

At six months old, I cried nonstop. No doctor could explain it. Desperate, my wealthy parents hired a baby whisperer who claimed she could translate infant thoughts. The moment she entered, she diagnosed me: a splinter in my toe. My parents checked—she was right. They trusted her blindly after that. Months later, I refused my mother’s milk. The whisperer told them, “She says you’re not her real mother. She’ll steal your fortune for her real parents and wishes you’d die soon.” Believing her, my parents cast me out and brought home their real daughter. I was sent to a run-down trailer park, where neglect and hunger defined my childhood. At ten, I died from abuse. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day the whisperer first arrived. This time, after they removed the splinter, I screamed even louder. 1 “Ma’am, the baby is crying because of a tiny wooden splinter lodged in her right big toe,” Martha said politely, standing by the nursery doorway. Brian skeptically removed my sock and indeed found the tiny, almost invisible speck of wood. “Amazing. You just stood by the door and glanced from afar,” Eleanor remarked, her voice filled with relief. “And you knew Jenny had a splinter thinner than a strand of hair?” “No wonder she is the most sought-after nanny in elite circles,” Brian said with a small smile. “She actually has real talent.” The ambient noise pulled my consciousness back to reality. I tried to speak, but only a baby’s high-pitched wail came out. I looked at my tiny, chubby hands and feet. I had been reborn. In my past life, my memories began in a desolate backwater town. I had no mother, only a father named Silas, who was a hopeless gambler. Whenever he lost a bet, he beat me. I lived hand-to-mouth, never knowing when my next meal would come. By the age of ten, I was smaller than a healthy six-year-old. When I turned twelve, Silas’s debts piled up so high he sold me to a local loan shark. I fought back when the man tried to touch me, cracked my skull against a table corner, and died in the dark. Only after my death did my infant memories return. I realized I was born into a life of luxury. Because of a clever con artist, I was labeled an ungrateful, fake daughter and discarded. Seeing Martha’s face now filled me with a mixture of terror and rage. But I was too small to fight back or tell my parents the truth. All I could do was cry harder. Brian’s brow furrowed again. He stared sharply at Martha. “I thought you said she was crying because of the splinter? We took it out. Why is she crying even louder now?” I glared at Martha with all the intensity my tiny eyes could muster. If only you could actually hear me, you miserable fraud. I would curse you to hell. In my past life, my spirit had hovered over my biological home after my death. I saw the real daughter grown up. She looked exactly like Martha. My parents eventually grew suspicious, conducted a DNA test, and uncovered the truth. But they were too soft-hearted. Even in their rage, they could not bring themselves to punish the girl they had raised for eighteen years. In the end, that ungrateful girl stole Brian’s company secrets and handed them to his biggest rival. Brian’s empire collapsed, and my parents’ lives became a living hell. Martha’s face flashed with a brief moment of panic. But she recovered instantly. “How strange,” she murmured, looking down at me with mock sympathy. “The young miss is saying she is crying because she despises your touch.” 2 I was so angry I flailed my tiny fists, wanting to strike her. She was already setting up the narrative of the ungrateful child. Eleanor’s face fell, her voice turning cold. “They say you are the best nanny in the city, and I paid a fortune to borrow you from the Vanderbilt family. But this is just nonsense. If you are going to keep driving a wedge between me and my daughter, get out.” Martha did not flinch. She stepped forward and gently picked me up. “I only report what the baby’s soul is whispering, ma’am.” I cried with everything I had to prove her wrong. But as Martha held me, she slyly brought a small cloth near my nose. A sweet, chemical scent filled my lungs, and a heavy drowsiness hit me instantly. Before I blacked out, I saw her lay me back down in the crib. “See? Now that you are not holding her, she has quieted down. If you do not believe me, there is nothing more I can do. I should return to the Vanderbilts; their young master is waiting.” She took three steps toward the door. Brian cleared his throat, stopping her. “Wait. Stay. We will double your salary. Just find out why Jenny is rejecting us.” Eleanor sighed, rubbing her temples. “You are right, Brian. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Maybe she just dislikes our perfume or the scent of our clothes.” No, Dad! Don’t listen to her! Let her leave! I screamed in my head, but darkness consumed me. When I woke up, Martha was officially installed as my full-time nanny. Furious, I spat at her face when she leaned over my crib. Get away from me, you monster! Martha wiped her cheek, a cruel smirk appearing on her face. “Feisty little thing, aren’t you? Enjoy your comfortable days while they last. I won’t hold a grudge against a baby.” She leaned closer, whispering in my ear. “Do you know how hard I worked to secure a golden life for my daughter? Out of all the wealthy families, yours was the only one with a baby born on the exact same day, in the same hospital. It is a bit of a downgrade for my girl to wait, but she will get what is hers eventually.” I wailed, trying to alert my parents. It was my only weapon, but my infant body was too weak. Eleanor walked into the nursery. “What is going on?” Martha secretly pinched my thigh hard, her fingers twisting the skin. “I think the baby sensed you coming, ma’am. She was perfectly calm just a second ago.” I tried to stop crying, but the physical pain was too much. The harder she pinched, the louder I screamed. Eleanor looked at me with a complicated, hurt expression before turning away. As soon as she left, Martha drugged me again. The next day, Martha offered me a bottle of Eleanor’s pumped breast milk. The moment it touched my lips, she pinched me again. “The young miss says she finds your scent disgusting, ma’am,” Martha lied, looking regretful. Because I had always struggled with feeding, Eleanor believed her. Then Martha offered a formula she had bought. I clamped my jaws shut, but Martha used the drug again. In my semi-conscious state, she forced the bottle down my throat. “See, ma’am? She has no problem with formula.” This happened repeatedly until my parents trusted her completely. Eleanor grew more anxious by the day. One evening, she asked Brian, “Why does our baby hate us so much?” Brian looked at Martha. “Has she said anything else? Is it our clothes? Our scent?” Martha knew her moment had come. She dropped to her knees, looking terrified. “Actually, the young miss has said some things. I didn’t dare repeat them because they were so shocking. But she has repeated them so many times, I am certain of what she is saying.” At Brian’s nod, she continued. “She says she hates your touch because you are not her real parents. She says when she grows up, she will take your wealth to honor her real family. And she wishes you would both die soon so she can inherit everything.” 3 In my past life, those words became a thorn in my parents’ hearts. Even after finding their real daughter, they initially wanted to keep me. But Martha’s relentless psychological dripping wore them down. Later, she framed me for hurting the real daughter, and they finally sent me away. Now, I watched my parents anxiously. Brian’s expression was unreadable. Eleanor was furious. “This is ridiculous! She is six months old! Even if she weren’t ours, how could an infant say such things?” Martha remained calm and solemn. “Every soul has a script they read before reincarnating. God makes babies mute for the first year because it takes that long for the veil of forgetfulness to fully set in.” My parents did not fully believe it, but the seed of doubt was planted. Over the next few weeks, Martha kept reporting my thoughts. Most were trivial things, like which toys I liked or which clothes I preferred. But she masterfully slipped in poison. “The young miss says your real daughter is starving in a filthy backwater town.” “She says her real father is a man named Silas, a proud, strong man.” “She seems happy today. She says your real daughter is about to be beaten to death by her gambling father, and then no one will compete with her.” My parents looked at me with growing distress. Martha kept me isolated. Whenever they tried to get close, she found a way to make me cry. Slowly, Eleanor broke. “Brian, what if it is true? Let’s just run an investigation. We have nothing to lose. But if our real daughter is out there…” Brian agreed and sent his assistant to investigate. Very quickly, they tracked down a baby girl of my exact age living with a gambler named Silas in a rural trailer park. The moment they brought the real daughter back, they ran a DNA test. The results came back that afternoon; she was a perfect match. 4 The moment the results were revealed, Eleanor wept, clutching the baby girl, whom they named Daisy. “My poor baby, you have suffered so much.” I lay in my crib nearby. Eleanor did not even look at me. Brian, being cautious, ordered an investigation into how the swap happened. The assistant quickly reported back that a negligent nurse at the hospital had mixed up the bassinet tags. With that, Brian’s doubts vanished. He held Eleanor and Daisy close. “We are whole now.” Martha stood behind them, barely concealing her triumphant smirk. She had successfully secured a life of infinite wealth for her daughter. I cried, terrified. Was history repeating itself? My crying drew my parents’ attention. “Jenny has been with us for months,” Eleanor said softly, looking conflicted. “We aren’t strapped for cash. We can afford to raise her too. Let’s keep her.” Martha chimed in immediately. “Have you forgotten what she said? She is a danger to this house!” Brian sighed. “If what you say is true, the forgetfulness will kick in soon. She is just a baby. We will raise her right.” Martha paled. She knew that as long as I stayed, my physical resemblance to my parents would eventually expose the truth. Over the next few days, I did everything I could to crawl away whenever Daisy was near, depriving Martha of any opportunity to frame me. Frustrated, Martha finally lost her patience. One afternoon, while Eleanor was in her room and Brian was in his study, Martha grabbed my hand and tried to force my fingernails into Daisy’s skin. I clenched my fists tight, refusing to scratch her. Seeing that Daisy wasn’t crying, Martha grew desperate. She grabbed my hand, squeezed my fingers, and used her own sharp nail to slice a deep gash into Daisy’s arm. Daisy screamed in pain. Martha wailed at the top of her lungs. “Brian! Eleanor! Help!” My parents rushed into the nursery. Martha was kneeling, cradling a crying Daisy. “I walked in and saw Jenny clawing at Daisy! She looked so vicious, not like a baby at all! She was screaming in her mind that she wanted to kill Daisy so she could keep her place as the sole heiress!” Eleanor whispered, “Is she truly born evil?” I flailed desperately. No! That is not what happened! This was my last chance. If I was sent away now, I would die. Brian closed his eyes and sighed. “Send her away.” Martha beamed, reaching down to grab me. And then, I summoned every ounce of infant strength I had, and threw myself over the edge of the crib. The corner of the wooden rail snagged my romper, tearing it wide open. Revealing a torso covered in dark, purple bruises.

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1 Freshman year, my mom lost everything to a scammer and swallowed a lethal dose of painkillers. At the hospital, facing a $50,000 deposit just to pump her stomach, I emptied my pockets and found only $22 in crumpled bills and coins. As I sank to my knees to beg the nurses, Rick grabbed my arm and pulled me upright. He was the golden boy of our class, always sitting in front of me during lectures. Without hesitation, he pressed his heavy, solid gold heirloom bangles into my palm. “Pawn these. Use the cash to save her,” he said firmly. “A girl should never have to trade her dignity for money. Stand up straight.” I told him I would probably never be able to repay such a debt. He simply looked at me and replied, “I didn’t ask for repayment. Just survive this. Make something of yourself.” My mother survived the overdose. I pushed through graduation, clawed my way up the corporate ladder, and weathered the brutal storms of the tech industry. After college, Rick completely vanished, and I lost all contact with him. Seven years passed. On the very day my tech empire went public on the Nasdaq, pushing my net worth into the billions, Rick’s face suddenly appeared on my social feed. The post was from Luv, the same partner who had scammed my mother all those years ago. The photo showed Rick’s side profile. He was holding a glass of cheap liquor, forced into a humiliated, apologetic smile. The caption read, “The high and mighty golden boy, swallowing his pride and pouring my drinks just to beg for a hundred grand in medical bills. How the mighty have fallen.” I slowly locked my phone screen. Walking over to the hidden safe in my office, I unlocked the deepest compartment. Inside lay those two solid gold bangles, which I had tracked down and repurchased at an astronomical price years ago. Seven years ago, he saved my life. Tonight, it was my turn to have his back. A deafening crash echoed through the room as my boot splintered the heavy oak doors of The Apex Club’s VIP lounge. Inside, a dozen scantily clad bottle boys screamed and scrambled into the corners. Sprawled right in the center of the genuine leather sofa was Luv. The architect of my mother’s misery. “What kind of suicidal idiot crashes Luv’s private party?” The voice didn’t belong to Luv. It came from Lexi, our old class president, a girl who had always kissed up to the rich and trampled on the poor. Lexi cursed under her breath and stood up. She squinted through the neon club lighting, her eyes locking onto my face. A second later, she threw her head back and burst into exaggerated, mocking laughter. “Well, look who it is! If it isn’t Freya, the little stray dog from college who couldn’t even afford cafeteria food!” Lexi sneered, crossing her arms. “What’s the matter? Heard your pathetic mother didn’t quite finish the job, so you came here to beg for scraps?” I didn’t even look at her. My eyes swept the dim, alcohol-soaked room. I didn’t see the face I was looking for. “Where is Rick?” I asked, my voice dropping to a freezing whisper. Hearing that name only made Lexi’s smile wider and infinitely more vulgar. “Aw, still pining after our fallen prince? Too bad you’re late.” She pointed a manicured finger at three empty bottles of high-proof whiskey on the table. “He wanted Luv to loan him a hundred grand to save his crippled mother. Luv made him chug three bottles straight. He just stumbled out of here, puking up his own bile.” Lexi tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with malice. “If you want to book him for the night, Freya, get in line. But hey, since you used to have a crush on him, maybe Luv will give you a discount once she’s done breaking him in?” The entire VIP room erupted into cruel, roaring laughter. My heart seized in my chest. A violent, suffocating rage spiked straight to my brain. I remembered the winter of my freshman year. The city was buried under a brutal blizzard. To pay off the debt from my mother’s hospital bills, I was working three minimum-wage jobs. One night, while delivering food in the snow, my bike was robbed. I lost my last dime covering the stolen orders. I was sitting on a frozen curb, my stomach cramping so hard from hunger I couldn’t breathe. That was the night Rick found me. He didn’t hand me cash out of pity. Instead, he shoved two steaming containers of hot food into my freezing hands, his cheeks flushed from the cold as he feigned annoyance. “Ordered too much. It’s going in the trash anyway. Do me a favor and get rid of it.” I kept my head down, swallowing the hot food as fast as I could while tears mixed with the broth. His voice was so gentle that night. “You need a full stomach if you’re going to keep fighting. Stop looking so miserable. If the sky falls, the tall guys will hold it up for you.” That boy. The boy who stood in the freezing snow, carefully protecting the fragile dignity of a dirt-poor girl. The boy who gave me my only shred of warmth when I was at the absolute bottom. And now, these absolute pieces of trash were treating him like a disposable toy. “Who did you say gets a discount?” I asked, taking a slow step toward Lexi. “What? Did I strike a nerve?” Lexi shoved her finger aggressively into my face. “You broke little bitch, who do you think you are…” She never finished her sentence. From behind me, Marcus, my head of security, moved like a shadow. A vicious roundhouse kick connected squarely with Lexi’s ribs. She shrieked as the sheer force launched her backward. She crashed violently into the glass coffee table, shattering the surface into a thousand pieces. Marcus walked over with a face carved from stone. He grabbed a handful of her hair, yanked her head back, and delivered a brutal backhand that sent a spray of blood and broken teeth onto the expensive rug. A piercing scream tore through the room. Dead silence fell over the club. The bottle boys were weeping, pressing themselves into the walls. Even Luv, who had been sitting like a queen just moments ago, drained of all color, her alcohol buzz vanishing instantly. I walked over to Lexi, looking down at her writhing body. “I will ask this exactly one more time. Where is Rick?” Blood bubbled from Lexi’s lips. She sobbed in sheer terror, pointing a trembling finger at Luv. “It was Luv… She said his puking ruined the mood. She kicked him out… sent him to the Southside dive bars… forced him to work as a promo boy for cheap beer…” The Southside dive bars. The absolute worst, most dangerous underbelly of the city. Throwing a desperately broke, undeniably handsome man into a place like that to sell drinks was no different than tossing fresh meat into a wolf pack. My nails dug so hard into my palms they almost drew blood. “Marcus,” I said, my voice ragged. “Yes, boss.” “Activate every contact we have in this city. I want his exact coordinates in five minutes.” I didn’t take my eyes off Luv. “If he is missing a single hair on his head, I will have every breathing soul in this room dumped into the river.” Five minutes later, a convoy of three black SUVs screeched to a halt outside a neon-lit strip of Southside dive bars. I rolled down the tinted window. I spotted him immediately. He was wearing a paper-thin, ridiculous promotional t-shirt. His lips were blue from the freezing rain, and he was surrounded by a circle of tattooed thugs. Standing in the center of the mob was Derek. Lexi’s current boyfriend, and the guy who spent all four years of college burning with jealousy over Rick. Derek smirked, kicking a full crate of glass beer bottles off the table. They shattered instantly. Alcohol, rain, mud, and jagged glass flooded the pavement. “Hey, golden boy, didn’t you say you needed to hit your sales quota tonight?” Derek laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Get on your knees. Pick up every single piece of broken glass out of this puddle. Do that, and I’ll buy ten crates from you.” The thugs around him howled with laughter. “Kneel, pretty boy! You used to be so untouchable, right?” one of them jeered. “Remember when my girls tried to ask you out and you didn’t even look at them? Bet you never thought a few hundred bucks could buy you for the whole night now!” Rick bit his lower lip so hard it bled. His face was deathly pale. Derek leaned in close, dropping his voice. “Feel insulted? Don’t want to get your knees dirty? Fine. Walk away. But your crippled mother is getting thrown out of the ICU tonight.” Rick didn’t argue. He didn’t say a word. He simply lowered his head, and slowly bent the knees that used to be so full of pride. He knelt in the freezing mud. He reached his raw, red hands into the filthy water, picking up the jagged shards of glass one by one. Drops of blood instantly bloomed from his fingertips. The blood roaring in my ears was deafening. I wanted to step out of this car and tear every single one of them apart with my bare hands. But not yet. I needed to wait for the exact right moment to end this permanently. One of the thugs stepped forward, tipping a half-empty glass of stale beer directly over Rick’s head. “Wash your brain, pretty boy. Move faster!” Rick violently shivered as the freezing alcohol ran down his hair and into his eyes. He wiped his face blindly with the back of his arm and kept reaching for the glass. A sudden, sharp gasp escaped his lips. Derek had just stomped his heavy combat boot directly onto the back of Rick’s hand, driving the broken glass deep into his flesh. “Oh, my bad. Didn’t see you there,” Derek sneered, twisting his heel into the wound for good measure. Rick shook uncontrollably from the agony. But he didn’t pull his hand away. He slowly looked up, his eyes bloodshot, staring dead into Derek’s face. “It’s clean,” Rick whispered. “Ten crates. Your commission is three hundred bucks. Pay up.” Derek covered his mouth, laughing hysterically. “Three hundred bucks? Do I look like a charity?” He pulled three crumpled hundred-dollar bills from his pocket and threw them violently into Rick’s beer-soaked face. “Take it and get lost. Looking at your pathetic face makes me sick.” Rick stayed silent. He painstakingly picked the muddy bills out of the puddle, clutching them in his bleeding fist like they were his only lifeline. My chest caved in. Sophomore year, I was working in the campus cafeteria. Lexi lost five thousand dollars of the student council budget and blamed it on me. The entire class called me a thief. The dean was preparing my expulsion papers. It was Rick who kicked open the dean’s office door. He slammed a USB drive with cafeteria security footage and a police report onto the desk. “The footage proves she was in the back kitchen washing dishes! Whoever keeps spreading rumors without evidence, I’ll sue them for defamation and drag them out of this school myself!” That boy. The one who shielded me from the world, who was willing to make enemies of everyone just to clear my name. Now, he was kneeling in the dirt, letting absolute filth step on his bleeding hands for three hundred dollars. In the driver’s seat, Marcus reached for the door handle, a steel baton already gripped in his hand. “I’m going to flatten them.” “Wait,” I commanded, my eyes locked on the window. “Pulling him out of there is easy. But it doesn’t fix the root of this,” my voice dropped to an icy temperature. “Look into it. Find out exactly how he ended up selling drinks in a gutter. Find out how Luv backed him into this corner.” “Tonight, we pull this entire weed up by the roots.” The car was dead silent. A minute later, Marcus passed a tablet to the back seat. “Boss. We have the whole picture.” I took the tablet. Just one glance was enough to make the veins in my temples throb with pure, unadulterated fury. Three years ago, Luv orchestrated a massive corporate trap that bankrupt the Su family’s construction firm. The shock caused Rick’s father to suffer a massive stroke, paralyzing him and leaving the family drowning in ten million dollars of debt. Luv seized their family home. Then, she blacklisted Rick. She put out the word across the entire city: anyone who hired Rick was making an enemy of her. She systematically cut off every single path to survival he had. She wanted to drag this proud, untouchable man through the mud until he was so desperate he had no choice but to crawl into her bed. Right at that moment, the harsh ringing of a cheap, cracked cell phone pierced the cold air outside. Rick pulled the phone from his pocket with a trembling, bloody hand. The speaker was so damaged that the voice on the other end crackled loudly through the alleyway. “Mr. Su, are you paying the hundred thousand for your mother’s bypass surgery or not?” The hospital billing department sounded completely apathetic. “If the funds aren’t in the account by midnight, we have to pull her off the machines and discharge her.” Rick clutched the three bloody hundred-dollar bills, his voice breaking entirely. “Please, doctor, please just give me one more day. I’m getting the money, I swear…” The line went dead. Rick stood alone in the freezing rain. He buried his face in his bleeding hands, his thin shoulders shaking violently as he finally broke down. I stared at the last page of the dossier on my tablet. My eyes froze. It was a bank transfer receipt from seven years ago. Back when my first startup was on the verge of total collapse, when I was completely out of options, I mysteriously received a hundred-thousand-dollar “anonymous alumni grant.” I built my entire empire off that money. “Boss,” Marcus said, his voice unusually heavy. “Seven years ago, Rick dropped out of his Master’s program. He took his grandmother’s historic estate—the only thing she left him—and mortgaged it at a massive loss just to get you that hundred grand.” “He nearly tore his own family apart to do it.” A high-pitched ringing echoed in my skull. It felt like a giant, invisible hand had just crushed my heart. Even breathing tasted like blood. I took his hundred grand, brought my company back from the dead, and built a billion-dollar empire. And he hid in the shadows, paying the ultimate price for my success. Even now, while I sat at the top of the world, the man who put me there was picking up shattered glass from a gutter just to buy his mother one more day of life. Marcus checked his earpiece and turned back to me. “Boss. Our eyes on the ground say Luv left the club ten minutes ago. She’s headed to the City Hospital. She drafted an ‘exclusive companionship agreement’ and is going to force him to sign it outside the ICU.” I slowly lifted my head. The killing intent in my eyes was finally boiling over. Good. Perfect timing, Luv. “Drive. Get to the hospital,” I ordered, my tone dripping with venom. “Contact Vanguard Capital. Liquidate our reserve funds. I want a total, scorched-earth financial assault on every single asset Luv owns. Tell the legal team to meet me in the hospital lobby with the acquisition papers.” Marcus gripped the steering wheel and slammed on the gas. I watched the blurry city lights fly by, my thumb gently tracing the gold bangles in my pocket. “She scammed my mother to the brink of death.” “She forced Rick into the mud.” “Tonight, I’m cashing out every single debt she owes.” Outside the ICU at the City Hospital, Rick stood shivering, his knuckles white as he gripped the final eviction notice. The heavy doors swung open. The head surgeon walked out, holding a clipboard, his expression stern. “Rick, where is the hundred thousand? If that balance isn’t cleared by midnight, we have to pull the plug. We need the bed.” Rick’s eyes were completely bloodshot. Without a word of hesitation, he dropped straight to his knees on the sterile tile floor. “Doctor, please. I’m begging you. I’m getting the money. Tomorrow morning, I swear! Please don’t take her off life support!” The doctor sighed, shook his head, and turned back into the ward. From the end of the hallway, a slow, mocking applause echoed against the walls. Luv strolled down the corridor, puffing on a thin cigar, taking her sweet time. “Bravo! What a devoted, tragic little son.” Behind her trailed Lexi, holding a bloody tissue to her broken mouth, her eyes full of sick vindication. “Tsk, tsk. Look at the untouchable prince now, begging on his knees like a stray dog,” Lexi mumbled through her swollen lips. “If you hadn’t played so hard to get back then and just slept with Luv, you wouldn’t be crying on the floor.” Luv stopped right in front of Rick, staring down at him like he was dirt. Smack. Ten thick, freshly wrapped stacks of hundred-dollar bills hit Rick square in the face. The cash scattered across the floor, soaking up the filthy rainwater dripping from his clothes. Next, Luv tossed a glossy hotel keycard and a legal contract into the pile of money. “I’m out of patience, Rick.” Luv blew a cloud of smoke into his face, using the pointed toe of her designer heel to tap the contract. “Sign the companionship agreement. Take the keycard. Go up to the penthouse, wash that filth off your body, and wait for me in bed.” “Pick up this hundred grand from the floor, one bill at a time, and you can buy your dying mother a few more days.” Rick slowly lifted his head. Tears of absolute humiliation spilled over his eyelashes. “You stole my family’s company. You caused my father’s stroke. Aren’t you afraid of karma, Luv?” “Karma?” Luv threw her head back and laughed frantically. She leaned down, grabbed a handful of Rick’s wet hair, and yanked his face close to hers. “In this city, I am karma!” “You think you’re still some precious golden boy? You’re cheaper than a street escort right now! Me spending a hundred grand to screw you is charity!” Lexi chimed in from the side. “Exactly! Just sign the damn paper! Your mom is about to flatline in there! You really think your precious pride is worth more than her life?” The hallway fell dead silent. Rick turned his head, looking through the ICU window at his mother, hooked up to a dozen breathing tubes. The heart monitor beeped so faintly it sounded like it was already fading. He had no way out. He closed his eyes. Silent tears hit the floor. To save her, he swallowed every last ounce of his pride, completely breaking the spine he had kept straight for so long. Kneeling on the tiles, he reached out a trembling, bloody hand toward the dirty money and the escort contract. Right as his fingertips brushed the paper. A warm, firm hand reached out from the air and clamped down on his wrist like a vise. Rick violently flinched, his head snapping around in sheer disbelief. I stared down at him. I looked at his hollowed-out cheeks, and the endless, crushing despair swimming in his eyes. The fire in my chest burned through the last thread of my sanity. I forcefully pulled him up and shoved him safely behind me. I raised my chin, my eyes locking onto Luv like the barrel of a loaded gun. “The hundred grand.” “I’m paying it.”

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1 On our wedding night, Hudson literally put a lock on his boxer briefs. A titanium combination lock. Waterproof, fireproof, and apparently, wife-proof. Just as I grabbed a heavy glass bottle, fully prepared to smash it and take what was legally mine, rows of glowing text suddenly drifted across my vision. [LMAO. The CEO would rather wear a padlock than touch his ex-wife. Bro’s commitment to purity is insane.] [Just wait until he meets the actual female lead. The ice king literally catches fire for her. Their office hookups are legendary.] [I kinda feel bad for the ex-wife though. Simping for him for six years, and she gets kicked to the curb without even holding his hand.] [Who cares? Everything the male lead owns belongs to our girl. He hands over his black cards, his shares. The ex-wife is just a walking ATM to fund their romance.] I stared at the floating comments, letting out a cold, bitter laugh. Why the hell should I bleed myself dry, offering up my money and my youth, just to end up with nothing and pave the way for some supposed “female lead”? Without a second thought, I crushed up ten of those highly questionable “Midnight Stallion” herbal energy boosters I bought at the gas station and dumped them straight into Hudson’s hangover smoothie. Guarding your purity, huh? Locking it up, right? Tonight, he was either breaking his vow of chastity, or I was making myself a widow! Either way, I wasn’t leaving him untouched for his next girl. I kicked open the heavy oak door to Hudson’s home office. Before he even had time to process what was happening, I grabbed his jaw and forced the spiked smoothie down his throat. The thick liquid spilled over his jawline, soaking into his charcoal dress shirt, perfectly highlighting the hard, sculpted lines of his chest. I swallowed hard. My craving for a piece of that meat only grew stronger. Hudson shoved me away violently, wiping his wet mouth, his eyes wide with absolute shock. “Faye, what the hell did you just make me drink?” I tossed the empty glass aside, straddled his lap, and looked him dead in the eye. “Ten maximum-strength herbal vitality boosters!” Hudson’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. I grabbed his silk tie and crashed my mouth against his. Six years of a crushing, one-sided secret love. One year of a paper marriage. And this was the very first time I actually tasted my own husband. His lips were softer than I imagined. My hands weren’t idle either. I had just managed to pop open the first two buttons of his shirt when he suddenly snapped out of his shock, grabbing my waist and flipping me backward onto his mahogany desk. “Faye, are you out of your damn mind?! Who gave you the nerve?!” “Don’t forget the terms we agreed on when we signed the papers! This is a corporate merger! No feelings involved!” Right. His company was bleeding cash, and my family provided a three-million-dollar bridge loan to save him, buying this marriage certificate in the process. But the glowing comments floating in the air said I was destined to be thrown out penniless, acting as nothing but a stepping stone for the real female lead. Like hell I would let that happen. I ripped my own collar open a few inches, leaning into the crazy. “We’re already married! Even if the fruit is bitter, I am taking a bite out of it tonight.” Maybe he had never seen me act so unhinged. Hudson froze for a second, then reached out to press the back of his hand against my forehead. “What is wrong with you? Are you sick?” Always like this. Usually, he was as cold as a glacier, but the second I acted slightly off, he pretended to care more than anyone else in the world. My nose stung. I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his chest. “Hudson, just kiss me. Please… If you kiss me, I won’t feel so sick anymore.” The man in my arms went completely rigid. I could feel his body physically reacting to me. Just when I thought I had finally won, he gripped my waist hard, lifted me off the desk, and quickly straightened his ruined shirt. “Faye. We are business partners.” “I don’t have feelings for you. I will never touch you.” “Give it up. Just sit quietly and play the role of Mrs. CEO.” Maybe he realized how brutal those words sounded, because he paused and added, “I’ll have my assistant wire you a million dollars tomorrow. Consider it compensation.” With that, he stormed into the attached bathroom and locked the door behind him. The sound of freezing cold water hitting the tiles mixed with his heavy, ragged breathing. I sat on the edge of the desk, my entire body turning to ice. The glowing comments flooded my vision again. [LMAO. Hudson would rather take an ice bath than touch the ex-wife. His loyalty is unmatched.] [Does she actually think she’s something special? Forcing a kiss on him? The delusion is real.] [Honestly, it’s a little sad. Legally married and he refuses to even look at her.] [Sad? He gave her a million bucks! But knowing this chick, she’ll probably wire it right back to him tomorrow to prove her ‘love’.] [Exactly. His money is destined for our girl Lily. His body too.] [Ugh, if I were the ex-wife, if I couldn’t get the guy, I’d at least keep the damn cash.] I pulled my knees to my chest and cried for the entire night. The comments were right. I was putting on this fake, noble act, playing the ultimate romantic martyr. Hudson literally offered me money, and I usually refused it. If I hadn’t seen those floating words, I really would have walked out of the divorce with absolutely nothing but the clothes on my back. By the time the sun came up, I finally figured it out. If Hudson didn’t want me, fine. I would quietly hoard the cash. As soon as his precious female lead showed up, I would take my money and disappear. Mind made up, I crawled back into the master bedroom to catch up on my sleep. When Hudson woke up that morning and didn’t see me in the kitchen, he actually froze for a second. He pushed open the bedroom door, saw the lump of blankets in the middle of the bed, and the tight line of his jaw finally relaxed. When he arrived at the corporate headquarters, he sat down for his morning briefing, hesitated for a moment, and pressed the intercom for his assistant. “This is my wife’s routing number. Wire three million to her account. Pull it directly from my personal funds.” I slept like the absolute dead. From the day I married Hudson, I spent every waking moment walking on eggshells, desperately trying to please him. Today was the first time I actually slept peacefully. When I woke up, it was already past two in the afternoon. Which meant I hadn’t made him breakfast. I hadn’t delivered his perfectly portioned lunch to the office either. Not that he cared. I unlocked my phone. For the first time in forever, there was an unprompted text from Hudson. [Let’s forget about last night.] [I wired you some money. Go buy something you like.] I checked my banking app. Exactly three million dollars. God bless the CEO. My savings account just hit seven figures. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. If I had just focused on the money from the start, I probably would have achieved financial freedom years ago. I washed my face and decided to go for a walk downtown. Somehow, I ended up outside the coffee shop right beneath his corporate tower. Through the massive glass windows, I saw a girl in a flowing white sundress holding a stack of brochures, handing them out to pedestrians under the blazing Texas sun. The comments exploded instantly. [Ahhhhh it’s our girl Lily! She is so hardworking, doing charity legal outreach in this heat!] [Wait, I remember this! She has terrible cramps today. The male lead is going to bump into her and carry her straight up to his penthouse office!] Is that right? So this was the girl who eventually turned the cold, calculating Hudson into a lovesick fool. She was… undeniably prettier than me. Her skin caught the sunlight like porcelain, flushed a delicate pink from the heat. The oversized white dress did nothing to hide the perfect curves of her figure. But she looked genuinely pale and sick. The cramps were clearly tearing her apart. Right at that moment, the glass doors of the headquarters slid open, and Hudson took a long stride out of the lobby. Lily swayed on her feet and collapsed directly into his chest. My vision was instantly blinded by comments screaming “OMG,” “SO SWEET,” and “I’M DYING.” Hudson reacted exactly the way the comments predicted. He looked down at her face and froze. For the very first time in his life, he didn’t shove a stranger away. Instead, he hesitated for half a second, bent down, scooped her up into his arms, and turned right back into the building. I didn’t watch the rest. I just closed my eyes. I didn’t need to see it to know how it ends. The leads meet, they become magnetically drawn to each other, and they fall into a chaotic, earth-shattering romance. And me? The unloved background character? My screen time was over. Some things in life just can’t be achieved through hard work. My nose stung. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. I walked into the luxury mall next door in a complete daze. Spotting a high-end salon, I walked right in. The stylist smiled at me in the mirror. “What kind of look are we going for today, miss?” I pointed at the top of my head. “Dye the whole thing green.” He blinked. “That color… is a bold choice. Are you sure?” “It’s fine. It fits the mood.” The stylist looked at me with deep, sudden pity. I used to think Hudson liked elegant, preppy women, so I spent hours torturing myself into pastel cardigans and sleek blowouts. In the end, he never even glanced my way. I knew I wasn’t classically beautiful. I had a round face, a little bit of baby fat, and I always felt a little awkward in my own skin. When the bleach was washed out and my hair was a deep, vibrant forest green, the stylist actually smiled. “Hey, I have to admit, you rock this color. You look like a gorgeous forest witch.” My smile probably looked worse than crying. “Really? Maybe… maybe this is who I actually am.” I wasn’t like Lily, who could just stand there and radiate this delicate, heartbreaking fragility. I went to the boutiques next door and bought an armful of ridiculously comfortable, baggy streetwear. When the cashier asked what I wanted to do with the expensive pastel dress I wore in, I didn’t hesitate. “Throw it in the trash.” I had only bought it guessing at Hudson’s preferences anyway. He didn’t like it, and I hated it. No point keeping it. When I got home, I purged my closet. Half my clothes went into donation bags, the rest straight into the dumpster. By six in the evening, Hudson walked through the front door. He looked genuinely surprised when he saw me dragging heavy trash bags toward the door. “What are you doing? It’s late. And I thought you loved that skirt.” I kept my head down. “I don’t like it anymore, so I’m throwing it out.” “And your hair…” “It fits the mood.” “…” He didn’t push it. He walked further inside and noticed the dining table was completely empty. “Did you…” I finally remembered I hadn’t cooked a single thing. “Sorry. I was tired today. I can order some takeout for you?” Hudson’s gaze lingered heavily on me. “Don’t bother. I’m not hungry.” He turned and walked toward the guest bedroom. As he brushed past me, a faint, sweet scent drifted off his suit jacket. Gardenias. It was Lily’s perfume. Hot water beat down from the showerhead. Hudson leaned against the wet tile wall, his mind completely hijacked by the memory of Faye straddling his lap the night before. He admitted it to himself—he definitely reacted. Those ridiculous herbal pills weren’t entirely useless. But what actually frustrated him was the fact that he kept replaying the taste of her kiss in his head. It felt shameful, yet incredibly addicting. He scrubbed his face with body wash, his ears straining to hear any movement outside the door. But thirty minutes passed, and Faye never burst in. He pressed his tongue hard against the inside of his cheek, feeling like he was losing his mind. Why was he hoping she would barge in and kiss him again? He didn’t even like her. He rinsed off the soap, threw on a bathrobe, and walked out. He told himself he was just thirsty. He just needed a glass of water from the kitchen. But when he reached the living room, the lights were entirely off. Faye was already asleep in the master bedroom. A heavy, uncomfortable feeling settled in Hudson’s chest as he turned and walked back to his empty room. That night, he dreamed of his home office. He dreamed of Faye sitting on his lap, only this time, he didn’t push her away… The next morning, I woke up to find breakfast already set on the table. Hudson had actually cooked. He saw me, giving a stiff, unnatural smile. “You’re awake? I noticed you drank a bit the other night, so I made you some soothing ginger chicken broth.” I gave a quiet “Hmm.” I was just starting to feel a little touched, until the glowing text ruined it. [Holy shit, what is happening? The CEO cooking for the ex-wife?!] [Relax. He heard our girl Lily has a weak stomach, so he’s trying to perfect this ginger broth recipe. He’s just using the ex-wife as a taste tester.] [You gotta admit, the ex looks like she’s about to cry. She probably thinks he actually likes her now.] [So shameless. Look at her face. She has zero self-awareness, always throwing herself at him.] The more I read, the colder my blood ran. I finished the broth in absolute silence. Hudson ate his toast, watching me out of the corner of his eye. “Is it good?” I nodded slowly. “It’s good.” When you make it for Lily later, she’ll probably love it. I carried my bowl into the kitchen, completely ignoring the heavy gaze Hudson kept locked on my back. When he was putting on his shoes to leave for work, he suddenly leaned down, aiming to kiss my cheek. I jumped back like I had been burned. “What?” he asked, his brow furrowing. “Nothing,” he coughed, trying to hide his awkwardness. “Just… we are married. It’s standard procedure.” I forced a bitter smile and waved him off. “No, you don’t need to do that. You don’t ever have to do that again.” You don’t have to force yourself to accept me. Go do what you actually want to do. I looked at Hudson’s flawless face, silently drawing a hard line through this relationship in my heart. Hudson left for the office with a dark, stormy expression. I figured since the female lead had officially entered the chat, our marriage was probably on a countdown. Once this was over, I would be completely alone. I didn’t know what my next move was. Needing someone to talk to, I took an Uber to my mother’s new house. She was sitting on the porch, rocking her toddler son in the sun. When she saw me, irritation flashed in her eyes. “Why are you here?” I swallowed awkwardly. “Nothing, I just wanted to see you. Mom, there’s something I need to talk to you about…” Right then, my little half-brother tripped and fell. My mom frantically rushed over to scoop him up. “Whatever it is, text it to me. Your stepdad is coming home soon, and you know he doesn’t like having you around. You need to leave.” I slowly backed away and tried calling my dad’s number. He picked up, the sound of crashing ocean waves and a younger woman laughing in the background. “I’m on vacation in Cabo. If no one is dying, don’t call me.” “Dad, I just need to ask you something…” “Ask your mother! Stop coming to me every time you want a handout! You’re not my only kid anymore!” Click. The line went dead. I stood at the corner of a busy intersection, my mind completely blank. Right on cue, the floating text popped up with a new update. [OMG OMG! Lily brought the ginger broth to Hudson’s office! They ate together and had the sweetest lunch date!] [It’s so cute! When is the ex-wife getting written out? I want to see the CEO catch fire for love!] [Soon! According to the timeline, he proposes to Lily in exactly two months. He definitely has to take out the trash before then.] I wanted to cry, but I was just so unbelievably exhausted. Even as a side character, shouldn’t I get at least a tiny bit of happiness? Forget it. Ever since my parents divorced and threw me away like garbage, I was used to the fact that good things just weren’t meant for me. I crouched on the sidewalk, let a few tears fall, and stood up to leave. Just then, a sleek black Mercedes pulled over to the curb beside me. The tinted window rolled down, revealing a handsome, gentle face. “Faye? What are you doing out here?” I blinked, recognizing him instantly. “Sebastian? Sebastian Qu?” Sebastian smiled and nodded. “Just got out of the medical lab. I thought I recognized you. Is everything okay?” He was Hudson’s college roommate and original business partner. They had a falling out over corporate ethics, and Sebastian left to build his own insanely successful med-tech firm. Other than a quick hello at my wedding, we had barely spoken. I didn’t expect him to actually remember me, let alone step out of his car to hand me a pack of tissues. I felt my face heat up. “Thank you…” Sebastian offered a soft, understanding smile. “What happened? Crying on the street like this… did Hudson do something to you?” The Feed immediately started screaming. [Oh snap, it’s Sebastian! The tech billionaire! Good looks, infinite money, and an actual moral compass!] [I heard this dude is chronically single. Only cares about his research. His record is squeaky clean.] [Honestly, the ex-wife just has terrible taste. If she had gone after Sebastian instead, she’d be set for life and never have to worry about him cheating.] [LMAO so true. Sebastian loves his spreadsheets, not women. Marrying a guy like that would be so low-maintenance.] Sebastian… low-maintenance? Would that really work? I genuinely thought about it for a second before laughing at my own stupidity. How many times did I need to get my heart smashed before I stopped dreaming about these ridiculous fairy tales? That night, back at the empty house, I couldn’t stop thinking about the two-month countdown to Hudson’s proposal to Lily. If the timeline was right, we would be filing for divorce very soon. I needed to start packing. I was in the middle of emptying a drawer when I heard the front door click open. I walked out to the living room. Hudson was back. And standing right behind him, wearing a soft pink cardigan, was Lily. This was my first time seeing the supposed “female lead” up close. She really was stunning. Thanks to Hudson taking care of her lately, she had a healthy glow, light makeup, and smelled like expensive floral perfume. She looked at me without an ounce of guilt. “Hello, sister.” Me: … Before I could even process the audacity, she kept going. “I’m just here to help Mr. Hudson pack his luggage for his business trip. Please don’t misunderstand.” Oh, I wasn’t misunderstanding anything. Soon enough, this whole house would be yours. I gave a deeply forced, polite smile and looked at Hudson, who was drinking a glass of water. He met my eyes. “Pack a few suits for me. I’m flying to Austin for a project the day after tomorrow.” I nodded, about to stand up. Then I saw the comments calling me a nosy, meddling bitch, and I sat right back down. I looked at Lily with a warm, welcoming smile. “Hudson’s bedroom is on the second floor, first door on the left. You go ahead and pack for him.” “You’re his assistant, after all. You know exactly what dress code he needs for his meetings.” A flash of genuine shock and excitement crossed Lily’s face. She quickly suppressed it, lowering her voice to sound hesitant. “Are you sure that’s appropriate?” “It’s just clothes. Go ahead.” The second her footsteps disappeared up the stairs, Hudson slammed his glass onto the counter. He crossed the room, his face dark like a thundercloud. “Faye.” “Yeah?” “Why the hell did you just let another woman into my bedroom?” “Why not? It’s not like you ever wanted me in there.” Wanted me in there? Just breathing the same air as him used to look like it physically pained him. Hudson opened his mouth, closed it, and aggressively loosened his tie, looking incredibly frustrated. He was just about to say something when Lily came walking back down the stairs with a packed duffel bag. I smiled gracefully. “All done? Great. Have a safe trip, you two.” With that, I turned and walked back into the guest room, shutting the door. I pride myself on being incredibly dignified. I played the gracious host perfectly. My only hope now was that when the divorce papers came, he would add a few extra zeroes to the alimony check. Just like the comments said—if I couldn’t get the man, I was absolutely getting the bag. Lying in bed, trying to ignore the crushing weight in my chest, I pulled out my phone to scroll through TikTok. A message popped up from Sebastian. He said he just wrapped up a board meeting and asked if I wanted to grab dinner. I texted back that Hudson was out of town, and I was just sitting at home alone. He immediately sent a photo of a table covered in incredible food. [If you don’t mind the company, come over to this restaurant. We can talk about that grad school recommendation letter you mentioned.] Since sitting at home was only going to lead to an anxiety spiral, I threw on a jacket and ordered a car to the restaurant Sebastian booked. Putting all the complex drama aside, Sebastian really was a fantastic friend. He spoke slowly and deliberately, and he actually paid attention to how I felt. When he noticed I was picking the cilantro out of my food, he quietly flagged the waiter and swapped out three dishes for things I actually liked, including an amazing red wine braised short rib. I was having such a surprisingly good time that I snapped a photo of the table. I posted it to my Instagram story: [Huge thanks to Sebastian for the amazing dinner!] I figured Hudson was in Austin, he never looked at my social media anyway, and I didn’t bother hiding it from anyone. I didn’t expect that at eleven o’clock that night, a massive thunderstorm would roll into the city. I had just stepped out of the shower and was about to get into bed when I heard the electronic keypad on the front door beep. Thinking the wind had knocked something over, I turned on my flashlight and walked out to the hallway. Standing in the entryway was a completely soaked, dripping wet figure. His face was lethally dark. The second he saw me, Hudson crossed the room in three massive strides. He slammed me back against the hallway wall, his eyes completely bloodshot. “Just because I wouldn’t let you touch me that night, you ran straight to Sebastian?!”

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1 I was born with a tragic, inescapable flaw: I desperately craved a mother’s love. But in my old life, every time I offered my foster mother my beating heart, she rewarded me with a slap across the face. Just as I was agonizing over how to finally win her approval, a piece of paper changed my entire universe. I had been groveling to the wrong woman my whole life. I was actually the lost biological daughter of the wealthiest family in the state. Without a second of hesitation, I climbed into the back of the Crawford family’s Rolls-Royce. The moment I stepped through the grand mahogany doors of the estate, the girl who had stolen my life grabbed my hands. Anna, the fake heiress, looked at me with perfectly welling tears. “Sister, if the rest of the family doesn’t warm up to you right away, please don’t be sad.” I didn’t even hear her. I was staring blankly at the woman standing beside her, my heart hammering so violently against my ribs I could barely breathe. Are you telling me this woman—this elegant, commanding, breathtakingly powerful woman—is my new mother? Anna was still putting on her tearful performance. “You finally have a home now, but my parents’ love is all I have left in this world. Please don’t take that away from me.” Hearing the word parents, I finally pulled my eyes away from Victoria Crawford and gave Anna a slow, chilling smile. Keep dreaming, sweetheart. Anna instinctively took a half-step back. That sudden, eerie smile sent a shiver straight down her spine. But she quickly straightened her posture. She was convinced a backwoods nobody like me could never threaten her reign. My eldest brother, Preston, immediately caught Anna’s arm to steady her. “What are you talking about, Anna? Even if we don’t share blood, you are still a Crawford. We are family.” My second brother, Declan, stepped squarely in front of her, shielding her from me. “The hospital mix-up wasn’t your fault. You’re a victim in this too. We promise we won’t let anyone walk all over you.” Those words were aimed directly at me. Anna peeked at me from behind Declan’s broad shoulders. She subtly lifted the hem of her designer silk dress, showing off a blinding diamond tennis bracelet. “Sister, it must have taken you a whole day and night to drive here from the trailer park. You must be exhausted.” I didn’t even register her pathetic flex. I didn’t care about the crystal chandeliers, the bespoke suits, or the uniformed staff lining the foyer. I had been in this house for ten minutes, and for nine of those minutes, my eyes had been superglued to the matriarch of the family. My gaze was so intense that Victoria finally had to look back at me. She cleared her throat, clearly unsure of how to navigate this reunion with a daughter she hadn’t seen in eighteen years. “Your name is Serena, right?” The moment she said my name, my eyes burned with absolute adoration. Victoria actually looked a bit flustered under the weight of my worship. Declan raised his voice, his tone sharp. “Serena, Anna is talking to you. Are you deaf?” I mentally muted every single person in the room except for her. I walked straight up to Victoria and gently, carefully, tugged at the edge of her tailored blazer. “Mom?” My voice trembled. I was practically vibrating with excitement. Anna’s expression cracked. She quickly jogged over and linked her arm affectionately through Victoria’s other side. “Mom, let’s go show my sister her new room!” Her voice was a little too desperate, a little too rushed. My gaze finally shifted. I looked away from my mother and slowly dragged my eyes over to Anna. Anna’s hand twitched. She forced a painfully stiff smile. “Everything happened so fast, we didn’t have time to redecorate. You’ll have to make do with one of the guest rooms for now.” I shook my head. Anna immediately adopted a look of tragic resignation. “I knew it. If you insist on taking my bedroom, I’ll pack my things…” Declan scoffed, glaring at me. “Anna, why are you always so nice? She just walked through the door and she’s already trying to steal your room?” They were a remarkably annoying background noise. I kept my eyes locked on Victoria and spoke my very first full sentence since arriving. “Mom, which room is yours?” Victoria blinked in surprise and pointed up the grand sweeping staircase toward the third-floor master suite. I didn’t miss a beat. “Then I want to live in the room right next to yours.” “Serena, that room is just a storage closet for old furniture,” Victoria said softly. “I don’t care. I just want to be as close to you as possible.” Victoria’s gaze melted instantly. The awkwardness vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, protective warmth. “I’ll have the contractors here first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll knock down the walls and merge two rooms together to make you a proper suite.” Anna looked like she had been struck by lightning. She stared at me, grinding her teeth so hard her jaw trembled. What the hell kind of game was this girl playing?! Declan was equally stunned. “Mom, we haven’t done construction on the estate in years. You’re going to tear up the third floor just because she…” Victoria raised a hand, silencing him immediately. “The decision is final. Now, everyone sit down. It’s time for dinner.” I practically glued myself to the chair right next to my mother. Every time I looked up, I caught Anna shooting daggers at me from across the table. I casually scooted my chair an inch closer to Victoria. Anna’s grip on her silverware tightened. Jealous that I get to sit next to my own mother? I hid a smirk behind my water glass. Human nature is so predictable. A small porcelain bowl of rich lobster bisque was placed in front of everyone at the table. Except for me. Anna forced a sweet, highly artificial smile. “Oh no. The kitchen staff must have forgotten you were moving in today. They didn’t prepare a portion for you.” “These are all my absolute favorite dishes. I hope your stomach can handle such rich food. If you don’t mind, you can have my soup.” She made a grand show of pushing her porcelain bowl across the table toward me. Before it even made it halfway, Preston stopped it with his hand. “It’s just soup. If the kitchen forgot, they can make it up to her next time. You don’t need to give up your food for her.” Declan nodded in agreement, though his eyes were locked on me. “Look at this feast. She won’t starve. There’s no need for her to steal what’s yours.” Anna tilted her head, her smile turning triumphant. I simply lowered my gaze, adopting the picture of absolute, meek obedience. “It’s okay. I have a small appetite anyway. A few bites of bread will be plenty.” Anna froze. That was not the reaction she wanted. “Find the head chef and ask him how a mistake this massive happened. Everyone knew Serena was coming home today.” Victoria slammed her fork down. She looked at Anna. “Keep your food, Anna. We don’t need to perform charity at our own dining table.” Victoria then took her own untouched bowl of lobster bisque and placed it gently in front of me. “Here, sweetheart. Have mine.” Seeing my wide, slightly anxious eyes, her voice softened entirely. “Don’t overthink it. In this house, my love isn’t a pie to be sliced unequally. I don’t play favorites.” I nodded obediently, wrapping my hands around the warm bowl and taking tiny, delicate sips. Anna’s smile completely collapsed. She stared at me, her eyes practically burning holes through my skull. But I was bulletproof. I couldn’t care less if these people hated my guts. Back in my old life, my foster mother used to pile all the best meat onto her biological son’s plate and leave me with scraps. One day, I got so fed up I dumped a lethal dose of ghost pepper hot sauce into my foster brother’s macaroni. My foster mother was in such a panic, running around getting him milk and ice water, that she didn’t even bother to yell at me. It used to break my heart. Thank God I finally have a beautiful, fiercely protective mother of my own. The next morning, three delivery vans from high-end boutiques pulled up to the estate. One mountain of luxury boxes for me. One mountain for Anna. Declan patted Anna on the shoulder. “See? I told you there was nothing to worry about. Mom still loves you. She made sure you got a share of everything.” Anna blinked her doe eyes, looking pitiful. “But all of sister’s things are from the new season’s exclusive collection. She got the exact Birkin I’ve been on the waitlist for.” I lazily sifted through the sea of designer dresses and leather bags. I didn’t really care about any of it. But seeing Anna’s eyes turn red with envy made the whole thing wildly entertaining. Declan crossed his arms, stepping up as her knight in shining armor. “Mom is being completely unfair. Why does she get the absolute best picks?” “How is Anna supposed to feel? What are the maids going to think?” Preston stayed quiet for a moment before walking over to me. “You don’t even know the value of these brands anyway. Let Anna pick the ones she wants first.” I tilted my head, looking up at him. “But Mom specifically told the stylists to let me choose whatever I liked.” Preston stood in front of me like a brick wall. “If Mom can’t keep things fair, then I’ll level the playing field for her.” Anna hid behind his broad back, peering at me with a victorious glint in her eye. Preston’s gaze grew darker. “Anna is sensitive. Since she calls you her older sister, you need to act like one and yield to her.” Before I could even respond, he ordered the boutique staff to move the most exclusive, limited-edition pieces over to Anna’s pile. She casually flipped through the silk garments, pretending to be nonchalant. “Sister, I know I’m taking a lot of the good ones. You’re not mad, are you?” She said it just to twist the knife. She wanted to see me lose my temper. I yawned softly. “I’m not mad at all.” “You can have every single piece if you want.” “But you’re going to have to trade something else for it.” I unlocked my phone and tapped into the pinned chat contact labeled “Mom.” There are millions of designer bags in the world. But there is only one Victoria Crawford. If Anna wanted the bags, fine. I was playing a completely different game. My fingers danced across the screen. [I got all the presents! I love them so much. When are you coming back from your business trip, Mom? I miss you already.] A morning and evening text check-in had become my daily routine. Victoria was a titan of industry. She rarely replied. But even if she just sent back a single “Okay,” I would stare at the screen and read it a hundred times. Seeing me completely absorbed in my phone, Anna casually leaned closer, trying to spy on my screen. “Sister, you don’t really have any friends here. Who are you texting so obsessively all day?” She rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with venom. “When we brought you back, that foster mother of yours demanded a massive payout. You need to remember your place in this family. Don’t tell me you’re secretly funneling our money back to that trashy woman.” I finally looked up at her. The corners of my mouth curled into a slow, mocking smirk. Anna thought she had me figured out. “I get it. You figured out that Mom holds the purse strings, so you’re kissing up to her. It’s embarrassing.” My phone buzzed in my hand. I looked down. It was Victoria. This time, it wasn’t a short, formal reply. She had actually learned how to save and send a little cartoon cat sticker blowing a kiss. Anna was still running her mouth, her chin raised in absolute arrogance. “You can stop daydreaming. Mom is so busy running the empire she barely has time to sleep. She doesn’t have a second to waste on someone like you.” “Is that so?” I locked my phone and placed it face down on the table. I just looked at her, completely amused by her stupidity. A month flew by. Living in the Crawford estate was a dream. The only downside was that my mother was constantly traveling for board meetings and acquisitions. I rarely got to see her in person. But my daily text updates never stopped. At night, when I knew she was back in her hotel room, I would shamelessly beg her for a quick phone call. Sometimes she picked up. Sometimes it went to voicemail. I was always patient. Today, as I was walking out of my room, I was ambushed again. It was Anna. She dragged out her syllables, sounding like a detective who had just cracked a massive case. “Sister, are you going to make another secret phone call?” I tried to step around her. She was a waste of oxygen. Anna’s eyes darted to the phone in my hand, dropping the sweet facade entirely. “Serena, you are an outsider in this house. Everyone is just tolerating you out of pity.” “Everything in this family belongs to me. It always has.” I stared at her with a blank, deadpan expression. I had my mother’s love. I was basically sitting on a throne of gold. What kind of delusional nonsense was she spewing? I rolled my eyes so hard it physically hurt. “I am the biological daughter. You are a counterfeit.” “The only person in this house who has absolutely nothing is you.” Anna choked on her own breath. She desperately searched my face for a hint of insecurity or fear. She found absolutely nothing. Swallowing her rage, she leaned in close. “Let me tell you a little secret.” “My eighteenth birthday is in two days. Mom is officially gifting me ten percent of the company shares as my coming-of-age present.” I laughed out loud. “That’s crazy. It’s your birthday, so why are you begging my mother for a present?” That single, calm sentence completely shattered the last remnants of Anna’s sanity. “Stop acting like she actually gives a damn about you—” Before she could finish, the heavy thud of the front doors opening echoed from the first floor. Anna’s eyes flashed with calculation. She backed up against the heavy oak railing of the third-floor balcony, leaning her upper body dangerously far over the edge. “Sister, even if the family doesn’t like you, there’s no need to take your anger out on me!” she screamed. “Anna!” Two panicked voices shouted in unison from the stairs. Preston and Declan sprinted up the marble steps like their lives depended on it. Without a single question, Preston shoved me violently out of the way. “What the hell are you doing to her?!” He shoved me with a terrifying amount of force. I lost my footing and crashed hard into the sharp edge of a mahogany console table. “It’s all my fault! I lost my balance, please don’t blame my sister…” Anna sobbed beautifully, making absolutely sure to frame me while playing the saint. Declan glared at me with pure disgust. “I cannot believe how vicious you are!” “Anna already feels guilty for taking your place, and you try to push her over a balcony? If we knew you were this deranged, we never would have brought you back from the gutter!” I pressed a hand against my ribs. A dull, throbbing pain radiated through my side. Preston stepped toward me, casting a massive shadow, his voice cold and authoritative. “Apologize to her right now.” My vision blurred slightly from the pain. Preston rubbed his temples, his tone dropping even lower. “I know you resent Anna.” “But you crossed a line today. You made a mistake, and you are going to own up to it. Apologize.” My two older brothers stood like heavily armed guards in front of Anna. Biologically, we shared the same blood. But in their eyes, Anna was the only sister they had. The physical pain in my side was quickly swallowed by a freezing, numbing realization. It didn’t matter. None of these people mattered. Combined, they weren’t worth a single strand of my mother’s hair. I didn’t need to waste my emotional energy on them. Declan scoffed, looking down his nose at me. “Look at her. Zero class. Zero manners.” “Just like uneducated trash. Raised by a rat, acts like a rat.” That crossed a line. The temperature in my eyes plummeted to absolute zero. “I think you need to go to a clinic and get a DNA test.” Declan looked at me in shock. I pointed directly at the weeping girl trembling behind him. “You better run a full panel. Because the way you’re acting, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a delusional counterfeit just like her.” “Watch your damn mouth!” Declan roared, stepping forward. I took a step back, walked into my bedroom, and slammed the heavy door right in their faces. Instantly, fists began pounding fiercely against the wood. The muffled screaming leaked through the walls. “You only have the guts to act like a psychopath because Mom is out of town!” “Anna has been nothing but kind to you! Are you trying to drive her to suicide?!” “When Mom gets back, I am telling her exactly what kind of monster you really are! Let’s see how long you last here!” I leaned against the door, slowly sliding down until I was sitting on the floor. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. If someone was going to tell my mother about this, it was going to be me. I hit speed dial. The line connected on the second ring. When we first met, my mother’s tone on the phone was always polite, a little distant, full of careful guilt. Now, she was entirely used to my clingy, constant need for attention. Before Victoria could even say hello, the violent pounding and the muffled curses from the hallway echoed through the speaker. Her breath hitched. The authority returned to her voice instantly. “Serena, what is going on over there?” “They said… they said I’m uneducated trash. They said nobody in this family will ever actually love me.” “If you hate me too, Mom, then I can just pack my bags and leave…” My voice shook perfectly. Three parts genuine sadness, seven parts pure manipulation. I had just watched Anna deliver an Oscar-worthy performance. I was a fast learner. Victoria didn’t erupt into anger. Instead, her voice turned dangerously quiet and serious. “I hear you, sweetheart. Stay in your room. I will deal with this the second I get home.” A rush of pure, sugary adrenaline hit my bloodstream. But my celebration was cut short. I heard Victoria let out a heavy, conflicted sigh. “Anna is a good girl at heart. We raised her for eighteen years. We’ve always viewed her as our own flesh and blood.” “I really just want all of my children to get along.” I lowered my eyes. I responded with a soft, incredibly gentle voice. “Of course, Mom.” “Whatever you want.” If they stop acting like rabid dogs, I can play nice. Click. The lock on my bedroom door was suddenly picked from the outside. The handle turned, and the door was thrown open. Anna saw the phone pressed to my ear, and her eyes lit up like fireworks. She practically lunged at me, grabbing my wrist, staring at the screen that clearly read “Mom.” “I knew it! Look! I told you!” she screamed over her shoulder to Preston and Declan. “Every time Mom leaves for a business trip, she calls that trashy foster mother to beg for comfort!” The grip on my wrist was so tight it left red crescent moon indentations in my skin. Anna stared down at me, overflowing with vindictive glee. “Sister, if you miss your precious foster mommy so much, why don’t you just go back to the trailer park? Why are you still leeching off us?” Preston stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, looking at me with pure disgust. A flicker of dark amusement flashed across my eyes. I spoke calmly. “Who said I was talking to my foster mother?” Declan clicked his tongue. “Look at her, caught red-handed and still lying through her teeth.” Anna’s smile widened into something truly ugly. “You really don’t know anything about this family, do you? When Mom is on a business trip, she turns off her personal phone. She only answers the corporate line.” “Besides that gold-digging woman who raised you, who else are you pathetically calling ‘Mom’?” “Serena, you are an ungrateful, bloodsucking parasite.” I just sat on the floor, staring up at her, my expression completely serene. Anna looked at my face, and a sudden, violent spike of panic hit her chest. A second later, from the speaker of the phone tightly clutched in my hand, a voice she knew better than her own echoed into the silent room. “Anna. Who exactly are you calling a parasite?” All the blood instantly drained from Anna’s face.

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1 I had just been diagnosed with late stage stomach cancer. Three months left to live. A mysterious merchant found me in the quiet hospital corridor, offering to grant three of my deepest wishes. The price was simple: ten years of memories shared with Tanat, the man I had loved for a decade. I agreed without a single moment of hesitation. My first wish was for Tanat’s first love, Emily, to return from abroad immediately. My second wish was for him to see her true colors. My third wish was for him to spend the rest of his life entirely alone, forever mourning the love he threw away. “The deal is struck,” the merchant whispered. “Just a gentle warning, Kate. The extraction of your memories takes seventy two hours to complete. During this transition, you will still feel every ounce of the pain.” With those words, the enigmatic dealer of emotions vanished, melting into the sterile, blindingly white corridor of the hospital. I clutched the terminal diagnosis in my hand. The edges of the paper frayed under my trembling grip, my fingertips so cold they felt completely lifeless. Right then, my phone began to vibrate violently in my palm. The name Tanat flashed across the screen. My chest tightened, a pathetic shred of hope still lingering in my chest. Was he calling to ask about my doctor’s appointment? Had he actually remembered? Taking a deep breath, I forced my voice to sound steady and swiped to answer. “Hello?” I whispered. “Kate! You won’t believe the incredible news! Emily is coming back! Her flight lands the day after tomorrow!” Tanat’s voice burst through the receiver with an ecstatic energy I had never heard in our ten years together. He sounded like a child who had finally recovered his long lost, favorite toy. My mouth opened, but the words I got my test results back died in my throat, swallowed by his shouting. A wave of nausea hit me, leaving a bitter, metallic taste on my tongue. He did not notice the tremor in my voice or the heavy silence on my end. In his world, there was only room for Emily. “We need to cancel our anniversary dinner,” he rushed on. “I have to throw her a welcome party, and it has to be absolutely perfect. You should come too. Oh, and can you book the restaurant for us? Use our usual spot. Emily used to love the menu there.” He kept planning every detail, each word piercing my ears like hot needles. Our tenth anniversary. Our favorite restaurant. It turned out that the places I had grown to love over a decade of compromise were just settings we had prepared for her. I was merely keeping her seat warm. Holding my death warrant in one hand and listening to his absolute devotion to another woman in the other, a quiet laugh escaped my lips. Tears welled up in my eyes. Perhaps this was for the best. These final seventy two hours would serve as a proper funeral for the last ten years of my life. “Okay,” I said quietly, my voice cracking slightly. After hanging up, I bypassed our apartment and walked straight into a premium boutique downtown. There was a crimson silk dress in the window that I had admired for months but could never bring myself to buy. Today, I bought it without looking at the price tag. Tanat had always told me that red was too flashy, that he preferred me in soft, muted tones. He never understood that my soul was meant to burn a brilliant, fierce red. He was the one who had spent a decade slowly washing the color out of me. The next morning, Tanat practically dragged me out of bed. He rummaged through my closet, eventually pulling out a faded, oversized t shirt and a pair of worn jeans, tossing them onto the bed. “Wear this.” I stared at him, confused. He frowned, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Emily just got back. Don’t dress up too much. I don’t want her to feel self conscious or out of place around you.” I stared at him, and the very last ember of warmth in my heart died out. He wasn’t worried about Emily’s comfort. He was terrified that I would take the spotlight away from her. He insisted on driving to the airport himself. He spent the entire ride adjusting his tie and checking his hair in the rearview mirror, restless and eager like a teenager on his very first date. Sitting in the passenger seat, I watched the city blur past the window, completely numb. The countdown for my memories to fade was down to twenty four hours. Every minute, every second was an excruciating wait. When the intercom announced the arrival of her flight, Tanat bolted upright, his eyes locked onto the terminal exit. When Emily finally emerged, wearing a flowing white dress that made her look like an ethereal, pure angel, Tanat reacted like a bird escaping a cage. He shoved me out of his way, pushing past the crowd as he dashed toward her. “Emily!” He threw his arms around her in a desperate, breathless embrace, holding her so tightly it seemed as if he wanted to fuse her into his very bones. The force of his shove had sent me stumbling backward, my lower back slamming hard against the cold metal railing. A familiar, sharp agony flared in my abdomen, and the world momentarily spun into darkness. I stood there like an invisible prop, forced to watch their tearful reunion. Resting her head on Tanat’s shoulder, Emily’s eyes shifted over his back and locked onto mine. She flashed me a subtle, triumphant smirk. Then, slipping her arm through his, she walked over to me. Feigning surprise as if she had only just noticed my existence, she murmured, “Oh, Tanat, who is this?” Tanat blinked, only just remembering I was there, and offered a dismissive shrug. “This is Kate. She’s my… assistant. She helps out with things around the house.” An assistant. Ten years of building a life together, reduced to a casual title of household help. Emily immediately flashed a bright smile and extended her hand. “Hi Kate, I’m Emily. It’s so wonderful to meet you.” Before I could reach out, she tripped on her own feet with a soft gasp, stumbling directly into me. The cup of piping hot black coffee in her hand splashed entirely over my chest. The faded t shirt I was wearing was the very first gift Tanat had ever bought me, a decade ago. I gasped as the heat seared through the fabric, my skin instantly flushing a painful crimson. Tanat’s reflexes were incredibly fast. He caught Emily before she could fall, frantically checking her over. “Are you alright? Did it burn you?” He didn’t even spare me a glance. Emily shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. “I’m fine. I just lost my footing and got Kate’s clothes dirty. I’m so sorry…” Tanat finally looked at me, his brows furrowed in annoyance. “Kate, watch where you’re going! You’re so clumsy, you nearly hurt her!” He slipped off his expensive designer blazer and gently draped it over Emily’s shoulders, shielding her in his arms while completely ignoring the raw, blistering skin on my chest. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just a cheap shirt. Let’s go get you something new to make up for the scare.” He guided her away, never once looking back. I was left standing in the middle of the crowded terminal, a pathetic joke of a woman. The pitying, mocking stares of the bystanders cut into me like knives. Suddenly, seventy two hours felt far too long to wait. That evening marked our tenth anniversary. I had texted him hours ago: It’s our tenth anniversary tonight. The table is booked. His only reply was a cold, single word confirmation. I spent an hour on my makeup, slipped into my new red dress, and sat at the restaurant waiting from seven until nine. He never showed up. When I finally called his phone, it rang for a long time before he answered. The background was filled with deafening bass and rowdy laughter. “What is it?” he snapped, sounding thoroughly annoyed. “Tanat, where are you?” “Oh, right, I forgot to tell you. I’m out with Zack and the guys. We’re throwing Emily a welcome party. You should come over too. I’ll text you the address.” He hung up before I could say a word. Looking down at the cold steak and the vintage wine I had ordered, I smiled bitterly at myself. What was I still hoping for? Why expect mercy from the man holding the blade? I drove over to the lounge he mentioned. The moment I pushed the heavy doors open, the room fell dead silent. Dozens of eyes turned to me, filled with curiosity and cruel amusement. Tanat sat at the center table. In the seat that should have been mine, Emily was laughing softly at something he said. He looked up, giving me a lazy nod. “You made it. Grab a seat. The more the merrier, right?” Merry. My eyes locked onto the dress Emily was wearing. It was the exact same crimson silk dress I had on. The sight of it felt like a dull blade sawing through my chest. It wasn’t just the humiliation of wearing the same outfit; it was the realization that the muse and the substitute were wearing the exact same skin. Zack, Tanat’s closest friend, laughed loudly. “Hey Tanat, now that the real deal, I mean, now that Emily is back, when are you going to dump the shadow? We’re all waiting to toast to the real wedding!” The joke pinned me to the wall like a specimen. I stared at Tanat, waiting for him to defend me, to say something. He didn’t. He just laughed, swirled his glass, and said, “Cut it out, guys. Tonight is about Emily.” His silence was a betrayal far louder than any confession. Emily, completely ignoring my humiliation, picked up Tanat’s phone from the table. She unlocked it with ease and opened his photos. “Tanat, your password is still my birthday? You haven’t changed it once in all these years,” she cooed. Then, scrolling through his gallery, she paused on a photo of Tanat and me. She gasped softly, covering her mouth. “Oh, Kate, this is a beautiful photo of you two, but wait. Those earrings you’re wearing, aren’t they the silver cufflinks I gave Tanat for his graduation? Why do you have them?” Those cufflinks. They had been his graduation gift from her. He had treasured them for a decade, never letting them out of his sight. I used to think he was just sentimental. It turned out he was just waiting for the owner to return. Before I could speak, Tanat reached out. His fingers gripped my earlobe, and with a sudden, rough tug, he ripped the modified cufflink from my ear. A sharp pain flared, and a thin trickle of blood began to seep down my neck. He didn’t even look at me. He simply handed the piece to Emily, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “If you want them back, take them. They were always yours anyway.” A violent spasm tore through my abdomen, far worse than any attack before. Cold sweat broke out across my back, my face turning ashen. Every breath felt like inhaling glass. I weakly reached out, tugging at Tanat’s sleeve. My voice was barely a whisper. “Tanat, I don’t feel well. I need to go home.” He was staring at Emily with adoration, and at my touch, he shook my hand off with irritation. “Kate, stop throwing tantrums. Everyone is having a good time. Don’t ruin the night.” In that moment, my heart turned to ash. I walked out of the lounge alone, the cold night wind hitting my face. Unable to hold it in any longer, I collapsed against the brick wall of the alleyway and threw up until my ribs ached. My stomach was completely empty, leaving nothing but bitter bile. I looked back at the warm glow of the windows, wiped my mouth, and called a cab. I didn’t go home. I went straight to the ER. I had twelve hours left, and I was done enduring. By the time I returned from the clinic after receiving a heavy dose of painkillers, it was nearly midnight. The countdown on my memories had hit its final minutes. Leaving the lights off, I used the pale moonlight to pack my things. For ten years, I had been like a swallow building a nest, slowly filling this empty house with my warmth. Yet, as I packed, I realized everything that actually belonged to me could fit inside a single, small suitcase. The sudden blare of my ringtone shattered the silence. It was Tanat. I pressed answer, met instantly by his furious shouting. “Kate, how dare you just walk out like that?” he roared. “Leaving her welcome party in the middle of the night? You have zero respect for anyone! You are unbelievably selfish!” My stomach flared with a dull ache, forcing me to curl up on the hardwood floor. “Tanat… I’m dying…” My voice was so faint, a desperate plea for him to listen. But he wasn’t listening. On the other end, he let out a venomous laugh. “This act again? Even if you actually died, you wouldn’t get a shred of sympathy from me. You aren’t worth a single hair on Emily’s head! I’m telling you, Kate, don’t expect me to look at you ever again. A manipulative, dramatic woman like you deserves to end up completely alone.” His words were rusty nails, driven straight into my battered chest. I stared at the digital clock on my phone screen, watching the seconds tick away. 57… 58… 59… A soft chime echoed in my mind, followed by the emotion merchant’s detached voice: Time is up. The transaction is complete. Tanat was still barking through the speaker, “Are you deaf? Get over here right now and apologize to Emily!” Suddenly, the crushing weight in my chest vanished. The pain was gone, replaced by a strange, light emptiness. The world seemed to reset, a sudden clarity washing over me. I listened to the man screaming hysterically on the line, feeling nothing but mild confusion. I stood up, walked to the window, and looked out at the glittering city lights. My mind was perfectly clear. “Who is this?” I asked, my voice entirely flat. The line went silent for a second before his voice returned, louder and more rabid. “Kate, what kind of game are you playing now?” “You’re insane,” I said calmly. I hung up, blocked his number, and deleted the contact. A fluid, seamless sequence of actions. Looking in the mirror at my pale face and strangely bright eyes, I let out a soft, relaxed laugh. For the first time in my life, the world was wonderfully quiet.

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1 Freshman year, I earned the lead role hosting the university orientation gala. After three sleepless nights perfecting my script, Tommy launched a last-minute poll in our cohort chat. Natalie won. She took the stage in my steamed dress, reading my script. Tommy spent hours consoling me, then later warned her, “Don’t let her script go to waste.” Sophomore year, I secured the Oxford fellowship. Another poll. Natalie went. Junior year, I was named department research rep. Another poll. Natalie replaced me. I spiraled into anxiety, convinced I lacked talent or charm. By senior year, group notifications triggered panic attacks. One day, descending the stairs, I overheard Natalie pleading below. “Tommy, you promised revenge for what her mother did to mine. Why won’t you help me now?” After a pause, Tommy sighed, “This is the last time, Natalie.” Tears blurred my vision. I opened our chat and launched my own poll: Should Audrey and Tommy stay together? I tapped “No.” Tommy replied almost instantly. Audrey, take the poll down. Class chats are for academic matters, not your childish tantrums. I stared at the screen, my fingertips icy. It was funny how he suddenly remembered that class chats were meant for serious business. The “No” votes kept climbing, eventually freezing at thirty one. Only one person had voted for us to stay together, and that was just the system’s default hold before I cast my own vote. No one had ever rooted for us. Tommy was the golden boy of our department, blessed with an old money family, striking looks, and perfect grades. Natalie had chased him for years, but he had never spared her a glance. Instead, he chose me, the quiet girl from a small town. Everyone whispered that I had hit the jackpot. When the poll ended, I took a screenshot and sent it directly to him. Tommy, we are done. I turned off my phone and went back to organizing my competition files. I had spent two grueling months preparing for this event, staying up until dawn writing briefs, compiling case studies, and running data sheets. This time, I was not backing down. A heavy knock rattled my dorm door just as I sealed my documents into a folder. Becca, my roommate, opened it. Tommy stood in the doorway, his expression dark, with Natalie hovering right behind him, her eyes rimmed with red. Tommy locked eyes with me. “What was that poll supposed to mean?” I kept quiet. “Are you still throwing a fit over those past votes?” he asked, trying to keep his temper in check. “Audrey, those were group decisions. I did not force anyone. Instead of acting out, maybe you should focus on improving yourself and learning how to get along with your peers.” I looked up at him, a sudden wave of absurdity washing over me. Natalie took a step forward, her voice soft and trembling. “Audrey, I am sorry about the previous times. I did not realize that living in the countryside with your grandmother made you so sensitive. I will make sure everyone votes for you this time.” Before I could speak, my phone lit up with a new text in the group chat. Are we voting on the competition slot too? Put me down for Natalie. Another classmate quickly agreed. Me too. Honestly, who would vote for a charity case? I looked at the screen, let out a soft laugh, and left the group chat entirely. Tommy’s brow furrowed. “Audrey, what are you doing now?” I slammed my phone face down on the desk. “I do not care about any polls. This slot is mine, and I am not giving it up.” Natalie’s face went pale, her hand reaching out to clutch Tommy’s sleeve. “Audrey, must you be so incredibly petty?” Tommy sneered. I looked at them and let out a cold laugh. “I was in the stairwell earlier. I heard everything. You do not have to play innocent anymore.” The room went dead silent. Tommy stiffened, but quickly recovered his composure. “Audrey, you are misunderstanding things.” I cut him off, my voice remarkably steady. “I do not care what Natalie told you. When her mother ruined my parents’ marriage and made Natalie a child born out of wedlock, that was not my fault. You do not get to use me as a punching bag for her twisted sense of justice.” Natalie’s tears spilled over. “Audrey, you have it all wrong. I value you so much as my sister. How could I ever want to hurt you?” I picked up my folder, passing them without a single glance. “Save the tears. It is pathetic.” When the competition team assembled, I handed my files to our advisor. He looked at me, his expression laced with awkward hesitation. “Audrey, your slot has been reassigned to Natalie.” I froze. “I did not back out this time.” The advisor sighed, looking away. “The request came directly from the board, backed by the Tommy family’s foundation. Our hands are tied. Aren’t you dating Tommy? Go talk to him, soothe his temper, and maybe things will go back to normal.” I inhaled slowly, my resolve hardening. “I want to file a formal academic grievance.” The advisor blinked in shock. “Are you sure?” Before he could finish, Natalie walked in. Her eyes were still red, and Tommy’s designer jacket was draped over her shoulders. She eyed the thick folder on my desk, stepping closer. “Audrey, since the slot belongs to me now, I should probably take these preparation files.” I pressed my hand firmly against the folder. “These are mine.” Natalie bit her lip. “But I do not know the first thing about this case study, and the initial draft is due this afternoon. You worked so hard on this, surely you do not want our school’s team to fail?” She gave the folder a sudden, violent yank. The paper folder tore open with a sharp rip, and my printed sheets scattered across the floor. As I bent down to gather them, Natalie deliberately stepped on one of the pages. It was my opening statement, a piece I had rewritten over a dozen times. I grabbed her ankle to pull her foot away, but she gasped, flinching back dramatically as if I had struck her. Her wrist clipped the sharp edge of the desk, leaving a bright red scratch. Tommy walked through the door at that exact moment. Seeing her cradling her wrist, he lunged forward and grabbed my arm in a crushing grip. “Audrey!” His grip was brutal, sending a numb ache down my fingers. Natalie wept openly, clutching her hand. “Tommy, it is fine. Audrey spent so much time on this, it is only natural she does not want me to have it.” Tommy glared at me, his eyes cold. “Audrey, when will you stop this nonsense? Apologize to her!” I kept reaching for my papers. “Apologize? In your dreams.” The page Natalie had stepped on was smudged with dirt. My knuckles white, I clutched the ruined paper. “She steals my place, ruins my work, and you want me to apologize?” Tommy did not yell. Instead, he knelt down and helped me pick up the stray sheets, carefully smoothing out the creases. For a split second, I almost fell for the illusion that he still cared. Then he spoke. “Audrey, don’t make a scene here. There are people watching. How is she supposed to save face if you keep acting like this?” I looked up at him. “And what about my face?” He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then handed some of the papers back to me, keeping the thickest stack of data sheets in his hand. “Keep the main script. Give her the data sheets.” I clutched my remaining papers tightly. “Audrey, be reasonable,” he murmured, his fingers gently brushing against the outer corner of my eye. “Your eyes are completely red. You’ve always been so proud, do you really want to break down in front of the faculty?” I stood frozen. Taking advantage of my momentary shock, he slipped the data sheets from my hand and handed them to Natalie. “Take these for now.” Natalie took them greedily. My heart felt hollow, completely numb. Tommy turned back to me. “Let this go. Don’t file the grievance. The department has already finalized the decision. Making a fuss will only make things difficult for the professors.” He settled the matter with a few casual words, turning my months of labor into a complete joke. Back in my dorm room, my hands shook as I sorted through my remaining notes. Before I could finish, Tommy walked in, carrying a hot bowl of soup, some throat lozenges, and a delicate silver bracelet I had admired in a boutique window the week before. He set the items on my desk. “Your throat has been sore. Eat something first.” I did not move. He sat opposite me, his voice softening. “I lost my temper today, but I do care about you, Audrey. Natalie’s situation is complicated. You know what her mother did, and how people look at her. She’s had a hard time holding her head up in that family. She just wanted to win against you, just this once.” I stared at him. “Once? She has taken hundreds of my things since we were kids.” Tommy frowned slightly. “I know, and I promise you it won’t happen again.” He reached out, gently tapping the tip of my nose. “The regional forum is opening registration next month. I’ve already secured a spot for you. It’s far more prestigious than this competition, and no one will dare steal it from you.” I pushed his gifts back across the desk. “Tommy, we are over.” His eyes turned cold. “Are you really going to turn a petty argument into a breakup?” He let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Fine. If you want to throw a tantrum, I’ll wait until you calm down.” He walked to the door, then paused. “Natalie is hosting a dinner tonight to apologize to you. You should come.” Seeing no reaction from me, he sneered. “You still want to submit that grievance report, don’t you? I won’t stop you. But if you don’t show up tonight, Natalie will cry all night, and the professors will only see you as the unreasonable one.” After he left, I sat in silence for a long time before finally heading to the restaurant. When I pushed the private dining room door open, every eye in the room turned toward me. Natalie stood up immediately, her eyes watery. “Audrey, you came.” There was only one empty chair left, placed right next to the kitchen service door where the waiters passed by. The moment I sat down, someone laughed. “Audrey, Natalie already swallowed her pride. Don’t be so stubborn. It was a fair vote, there’s no need to hold a grudge.” Another classmate slid a shot glass toward me. “Drink up, and let us put this behind us.” I did not touch it. Natalie held her glass, her voice tiny. “Audrey, I’m so sorry. I truly did not know this would hurt you so deeply.” Tommy sat at the head of the table, looking incredibly handsome and utterly detached under the soft lighting. “Audrey, don’t make this awkward for everyone,” he said quietly. I felt suffocated. Every word from the people around this table was a silent threat, forcing me to accept their narrative. If I was robbed, I was petty. If I was hurt, I was dramatic. If I did not forgive, I was the villain. Finally, Tommy picked up the glass himself and placed it in my hand. “Come on,” he murmured softly. “Drink it, and I’ll take you home.” I stared at him for a long, agonizing moment, then threw my head back and swallowed the burning liquid. The alcohol hit me fast, making the laughter in the room sound distant and warped. “That’s more like it,” someone cheered. Natalie sat close to Tommy, whispering, “Audrey, don’t blame Tommy. He just did not want you to make a scene.” I pushed myself up from the table, my stomach churning violently. Tommy immediately caught my arm. “Audrey?” I grabbed his cuff, my voice raw. “Tommy, the competition slot. Can you give it back to me?” He paused. I expected him to lecture me again, but looking at my tear-stained face, he finally softened. “Okay. I’ll talk to the department tomorrow. Just don’t cry.” The next morning, I woke up in my dorm bed with a splitting headache. My phone was blowing up. The university gossip pages, cohort group chats, and student forums were covered in pictures of me. There was a photo of me passed out in the dining room, my face flushed and my collar wet with alcohol. Another photo showed me leaning heavily against Tommy’s chest as he carried me out, taken from an angle that made the intimacy look incredibly dirty. The captions were even viler. No wonder her mother got divorced years ago. Like mother, like daughter. I heard her mom was kicked out of the family for sleeping around. Looking at those words, my entire body went numb. My mother was never like that. She was forced into a divorce by my father and Natalie’s mother. I scrambled to find my old phone, pulling up an audio file I had recorded during my high school years. It was an argument between my father and stepmother, where she clearly stated, If you hadn’t dragged your feet on the divorce back then, I wouldn’t have had to carry the mistress label for so long! My daughter shouldn’t have to live in shame just because your ex-wife is gone! I backed up the audio and traced the source of the leaked photos. The account that first shared them was anonymous, but it was linked to an old email address. The profile picture of that email was a cartoon rabbit Natalie used for her secondary accounts. Armed with the evidence, I went to find our academic advisor. But before I could reach the office, another set of photos leaked. This time, they were of Natalie. It was a shot of her in the locker room, her shoulder strap slipping down, her face half turned away. She had posted it with a caption: I don’t know what I did wrong. Why must my sister treat me this way? The narrative flipped instantly. Audrey is pure evil. Her own photos got leaked, so she leaks her sister’s private photos to deflect attention? How is she still on a scholarship? Standing in the hallway reading the comments, I realized how calculated she was. She knew I would trace the leak to her, so she turned herself into a victim first. Tommy arrived shortly after, dragging me into the empty stairwell, his face pale with fury. “Did you leak Natalie’s photos?” I looked at him. “No.” “Where’s your proof?” I handed him the audio file and the email records. He barely glanced at them. “Audrey, you’re letting your anger blind you. Even if she made a mistake, she would never ruin her own reputation just to hurt you.” I let out a hollow laugh. “So she wouldn’t do it, but I would?” He remained silent. That evening, my academic scholarship was revoked due to negative online publicity pending further investigation. The notification popped up while I was in the library, working on my grievance report. I stared at the screen, sighed, and kept typing. I contacted the forum moderators to report the posts, but it was useless. As graduation approached, I began looking for other options, sending out resumes and attending recruitment fairs. But the moment recruiters saw my name, their expressions changed. “Miss Audrey, we value our corporate image. Your portfolio is outstanding, but the recent online rumors… We are sorry.” I was rejected seven times in a single afternoon. Walking out of the hall, I saw Natalie standing across the courtyard in a chic white blazer, holding three job offers in her hand. Tommy was beside her, taking her folders. “Don’t go to this one, it’s too demanding,” he said softly. “This one is too far from the apartment I bought for you.” Natalie looked up at him, her eyes full of adoration. I walked right past them. Tommy noticed me, his brow furrowing. “Audrey.” I did not stop. He caught up to me, blocking my path. “Is your job hunt not going well?” I kept my expression blank. “Thanks to you two.” His face stiffened, but his tone softened. “Come work at my family’s firm. I’ll arrange a position for you. You’re too talented to be held back by these stupid rumors. I’ve already picked out our apartment too, decorated exactly the way you like.” I ignored him and stepped around him. But Tommy grabbed my wrist. “Come look at the place with me.” I yanked my arm back. “Are you deaf? Leave me alone.” Tommy’s expression darkened. “Audrey, do you have to be so difficult? I’m offering you a job and a place to live. What more do you want?” I stared at him. “I want you to stay the hell away from me.” He froze. Natalie ran up to us, clutching his sleeve. “Tommy, come with me.” Tommy frowned. “Natalie, don’t start.” “I’m not starting!” her voice shook. “I just want to know one thing. How do you actually feel about me?” Tommy remained silent for a few seconds. “In the beginning, I just felt sorry for you. Your mother’s scandal made everyone whisper about you, and I wanted to help you stand up to it.” Natalie’s tears fell. “And now?” Tommy glanced at me, but before he could speak, Natalie stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. Tommy pushed her away instantly. I watched the entire display from a few steps away, my heart completely still. Tommy stared at me, his face pale. “Audrey, do you really have no reaction at all?” My phone vibrated in my hand. It was the only company that had offered me an interview. Miss Audrey, your application for our international management program has been approved. London, three years. We will handle your visa and flight tickets. “I accept,” I said without a single second of hesitation. After hanging up, a confirmation email popped up in my inbox. My flight was scheduled for tonight.

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1 On the third day of our graduation trip, my childhood friend finally pointed her camera at me. But after just a few minutes of shooting, she frowned in frustration and let out a sharp sigh. “None of these are even usable.” A classmate standing nearby looked puzzled. “Really? When you take photos of Tristan, even your random candid shots look like magazine covers.” My throat tightened, swallowing down a wave of bitterness. Sylvia lowered her camera, her tone dismissive. “Forget it. Let’s stop. You’re just not very photogenic, Ryan. No matter the angle, it always turns out the same.” With that, she reached out and grabbed a girl passing by who was carrying a professional DSLR. “Hey, could you take a few shots of him? I’ll pay you for your time.” Without waiting for an answer, Sylvia clutched her camera and ran off toward Tristan. The moment her lens focused on him, her frown vanished, replaced by a radiant smile. “Turn around and look down slightly. Yes, just like that. Perfect…” I stared at them, watching their effortless synergy. A memory flickered in my mind, a time long ago when I had asked her, “How do you always make me look so good in your photos?” She had laughed, gently fixing my hair. “Because there’s love behind the lens. When you love what you’re looking at, every shot is beautiful.” So. She didn’t love me anymore. I pulled out my phone. Accessing the college application portal, I changed my final choice. I bypassed Northpoint, the college we had agreed to attend together, and selected Southport University instead, a campus a thousand miles away. It took less than three minutes to rewrite my future. When I looked up, I realized the freelance photographer Sylvia had practically coerced into helping was still standing there. I opened my mouth to apologize and tell her we could skip it, but she raised her camera first, her smile bright and open. “Hey, do me a favor? I’m actually a beginner, and you fit this scenery perfectly. Let me use you as a model for some portfolio practice. No charge. If I don’t get a masterpiece, I’ll pay you a hundred bucks.” I blinked, caught off guard by her humor. After a brief hesitation, I nodded. After all, I had actually dressed up today. And after all, I loved taking photos. But we were already on day three of this trip, and Sylvia’s camera was filled with rolling waves, glowing sunsets, and endless pictures of Tristan’s carefree laughter. There was nothing of me. I didn’t even have a single decent photo to post on Instagram. Once we started, the girl took her work incredibly seriously. She guided my poses and expressions with gentle patience, never once showing the kind of annoyance Sylvia had. Before long, she wrapped up the shoot and turned the camera screen around to show me. To my surprise, almost every single photo was stunning. I studied the images and said earnestly, “Let me pay you. These are incredible.” There was no way this was the work of a beginner. She just laughed and waved it off. “Honestly, I’m not a hire-by-the-hour photographer. Just call it a serendipitous meeting. Have a great trip!” After transferring the files to my phone, she turned and walked away along the shoreline. Not far off, Sylvia and Tristan were still posing. Her shutter clicked rapidly as they shared a warm, private laugh across the distance. I walked over, intending to tell the group I was heading back. But Tristan saw me first and spoke up. “We’re taking a boat to the island to shoot some more. You coming with us, Ryan?” I shook my head. “I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll head back to the hotel.” Only then did Sylvia look over, studying me for a moment. “Are you pouting? Did that amateur photographer fail to get a good shot of you? Well, it’s to be expected. You’ve always been difficult to shoot. Most people don’t have the patience I do to find your angles.” Looking at this girl whom I had doted on for as long as I could remember, a sharp ache bloomed in my chest. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t comprehend why she had become so bitter and biting since Tristan entered our lives. The Sylvia who used to lift me up and praise me felt like she had died the exact moment Tristan transferred to our school. “Actually, no,” I said, shaking my head. “I love the photos she took. They’re my favorite set of photos I’ve ever had taken.” Sylvia’s face hardened instantly, irritation flashing in her eyes. After a tense silence, she let out a dismissive scoff. “You’re just throwing a tantrum because I didn’t spend the day shooting you. Is it really necessary to say something so ridiculous just to spite me? What could a cheap street photographer possibly produce? Let’s go, Tristan.” She turned toward the dock. But Tristan caught her hand, looking back at me with a disapproving frown. “Ryan, Sylvia has taken so many beautiful photos of you over the years. Saying that is just hurtful. You should show a little gratitude.” Gratitude? For her shifting affections, or for the constant, quiet ways she degraded me? Hearing Tristan speak up for her, Sylvia’s anger softened slightly. “Don’t worry about it. Not everyone is as thoughtful and mature as you.” She took Tristan’s hand and led him away. I stood there, watching their receding figures. A stray wave crashed against the rocks, spraying salty ocean water onto my lips. It tasted bitter, sharp, and cold. That evening, I posted the photos from earlier on Instagram. Before long, a comment popped up from a classmate, one I hadn’t seen in ages. Wow, Sylvia took so many gorgeous pictures of you again! You’re so lucky, Ryan! I stared at the screen, momentarily dazed. It had been so long since anyone wrote that. In the past, even when we weren’t traveling, Sylvia would constantly capture candid moments of my daily life around our neighborhood and school. I used to post those photos every few days, and everyone knew she was the eyes behind the lens. But everything changed when Tristan transferred in during our senior year. I scrolled through my past posts. I hadn’t updated my profile in over six months. I typed out a quick reply to the classmate: They weren’t taken by Sylvia. A random passerby took them, and she’s incredibly talented. A few minutes later, Sylvia posted a grid of nine photos. Every single one was of Tristan. Our posts sat right next to each other on the feed, featuring almost the exact same ocean backdrop, as if locked in some silent competition. Her caption read: Shoutout to our resident golden boy for modeling today. Had so much fun shooting! Tristan quickly commented: It’s all thanks to your skills, Sylvia. I had a blast too! I stared at the screen for a long time, a quiet wave of nausea rising in my throat. Right before my phone went to sleep, I double-tapped to like her post. Let it be. From now on, I would no longer be a character in her frame. The next morning, I ran into Sylvia near the hotel stairs. She was looking down at her phone, but as soon as she saw me, her brow furrowed. “Do you have any idea how badly sunburned you got yesterday?” Before I could respond, she hurried past me out of the lobby. Ten minutes later, she returned carrying a small bag from the pharmacy, pulled out a tube of aloe vera gel, and shoved it into my hands. Her voice carried a mocking edge. “I thought you said that photographer was so great. Why did she keep you out under the blistering sun until your neck started peeling?” I looked into her eyes. Despite her sharp words, the underlying worry reflected in them was exactly the same as it had always been. I sighed inwardly and stayed silent, unwilling to start an argument. A second later, Tristan walked over. “Man, what happened to you? Good thing Sylvia meticulously put sunscreen all over me yesterday. I didn’t get burned at all.” My hand froze as I was squeezing the aloe vera tube. Seeing my hesitation, Sylvia quickly added, “Tristan couldn’t reach some spots on his back, so I just helped him out.” I remained silent for a few seconds. I pulled out my phone and opened Venmo. “How much was the aloe? I’ll transfer you the money.” Sylvia’s face fell. “Ryan, what is your problem?” I didn’t answer. Growing up together, we had never kept track of minor expenses; buying things for each other was second nature. But things were different now. I handed the tube back to her. “If you won’t let me pay you, I can’t accept it.” Tristan adopted a guilty look. “Ryan, look, I’m sorry. Are you mad because of what I said? I really couldn’t reach my own back, that’s why I asked Sylvia.” Sylvia looked at me, her eyes filled with disappointment. “Why have you been throwing these random fits the past couple of days? We’re adults now. Can you please keep your emotions in check?” I tossed the aloe gel onto the lobby coffee table and let out a cold laugh. “That’s easy. Let’s just stop hanging out altogether.” Sylvia’s eyes widened. “Ryan! You don’t just throw things like that around!” “And you don’t just rub sunscreen all over another guy’s back either, do you?” I shot back. Leaving her speechless, I grabbed my bag and walked out. I spent the rest of the day by myself, wandering through Marine Park. When I returned to the hotel, I noticed a notification in our class group chat. Our homeroom teacher had posted a video along with a smiley face: Here is the graduation commemorative video Sylvia made for us. I’ve been so busy lately that I forgot to upload it. Make sure to download and save it as a keepsake, everyone! After a brief hesitation, I clicked play. In the entire eight-minute video, my face appeared on screen for exactly one second during the roll call. Tristan, however, was everywhere. Tristan eating lunch, Tristan studying, Tristan running on the track… By the time the video ended, I tossed my phone aside, lay back, and closed my eyes. The professional camera stabilizer Sylvia had used to shoot those clips was a birthday gift from me. I had worked two straight summers washing cars just to afford it. We had used it to record countless tiny daily moments together. Yet, in the final product, I was reduced to a mere extra. Some classmates had already started teasing her in the chat: Sylvia, do you have a crush on Tristan or something? Why is he in literally every frame? Seriously, the rest of the class combined didn’t get as much screen time as him. Sylvia didn’t respond. But I already knew the answer. She was undoubtedly in love with him. The wounds I had tried to ignore, buried under her excuses and my own blind trust, began to throb with pain. Back during our senior year photography competition, Sylvia and I had prepared meticulously, brainstorming ideas and scouting locations together. Despite the biting early winter chill, I had stood in summer clothes for two straight days just to fit her vision, coming down with a raging fever afterward. I had stayed up late every night after school editing those photos until my eyes were bloodshot. Yet, when she finally submitted her entry, it was a photo of Tristan, the transfer student, taken without my knowledge. When I confronted her with the school newspaper showing the two of them pictured side-by-side, she had simply laughed it off. “We already participated in the competition during our freshman and sophomore years, Ryan. Tristan just transferred here, and this is his only chance. Let him have this one. Don’t be so petty.” That phrase, don’t be so petty, effectively silenced all my grievances. By the second semester, she had moved her desk right next to Tristan’s, spending every spare minute tutoring him. She had explained it to me with absolute nonchalance: “Tristan is an amazing model, and we might work together in the future. His grades aren’t high enough to get into a college near Northpoint, so I’m just helping him study. Don’t cling to me so much lately. If you have questions, ask the tutor.” There were countless other little slights, too many to list. It wasn’t just her lens drifting away from me; it was her affection. I stood up, walked over to my suitcase, and threw the confession gift I had painstakingly prepared for her straight into the trash. Then, I rebooked my flight home. I didn’t want to spend another second on this trip. The next morning, while we were having breakfast in the hotel dining room, I announced I was leaving early. Hearing this, Sylvia froze, a piece of toast still hovering halfway to Tristan’s plate. Tristan spoke up. “Ryan, are you feeling sick, or are you just not having a good time?” I offered a small smile. “I had fun, but I suddenly feel like exploring a different path. This is where our journey together ends. Also, we aren’t close, Tristan. Please don’t address me so familiarly. I don’t appreciate it.” A wave of pure embarrassment washed over Tristan’s face. Sylvia immediately came to his defense, snapping at me. “Ryan, why are you being so rude? He was just checking on you, and you snapped at him for no reason. Is this about what our classmates said in the group chat last night? It’s fine if you’re jealous, but don’t take your frustration out on Tristan just because he’s nice.” I caught the fleeting spark of smug satisfaction in her eyes when she said the word jealous. Even now, her first instinct was to shield Tristan, using my obvious pain as validation of her own power over me. I took a deep breath, meeting her gaze calmly. “This has nothing to do with those jokes. I honestly don’t care who you’re interested in; that’s between the two of you. I’m simply telling Tristan that I value boundaries. I finished eating, so I’ll head to the airport now. Have a nice trip.” Sylvia grabbed my wrist. “Stop! If you aren’t jealous, why are you suddenly running away? Fine, I’ll go clear things up in the group chat right now, alright? Just sit down.” I pulled my hand out of her grip. “I suggest you start respecting personal boundaries, too.” Behind me, Sylvia’s voice shook with suppressed fury. “Ryan, if you walk out today, you are going to regret this!” A sudden emptiness hollowed out my chest, but after a fleeting moment of sorrow, a profound sense of relief washed over me. If I left, would I miss out on something? Let it be missed, then. We had already missed countless opportunities because of Tristan anyway. When I got back home, my mom gave me a knowing look. “Well? How did it go?” I asked her what she meant. She clicked her tongue. “Sylvia’s mom told me she had been saving up for ages to plan a grand confession with fireworks for you on the trip. Are you two officially together now?” I looked down. So, the thing I missed was a confession. My fingers aimlessly unlocked my phone, and I opened my social feed. Tristan had just posted a new update: Thanks to our favorite girl for the amazing fireworks display. Feeling incredibly lucky! The attached photo showed a spectacular burst of colors illuminating the night sky, capturing the silhouettes of two figures standing close together. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. How cheap and easily transferable her love was. Missing out on it was the best stroke of luck I’d ever had. “Mom, I don’t have feelings for Sylvia anymore,” I said softly. “And I changed my college choice to Southport University. Please don’t tell her parents.” My mom stared at me in shock. “…Did you two have a fight?” I shook my head, keeping details to myself. “There’s no future for Sylvia and me. I’m going to spend the summer at Grandma’s. I’ll be back when it’s time for school.” In the past, whenever we had a cold war, I was always the one to reach out first. Now, I had finally let go. For nearly two months, we maintained absolute silence. Right before the semester started, Sylvia’s mother asked my mom if they should book us on the same flight. My mother politely declined, stating that I would handle my own travel. On move-in day, during the five-hour flight, I kept my eyes shut to rest. The moment the plane touched down in Southport, I pulled out my phone. As soon as I unlocked the screen, a flood of missed calls and unread messages filled my notifications. Every single one of them was from Sylvia.

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1 From the moment Denis secretly gave my study abroad slot to Giselle, an invisible wall rose between us, one that could never be torn down. During the Aspen blizzard, when I went to assist the rescue team, I saw him walking past me with Giselle cradled in his arms. Just an hour before, he had texted me saying he was working late. I stared into his eyes with absolute calmness before turning back to save lives. The media reported on their reignited flame. I did not care, and I did not ask. But when I found out I was pregnant, I quietly walked into a clinic and got an abortion. When he later found the medical reports, his face lit up with the hope of a child. I looked at him and said, “Denis, I had an abortion.” He slammed on the brakes, his eyes turning instantly red. I had just learned that the hospital’s prestigious fellowship program in California had been handed to Giselle. She was a Stanford Medical graduate, so on paper, she held every advantage over me. At the Monday staff meeting, the Chief of Medicine announced the decision. Sitting across from me, Giselle locked eyes with mine, her lips curving into a faint, triumphant smile. I looked away, focus returning to my notepad. After the meeting, I gathered my files to deliver them to the chief’s office. The door was slightly ajar, and I could hear our department head asking a question. “Wasn’t the decision still pending? I really don’t think Vivian is any less qualified than Giselle.” “It is a pity,” the Chief sighed. “The residency is in California, and since Giselle is a Stanford alumnus, she has the cultural and language advantage. The host hospital preferred her.” The Chief paused, lowering his voice. “Besides, Apex Medical specifically requested her.” My heart sank. The department head stopped asking, and I understood. I turned around, clutching my files, and walked away. In the restroom, I overheard two nurses whispering. “This program is funded by Apex Medical Group. The hospital pretends we have a say, but the final word always belonged to their CEO, Denis.” “Well, Apex did just donate millions of dollars in new cardiac monitors to our department.” “Exactly. We owe that to Giselle. If it weren’t for her, we would still be using those ancient machines.” “Really? Why is that?” “Don’t you know? Dr. Giselle is Denis’s ex girlfriend. They were college sweethearts. My boyfriend was Denis’s college roommate, and he told me all about it. The board was actually leaning toward Vivian, but Apex dropped her name, so the hospital just went with the flow. It is a win win for everyone except Vivian.” The other nurse sighed. “Must be nice to have that kind of leverage. I wish I had a powerful backer. I would quit this job in a heartbeat.” I could have accepted losing to Giselle fairly. I knew she had a stellar resume. But I could not accept Denis pulling the strings behind my back. To qualify for this fellowship, I had slept less than six hours a night for six months. I had stayed up to polish research proposals, design presentations, and compile surgical logs. All of that effort was crushed by a casual word from my own husband. My chest tightened, a wave of bitter resentment washing over me. That evening, Denis’s tall figure appeared in the entryway. Driven by the raw hurt, I asked him directly before he could even take off his coat. “Denis, did you give my fellowship slot to Giselle?” He paused, his handsome face showing no emotion at all. “Yes,” he answered simply. The single word felt like a physical blow. “Can you tell me why?” I asked, my voice trembling. I thought of what the nurses had said, about her being his first love. “Is it because she is your ex?” He stared at me, his gaze deep and heavy. “She is better suited for the role.” He said it so calmly, so rationally. But my world was spinning. He had watched me pull all nighters to write those proposals. The choice had been his from the very beginning. My six months of grueling work had been nothing but a farce. In the hospital, I had never once used my status as Denis’s wife to seek favors. I did not expect him to pull strings for me. But I never imagined he would actively support his ex over me. Tears threatened to spill over. “Okay, I understand.” Denis looked down at me, his voice slow and even. “Vivian. In every professional metric, she is simply the stronger candidate.” I could not stand his cold, detached logic. “But she is your ex, and I am your wife!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “You had the power to choose, and you decided she was better from day one. You watched me ruin my health for this. Did you find it amusing? Was my effort just a joke to you?” Denis’s eyes turned icy. “Vivian. Don’t be a sore loser.” The words made me flinch. A sore loser. The tears finally spilled over, hot and bitter against my cheeks. Soon, everyone in the hospital knew who was backing Giselle. Administrators and colleagues alike began to fawn over her. Giselle remained gracefully aloof, neither accepting nor rejecting the special treatment, solidifying her image as a detached, perfect goddess. “Dr. Giselle is living a real life movie,” a nurse giggled in the breakroom. “She is gorgeous, Ivy League educated, and her ex is a billionaire. It is like a romance novel. Imagine being her child. Life would be on easy mode.” “When are she and Denis getting back together? I want to be reborn as their kid.” I forced a polite smile, swallowing the lump in my throat, and walked past them. I began to reevaluate my marriage. It was obvious that he did not love me, not the way he cared for Giselle. Once I accepted this truth, the desire to be near him vanished. One evening, I found Denis sitting at the dining table. A gold embossed invitation sat on the corner of the polished wood. He looked from the card to me. “My friend is getting married this weekend,” he said. “Spouses are invited. Do you want to go?” We had rarely mingled with each other’s social circles. This was the first time he had ever invited me to a public event as his wife. Before all this, I would have been thrilled. Now, I just felt a dull ache. “No, thank you,” I said. He looked slightly surprised, then nodded. “Okay.” I did not tell him that I also had a friend’s wedding that weekend. I saw no point in explaining. As fate would have it, we ended up at the exact same wedding, seated at the very same table. When I arrived, Giselle was already seated next to Denis. We all froze for a second. Giselle was a bridesmaid, and Denis was a groomsman. He wore a tailored black tuxedo, and she wore an elegant white silk gown. They looked perfect together. I wanted to change tables, but my friend, the bride, pushed me back into the seat. “Stay here,” Fiona whispered with a wink. “I put all the handsome guys at this table.” The guests at our table seemed to know Denis and Giselle, though not closely. They chatted easily, and soon someone joked, “Hey Denis, now that Marcus is married, when are you going to tie the knot with Giselle again?” Denis glanced at the guest, his expression neutral. “Don’t talk nonsense.” Shortly after, the groom called them away for photos. The ceremony was held in the outdoor gardens. The couple looked beautiful, and so did the bridal party. Standing side by side, Denis and Giselle looked like they belonged together. I had once dreamed of a wedding like this with Denis. But we never had one. We had simply signed the papers and had a quiet dinner with our parents. Watching them now, a hollow emptiness opened in my chest. After the ceremony, we returned to the reception hall. Seated at the table of strangers, I felt entirely out of place. Their shared memories only highlighted how little I belonged in Denis’s world. Fiona, the bride, had been a senior colleague of mine during residency. She did not know I was married to Denis. She walked over, raising her glass to me. “Vivian, I hand picked the bachelors at this table,” she whispered, loud enough for others to hear. “They are all successful, sweet guys. Let me know if any of them catch your eye.” My cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Denis looked at me, his dark eyes unreadable. He did not mention that we were married, and neither did I. Since we were bound to get a divorce eventually, there was no need to make our messy private life public. When the reception ended, I got up to leave. Fiona walked me to the exit, and Denis fell into step beside me. “Wait for me,” he murmured, leaning closer. “I’ll drive you home.” I took a step back, politely keeping my distance. Everyone here knew his history with Giselle. Some even thought they were still together. I did not want to cause a scene. “Vivian,” a gentle voice called out. A young man, looking like a recent graduate, approached us. “I’m Owen, Fiona’s cousin. Could I get your number? If that is okay with you.” I smiled back. “Of course.” We swapped contact info. Denis’s eyes darkened. Without warning, he reached out and locked his fingers with mine, his grip tight and commanding. It felt like holding a hot coal. I immediately yanked my hand back, brushing my arm to cover the gesture. “These summer bugs are awful, I must have gotten a bite.” “Vivian, do you need a ride?” Owen offered. “Fiona mentioned you had a drink. I’m sober, so I can drive.” I was about to accept, as cabs were hard to find in this district, when Denis stepped in, his cold aura instantly filling the space between us. “Vivian, are we heading home together?” he asked, his tone perfectly measured. Owen smiled, looking back and forth between us. “Oh, do you two know each other?” I answered quickly, before Denis could speak. “Yes, we work at the same hospital. Dr. Giselle is our colleague too.” Owen nodded. “Ah, that makes sense.” He turned to Denis. “By the way, Denis, I saw someone asking Giselle for her number earlier. You might want to move fast before someone else steals her away.” Denis let out a dry laugh. “An exchange of numbers doesn’t mean much.” He reached for my hand again, but I smoothly stepped behind Owen. “Owen, I would appreciate that ride.” Owen smiled. “Let’s go.” Denis’s face turned incredibly dark. When I got back to our apartment, Denis was already there. He stood in the living room, his brow arched. “Are you trying to hide our relationship?” he demanded. The bluntness of his question caught me off guard. “You are overthinking things,” I replied quietly. He stared at me, his eyes clouded with frustration. After that night, I actively kept my distance. I could no longer pretend everything was fine. Knowing he had sacrificed my hard work for Giselle’s career made me realize how foolish I had been. If our marriage was a sinking ship, I needed to make sure my own career survived. I threw myself into my work, leaving early and returning late. I spent almost all my time at the hospital, completely avoiding him. He texted me: Waiting for you in the parking garage. I replied: In surgery. Don’t wait. Though we lived under the same roof, we only saw each other three times that month. Winter arrived early in Chicago. A massive blizzard hit the neighboring town of Aspen, causing a severe mountain emergency with collapsed structures and multiple casualties. Our hospital assembled a disaster relief team, and I volunteered immediately. On our way to Aspen, the other doctors were calling their families. Denis had been texting me frequently lately, checking in. An hour before we lost signal, he sent a text: Working late tonight at the office. When we reached the valley, the rescue zone was a chaotic mess. The power was out, and searchlights swept over the snow. I was carrying my medical pack through the ruins of a resort when I saw a tall, familiar figure in the distance. He was carrying a woman wrapped in a thick wool coat. His face was pale with worry. As he got closer, our eyes met. We both froze. I stared at Denis. His breath caught, his grip on Giselle tightening. “Vivian, it is not what you think,” he rasped, his voice strained. I kept my face completely blank. “Move aside, please. I have patients to treat.” I bypassed him and ran toward the collapsed lobby. Our team worked straight through the night. By the time the last survivor was pulled from the wreckage, the sun was rising over the snowy peaks. We were exhausted, our hands raw from the cold. During our afternoon break, the staff sat around a small heater, whispering. “Dr. Giselle injured her leg. There was a lot of blood.” “Denis carried her out of the ruins himself. She was barely dressed.” The rumors were filled with suggestive comments about their late night reunion at the resort. Listening to them, I felt a strange sense of detachment. The anger and jealousy were gone, replaced by a cold, heavy finality. Seeing him carry Giselle through the snow had broken the last string holding us together. I wanted a divorce, and this time, nothing would change my mind. I walked out of the tent to get some fresh air. Denis was standing by the rescue vehicles, his tall figure silhouetted against the white snow. “Vivian,” he said, his voice raw. I nodded politely. “We can talk when we return to Chicago. I still have patients to monitor.” “Don’t misunderstand,” he repeated, his eyes pleading. I offered him a small, polite smile. “I don’t.” I knew exactly who he was, and who he cared about.

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My sister loved playing “one of the boys.” She spent her days bossing her “bros” around, making them buy her tampons and even wash her underwear. At their engagement party, Thomas held out the ring to her. She laughed right in front of the room full of guests. “Thomas, are you seriously still doing this?” “I think of you as my bro, and you want to marry me? That is so gross.” Everyone in the hall froze, but she did not seem to care at all. After all, Thomas had been in love with her since they were kids. She assumed that this time, like the countless times before, he would swallow his pride and beg for her forgiveness. But Thomas just stayed silent for a few seconds, then snapped the velvet ring box shut. Then he turned his gaze to me, sitting quietly in the corner. “Amy Newall, will you marry me?” 1 I walked up to the stage. Cindy pulled my arm, whispering, “Amy, you are not well. Do not push yourself.” That old excuse again. But this time, I was not backing down. I let out a soft laugh, shook off her hand, and stood right in front of Thomas. “I will do it.” My dad let out a visible sigh of relief. Cindy’s face completely fell. “Amy, have you lost your mind?” I looked her in the eyes. “Didn’t you say marriage is outdated and suffocating?” “You cannot call it trash and then get mad when someone else cleans it up, can you?” Cindy’s jaw tightened, completely speechless. Thomas, however, smiled. He took the microphone and spoke clearly to the crowd. “Great. The Harrison Group formally chooses Amy Newall.” The spotlights that were supposed to shine on Cindy now fell entirely on me. Cindy stood a few feet away, crossing her arms with a cold sneer. She was not genuinely panicked yet. She thought Thomas was just trying to make her jealous. After all, for years, all she had to do was shrug and say, “Come on, bro, do not be mad,” and Thomas would always run back to her. In the car on the way home, the silence was suffocating. Cindy was the first to break it. “I had no idea, Amy.” “You play the quiet, fragile sister so well, but you sure move fast when it is time to steal something.” I looked out the window at the passing city lights. “Didn’t you say you did not want him?” She choked on her words. I continued, “You told everyone he was your brother. People do not marry their brothers.” “I am just helping you respect the sacred bond of brotherhood. Why are you so upset?” Cindy turned pale. My mother immediately jumped in to defend her. “Amy, stop taking digs at your sister. She was just speaking without thinking tonight.” “Speaking without thinking almost cost us the Harrison Group’s entire investment.” My father frowned. “Amy!” I turned to look at him. “Dad, I am just stating facts.” The car fell silent again. Cindy suddenly smiled, softening her tone. “I did not want to marry him because I refuse to be trapped in a domestic cage.” “But you are different.” “You have been sickly since you were a kid. You cannot handle the high-pressure world of the Harrison family.” “I am only looking out for you.” I was so tired of hearing that. Looking out for me. Is that why she secretly changed my college major application? Is that why she rejected career opportunities on my behalf? Is that why she stole my project proposal and put her own name on it? I pulled my tablet from my bag, unlocked it, and opened a folder. I turned the screen toward them. “Is this what you call looking out for me?” On the screen was a detailed log of every single time my life had been sabotaged since childhood. I swiped through them slowly. The only sound in the car was the heavy breathing of my parents. My mother’s expression grew incredibly tense. “Why on earth are you keeping a record of this?” I looked at her. “Because I realized that without hard evidence, my side of the story is always treated as a lie.” Cindy finally sat up straight. “Do you honestly think I stole your opportunities?” “Didn’t you?” I asked. Her eyes welled with tears. “I shielded you from those things because I was afraid the stress would make you sick!” “Did you ever bother to ask me what I wanted?” She froze. “When did I ever say I did not want to go?” I asked. “When did I ever give you permission to rewrite my life?” “Cindy, stop calling your greed ‘protection.’” My dad glared at me. “We are a family. Do not use such ugly words.” I smiled. “Dad, it is called being clear.” “And it is about time we settled the books in this family.” Cindy gritted her teeth. “So you planned this whole thing tonight.” “But Amy, you are dead wrong. Thomas only wants me.” “He only proposed to you tonight to get under my skin.” I did not bother to reply, but deep down, I was absolutely certain. This time, I was going to win. 2 The next day, the joint press release from the Harrison Group and the Newall Group went viral. In the official photo, I stood next to Thomas, holding the signed contract. The comment section went wild. Some people loved the drama of a last-minute bride swap in a high-profile merger. Others asked if Cindy had run away from her own wedding. And someone even turned her “who marries their bro” quote into a viral clip, plastered with laughing emojis. Cindy stayed locked in her room. But she was highly active on social media. “Some people really love picking up the scraps.” “Taking a joke way too seriously.” “Just because bros are having a fight does not mean an outsider gets to cut the line.” I ignored it all. That afternoon, Thomas invited me to his office to discuss the project. When I walked in, he was reviewing the risk assessment part of the proposal I had brought the night before. He flipped to the page and looked up at me. “Did you write this part?” “Yes.” “Cindy showed me a very similar version a while ago.” I paused. He added flatly, “But she could not explain any of the data when I asked.” I did not know whether to laugh or feel bitter. So, it was not that no one noticed. It was just that no one had ever called her out before. Thomas closed the folder. “Amy, there is something we need to make clear before we go any further.” I looked at him. “Go ahead.” “I used to love Cindy.” He was brutally honest. “It was not a casual crush like the rumors say. I genuinely wanted a future with her.” My fingers tightened slightly around my purse. He continued, “And I let her get away with a lot because I thought she was just afraid of commitment.” “But last night, she used my family and our business partners as props to prove how edgy and different she is.” “I am not playing her games anymore.” The office was completely quiet. “Are you telling me this because you want me to step down?” I asked. “No.” Thomas looked at me. “I’m telling you this so you know you are not walking into a clean, simple relationship.” “If that bothers you, you can walk away right now.” I was silent for a moment. “Thomas, I did not sign that contract because I am in love with you either.” “I did it because I want my name, my career, and my rightful place.” “I do not care who you loved in the past.” “But from this moment on, if I am going to be your fiancée, I expect you to maintain the boundaries of a fiancé.” A flash of surprise crossed his eyes. Then, he smiled. “Deal.” He pushed another document toward me. “Let’s put those boundaries in writing.” One clause stood out clearly: During the engagement, both parties shall maintain a united public front. Neither party shall engage in flirtatious behavior with third parties or tolerate ambiguous relationships that could damage the partnership. I signed it. Thomas signed it right after. As the pen left the paper, I found it almost funny. Other couples rely on vows. We rely on legally binding clauses. But clauses are better. At least when they are written down, nobody can pretend they forgot. That evening, Cindy crashed a gathering with Thomas’s friends. Wearing a black leather motorcycle jacket, she walked in and tried to slide into the seat right next to Thomas, just like she always did. But I had already placed my designer bag on that seat. “Cindy, the boys’ table is over there,” I said, pointing to the other side of the room. That table was packed with the guys from their social circle. One of them laughed. “Hey, Cindy! Come on over, the real bro table is here!” Cindy’s face stiffened. “Amy, do not be childish.” I kept my expression perfectly serious. “You said it yourself. You and Thomas are just bros.” “Bros sit at the bro table. What is the issue?” She looked at Thomas. Her eyes held that familiar, practiced look of wounded innocence. In the past, that look had worked every single time. But Thomas did not even look up. He simply handed me the menu. “What do you feel like eating?” Cindy stood frozen for what felt like an eternity before finally stomping over to the guys’ table. I pulled out my phone and created a group chat. Group name: Thomas’s Bro-Zone Management. I added Cindy and every guy in the room. “Since you are all bros, please post in this group if anyone gets drunk, has car trouble, or needs to vent.” “Let’s avoid calling my fiancé individually in the middle of the night.” The entire room went dead silent. Cindy stared at me across the table. “Don’t you think you are overstepping?” Thomas set his glass down. “It is not overstepping. It is called boundaries.” He looked directly at Cindy. “From now on, use the group chat if you need something.” Cindy’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “Thomas, seriously? You are doing this to me?” His voice was completely flat. “Yes.” “I let things slide in the past, which gave you the wrong impression. I won’t make that mistake again.” At that moment, the proud, untouchable facade Cindy had built for herself finally cracked. But she still did not believe it. She convinced herself that Thomas was just putting on a show. She thought that if she just pushed a little harder, he would eventually come crawling back. 3 The wedding planning meeting was held at the Harrison headquarters. Cindy arrived even earlier than I did. She was sitting on Thomas’s left, her legs crossed, acting as if she still owned the place. Thomas walked into the conference room and took one look at her. “Cindy, that seat is reserved for my fiancée.” Her face flushed. I walked over and sat down. The wedding planning agency began going through the schedule. Press conference, media Q&A, project signing, engagement ceremony, family dinner. The coordinator asked for the list of bridesmaids and groomsmen. Cindy suddenly spoke up. “I am not doing the bridesmaid thing.” She leaned back in her chair, her tone lazy and dismissive. “I do not do dresses, and I do not care for girly traditions.” “Just put me in Thomas’s groomsmen lineup.” I nodded. “Sure, that works.” She blinked, caught off guard. I turned to the coordinator. “Put Cindy in the groomsmen lineup.” “Make her outfit a black tailored suit.” “She stands with the guys.” “And reserve three minutes for her speech. The topic is: Wishing My Bro a Happy Engagement.” Someone in the room muffled a laugh. Cindy glared at me. “Amy, are you intentionally trying to humiliate me?” I raised my eyes to meet hers. “Didn’t you choose the bro label yourself?” She gritted her teeth. “I am not like them.” “How so?” She could not answer. I continued, “You are a member of the bride’s family, so you could sit in the family section.” “Or you can stand with the groomsmen as his bro.” “What exact identity do you want to have next to Thomas?” The conference room fell into a dead silence. My mother quickly spoke up. “Amy, do not talk to your sister like that. She is just being her usual candid self.” Thomas flipped through the itinerary and said coolly, “Contracts and schedules do not care about being candid. They only care about designated roles.” Cindy’s face turned white. This was what she feared most. Because once her role was clearly defined, she could no longer use the bro excuse to demand romantic ambiguity, nor could she use her status as a woman to demand special treatment. After the meeting, she cornered me in the hallway. “Amy, do you actually think you have won?” I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Have I not?” She sneered. “Do you have any idea how long Thomas has loved me?” “In high school, I mentioned a stomach ache once, and he ran through a thunderstorm to bring me medicine.” “In college, when I got into an argument with someone, he literally caught the next flight back from abroad just to stand by me.” “That motorcycle I rode for my birthday? He spent six months on a waiting list just to buy it for me.” Her voice grew more confident. “He is just angry right now.” “He is mad that I would not say yes, so he is using you to hurt me.” “Do not flatter yourself.” I did not say a word. Thinking she had finally intimidated me, she stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Believe it or not, all it takes is for me to say I regret it, and he will come running back to me in a heartbeat.” I looked at her, and suddenly, I could not help but laugh. “Cindy.” “Why do you assume people will wait around in the exact same spot forever?” Her expression darkened. “Because he loves me.” Just then, Thomas walked out of the conference room. Cindy’s eyes instantly welled with tears. “Thomas, I really did not mean it that way at the party.” “I was just overwhelmed when you suddenly proposed to her.” “Stop using Amy to get back at me, please?” She offered the apology casually, with the same easy confidence she had used to pacify him a hundred times before. But Thomas did not move. “Cindy,” he said. “I am not using anyone to get back at you.” “Amy is my wife.” Cindy froze. “Your wife?” She looked at me, letting out a sharp laugh as if she had just heard the most ridiculous joke. “Your engagement ceremony has not even happened. Who are you trying to fool?” I reached into my designer bag, pulled out two official marriage certificates, and held them up in front of her. The photos showed Thomas and me sitting side-by-side, smiling. The red official seal was perfectly clear. The date of registration was this morning. “Cindy, if you truly believe he is still in love with you,” I said calmly, “why don’t you try convincing him to divorce me first?”

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