Author: Momo Chan

When I found out my online boyfriend was actually my stepbrother, I panicked and posted a frantic listing online. Giving away my online boyfriend for free. He’s clingy and talks constantly. We’ve never met in person. Is anyone willing to take him off my hands and meet up with him? Urgent, urgent, urgent! Just then, my stepbrother walked up, a teasing, dark smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t you say you wanted to bury your face in my chest and kiss me raw the second we met? And now you’re just giving me away to someone else?” I trembled violently and bolted. Later, at a family dinner, in a dimly lit corner, my stepbrother slowly unbuttoned his cuffs and backed me against the wall. “Viv, breaking a promise isn’t a good habit. Come here.” 1 I had spent the last three months dating a guy who was six-foot-two, had an insane six-pack, and possessed the absolute sweetest, most nurturing golden-retriever energy. After three months of heavy flirting, he happened to be in my city on business, so we agreed to finally meet up over the weekend. As I rode the train over, even the breeze outside felt sweet. On a whim, I posted a quick update on a social media app to document the moment. Heading to meet my online boyfriend. If it goes well, I’ve hit the jackpot. If it doesn’t, I’m just a clown. Beneath the text, I attached a photo he’d sent of himself wearing an apron. His massive chest practically strained the fabric, throwing his ridiculously broad shoulders into sharp relief. The comments section instantly went wild. That V-taper is insane. You are eating so good, girl! I could never land a guy like this. Do us a favor and scream for the rest of us! Drop the tutorial, sis! I am literally on my knees! Right then, messages from my online boyfriend started flooding my screen. Where are you, Viv? Just thinking about seeing you today has completely ruined my concentration. I can’t even focus on my meetings. My head is entirely filled with you. I’m in my office right now, so nervous and excited. I’m pretty average-looking, though. Are you going to be disappointed when you see me? Maybe I should send you a photo first so you can prepare yourself? I texted back: Of course not, honey. It’s your heart I fell for. Looks don’t matter to me. In three months of dating, we had exchanged voice notes and teased each other with body shots, but we had never actually shared our faces. But honestly, with a physique like that, I would happily take him with my eyes closed. Then, he sent another photo. My jaw hit the floor. A massive man was sitting in an office chair, thighs spread wide, his suit trousers stretched tight enough to show the faint outlines of shirt-stays. His left arm was slightly bent, hand resting on his thigh, veins bulging across the back of his hand and up his forearm where his sleeve was rolled to the elbow. His other elbow rested on his knee, holding a prop gun I had teased him into buying. He gripped the barrel, pointing the stock toward the camera. He leaned forward slightly, his black vest hugging the prominent chest muscles beneath his white shirt. The sheer power radiating from the image was overwhelming. The posture was pure dominance, dripping with raw tension. I felt hot just looking at it. He was teasing me, plain and simple. Since the train was packed, I couldn’t do much, so I quickly typed: Are you going to use that gun stock to tap my backside? He sent a voice note immediately. I scrambled to plug in my earbuds. A smooth, deep voice rumbled in my ears. “One minute you want to bury your face in my chest, and the next you want a spanking. You’re getting greedy, sweetheart.” I typed: Please? Pretty please? He let out a low, breathless chuckle. “We’ll see how well you behave, Viv.” That laugh absolutely destroyed me. I wanted nothing more than to tear through the screen and throw myself at him. 2 Finally, the train pulled into the station. I grabbed my suitcase and practically sprinted out. He had told me he would be waiting near the exit. But the moment I stepped onto the platform near the street, I spotted a painfully familiar figure. Slicked-back hair, a perfectly tailored suit, looking utterly severe and strictly business. It was my incredibly intimidating stepbrother, Gideon. We were from a blended family. My mother had married his father, Robert, when we were younger. Although I called him my brother, we weren’t close at all. First, he was older than me, deeply traditional, and a man of exceptionally few words. By the time I was in school, he was already working at the family firm. We rarely saw each other, and when we did, it was nothing more than polite, brief pleasantries followed by heavy silence. Second, his features took after his father, only sharper and far more imposing. One look from those cold, dark eyes was enough to make my stomach drop. The only upside was that he occasionally acted as an ATM when I was short on cash. In fact, the money for this trip had come straight from his pocket. He had no idea I was traveling to meet an online lover, and I had absolutely no intention of telling him. So, I lowered my head, avoiding his line of sight, and blended into the crowd. He seemed to be waiting for someone, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers. Ooh, a girl, I thought, a mischievous grin tugging at my lips. If his father knew Gideon was dating, he would probably throw a party. I found a quiet corner far away from Gideon and sent a text to my guy. I’m here, babe. My phone rang almost instantly. “I’m right by the main exit,” his deep voice said, a trace of nervous anticipation bleeding through the speaker. “You should see me the moment you walk out.” I scanned the crowd, my brow furrowing. There was absolutely no one around who matched his description. “I don’t see you. I’m right outside the main gates.” The line went quiet for a second before he suggested, “Do you want to FaceTime?” “Sure, let’s do it.” We had to face each other eventually, and with a body like that, there was no way he could be hard on the eyes. As the call connected, I quickly patted down my hair, checked my makeup in the reflection, angled myself toward the best light, and hit accept. It took exactly one second. I slammed my hand over the camera lens. My smile froze instantly. “Viv?” That single word sent a violent shiver down my spine. I turned around slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. Sure enough, not far away, Gideon was holding his phone up, staring intensely at the screen. “Viv, what’s wrong?” My mind raced as I came to a terrifying, impossible realization. My online boyfriend was Gideon. My online boyfriend was my own stepbrother. 3 It took me several agonizing moments to find my voice. “Um, so… what did you say your name was again?” Gideon’s deep voice drifted through the speaker. “Gideon. I told you before.” Refusing to accept reality, I stammered, “Right, but… how do you spell it? Is it G-I-D-E-O-N?” “Yes, Vivian. Gideon Cross. I’ve never lied to you about that.” I closed my eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. My entire world was collapsing. When we first started talking, we had exchanged names. He had sent me a brief, one-second voice note. I remembered feeling a brief flicker of familiarity back then, but the slight unease had been quickly swept away by the gorgeous fitness photos he posted on his feed. To flirt with him and bridge the gap between us, I had given him my nickname. Viv. It was a name my mother had given me when I was a child, though she rarely used it these days. I had never in a million years imagined that the man on the other end of the line was Gideon. Gideon was always so cold, so distant. My online boyfriend, on the other hand, was incredibly suggestive, clingy, and had an insane physique. Sure, the name Gideon wasn’t incredibly common, but I figured it was just a coincidence. But of all the people in the world, it had to be him. If only I had insisted on seeing his face while I was still on the train. Regret washed over me in suffocating waves. As I stood there utterly paralyzed, Gideon’s voice came through the phone again, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Viv? Did you change your mind after seeing my face? I told you I wasn’t much to look at. I’m sorry. I should have sent you a photo sooner.” The raw disappointment in his tone made my chest ache. “No, it’s not that. I was just… really surprised. You just look a little intimidating.” Gideon wasn’t unattractive by any means. He had sharp, striking features with a dangerous, dark edge. But those intense, heavy-lidded eyes could look incredibly fierce when he stared at you without expression, often sending a chill straight down your spine. The very first time my mother brought me to the family home, I had burst into tears out of sheer terror just looking at him. Hearing my response, Gideon softened his voice. “I’m sorry, Viv. I was afraid of scaring you off, which is why I waited so long to show you. Most people around me… they’re terrified of me. If you don’t like what you see, I won’t bother you. But could you give me a chance? Let’s just sit down, have a quiet dinner, and then I’ll make sure you get home safely. After that, you can decide whether you want to keep talking to me.” My heart melted a little at his gentleness. But… he was my stepbrother. “I need to use the restroom. Can you wait for me for a minute?” “Of course.” I ended the call, but the panic in my chest didn’t subside. I peered out from behind the corner to steal a glance at him. Gideon was looking down at his phone, his face unreadable, completely lost in thought. A dull ache settled deep in my chest. I had genuinely fallen for my online boyfriend. Why did it have to be Gideon? Ever since my mother married into his family, she had constantly pressured me to please both Gideon and his father. I had done my best to follow her instructions, but the pressure was agonizing. I crouched down, burying my face in my hands. Suddenly, my phone buzzed, reminding me of the post I had made earlier. In just two hours, the update had garnered over ten thousand likes, and the comments were blowing up with people begging for an update. I quietly changed my username to: Holy crap, he’s my stepbrother. Then I drafted a new post: Giving away my online boyfriend for free. He’s clingy and talks constantly. We’ve never met in person. Are there any girls near Riverport Central Station who want to take my place? Urgent, urgent, urgent! I’m sorry, Gideon, but I don’t see any other way out of this. Just as my thumb hovered over the publish button, a deep voice shattered the silence behind me. “Vivian?” I gasped, leaping to my feet. Gideon was standing right there, towering over me, his face carved from ice. “G-Gideon!” My tongue felt like lead as I frantically locked my screen. Gideon studied me, his sharp gaze scanning me from head to toe before he spoke. “What are you doing here?” His voice was cool and distant. Those piercing eyes pinned me to the spot, making it impossible to lie. “I… I came to meet someone I met online…” I swallowed hard, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, Gideon, I…” The words caught in my throat. My palms were slick with sweat. Gideon adopted his usual authoritative stance. “An online boyfriend? Who is he? What’s his name? How long have you been together?” Every single question made me want to curl up and disappear. I looked away, forcing myself to spin a lie. “We broke up just now. He didn’t think I was good enough for him.” A ghost of a smirk played on Gideon’s lips, sending a shiver down my spine. His light voice drifted down over me. “What a coincidence. I was just dumped, too.” 4 My heart skipped a violent beat. A terrible suspicion crept into my mind that he already knew everything. But Gideon merely stared at me, keeping perfectly silent, his overwhelming presence wrapping around me like a tight coil. I clutched at the hem of my shirt, fighting back tears. “I’m… I’m sorry, Gideon. She must have been blind to let you go. You’re the best brother in the world.” The lie nearly choked me. Gideon didn’t look particularly pleased by the compliment, but he let out a noncommittal grunt and turned on his heel. I let out a silent breath of relief, only for him to stop and look back over his shoulder. “Aren’t you coming? Or are you planning to go search for that online boyfriend who didn’t think you were good enough?” He placed a heavy, deliberate emphasis on those last few words. Before my brain could process the situation, my hands had already grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and my feet were moving to keep pace with him. When we reached his car, I noticed the beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting sadly inside a trash bin. I bit my lower lip and quietly opened the passenger door. Gideon placed my suitcase in the trunk before sliding into the driver’s seat. Once the doors closed, a heavy, tense silence filled the cabin. Desperate for a distraction, I pulled out my phone. Ensuring Gideon was focused on the road, I quickly swiped away from the social media app. My finger accidentally swiped down the notification shade, revealing two unread alerts from our dating app. 12 minutes ago: Your partner has started sharing their location. 7 minutes ago: Your partner has stopped sharing their location. I froze entirely. He had been right there, but he had already turned it off several minutes ago. I was so dazed that I barely registered Gideon speaking to me. It wasn’t until his voice cut through the fog that I blinked. “Vivian.” I snapped out of it, my face pale as I turned to him. His brow furrowed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong? Still missing that online guy?” I parted my lips but found nothing to say, swallowed by intense awkwardness. I couldn’t tell if he knew the truth. If he did, he shouldn’t be acting this calm. But if he didn’t, why would he say he had been dumped? Perhaps noticing how shaken and miserable I looked, Gideon sighed, his tone softening slightly. “I asked you what you wanted to eat. Let’s get some food, and then I’ll drop you off at a hotel so you can rest. I’ll drive you back home tomorrow.” The gentle cadence of his voice sounded remarkably like my online boyfriend now. If we hadn’t been so distant at home, I probably would have recognized his voice the moment we first spoke. I mumbled, “Whatever you think is best, Gideon. I don’t mind.” “Alright.” He spared me a brief glance before focusing on the road. The silence stretched all the way to the restaurant. My mind was a chaotic mess, and I could barely taste the food. Gideon remained as quiet and aloof as ever. As we neared the end of the meal, he spoke up again. “I don’t have any work left for today. Is there anywhere you’d like to visit?” He had told me online that he had cleared his entire schedule for the next few days just so we could spend uninterrupted time together during our meeting. Guilt and anxiety gnawed at my conscience. I shook my head slowly. Gideon’s expression didn’t change. “Then I’ll take you to your hotel.” “Okay.” 5 When we arrived at the hotel room, Gideon lingered at the doorway. “Stay safe. Call me if you need anything.” He paused, shifting his weight. “You’ve been messaging me on my work profile. It gets cluttered with business inquiries, so it’s not very practical. Let’s exchange personal accounts.” He retrieved his phone and brought up a QR code. Looking at the familiar profile picture, my stomach did a slow flip. I was currently logged into my secret dating profile on my messaging app, and there was no way I could switch accounts right in front of him. I scrambled for a terrible excuse. “Give me a second, Gideon. I really need to use the restroom. I can’t hold it.” I rushed inside, shut the door, and frantically switched back to my primary messaging profile. Over the past two years, my mother’s desire for control had become suffocating. She micromanaged everything from the clothes I wore to the posts I shared and the people I spoke with. Once I started college, she demanded daily updates on my schedule down to the smallest detail. She was obsessed with grooming me into a perfect, flawless, and utterly submissive socialite. The sheer pressure had driven me to create a secret account where I could let off steam and speak my mind. When I first added Gideon on his personal account, he had seen my erratic posts and probably thought I was losing my mind. Honestly, I probably was. Once the account was switched, I stepped back out and scanned his QR code. “There we go. Thanks, Gideon.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but seeing my eager dismissal, he simply nodded and turned to leave. I watched him walk down the hallway, closed the door, and slumped against it, completely drained of energy. Crawling onto the bed, I reopened the social media app. The draft of my giveaway post was still sitting there. After a moment of hesitation, I deleted it. Since my username change, the post about meeting my online boyfriend had gained even more traction, and the comments were getting wilder. Oh my god, a forbidden stepbrother romance in real life? This is too wild! I demand a daily log of this! I need to know every single detail! Naturally, some accused me of baiting for engagement. People will really invent anything for clout these days. Totally fake. How do you not recognize your own brother’s body? A few users even sent nasty direct messages, accusing me of promoting something sick. Feeling incredibly hurt, I pinned a comment to clarify: We aren’t biologically related. We’re a blended family, and he’s five years older than me. We barely know each other and only see each other once a year during the holidays. I created a secret account to vent because of extreme personal stress, and by some insane stroke of luck, I ended up adding his private profile without realizing it. It’s not what you think. Please stop the hateful comments; I’m incredibly sensitive and this is really stressing me out. Shortly after pinning the comment, an anonymous user with a default avatar messaged me: Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s not your fault at all. But I have to ask, do you actually have feelings for your online guy, or was he just a distraction for you? Assuming the user was a supportive girl, I replied: I genuinely fell for him. His voice, his look, his sweet personality, everything about him is absolutely perfect. I’m completely head over heels. But he’s my stepbrother. Even if we don’t share any blood, my family would absolutely destroy me if they found out, especially my mother. The moment I pressed send, a text from Gideon flashed across my screen: Open the door. 6 I frantically exited the app, setting my phone to Do Not Disturb to keep any incoming notifications hidden. When I opened the door, Gideon was standing in the hallway, holding the handle of my suitcase. A rare, gentle smile touched his lips. “You left your bag in my car,” he said. I had never seen him smile like that before, and it felt almost surreal. He walked past me into the room, the wheels of the suitcase clicking softly against the floor. I stood there, utterly bewildered. “Gideon?” “Yeah?” His phone was unlocked in his hand, hanging loosely at his side. I couldn’t see the text clearly, but I caught a glimpse of that familiar default avatar on his screen. An epiphany hit me like a physical blow. He knew. He had known the entire time. He had likely stumbled across my post, turned on his location sharing to confirm it, and tracked me down. Every single word he had said since then, every action, had been a deliberate test. And that anonymous user asking if I genuinely liked him? That was him. It made perfect sense why he was standing at my door the exact second I replied. Panic seized me. “Gideon, listen, I can explain…” Gideon sat down on the edge of the bed, watching me with a calm, intensely tender gaze that made my throat close up. “Take your time, Viv,” he said softly. The moment he called me by my nickname, all pretense evaporated. The fragile string keeping my composure together snapped completely. My knees buckled, and I nearly fell to the floor. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. Gideon immediately stood up, looking alarmed. “I’m not angry with you, sweetheart. Please don’t be afraid.” He took a step toward me, but my instinct made me flinch back. His hand froze in midair, a look of profound regret crossing his face as he slowly lowered his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Those fierce eyes were suddenly filled with deep affection and sorrow. “When I first realized you were my online girl, I was completely stunned. I felt anxious, conflicted, and confused. But it took me only five minutes to make peace with it. I love you, Viv. No matter who you are, I love the real, unfiltered version of you that you shared with me.” His absolute certainty left me speechless. “But… I’m your stepsister.” He let out a soft chuckle. “I know. But it doesn’t change how I feel. If anything, it makes me understand why you were always so emotional when we talked, and why you would cling to me and say the wildest things. It just makes me ache for you even more.” His gaze was incredibly tender. “At home, you always walked on eggshells, hiding your true self. I never understood why you were so terrified of me. Every time I tried to reach out or show you kindness, you seemed to interpret it as… a threat?” He sighed deeply. “So, I stopped trying. I figured keeping my distance was the only way to make things easier for you.” I looked away, biting my lip as memories from years ago flooded my mind.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “497732”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My brother was only nineteen when he was sent to prison. He stole three pounds of beef from the local butcher shop because our mother had been starving in bed for three days. The butcher insisted on pressing charges and threw my brother to the cops. My mother dragged her sick body to the butcher’s doorstep, dropping to her knees to beg him to drop the case. The owner spat a thick wad of phlegm onto the dirt right next to her. “Stealing is stealing. Three pounds is still a crime.” My brother got a year behind bars. By the time he was released, our mother was already dead. He lost his mind. He was completely, irreversibly broken. Thirty years later, I am the CEO of my own company. One afternoon, a gray-haired old man was brought into my office. His son had embezzled fifty thousand dollars of company funds, and I had handed him straight to the police. The old man’s hands shook violently as he pulled a thick stack of medical records from his pocket. “Boss, I have kidney failure. He is my only son.” “Please, show some mercy. He knows he messed up.” I flipped through the medical files. I saw that painfully familiar name at the top of the page. I slowly raised my eyes. “A crime is a crime. Fifty thousand dollars is still a crime.” 1 “Brian, don’t you think that is a little too cold-blooded?” The office door was violently shoved open. My fiancé and the company’s Vice President, Tristan, marched into the room. His suit jacket was draped over his arm, his brows knitted together in deep disapproval. His leather shoes made no sound against the plush carpet, but his entire aura was aggressively overbearing. “It is only fifty grand. That is pocket change for this company. Do you really need to push a man to the brink of death?” Kneeling on the floor, Gary was shaking uncontrollably. The moment he saw Tristan, his eyes lit up like he had seen a savior. He scrambled across the floor, practically throwing himself at Tristan’s legs, his wails growing even louder. “Please, sir! You have to help me!” “My boy is a good kid! He only did something so stupid because he was trying to pay for my medical bills!” Sobbing, Gary pulled up his faded, yellowed shirt. He exposed a shriveled stomach covered in a dense cluster of needle marks. “Look at this! I have end-stage kidney failure. The dialysis alone costs a fortune every month.” “Derek just could not bear to see his old man suffer! I am the one dragging him down!” Tristan stared at those bruised needle marks. A flash of profound sympathy crossed his eyes. He bent down and gently pulled Gary to his feet. “Please stand up, sir. The floor is cold.” He turned his head, shooting me a blistering, judgmental glare. “Brian! Look at how sick this man is. Do you not have a single shred of empathy left?” “Derek has busted his ass for this company for three years. Even if he made a mistake, he has put in the work.” “He took that money to save his dying father. That is completely justifiable!” I watched their touching little master-and-servant performance. I tapped my index finger against the mahogany desk twice. “Justifiable? If everyone justified stealing like that, how exactly are we supposed to run a business?” “Section three of our corporate handbook is crystal clear. Any embezzlement over ten thousand dollars is immediately handed over to the authorities.” “Tristan, as the Vice President, did you somehow forget the absolute baseline of our company policies?” Tristan’s face darkened. “Rules are rigid. People are alive.” “We are at a critical stage right before our IPO.” “If we send a devoted son to prison over fifty grand when he was just trying to save his dad, how do you think the media will spin it?” “They will brand us as bloodsucking corporate vultures. They will say we drove an old man with kidney failure to his grave!” “Have you even calculated the catastrophic PR nightmare this will cause?” I stared right into Tristan’s self-righteous face. “A corporate image is built on following the law. Not on harboring criminals.” “He stole money from this company. That is a crime.” “Needing medical treatment does not give him a free pass to embezzle.” Gary stood off to the side, wiping his tears. His cloudy eyes secretly sized me up. “Ms. Brian, I know you are a big shot. You don’t need this kind of chump change.” “If you just drop the charges and let my son go, we will sell everything we own to pay you back!” “I will bow down to you!” He made a dramatic motion to drop to his knees again. Tristan grabbed his arm to stop him, whipping his head around to scream at me. “Brian, will you only be satisfied when you force this man into a coffin?!” “I know you are ruthless in the boardroom, but do you have to be this heartless to a dying old man?” The blinds in my office were not fully closed. Out in the bullpen, several employees were craning their necks, whispering and watching the spectacle. Tristan took a deep breath. He seemed to make a decision. He straightened his posture and adjusted his tie. “You are off this case.” “As the Vice President, I have the authority to handle crisis management.” “I will have the legal department drop the charges immediately. We will also issue a five-thousand-dollar donation to Gary as a humanitarian gesture from the company.” I looked at him. A dry laugh bubbled up in my throat. “You want to use my company’s money to buy yourself some good karma?” “What makes you think you can bypass me and issue that order?” Tristan shoved his hands into his pockets. Absolute arrogance dripped from his eyes. “Because I am your fiancé. And I am the second-in-command.” “Brian, women shouldn’t be so aggressively stubborn. You need to know when to back down.” “Listen to me on this. It is the best move for you and the company.” He turned back to Gary, his tone softening into something gentle. “Sir, you go home and get some rest. I personally guarantee Derek’s situation will be sorted out by this afternoon.” Gary trembled with intense excitement. He took two steps back, bowing repeatedly. “Thank you, Mr. Tristan! You are a living saint!” “God bless you!” Right before he walked out the door, he shot me one last look. There was no gratitude in his eyes. Only a smug, victorious provocation. The office door clicked shut. I kept my eyes on Tristan. “Tristan, are you absolutely sure you want to shield a criminal?” Tristan walked up to my desk, looking down at me from his high horse. “I am saving our company’s reputation. And I am teaching you how to be a decent human being.” 2 “Teaching me?” I leaned back in my leather chair, silently studying Tristan. His eyes were swollen with self-important superiority. He genuinely believed he was some compassionate savior descending from the heavens. Tristan ignored my sarcastic question. He turned around, walked over to my desk, and picked up the intercom phone. “Tell Lawson from Legal to come to my office immediately. Bring the corporate seals and draft a formal letter of forgiveness.” He hung up the receiver and looked back at me. “Brian, the decision is made. Stop throwing a tantrum.” “Once Derek is released, I will make him apologize to you in person. Then we can finally put this behind us.” I didn’t say a word. I simply opened my desk drawer and pulled out a sleek black lockbox. I punched in the code and popped the lid. Resting quietly on the velvet lining were the official corporate seals and my personal signature stamp. Tristan’s face dropped. “What are you doing?” I snapped the box shut and rested my hand flat on top of it. “I am making myself perfectly clear. Without my signature and my stamp, Legal cannot issue a single valid document.” “Derek’s case will not be dropped. I am never signing a letter of forgiveness.” Tristan slammed his hand against my desk. “Brian, you are being completely unreasonable!” “Do you have any idea how pathologically cold-blooded you look right now?” “I am starting to wonder if you even have a heart beating in your chest!” He pointed a finger right at my nose, his chest heaving with dramatic rage. “Let me make this clear. If you refuse to back down today, I will call a board meeting and have you removed from your position!” “Be my guest.” I turned to my laptop and pulled up my schedule for the day. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. The door is right behind you. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.” Tristan stormed out in a blind fury, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass panes. Silence finally returned to the room. But I knew it was just the quiet before the storm. Sure enough, less than two hours later, the situation spiraled completely out of control. My secretary, Sarah, burst into the office in a total panic. “Brian, it is bad! You need to look at this live stream right now!” I took the tablet from her shaking hands. On the screen, Gary was sitting cross-legged right in the middle of our company’s ground-floor lobby. He was wearing a massive cardboard sign around his neck. The black marker read: HEARTLESS FEMALE CEO DRIVES SICK OLD MAN TO DEATH. Standing right next to him was a young woman holding up a phone on a tripod. It was his daughter, Hailey. “Listen to me, guys! You need to expose this evil corporation!” Hailey cried into the camera, tears streaming down her face. “My dad has kidney failure. He needs dialysis every month. My brother was desperate to save our dad, so he made a stupid mistake and borrowed some money from work.” “We begged them! We promised to sell our house to pay it back! But the CEO, Brian, is demanding my brother be locked up in prison!” “She is trying to destroy our entire family!” Right on cue, Gary clutched his chest and broke into a violent, hacking cough, acting as if he were taking his dying breath. The viewer count in the live stream had already broken one hundred thousand. The chat was moving at warp speed. “What a bloodsucking vampire!” “Fifty grand for a human life? Capitalists have zero conscience!” “Dox her! Bankrupt her company!” “Boycott all their products!” My phone started vibrating violently against the desk. An endless stream of unknown numbers flooded the screen, hurling abusive messages. I just held down the power button and shut it off. The office door was kicked open again. Tristan charged in, completely unhinged. He snatched the tablet from Sarah’s hands and smashed it down onto my desk. The screen shattered instantly. “Look at what you have done!” Tristan pointed at my face, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Our stock just dropped three points in the last ten minutes! Millions of dollars in valuation just vanished into thin air!” “My phone is blowing up with furious investors!” “Is this what your precious principles get us?!” I glanced at the spiderweb cracks on the screen. “They are trespassing and causing a disturbance in our lobby. Why haven’t the security guards thrown them out?” “Throw them out?” Tristan barked out a harsh, manic laugh. “The lobby is swarming with clout-chasing vloggers and cameras right now! You touch them, and see what happens!” “The second a guard lays a finger on that old man, the media will brand us as a violent crime syndicate by tomorrow morning!” He leaned over the desk, glaring at me like a cornered animal. “Brian, as the Vice President of this company, I am ordering you to come downstairs with me right now!” “You are going to apologize to Gary in front of every single camera down there!” “And you are going to sign that letter of forgiveness right on the spot!” I looked up, meeting his frantic gaze head-on. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why would I apologize?” Tristan froze. He genuinely could not comprehend how I was still standing my ground. “Are you insane?! Do you want to drag this entire company into the grave with you?!” “Brian, I usually let you have your stubborn little moments, but this is a matter of life and death for our business!” He took a massive breath. His tone dropped into a sinister, icy threat. “If you do not go down there and apologize, I will use the board of directors to suspend your authority as CEO.” “And another thing.” He paused, his eyes narrowing into a vicious glare. “If you don’t go down there right now, the wedding is off.” Sarah was backed into the corner of the room, too terrified to even breathe. I stared at the man I had been engaged to for two years. He was using our marriage as a bargaining chip to force me to bow down to a criminal. I stood up and smoothed out the hem of my blazer. “Fine. The wedding is off.” 3 “What did you just say?” Tristan stood frozen in place. The furious color instantly drained from his face. He probably thought my desperation for marriage was my ultimate weakness. He thought dropping the ultimate ultimatum would force me to surrender immediately. “I said, the wedding is off.” I repeated it slowly, keeping my voice perfectly flat. “As for my suspension, feel free to convene the board whenever you want. Assuming you can scrape together a majority vote.” Tristan’s face shifted from green to pale white. His finger trembled as he pointed at me. “Brian, do not regret this! You really think you can keep this empire running without me?!” “You are just bluffing to save face. Let me tell you right now, I am done tolerating your ego!” He spun on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls vibrated. I sank back into my chair and rubbed my throbbing temples. Suddenly, the landline on my desk rang. “Hello, is this the family of Jack?” An urgent, panicked female voice came through the speaker. “This is the West End Psychiatric Facility. Your brother was severely triggered a few minutes ago. He went into a manic episode and smashed his head against the wall.” “He needs stitches right now. You need to get here immediately!” “I am on my way!” I grabbed my car keys, sprinting out of the office. I blew through two red lights and screeched into the hospital parking lot. The second I stepped into the inpatient hallway, a shrill, hysterical voice echoed off the linoleum walls. “Don’t you dare block me! I am going to show everyone exactly how this psychopath beats people up!” “His sister is trying to murder my dad, and he is sitting here faking insanity to assault people!” I shoved my way through the crowd of nurses and patients. At the end of the hall, my brother Jack was pinned down on a bench by two large orderlies. Thick layers of gauze were wrapped around his forehead. Fresh, bright red blood was already seeping through, staining the white fabric. He was violently shaking, mumbling incoherently through chattering teeth. “I won’t steal anymore. I promise I won’t steal again. Please don’t hit my mom…” And right there, shoving her phone aggressively into my bleeding brother’s face, was Hailey. She was practically shouting into the lens. “Look at this, guys! This is the evil CEO’s actual brother!” “He is an absolute lunatic! He just tried to strangle me!” The blood rushed straight to my brain. I lunged forward, snatched the phone right out of Hailey’s grip, and smashed it mercilessly against the concrete floor. The screen exploded into a million shards. Hailey shrieked and jumped back. “What are you doing?! You have no right to break my phone!” She lunged at me like a feral cat, her manicured nails aiming straight for my eyes. I sidestepped her sloppy attack, raised my hand, and slapped her hard across the cheek. The crack echoed sharply down the corridor. Hailey stumbled, completely stunned. She clutched her red cheek, staring at me in pure disbelief. “You hit me. You actually hit me!” She threw herself onto the dirty floor and started thrashing around, kicking her legs. “Murder! The evil boss is trying to murder me!” Heavy, frantic footsteps echoed from the other end of the hall. “Stop it right now!” Tristan sprinted over, breathless. He didn’t even glance at my brother, whose head was still leaking blood. He went straight to Hailey, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her up. “Hailey, are you okay?” Tristan’s voice was dripping with intense, protective concern. There was absolutely no way these two were just strangers or ’employee and family’. Hailey immediately collapsed against Tristan’s chest, sobbing into his shirt. “Tristan, she hit me! She smashed my phone into pieces and slapped me!” “I just came here to check on her brother. How was I supposed to know he was a dangerous psycho who attacks people unprovoked…” Tristan whipped his head around, his eyes burning with disgust. “Brian, have you completely lost your mind?! Why the hell did you break her phone?!” “She is just a naive young girl! Why are you bullying her?!” “Your brother is a certified lunatic. For all we know, he bashed his own head against the wall just to cause a scene!” I watched Tristan instinctively shield Hailey with his body. I looked at his absurd, self-righteous expression, and the absolute last shred of warmth I had for him turned to ice. “She intentionally triggered my brother. Smashing her phone is letting her off easy.” I pointed a rigid finger at Hailey. “She showed up at a psychiatric ward with a live stream, deliberately provoking a severely mentally ill patient.” “Tristan, are you legally blind?” Tristan shoved Hailey further behind him. “Brian, stop spewing venom! Hailey is innocent. She doesn’t understand how these things work!” “You are so consumed by hatred you have become completely unhinged!” He pointed dismissively at my brother. “Look at him. He is a pathetic ghost. All he does is drag you down and cause nightmares for everyone around him!” “Besides, he is literally insane. Who knows if he didn’t just snap and attack her?!” 4 Hailey peeked out from behind Tristan’s broad shoulders, a sickeningly smug smile pulling at the corner of her lips. The elevator doors chimed at the end of the hall. Gary slowly limped out, leaning heavily on a cane, supported by two people. His cloudy eyes locked onto Jack’s blood-soaked bandages. A flash of pure, venomous malice crossed his shriveled face. “Oh my, how on earth did that happen?” He let out a fake, dramatic sigh, hobbling closer to drop his voice into a sinister whisper. “Brian, look at your brother. That is what we call karma.” “You can’t be too ruthless in this life. You push people to the edge, and the heavens will strike you down.” I curled my hands into tight fists, my nails biting deeply into my palms. A nurse walked over holding a clipboard. “Family of Jack? The laceration is very deep. We need to suture it immediately.” “We also need an emergency CT scan to rule out internal bleeding.” “Please go down to the first-floor billing department right now. The total is eight thousand six hundred dollars.” I snatched the invoice from her and pulled out a joint debit card from my wallet. It was a dedicated medical account Tristan and I had set up specifically to cover Jack’s facility bills. I ran downstairs to the billing window and handed the card to the clerk. She swiped it once. Her brow furrowed. “Ma’am, this card has been frozen.” I froze. “That is impossible. There is over a hundred grand in that account.” The clerk slid the card back under the glass. “The system shows the primary account holder reported it lost and froze the assets thirty minutes ago.” The primary account holder was Tristan. I grabbed the card and spun around to face the lobby. Tristan was slowly walking down the grand staircase. He held a thin stack of papers in his right hand. Gary and Hailey were following closely behind him like loyal shadows. Tristan stopped right in front of me and held out the papers. It was the legal letter of forgiveness. “Brian. All you have to do is sign your name right here.” Tristan’s voice was eerily calm. He possessed the sickening confidence of a man who held all the winning cards. “The second you sign, I will make the call to unfreeze the account.” “And your brother can get his life-saving surgery.” I stared dead into his eyes. “You are using my brother’s medical emergency to blackmail me?” Tristan frowned, acting highly offended by my phrasing. “Don’t make it sound so ugly. I am looking out for the big picture here.” “Your brother’s life matters, but Gary’s life matters too.” “Sign the paper. Everyone wins.” Gary leaned heavily on his cane, shuffling forward until his rotting breath hit my ear. “You stupid little bitch. Did you really think becoming a CEO meant you could step on me?” “Thirty years ago, your mother smashed her forehead against the concrete outside my butcher shop, and I still didn’t bat an eye.” “Let’s see if you drop to your knees today.” He pulled his lips back, exposing a row of yellowed, decaying teeth. “If you don’t sign, your brother bleeds out. I have all the time in the world. Let’s see if your brother does.” The memories of thirty years ago violently crashed into my brain. The greasy cobblestones. My mother’s agonizing wails. The thick wad of spit Gary shot onto the dirt. The sheer terror in my brother’s eyes as the police shoved him into the cruiser. It all played out perfectly clear in my mind. I looked at Gary’s twisted face. I looked at Tristan’s arrogant, triumphant smirk. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number.

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1 In my past life, when my sister fled her wedding, Ernie Crawford didn’t flinch. He simply married me instead. Afterward, he was impeccably polite—the perfect gentleman. Then news came: my sister nearly died in childbirth overseas. Ernie locked himself in his study, smoking till dawn. The next day, endless boxes of premium vitamins, supplements, and rich foods arrived. I thought he cared about my future pregnancies. That warmth lasted until I nearly died delivering an oversized baby, forced by all that nutrition. When he heard I’d survived, his eyes were hollow. “She must have suffered so much,” he murmured. Later, my sister complained her baby pulled her hair. That night, Ernie hacked off mine with shears, calling it practical for newborn care. When she sprained her ankle, I fell down stairs, in a cast for three months. When she cut her finger chopping vegetables, he shattered a crystal glass into my palm. News broke: my sister died in a car crash abroad. Ernie dragged me to the city’s highest suspension bridge, plunging us into icy water. His last words: “You were only ever her shadow. If she’s dead, you have no right to breathe.” I woke back in the moment he came to finalize our engagement. Stella had already slipped away. He looked at me coldly. “It’ll have to be you.” A laugh escaped my lips. “Mr. Crawford, I already love someone else. Find your replacement elsewhere.” My words hung in the air. Ernie’s gaze swept over my face like I was completely invisible. He turned slightly and gave my father a stiff nod. “Then it is settled. The engagement gifts will be delivered tomorrow.” My parents were drowning in guilt over Stella’s escape. They nodded eagerly, practically bowing to him. I gripped my phone tight under the table. My fingers were trembling as I typed out a quick message to Roman Blackwood, the undisputed, ruthless king of the Manhattan elite. “Hello. Let us get married.” My heart was lodged in my throat. A second later, the screen lit up. “Done.” “Next Wednesday. It is a perfect day for a wedding.” I stood up and shoved the phone screen right in front of Ernie’s face. “Ernie, I told you I have someone.” He smacked my hand away without even blinking. The phone clattered onto the hardwood floor. He looked at my mother instead and said to make sure the wedding favors were from Maison Blanc. Stella always loved their macarons. My parents chimed in instantly. They said it was a beautiful way to include Stella in the ceremony. My chest heaved. I told them I was not marrying him. Ernie acted completely deaf. He stood up, adjusted his cuffs, and offered a polite nod. “Mr. and Mrs. Astor, I will take my leave.” I raised my voice, calling his full name. He finally looked at me. His eyes were like chipped ice. “My assistant will pick you up tomorrow for your dress fitting. Be on time.” A sickening wave of exhaustion washed over me. He was always exactly like this. He could remember every single reason Stella ever frowned. If her tone over the phone was slightly off, he would drive three hundred miles in the dead of night just to see her. But I was nothing more than a stray dog to him. When he was in a good mood, he might pat my head. When he was upset, I was less than dirt. In his eyes, I had no right to complain, no right to say no, and absolutely no right to exist as my own person. I stared at his retreating back and let my voice drop to a freezing whisper. “Ernie, you do not love me, and I do not love you. There is no need to force this.” His footsteps stopped. He turned around. His brow was heavy with dark annoyance, like he was tolerating a buzzing fly. “Wendy.” His tone was flat. “Playing hard to get is cute once or twice. Anything more than that, and you will drain my patience.” He checked his platinum watch. “Tomorrow. Be on time. Pick a dress in thirty minutes and do not waste my employee’s valuable time.” Our marriage was nothing but an administrative task to him. Something to be handled in thirty minutes. He walked out the door before I could even take a breath. The moment the lock clicked, my father’s face twisted in rage. He screamed at me, asking if I was out of my mind. He demanded to know what garbage I was spouting about having someone else. He said if I ruined this alliance after my sister ran away, the Astor family would be the laughingstock of high society. I stared back at him, my blood boiling. “Stella gets to run away. Why do I have to be the sacrificial lamb?” A sharp crack echoed through the room. The force of my father’s slap threw my head to the side. My cheek burned like fire. He pointed a shaking finger right between my eyes. “Do you really think you are on her level?” “Your sister is brilliant. She knows what she wants. If she wants to leave, I let her leave. But you? What have you ever done besides trail after Ernie like a pathetic puppy?” “He is willing to take you, and you actually have the nerve to put on airs.” My mother sighed heavily from the sofa. “Wendy, throwing a little tantrum is cute, but you need to read the room. No man will put up with a woman who does not know her place.” My father scoffed. He ordered me to go to the fitting tomorrow and apologize to Ernie. I pressed my hand to my stinging cheek and said absolutely nothing. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I was not just Stella’s replacement to Ernie. I was her replacement to my own parents, too. The next day at the bridal boutique, Ernie was a no-show. His executive assistant, Vanessa, escorted me inside while casually picking at her expensive manicure. “Miss Astor, please hurry. Mr. Crawford only authorized thirty minutes for this.” I pointed at the plainest white gown hanging in the corner. “That one. I am in a rush.” Roman was texting me, asking about our venue preferences. Vanessa did not move an inch. “Miss Astor, Mr. Crawford is not here. You can drop the act.” I frowned. She looked at me with a mocking smirk. “You chased him for years. You dreamed of this day. And now you are pretending to be aloof?” “You are just picking a cheap dress on purpose so I will call him, hoping he will feel guilty and rush over here to comfort you.” She laughed out loud. “Your pathetic little tricks are exactly what everyone said they were.” I did not know who “everyone” was, and I did not care. I ignored her, grabbed the heavy silk gown, and walked straight into the fitting room. I had just unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it when the thick velvet curtain was violently ripped open from the outside. My nearly naked body was exposed to the entire boutique floor. “Miss Astor!” Vanessa gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her voice was loud enough to echo across the high ceilings. “Why would you throw the curtain open? Do you get off on exposing yourself? Is this how you usually seduce Mr. Crawford?” Dozens of judging eyes snapped toward me, burning into my skin. I snatched the dress up to cover my chest. Without a single second of hesitation, I swung my free hand and slapped her across the face with everything I had. The boutique fell dead silent. Vanessa shrieked. “How dare you hit me?” She whipped out her phone, her voice instantly trembling with fake tears. “Mr. Crawford, I am so sorry. I must have served her poorly. Miss Astor is furious…” Less than ten minutes later, Ernie’s private security detail stormed the floor. Before I could even speak, two massive men grabbed my arms, twisting them behind my back and forcing me to bend forward. A third bodyguard stepped up to Vanessa and bowed his head slightly. He told her Mr. Crawford sent his apologies for her distress. He cast a freezing look at me and muttered that some people needed to learn a lesson. Vanessa wiped her fake tears, a triumphant flush spreading across her cheeks. I was dragged out of the boutique, shoved into the back of a tinted SUV, and driven straight to a remote estate in the hills. They tossed me onto the living room floor like a bag of garbage. My knees slammed into the edge of a marble coffee table. The pain made me gasp for air. Footsteps echoed behind me. Ernie walked in, looking down at me from his towering height. “You are not even my wife yet, and you are already throwing your weight around?” His gaze was completely devoid of warmth. “Let me make something very clear. The women who scrub my floors have more status in my world than you do.” “You better learn to play nice with my staff, or your life after the wedding will be a living hell.” My fingernails dug into my palms. “Your assistant ripped the curtain open while I was changing. She exposed me on purpose.” “Enough.” He cut me off, a flicker of pure disgust crossing his face. “Have you ever considered that you are the problem? When your sister was by my side, my staff never acted like this.” He turned on his heel and barked an order at the guards by the door. “Cut the water and the power. Let her sit in the dark and think about what she has done for three days.” I lunged for the door, but the heavy oak slammed shut right in my face. The deadbolt clicked. Three full days. I grew so thirsty I drank the stale, murky water sitting in a crystal flower vase. I was so starved I ripped the bitter leaves off a decorative potted plant and chewed them until my jaw ached. I lost track of time. Eventually, the electronic keypad on the front door beeped. A tall figure stumbled inside, reeking of expensive scotch. It was Ernie. His glassy eyes locked onto me where I was curled up in the corner of the dark room. He suddenly dropped to his knees and crushed his burning lips against mine. My entire body froze into a block of ice. A second later, his lips brushed against mine as he whispered. “Stella.” That single name felt like a jagged blade twisting into my chest. I shoved him away with the last ounce of strength I had left in my starving body. My voice was trembling. “Look at me, Ernie. Look at exactly who I am.” He blinked, his eyes finally focusing on my face in the dim moonlight. He leaned in again, his mouth curving into a cruel sneer. “Congratulations. You finally have me exactly where you want me. You must be dying of excitement.” I pulled my knee up and drove it violently into his stomach. I snatched a silver fruit knife off the coffee table and gripped the handle tight. “Do not touch me.” Ernie’s face darkened instantly. He stared at me for several long seconds. Then, a cold laugh escaped his throat. “I have to admit, you play the tortured victim quite well.” My grip on the knife stiffened. “All this playing hard to get… you are just copying your sister’s personality to turn me on, aren’t you?” He lunged forward and gripped my jaw, his fingers digging into my skin. “Drop the pathetic act. You will never replace her.” “Take your clothes off. Do your job tonight, and I will give you the dignity of being my wife. Otherwise.” Before he could finish his threat, I swung my arm. The blade sliced across his forearm. Hot blood immediately soaked through the crisp white fabric of his dress shirt. I stared dead into his eyes. “I said, do not touch me.” Ernie looked down at his bleeding arm in absolute disbelief. When he looked back up at me, a terrifying rage was boiling in his eyes. “Fine, Wendy.” He laughed, a dark, venomous sound, and stood up. “Do not regret this.” He walked out, leaving the front door wide open. I stumbled out into the cold night air and somehow made it back to my family’s house. The moment I walked in, my father hurled his porcelain teacup at my feet. It shattered into a hundred pieces. “You stabbed Ernie?” His finger shook as he pointed it at my face. I tried to explain, my breathing ragged. “He locked me up for three days. No food, no water. He tried to force himself.” “It is a privilege that he even wants to touch you.” My mother cut me off, her face twisted in disappointment. “So what if he locked you up? You are about to be his wife. If he wants to lock you up for the rest of your life, you smile and take it.” My father stepped closer. “You are nothing compared to your sister. Why won’t you use your body to tie him down while you still have your youth? How did I raise such a useless idiot?” I looked back and forth between their furious faces. It felt like a giant hand had reached into my chest, squeezing my heart until every last drop of warmth was gone. My father slammed his hand on the dining table. “You will stay in your room until the wedding. Learn some manners so you do not embarrass us any further.” Three days later, on Wednesday, the wedding day arrived. My parents practically dragged me to the cathedral. Nine o’clock passed. Then ten. Then eleven. Ernie did not show up. The pews were packed with New York’s elite, and the whispers grew deafening. “I heard Ernie found a girl downtown who looks just like Stella.” “Yeah, apparently she threw a fit this morning and refused to walk. Ernie carried her into his corner office in front of the whole board. They are probably still in there.” “Wow. So what happens to the Astor girl?” My father stood behind me. He threw his glass of champagne onto the marble floor. “When Stella was around, Ernie never dared to pull a stunt like this.” He grabbed a handful of my veil and yanked my head back. “You useless piece of trash. You are making us look like fools.” My mother sat beside me, dabbing fake tears with a tissue. “I gave birth to both of you. How did you turn out so defective? You cannot even keep a man’s attention for one day.” I sat in the front pew, perfectly still. The heavy oak doors creaked open. Vanessa walked in, a smug smile plastered across her face. Behind her, a bodyguard was struggling to hold a massive, mud-covered hunting hound on a thick leather leash. He let the dog go, and it immediately shook itself, splattering wet mud all over my pure white gown. The smell of wet dog and swamp dirt filled the air. “Mr. Crawford was delayed by an urgent matter,” Vanessa announced, projecting her voice. “Miss Astor, you will have to walk down the aisle with Duke. Mr. Crawford will arrive later for the ring exchange.” My father shot out of his seat. “Walk down the aisle with a dog? Are you out of your mind?” Vanessa crossed her arms. “Mr. Crawford said she marries the dog, or the wedding is off. Your call.” My father’s protests died in his throat. He glared at me with pure venom, blaming me for every ounce of humiliation he was feeling. My mother shoved my shoulder. “Listen to Ernie.” A twisted sense of relief washed over her face. “Thank God it is you up there. If Stella had to go through this, it would break my heart.” I looked at her. I did not say a single word. I looked down at my phone, dropped a location pin to Roman, and locked the screen. I linked my arm through my father’s and walked down the long, agonizing aisle toward the muddy dog. He handed me off to the hound. Behind me, the sound of camera shutters and muffled laughter echoed through the vaulted ceilings. “She is so desperate for his money.” “She brought this on herself. She chased him for twenty years. She would probably marry a pig if it meant getting the Crawford last name.” Just as the priest cleared his throat to start the mockery of a ceremony, the deafening roar of a sports car engine rattled the stained glass windows. I stood up and turned toward the entrance. Ernie stepped out of a sleek black car. In his hand, he held a pair of sharp steel scissors. “Stella cut her hair into a bob today. She is vacationing in Monaco.” He walked up the aisle and held the scissors out to me. “Cut your hair. Take off the dress. Put on some jeans and a T-shirt.” I stood my ground. I did not move. My father shoved me hard from behind. “What are you waiting for? Do what he says.” I still did not move. My eyes drifted past the crowd, looking out the massive open doors toward the winding coastal highway below the church. Ernie let out a cold laugh. “You really never learn, do you?” “Wendy, save your cheap tricks. Do you honestly think acting stubborn is going to make me desire you?” He threw the scissors at my chest. They clattered to the stone floor. “Playing hard to get is only fun until you become a pathetic joke.” I kept my mouth shut. My ears caught a new sound. The deep, heavy rumble of motorcycles. Slowly, a flash of brilliant red appeared on the horizon. A custom Ducati tore up the mountain road, kicking up a storm of dust. And right behind it was an endless, terrifying convoy of over a hundred matte-black luxury SUVs. “Who is that?” “What is going on? Did someone else rent out the mountain today?” The guests erupted into a frenzy of panicked whispers. Ernie’s brow furrowed into a deep, angry V. I stepped over the scissors and walked straight toward the church doors. Ernie’s face went dark. “Wendy. Get back here right now. Do not test my temper.” I ignored him completely. The red motorcycle skidded to a halt right in front of the cathedral steps. In one fluid motion, the rider wrapped a strong arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. Behind us, over a hundred black cars laid on their horns in perfect unison. The sky exploded. Daylight fireworks shot into the air, raining gold and crimson smoke over the entire estate.

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The heir to the Manhattan elite added both me and my roommate on Snapchat. He was incredibly warm to me. Yet to Cathy, the gorgeous campus queen, he was ice cold. She looked annoyed. “I thought Dominic was here for me. Can’t believe he is chasing you.” I was over the moon. We dated online for two whole months. But the day we finally met in person, his brows pulled together in a tight frown. “Why is it you?” 1 Dominic Lancaster had the wrong girl. All the affection, the late night calls, and the sweet texts meant for Cathy Shawn he had mistakenly given to me. Instead, he had accidentally ghosted the girl he actually wanted. A soft breeze drifted past. He leaned against his sleek Aston Martin, pinching the bridge of his nose in sheer frustration. He shot me a helpless, almost pitying look. “You should head back. I will text you tonight.” I forced back the tears burning in my eyes. “Okay.” But I was not stupid. Some things were just too cruel to say to a girl’s face. My dorm was empty when I got back. I crawled into bed and fell into a heavy, suffocating sleep. Loud voices woke me up. Cathy stood in the center of the room, clutching a massive bouquet of deep red roses. Our other two roommates were practically shouting over each other. “So it was just a mix up! I knew it. There was no way a guy like him would pass you up for Jenny.” Cathy offered a gentle, practiced smile. “It was just a misunderstanding.” She turned her gaze to me. “Jenny, I am apologizing on Dominic’s behalf. You are not mad, right?” I sat up, forcing my face into a blank mask. “No.” She let out a soft laugh. “Makes sense. It was only two months of texting anyway. You probably did not even like him that much.” 2 Cathy was wrong. I had been secretly in love with Dominic for years. He was three years older than me. By the time I was a freshman, he was a senior and barely ever on campus. It happened right after freshman orientation. He was back at the university to pick up some paperwork. I took a nasty fall on the concrete steps, and he was the one who drove me to the ER. But I was too painfully shy. I never asked for his number. I never even told him my name. After he graduated, he became a ghost. All I knew was that he came from old money, built a massive tech empire from the ground up, and lived in a world of penthouses and private jets. We were from completely different universes. Until recently. At a frat party, he asked for my socials. He was incredibly attentive. We texted from morning until night, and it did not take long for us to make it official. Looking back now, it was a joke. Every ounce of joy, every sweet good morning text, it was all meant for Cathy. My phone lit up. A text from Dominic. He did not waste a single breath. “Let us just end this here.” “Make sure you delete our chat logs. I do not want Cathy seeing any of it.” “To make up for the mix up, my assistant will wire you fifty grand.” Fifty grand. To a broke college student like me, it was life changing money. To him, it was pocket change. He was literally buying my silence. Erasing everything we had. I stared at the glowing screen for a long time before typing out a single word. “Okay.” I paused, then added a follow up. “I will not say a word about our conversations. You have my promise.” But the message bounced back. Not Delivered. He had already blocked me. Staring at that little red exclamation mark, my hands started to shake uncontrollably. I scrolled up. We had talked about everything. When he was in London for business, he sent me photos of his espresso, told me about the investors he hated, and complained about the jet lag. Once, I asked him to help me with a tricky finance assignment. He texted back saying he was in the shower. I teased him. “Prove it.” He actually did. He sent a photo. His hair was dripping wet, water sliding down the sharp, gorgeous angles of his face. He radiated this raw, dangerous magnetism. My face had burned hot. “Okay, delete it before I die of embarrassment.” A second later, he sent a voice note, his voice dark and thick with amusement. “Why are you scared? You will have to look at it every day eventually.” “I will have you know I have never been with anyone. But doing it with you… I think that would be incredibly fun.” I had literally googled what to expect for my first time that very night. Now, looking at those exact words… It was nothing but a humiliating fantasy. 3 I deleted every single message. I stopped googling his tech firm. I stopped reading his Forbes interviews. But I lived in the same cramped dorm as Cathy, and his name was constantly on her lips. She bragged that they were officially a couple. He had asked her out. That night, he rented out an entire VIP cinema for her. When she finally gathered the courage to reach for his hand, he subtly shifted away. “He acts like a total player, but he is weirdly old fashioned,” she complained to us. “Honestly, he makes me a little insecure. He is too perfect. Women throw themselves at him constantly.” I bit my tongue. Dominic was fiercely loyal. He had no messy exes, no female best friends. The only time he ever made a move was when he asked for Cathy’s number. That was how much he wanted her. One of our roommates chimed in. “You should ask him to take you to the Hamptons this weekend. Just the two of you in a hotel suite. Trust me, he will make a move.” “If you are nervous, invite us along! We can be your wingwomen.” I let out a heavy breath, shoved my AirPods in, and cranked the volume to the max. Just then, a girl from down the hall knocked on our open door. “Is Jenny here?” “Rowan Pierce is downstairs looking for you.” The entire room went dead silent. Cathy’s smile completely vanished. Her brows pulled together sharply. “You know Rowan Pierce?” I shook my head. “I have never met him.” But the girl insisted he had specifically asked for me by name. Panicking that something was seriously wrong, I rushed downstairs. 4 Rowan was waiting by the courtyard. Everyone knew exactly who he was. Filthy rich, top of his class, with the kind of lazy, heartbreaker good looks that made girls ruin their lives. Yet, strangely, the guy had never dated anyone. Freshman year, Cathy had sent someone to ask for his number. She was entirely convinced her looks made her invincible. Rowan turned her down flat. Because of that bruised ego, nobody in our dorm was allowed to mention his name. And now, he was leaning against a brick pillar, furiously typing on his phone. He looked extremely irritated. I walked up to him, shrinking a little. “I am sorry, did I keep you waiting?” He clicked his tongue. He looked up. Whatever he was about to say died in his throat. His eyes flickered over my face for a split second before he narrowed them. “You are Jenny?” I nodded. He fell silent. When he finally spoke, his tone was bizarre. “My cousin’s ex girlfriend?” I froze. It took my brain a solid ten seconds to connect the dots. I had only ever been in one relationship. But I had never associated the word ex with Dominic Lancaster. “You mean Dominic?” I asked cautiously. He nodded. “Yeah.” “Hardly anyone on campus knows about us. Please keep it to yourself,” I mumbled. He agreed. Then he pulled a crisp, folded check from his leather jacket. “He told me to give you this.” Right. The payoff. I took it without hesitating and shoved it in my pocket. Just then, his phone rang. I was standing close enough to see the caller ID. Dominic. Rowan did not even bother stepping away. He answered it with a lazy drawl. “Yeah?” Silence on the other end for a beat. “Did you see her?” Under the pale moonlight, Rowan lifted his gaze and stared right at me. “Saw her. Gave her the envelope.” My chest tightened. Dominic was just calling to make sure the transaction was complete. I did not want to hear the rest. I turned around and slipped quietly back into the building. 5 When I pushed the door open, Cathy was standing right by the window. “I thought Rowan Pierce was actually trying to sweep you off your feet,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “Turns out he was just acting as a delivery boy. He barely even looked at you. What did he hand you anyway?” I stayed quiet. I could hardly tell her it was hush money from her new billionaire boyfriend. “Nothing important.” I grabbed my pajamas and locked myself in the bathroom before she could interrogate me further. When I stepped out, the air in the room was thick with tension. Cathy was doing her skincare routine, her phone on speaker on her desk. She was talking to Dominic. She asked if they could go up to the Hamptons for the weekend. “I will have my assistant book the penthouse suite,” his deep voice replied smoothly. Cathy giggled. “I am going to bring two of my friends along, is that okay?” Over the speaker, the sharp sound of shattering glass echoed through the line. Cathy jumped. “What happened? Are you okay?” Dominic’s voice dropped, sounding a little tight. “Just knocked over a glass. I am fine.” Over the next few days, they called each other every single night. Sometimes the conversations crossed into intimate territory. “Who was your first kiss?” she teased him once. A low, rough chuckle rumbled from the speaker. “Never had one. I have been saving it for you.” Every time they talked, I had to pretend I was deaf, burying my face in my textbooks. I stopped talking to people. Whenever a random guy asked for my number, I would explicitly introduce myself with my full name, terrified of another mistaken identity. By the weekend, Cathy and her two followers packed their designer duffels and left. I finally breathed. But the very next morning, the campus counselor called me in a panic. She needed Cathy for an emergency paperwork issue regarding her scholarship. None of the three girls were answering their phones. “It is extremely urgent. Do you have any way to reach her?” 6 The moment she asked, a cold dread pooled in my stomach. They were with Dominic. What if they had gotten into an accident? My palms started sweating. I had Dominic’s number memorized. I typed it in and hit call. The number you have dialed is unavailable. He really blocked my actual phone number too. He was incredibly thorough. He wanted every trace of my existence completely wiped from his life. Left with no other choice, I sprinted down six flights of stairs to the lobby payphone. By the time I punched in the digits, my lungs were burning. The line rang twice before it connected. I let out a massive sigh of relief and quickly explained that the counselor was desperately trying to reach Cathy. Through the receiver, Dominic’s voice was crisp and detached. “They are down in the restaurant eating breakfast. They left their phones in the room. I will let her know.” “Okay. Thank you.” I was about to slam the receiver down when I heard the distinct click of a metal lighter. Then came his voice, laced with a casual, almost mocking curiosity. “Why did you not come with them?” I froze. A memory hit me like a truck. A month ago, when we were still dating, Dominic had asked if I got along with my roommates. I had not wanted to sound like a loner, so I lied and said we were close. He had asked me about Cathy blowing up his phone, thinking her account was actually mine. I had defended her, saying she was sweet and did not mean to bother him. Every memory that used to feel like a fairytale now felt like acid burning a hole in my chest. I wet my dry lips, preparing to give him a polite, hollow excuse. But before I could speak, a soft voice floated through the phone. Cathy. “Dominic? I am so scared of sleeping alone… can I stay in your suite tonight? I can just take the sofa.” Something inside my brain quietly snapped. Without a single word, I slammed the heavy plastic receiver back onto the cradle. 7 After that weekend, Dominic was suddenly everywhere. We never spoke, but I saw him constantly. He was a busy CEO, yet he found the time to sit in the back of Cathy’s lecture halls. Once, he sat in the row directly behind me. They whispered to each other the entire time. Their voices were low, but the sound of his breathy laughs ruined my focus for the entire morning. Halfway through the lecture, my pen rolled off my desk. I bent down to grab it, my fingers brushing against another hand. His hand. He paused, his long fingers wrapping around the metal pen. He placed it squarely in my palm. “Here.” His tone was completely empty. Beside him, Cathy was glaring daggers at my back. My heart was a mess. When class ended, I looked down at my notebook and realized with absolute horror that I had unconsciously scribbled Dominic’s name in the margins. Panic flared in my chest. I grabbed my white out. Suddenly, a wave of scalding heat splashed violently across my back. Searing pain tore through my skin. I shrieked and spun around. Cathy was holding an empty tumbler. She widened her eyes in a perfect picture of innocence. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! My hand slipped. But the water was cold, right? You are fine. I will pay for the dress.” “It was literally boiling!” I choked out, tears of pain welling in my eyes. “You did that on purpose.” Cathy offered a pathetic, victimized smile and looked at the guy standing next to her. “You saw it, right? It was cold water.” The guy, desperate to get in Dominic’s good graces, nodded vigorously. “Yeah, totally cold.” Right at that moment, Dominic walked back into the room. He had stepped out to take a business call. Seeing the commotion, his dark brows pulled together. “What is going on?” The brown nosing classmate immediately spun the story in Cathy’s favor. Dominic’s cold gaze slid over to me. He clearly had somewhere more important to be. He chose the most efficient, soulless way to handle it. “I will have my assistant drop off a new dress for you later. Cathy did not mean it.” He paused, his eyes narrowing to icy slits. “But lying to play the victim is not a good look on you. Is it, Jenny?” My breath hitched. The burn on my back throbbed in agony, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest. “Got it.” Between Cathy and me, no matter what the truth was, he was always going to choose her.

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My brother called me the family’s most boring person—because I always cried at his pranks. When he mashed gum into my hair, I cried. When he yanked my chair, fracturing my tailbone, I cried for two months flat on my stomach. Mom and Dad brushed it off. “Boys will be boys,” they said. “Learn to take a joke. You’re cold and unloving as an older sister.” So I stopped crying. Even when he piled food onto my plate at dinner, I forced a grateful smile. But he’d mixed in a heavy spoonful of peanut butter. The second I shut my bedroom door, invisible hands crushed my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Angry red hives erupted, burning like fire. I collapsed onto my bed, phone glowing in the dark. My Safari history showed one desperate search: “Can a peanut allergy kill you?” Consciousness faded. Through the wall, my brother laughed at his video game. In the living room, Mom and Dad watched a sitcom. No one cared what I did behind my closed door. No one knew their daughter was dying. In my next life, I don’t want to be a cruel joke’s punchline. I want to be treated like a human being. Even once. 1 “Ivy, come out and eat right now!” My mother’s voice pierced through the wooden door, dripping with irritation. I did not move. It was not because I was giving her the silent treatment. I physically could not move. My body felt like it was filled with wet cement. Every single muscle burned with a terrifying heat. I could feel the skin on my face stretching. My eyes were swollen shut into tiny, useless slits. My lips were completely engorged, so thick I could neither open nor close my mouth. My throat felt like someone had shoved burning coals down it. Every attempt to pull in oxygen felt like swallowing razor blades. “Ivy, are you deaf? I said dinner is ready!” She yelled again. Louder this time. I could hear the sharp edge of anger in her tone. Her patience was already gone. “Mom, she is just throwing a fit again.” My brother Cole’s voice drifted over from the dining table. He sounded entirely relaxed, like he was talking about the weather. “I just mixed a little peanut butter into her food. I just wanted to play a prank on her.” A prank. He said it so casually. As if sneaking peanut butter into the meal of someone with a deadly allergy was exactly the same as putting salt in a sugar bowl. Just a fun little science experiment. “Cole, you know your sister is allergic. Why would you do that?” My mother’s voice carried zero actual blame. It was just a mild, helpless complaint. “I just wanted to see what happened.” Cole sounded completely justified. “The books make it sound so scary. I bet they were just exaggerating.” “Alright, enough.” My mother cut him off. “Ivy, come out and eat your dinner. Stop being so petty with your brother.” I gave no response. I was not being stubborn. My tongue had swollen to twice its size. The entire inside of my mouth was inflamed. I tried to force my jaw open, but all that came out was a pathetic, muffled whimper. Like a stray cat that had just been hit by a car. “Ivy, I am warning you. Do not test my temper today.” My mother’s voice turned harsh. “If you refuse to eat, you are going to starve. Do not expect us to bring you a plate.” Her footsteps retreated from my door. The clinking of silverware against porcelain echoed from the living room. They had started eating. The perfect family of three. Without me. I lay paralyzed on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was a faint water stain right above me, shaped vaguely like a butterfly. I had stared at that stain countless times growing up. Whenever I felt overwhelmed, I would look at it until the tears stopped. But this time, the tears leaked out of my swollen eyes and rolled down my burning cheeks. Breathing was becoming impossible. I could hear the frantic pounding of my own heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. Like someone desperately banging on a door that would never open. My phone slipped from my numb fingers and hit the carpet. I let my eyes fall shut. Whatever. Let it end. Nobody cared anyway. When my soul finally drifted out of my body, my very first thought was strangely calm. So this is what dying feels like. 2 Every ounce of pain and suffocation vanished in a split second. I floated up near the ceiling, looking down at my own body on the bed. The girl lying there had her head twisted at an unnatural angle. Her face was swollen beyond recognition. Her lips had turned a sickening shade of dark purple. Her arms were covered in a horrific rash. The phone lay discarded on the floor, the screen still brightly lit. The search engine was stuck on the very last thing I tried to read before I died. “Emergency first aid for anaphylactic shock.” I floated right through my bedroom door. I drifted through the solid wood that nobody had bothered to knock on. In the living room, my mother was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. The coffee table was covered in half eaten dishes. Roast chicken, a green bean casserole, and a bowl of mashed potatoes. There was a full plate sitting at my usual spot. My mother had not cleared it away. A fork was still resting on the edge of the plate. She had no idea I would never take another bite of food in my life. My father, David, sat beside her watching the evening news. The meteorologist on the screen was predicting heavy rain for tomorrow. “Ivy is still not coming out?” He asked casually, not even taking his eyes off the television. “Ignore her. You spoil her too much.” My mother kept her eyes glued to her screen, her thumb swiping mindlessly. “Cole just played a harmless joke on her. Is she really going to drag this out?” “Whether she is dragging it out or not, the kid is allergic. You know that.” My father’s tone was completely flat. No panic. No concern. He might as well have been saying the milk was expired. “How bad could an allergy really be? It is not like she drank rat poison.” My mother frowned in annoyance. “She is just dramatic. She has been like this since she was little. The second she does not get her way, she locks herself in her room.” “Look at Cole. He is such a bright, happy kid. But having her around forces him to walk on eggshells.” Floating nearby, I actually wanted to laugh. Cole walked on eggshells? He certainly did not look nervous when he used my toothbrush to scrub the toilet bowl. He laughed louder than anyone when he snuck to the breaker box and cut the hot water while I was showering in the dead of winter. I was the one living in that house like I was navigating a minefield. He lived like a king who could do whatever he pleased. The only difference was who our parents chose to believe. “Fine, I will go check on her.” My mother finally put her phone down and stood up from the couch. I drifted behind her as she walked to my bedroom door. She pushed it open just a crack. The room was pitch black. The curtains were drawn tight. She could barely make out a curled up silhouette on the mattress. “Ivy, are you coming out to eat or not?” I did not move. I was already dead. “Alright, stop faking it.” Her voice grew even more exasperated. “If you are not eating, I am throwing it away. Do not come crying to me that you are hungry at midnight.” She waited for three seconds. The figure on the bed gave no response. “You are absolutely infuriating.” She slammed the door shut. Her footsteps marched back down the hall. She left. She did not take two steps inside. She did not flip the light switch to look at my face. If she had, she would have seen my deep purple lips. She would have touched my hand and realized it was already turning cold. But she just stood at the threshold. Ten feet away. Tossed out a few annoyed words. And walked away. I hovered in the hallway, staring at the closed door. “Mom, is she still not coming out?” Cole chewed on a chicken wing, his mouth shining with grease. He glanced down the hall toward my room. “Who knows with her. She is just throwing a pity party.” My mother started clearing the table. She scraped the leftover chicken into the trash. She picked up my untouched plate, stared at it for a second. She hesitated briefly. Then scraped it right into the garbage too. “Is she seriously mad?” Cole’s voice held a tiny fraction of guilt. But it vanished instantly. “I literally just put a drop of peanut butter in her food. Is she really going to overreact this much?” “Overreact or not, you know she has that allergy.” My mother stacked the dirty plates and carried them to the sink. “Just do not do stuff like that again.” That was it. No punishment. No lecture. No screaming that he could have killed his sister. Just a casual “do not do that again”. Spoken with the exact same weight as telling him not to leave his dirty socks on the floor. I watched the whole exchange. My chest felt strange. A deep, hollow ache. I was already dead. I had no heartbeat. So why did it still hurt? 3 “Mom, do you think she is actually sick or something?” Cole’s voice dropped lower. “What could possibly be wrong with her?” My mother turned on the faucet. The loud rush of water drowned out her words. “Your sister has done this her whole life. The slightest inconvenience and she plays dead.” She paused to scrub a plate. “Remember when you pulled her chair out? She laid in bed for two months claiming she was hurt. And she was perfectly fine in the end, was she not?” My soul drifted into Cole’s bedroom. His dual monitors were glowing brightly. A multiplayer shooter game was paused on the screen. He was leaning back in his expensive gaming chair, a lollipop in his mouth. His phone buzzed. A text from his friend. “Yo, how is your sister?” Cole typed back quickly. “She is fine. Just playing dead for attention like always.” “Your mom didn’t chew you out?” “Nah, my mom knows she is just a drama queen.” “Nice. We will have to think of a better prank next time. Lol.” “Yeah, next time I am going to steal her final project so she fails her class.” “Lmaooo you are a menace.” I stared at the glowing chat bubbles. Something shattered deep inside my chest. It was not anger. It was something much colder than anger. It was absolute, suffocating despair. The realization that in their eyes, I was not even a human being. I was just a toy. A prop for their amusement. Something they could break without ever worrying about the consequences. Because my parents would never punish him. They would always, always take his side. I turned around and floated out of his room. I did not want to hear his laughter anymore. I did not want to know how else they planned to humiliate me. I was dead. None of this should matter to me anymore. But why did it still sting? Later that night, my mother came back to my door. This time, she knocked. “Ivy, come out and take your shower.” No response. “If you do not answer me, I am coming in.” Still no response. She pushed the door open. The room was pitch black. She reached her hand in and flicked the light switch. The bright overhead bulb flooded the room. My corpse was still lying exactly where I collapsed. My posture had not shifted an inch since the afternoon. My face was even more grotesquely swollen now. My lips were a horrifying, bruised plum color. My fingers were curled inward, stiff and rigid like claws. My mother stood in the doorway. She took one look at me and frowned deeply. “Are you seriously still putting on this act?” She did not step closer. She stood at the doorway, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Less than ten feet away. Ten feet. Her daughter was dead. Her dead child was lying ten feet away from her. She stared at me for three agonizing seconds. Then she turned around and walked away. “Ivy, I am telling you right now, if you do not get up, I am taking your phone tomorrow.” Her voice echoed down the hall. She never looked back. She never hesitated. She just walked away. I hovered right above my own bed. Looking down at my ruined body. I looked so disfigured I barely recognized myself. Mom. You did not recognize me either. But that is because you never really looked at me to begin with. Whenever you looked at me, your eyes were always filled with impatience. You always thought I was complaining, whining, faking it. You never once considered the possibility. That one day, I might actually die. Even when I was lying dead right in front of you, you refused to believe it. By ten o’clock, my father went to take his shower. My mother was back on the couch, watching a reality TV show. The television blared with canned laugh tracks. Hahaha. Hahaha. It echoed loudly through the house. Cole was back in his room, violently mashing his keyboard. He was in a voice call with his buddies. “Dude, that sniper is camping in the back!” “Revive me, revive me, I am down!” “Hahaha, we destroyed him.” Their laughter seeped through the walls. I floated in the empty hallway. Listening to the noise. It felt incredibly ironic. In this house. Every single person was smiling. And not a single one of them knew. That this family was missing a person. Forever. At eleven o’clock, my mother turned off the TV. She went to brush her teeth. As she walked past my bedroom, she paused. “Ivy, are you really…” She pushed the door open slightly. The lights were still glaringly bright. I was still lying there, frozen in the exact same position. She stood at the threshold and let out a heavy sigh. “You are impossible.” She reached out and flicked the light off. Click. The room plunged back into total darkness. My soul stood in the black void. Looking down at my own corpse. I suddenly remembered a true crime article I had read on Reddit a few weeks ago. It discussed how long it took for someone to be discovered if they died alone in their house. 4 Some people in the comments said three days. Some said a week. Some said it depended entirely on when the neighbors complained about the smell. I remembered reading that and thinking to myself. That would never happen to me. I lived with my parents and my brother. No matter how bad things got, they would definitely notice if I died, right? Now I knew the truth. They would not. They would just assume I was throwing a tantrum. Sulking, whining, acting out. Faking it. Even if I was dead. They still would not believe it. The next morning, my mother woke up to make breakfast. The sound of sizzling bacon drifted from the kitchen. The smell of food floated down the hall. It used to be my favorite smell in the world. “Ivy, get up, you are going to be late for school.” My mother yelled from the stove. No response. “Ivy!” Still nothing. “Unbelievable. Every single day it is a battle with her.” She walked out holding a plate of bacon. She glanced down the hallway. She did not walk toward my room. “Cole, go wake your sister up.” Cole walked out of his room, stretching casually. “Why should I? She will get up when she wants to.” “Just go knock on her door.” “No way.” He did not even spare a glance in my direction. My mother stood by the dining table. She looked at my empty seat. She pulled out her phone and sent me a furious text message. “Are you getting up or not? If you miss the bus, I am not driving you.” The message delivered. Silence. She sent another one. “Ivy, do not push me today.” Still silence. She slammed her phone down onto the table. “She is trying to give me a heart attack.” She grabbed her purse and her keys. And she left for work. The house fell completely, suffocatingly quiet. Leaving just me. Lying in the dark bedroom. My phone was still on the floor. The corner of the screen was cracked. Notifications began to pile up on the lock screen. Texts from my mother. A missed call from my homeroom teacher. Messages from classmates asking for homework answers. Nobody realized. That the owner of this phone. Would never reply to another message again. At ten o’clock in the morning, my homeroom teacher finally called my mother. My mother picked up. “Mrs. Astor, Ivy did not show up to homeroom today. Is everything alright?” “What? She is not at school?” “No, she never arrived.” “That stubborn girl…” My mother’s voice was laced with pure fury. “She was throwing a tantrum last night and locked herself in her room. I assumed she just walked to the bus stop on her own this morning.” “You should really go home and check on her, Mrs. Astor.” “Fine. I will handle it.” She hung up the phone. She did not rush home immediately. She told her boss she had a family issue, finished writing her morning report, and packed up slowly. It was noon by the time she finally drove home. As she unlocked the front door, she was already yelling. “Ivy, get out here right now. You have crossed the line today.” She stomped down the hallway to my door. She pushed it open. The lights were off. The curtains were still drawn tightly shut. The room was pitch black. She reached for the switch and flipped it. The lights hummed to life. I was still on the bed. Frozen in the exact same position I had been in since yesterday. Still wearing my clothes from yesterday. The swelling in my face had gone down slightly. But my lips were significantly darker now. A deep, horrifying blackish purple. “Ivy?” My mother’s voice faltered. She finally sensed something was horribly wrong. I had never skipped school to prove a point. No matter how angry I was, I never skipped class. Because I knew the punishment for skipping school would be ten times worse than whatever I was currently enduring. So I always woke up on time. I always caught the bus. No matter how sick or miserable I felt. But today, I did not get up. My mother finally stepped into the room. She walked slowly to the edge of the bed. She reached out and shoved my shoulder. “Ivy? Stop trying to scare me…” My body shifted slightly under her weight. It was stiff. Freezing cold. Like pushing a heavy boulder. My mother’s hand snatched back like she had been burned. She stared down at my face. She stared at my distorted, disfigured features. The blackened lips. The rigid, clawed fingers. Her pupils dilated violently, consuming her entire iris in sheer terror. “Ivy!!”

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My girlfriend’s stamina was absolutely terrifying. For the eight years we had been together, my body had been pushed to the absolute breaking point. So, when I found out her golden boy, her elusive first love, was finally returning from overseas, my eyes literally welled up with tears of sheer relief. Dawn had finally broken. My initial plan was to pack a bag and vanish into the night. But thinking back on how good Stella had been to me over these past eight years, I decided she deserved one last home-cooked meal. “Babe, what are you craving for dinner?” Her voice came through the phone speaker, crisp and icy. “Fish.” A shiver ran down my spine. “Honey, how about we switch up the menu…” Before I could even finish my sentence, the line went dead. She was a tyrant. I gritted my teeth. Fine, let’s go all out. It was my last night anyway. I refused to believe I couldn’t handle her one last time. During dinner, Stella pulled a pristine napkin from her lap. Slowly, methodically, she picked the tiny bones from her fish and lined them up on the white fabric. One bone. Two bones. She didn’t stop until she placed the seventh bone. 1 Night fell. I was gasping for air, my eyelids heavy as lead. Stella was in an even deeper state of bliss, completely boneless and melting against my chest. Her usual cold, distant demeanor had completely evaporated. The corners of her eyes and the curve of her brows held a lingering, intoxicating warmth. Looking at the stunning woman curled up in my arms, my body betrayed me and reacted again. Sensing the shift, Stella scrambled out of my embrace, her breath hitching. After a long moment of silence, she asked softly, “Noah, is something on your mind?” I mentally kicked myself. Damn it. I was so caught up in the afterglow that I completely forgot my exit strategy. Taking advantage of her rare good mood, I tested the waters. “Sweetheart, I heard Sebastian is back from Europe.” Stella furrowed her perfect brows. “What does his return have to do with you?” How could it not? That was the man she had been pining over for a decade. I tried to reason with her. “Look, babe, I know you never truly got over him. Now that he’s back, I’m willing to step aside. I want you to be happy.” “If I can’t give you the fairy tale, I’m giving you your freedom.” The more I spoke, the more worked up I got. I was practically bringing myself to tears with my own nobility. But Stella’s face turned entirely to ice. A terrifying, inexplicable chill settled in her eyes. I knew that look. It was the calm before the hurricane. I wisely shut my mouth. After what felt like an eternity, she let out a heavy sigh, turned her back to me, and pulled the covers up. “Noah, never say anything like that to me again.” Seeing her act so utterly put out made my blood boil. Who was she kidding? Everyone knew she was still hung up on Sebastian. I was literally serving her freedom on a silver platter, and she had the nerve to act annoyed. Fine. If she wouldn’t listen to reason, she couldn’t blame me for ghosting. With my mind made up, I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away from her. Exhaustion quickly took over, pulling me into a heavy, dreamless sleep. When I opened my eyes, sunlight was pouring into the bedroom. The space beside me was empty. Stella was fiercely disciplined and ruthlessly ambitious. You didn’t become the Vice President of a publicly traded tech firm just eight years out of college by sleeping in. I was her polar opposite. I took life as it came. After graduation, I floated around the tech sector. Now, pushing thirty, I was just a mid-level department manager. I dragged myself out of bed, called my boss to burn a sick day, and immediately headed out to meet a real estate agent. I had picked out a new apartment the exact day I heard Sebastian was coming back. The place was perfect. Utilities were set up, the Wi-Fi was blazing fast, the furniture was brand new, and most importantly, it was incredibly close to my office. I didn’t even try to haggle. I signed the lease right there on the kitchen counter. When the agent heard I wanted to move in today, he eagerly hooked me up with a moving crew. I didn’t own much. My work laptop, some clothes, and a few boxes of books. By noon, my side of the closet was wiped clean. Walking out of the building, I glanced back at the luxury condo we had shared for the last eight years. A bitter ache twisted in my chest. Even when Stella started making serious money, we never upgraded. To me, this place was home. But for the sake of my own survival, I had to cut the cord. The destructive power of a girl’s first true love was legendary. If I lingered even a second too long, I’d be caught in the blast radius. 2 By the time the sun set, my new place was spotless. Looking around the quiet, brightly lit living room, the tight knot in my chest finally began to loosen. Just as I was admiring my handiwork, my phone absolutely blew up. Our high school WhatsApp group, which was usually a ghost town, was blowing up with notifications. Chase, our old class president, had sparked the chaos. “Alright people! To welcome Sebastian back to the States, drinks and dinner are on me tomorrow night at eight. Private lounge at the Plaza Hotel. I want to see everyone there!” Chase was Sebastian’s ultimate wingman back in the day, so him hosting a welcome back bash was fully expected. The chat went wild. People were hyping Chase up and flooding the chat with emojis for Sebastian. Then, Sebastian himself chimed in. “Thanks for remembering me, guys. I really hope to see all of your faces tomorrow.” Immediately after, he dropped a massive digital gift card into the chat for everyone to claim. The group completely lost its mind, calling him a boss and a legend. I watched the screen in dead silence. I didn’t type a word. I didn’t click the link. Hailey, a girl who used to share a desk with Sebastian, suddenly derailed the hype train. “Why is Stella so quiet? Is she not in the group anymore? Is she coming tomorrow?” The chat went completely dead. Back in high school, Sebastian and Stella were the undisputed golden couple. He was the handsome star athlete, she was the untouchable ice queen, and they permanently locked down the top two spots in our class rankings. Even the strictest teachers looked the other way when they held hands in the hallways. Back then, Stella was the picture of a devoted girlfriend. To any other guy, she was a brick wall. But for Sebastian, she was soft, sweet, and entirely attentive. When he played basketball, she stood on the sidelines holding his water bottle. When they ate in the cafeteria, she would quietly move the best pieces of meat from her tray onto his. Every guy in our class watched them with a toxic mix of jealousy and despair. But things fell apart after graduation. Sebastian chose to attend a prestigious university in the UK. They had a massive, explosive fight about it. Stella begged him to stay. Sebastian was dead set on leaving, demanding she come with him. But Stella came from a working-class family. There was absolutely no way she could afford international tuition. They shattered completely. When college started, Stella fell into a dark, suffocating depression. As her former classmate and long-time admirer, I saw my window. She was in a new city, reeling from a brutal heartbreak, and entirely vulnerable. I didn’t hesitate. I stepped right into the void. During winter break of our freshman year, after a party and far too many drinks, the line between us blurred. I’ll freely admit I wasn’t some noble knight. I acted purely out of raw, desperate infatuation. I didn’t let myself think about the consequences. But the next morning, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes and realizing she had given me a part of herself she had never shared with Sebastian, I froze. At that exact moment, I knew I was in way over my head. I was completely hers. Once we made it official, I gave her everything I had. But Stella always kept me at an arm’s length. I understood why. I was the rebound. I was the guy who kept the loneliness at bay when she was bleeding out. I couldn’t blame her for that. I still poured my heart into her. I was young and foolish enough to believe that if I just loved her hard enough, eventually she would see my worth. So, when she asked me not to post pictures of us on Instagram, I kept my feed empty. When she told me to stay home from her corporate promotion dinners, I stayed home. For eight years, I swallowed my pride. I accepted that she was cold to the world and lukewarm to me. That was just who she was. But there were nights when I would wake up to an empty bed. I would find her standing on the balcony, her eyes lost in the city lights, carrying a melancholy that I could never touch. I knew exactly who she was looking for. 3 The buzzing of my phone yanked me back to reality. The group chat was completely off the rails now. “Stella will definitely be there. Has anyone even heard of her dating anyone since high school?” “Exactly. She’s been waiting for our boy Sebastian.” “So, Mr. Wall Street, are you planning on winning a certain someone back?” Sebastian replied with a single smiley face emoji. He said absolutely nothing, but that emoji screamed volumes. I had already made peace with walking away. But reading those messages still felt like a jagged piece of glass twisting in my gut. I let out a bitter laugh. Sebastian was clearly treating her like a prize he had already won back. My phone vibrated in my hand. It was Stella. I answered, and her clipped, professional voice filled my ear. “Noah, I’m stuck at the office. Don’t wait up for dinner. Bye.” She hadn’t even been home. She had no idea my closet was empty. Before she could hang up, I cut in. “Wait. Don’t hang up.” “Stella, have you looked at the high school group chat today?” Her tone was completely flat. “No. I don’t have time for that.” I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “Tomorrow night, they’re throwing a massive welcome home party for Sebastian. Are you going?” The silence on the other end stretched on for so long that I thought the call dropped. Finally, her voice came through, colder than liquid nitrogen. “No. Why, do you want to go?” What kind of trap was that? If she wasn’t going, was I banned from attending? Besides, how was I supposed to know if she was lying just to sneak off and see him? “Yeah, I’m going. Why wouldn’t I?” I shot back. “Besides, if we both pull a no-show, certain people might get the wrong idea. That wouldn’t be a good look.” Stella caught the hidden venom in my words. Her voice dropped an octave. “Noah, cut the passive-aggressive act. You’ve called me by my first name three times today. I don’t like it.” Click. She hung up. I scoffed at the screen. You don’t like it? Well, I don’t like a lot of things. For eight years, I called her sweetheart, baby, honey. She exclusively used my first name. The only time she ever called me her man was when we were tangled in the sheets. I gave up eight years of my life chasing a title she was never going to give me in the daylight. The fantasy was over. I was done bleeding myself dry for a lost cause. I opened the chat one last time. People were literally taking bets on what their romantic reunion was going to look like. Disgusted, I tossed my phone onto the sofa. A heavy, suffocating pain spread through my chest. Walking away was the right move, but it didn’t mean I had magically stopped loving her. I loved her desperately. But after eight years of talking to a wall, even the deepest love runs out of oxygen. Staying any longer would just be pathetic. That night, I was deep in a dreamless sleep when my phone shattered the silence. I blindly swiped to answer. Stella’s voice poured out of the speaker, so cold it could freeze whiskey. “Noah. Where the hell are you?” I jolted awake, my heart slamming against my ribs. “S-Stella. I moved out.” The words felt clumsy and guilty on my tongue, even though I had nothing to be guilty about. I could literally hear her teeth grinding together. “Give me one good reason.” Did I really need to spell it out? Your golden boy is back in town ready to sweep you off your feet. I was just clearing the stage. “I don’t need a reason. I’m just not in love with you anymore. We’re done.” Dead silence. I didn’t say another word. We just stayed on the line, listening to each other’s ragged breathing through the dark. After a long time, the edge finally left her voice, leaving something soft and broken behind. “Noah, I knew something was wrong with you these past few days. But you wouldn’t talk to me.” “We’ve been together for eight years. We might not have the paperwork, but we’re basically married. If you’re going through something, tell me. We can fix it together.” I let out a harsh, cynical laugh. Fix it? How do you fix a ghost from the past? “Save the fake sympathy, Stella. I’m not going through anything. I just don’t want you anymore. It’s over.” Before she could form a response, I pulled the phone away and ended the call. Just before the screen went black, I swore I heard a sharp, trembling sob. Nonsense. Stella crying over me? Impossible. I was just hearing things. 4 I woke up the next morning, stretched, and felt surprisingly incredible. Living alone actually had its perks. I didn’t have to worry about draining my life force just to keep Stella satisfied. I grabbed a coffee and a breakfast sandwich downstairs and started plotting out my Saturday. I had the whole day to myself, and I was absolutely going to that reunion tonight. I needed to see with my own eyes if the woman who swore she wasn’t going would miraculously show up. After breakfast, I hit an upscale barbershop for a clean, sharp fade. Looking in the mirror, I had to admit, the raw material wasn’t bad. I was just horribly packaged. Plaid shirts, faded jeans, and hiking boots. No wonder Stella treated me like a dirty secret. Honestly, I couldn’t even fully blame her. I walked straight to Nordstrom and dropped some serious cash on a tailored navy suit. I even let the sales associate talk me into some skincare products. When I looked in the dressing room mirror, I gave myself a slow nod of approval. Money really does buy confidence. At exactly six o’clock, I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the Plaza Hotel’s VIP lounge. Most of the class was already there, drinks in hand, buzzing with nostalgia. Right in the epicenter of the room stood a man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, soaking up the adoration like a sponge. “Sebastian, man, I heard you started your own private equity fund. You guys must have all the insider tech, right?” Sebastian offered a smooth, mysterious smile, playing the enigmatic billionaire perfectly. When he didn’t give up the goods, people pressed harder. “Come on, Seb. We’re family here. If you’ve got the golden ticket, you can’t keep it all to yourself.” Chase, the class president, threw an arm around Sebastian’s shoulder and laughed loudly. “Relax, guys! You know our boy isn’t like that. When he makes a move, he’ll take care of us.” The crowd visibly relaxed, practically lining up to kiss the rings of both Sebastian and Chase. Chase caught my eye from across the room and raised his whiskey glass. “Noah! You made it!” I wasn’t exactly a star player in high school, so I was surprised he remembered my name. Sebastian followed Chase’s gaze and gave me a polite, measured nod. But there was something sharp and highly amused in his eyes. I walked over and bumped fists with Chase. He was a trust-fund kid, loud and a little obnoxious, but he didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. Then I looked at Sebastian. Eight years in Europe had done him well. He was sharper, wealthier, and radiating an effortless alpha energy. Even in my new suit, I felt a little outgunned. Sebastian swirled the ice in his glass. “Noah. I remember you went to the same university as Stella.” I nodded, waiting for the hook. He asked casually, flawlessly nonchalant. “Do you guys still keep in touch?” Before I could even open my mouth, Hailey, his former desk-mate and ultimate fangirl, let out a loud scoff. “Please. Stella’s standards are way too high. Why would she keep in touch with him? I don’t think they exchanged two words our entire senior year.” A ripple of laughter echoed through the group. I just shrugged. I had already dumped her. Let them think whatever they wanted. It wasn’t like I had ever planned on using her name for street cred anyway. Chase frowned at the laughing crowd. “Shut up, guys. None of you talked to her either.” That shut the guys up real quick. It was true. Aside from Sebastian, Stella treated the male population like they were invisible. Hailey noticed Sebastian constantly checking his Rolex and glancing at the door. She bumped his shoulder playfully. “Seb, your heart is literally hovering by the entrance.” Sebastian offered a modest, handsome smile. “If you’re that anxious, just call her,” Hailey pushed. “We might not have her number, but there’s no way you don’t.” Sebastian neatly dodged the question. “Whether she comes or not is entirely up to her. I wouldn’t want to pressure her into changing her mind just because I called.” Hailey looked at him like he was a god. “You are such a gentleman.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. The guy was putting on a masterclass in manipulation. He knew exactly what he was doing. If he called her, she would drop everything and run here. Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the banquet hall slowly swung open. Stella stood in the doorway, framed by the hallway lights. She was still wearing her sleek, tailored executive blazer and skirt. The room gasped. The boys practically scrambled over each other to form a welcoming committee. I took a sip of my drink, a bitter smirk on my face. She swore she wasn’t coming, yet here she was, making the grand, dramatic entrance. Was this the only way to ensure every eye in the room was on her? But damn, a first love’s gravity was terrifying. A blind man could see exactly who she had rushed here for. Sebastian stepped through the crowd, parting them like the Red Sea. His eyes were liquid velvet. “Stella. You made it.” Stella looked like murder. Her aura was so dark and heavy it could crush coal into diamonds. She completely ignored Sebastian. Her eyes frantically scanned the room, hunting for something. Sebastian’s polite smile faltered slightly. “Stella? Are your eyes swollen? Have you not been sleeping?” Hearing that, I looked up from the shadows near the bar. He was right. Her beautiful, striking eyes were red and puffy. I scoffed internally. Was seeing Sebastian again really that overwhelming? She actually cried over him? Stella acted like Sebastian hadn’t even spoken. Her desperate gaze snapped onto me, locking on like a laser. 5 The entire room watched in absolute, breathless silence. Stella walked straight past Sebastian and stopped right in front of me. Then, the ice queen shattered. A dazzling, breathtaking smile bloomed on her face, making the entire room feel like a summer morning. She reached out her delicate hands and grabbed my collar. “Honey,” she whispered, her voice like warm honey, “that’s not how you tie a half-Windsor.” With practiced, intimate movements, she undid my messy knot and expertly retied it. I stood there holding my scotch, utterly paralyzed. Who was this woman? Eight years. Eight miserable years, and she had never once called me anything affectionate in public. And now, standing three feet away from the love of her life, she was adjusting my tie and calling me honey? Was she actively trying to get me murdered? I opened my mouth to stop the madness, but Stella was putting on the performance of a lifetime. She smoothly looped her arm through mine, pressing against my side. She looked out at the sea of shocked faces, her smile radiant.

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1 The day my sister returned to her wealthy biological family, she knelt before our parents with tears in her eyes. She begged them to let me come with her because I was the only family she had left. The Harringtons eventually agreed to take me in as well. When we arrived at the estate, we met Matt. He was the foster son who had been raised as their own for nearly twenty years and was thoroughly spoiled. He immediately singled us out as his favorite targets. At first, Krys was exhausted by his antics. Whenever our new parents told her to go easy on Matt, she would snap back that I was her only brother. But as time passed, she stopped saying those words. Sometimes, when she looked at me, it was clear she was seeing him instead. She would say she wished I were as outgoing as Matt instead of sitting there like a quiet stone. On my birthday, she forgot again. I did not throw a tantrum and simply baked a small cake for myself. The moment I finished icing it, she took it over to Matt. She told him to take this one since the ordered cake had been ruined and he had been crying about it. I was so hurt that I remained silent for the rest of the night. Seeing my silence, her eyes flared with irritation. She asked if I was seriously giving her attitude over a stupid cake and why I did not just say I did not want to share. Matt sneered and said he had told her I was cheap and petty. He honestly did not know why she had brought this stray back with her. This time, Krys did not defend me. It hit me then that even she had started to see me as a burden. I had spent four hours baking that cake. Now, it was a mangled mess of frosting, shredded by a fork. The name “Cole,” which I had carefully spelled out with dried blueberries, was completely gouged out. It was smashed against the creamy, ruined “Happy Birthday” topper. Matt grabbed the whole mess with a paper towel and tossed it into the bin like actual garbage. His mocking voice echoed in my ears: “What is this trash? It tastes disgusting. It doesn’t even come close to what our chef, Mrs. Gable, makes!” “You’re too picky,” Krys teased him, but her eyes were brimming with affection. “If you don’t like it, throw it away. I’ll ask Mrs. Gable to make you another one.” “Deal! But the new one has to say ‘Krys will be Matt’s loyal pup forever’ in icing! Who told you to come back and steal our parents’ love, and always pick fights with me over this stray?” Krys used to despise Matt, and she used to hate nothing more than hearing someone call me a “stray.” But now, she didn’t even flinch. She just smiled, ruffled his hair, and sighed: “Fine, fine. I surrender. It’s all my fault, okay?” They wrapped themselves in a warmth that completely shut me out. It made me look like the ultimate outsider. But then again, I was. Krys was the Harringtons’ long-lost biological daughter. Even though Matt was the child swapped at birth, they had raised him in luxury, and the bond between them was deep and unbreakable. When Krys returned, they couldn’t bear to let Matt go, so they formally adopted him. From start to finish, they were a real family. I was the only spare part. When I woke up this morning and saw her social media posts of her taking Matt to the amusement park, I knew she had forgotten my birthday again. I had already stopped begging her to spend the day with me. So why couldn’t I at least keep my own cake? Tears finally spilled over, heavy drops splashing onto the floorboards. Krys frowned. Out of habit, she reached out to wipe them away, just like she used to: “What are you crying for?” But Matt laughed mockingly: “It’s just a slice of cake. Are you really that dramatic? You’ve been sulking all night! Honestly, I bet your ‘good boy’ act is just for show.” He turned to her: “Krys, you spoil him too much. That’s why he’s so high-maintenance.” Krys’s hand froze in midair, then slowly retreated. The warmth vanished from her face: “This isn’t your old apartment, Cole. You eat their food and live under their roof. It’s just a cake. Don’t make yourself look so cheap.” Seeing the sheer annoyance in her eyes, my heart went cold, piece by piece. The night Krys was recognized by the Harringtons, I hadn’t slept at all. I was thrilled for her, but terrified of being left behind. Sensing my fear, she had held me tight and whispered over and over: “I will never leave you, Cole. Wherever I go, that’s your home too.” But now, she was telling me this wasn’t my old apartment. I didn’t know when it had happened, but in her heart, I had already become nothing but baggage. “I understand,” I mumbled, nodding blindly as my voice trembled. “Krys, I think I’ll move into the school dorms.” 2 Matt rolled his eyes: “Oh, please. As if living in this mansion is some kind of torture. You don’t have the pedigree of a prince, yet you’ve got all the attitude. Stop playing the victim just to get attention.” Krys’s face darkened: “Why are you throwing a fit?” “I’m not throwing a fit,” I said quietly. “I just think staying on campus will make it easier to study.” But her furrowed brow didn’t soften: “Do you think I don’t know you? You didn’t care about boarding before, but now you suddenly want to pack up. You’re still throwing a tantrum over that cake, aren’t you?” “Fine. If you want a cake that badly, I’ll have Mrs. Gable bake you one later.” She brushed me off, turning back to Matt with a smile, gently dabbing a speck of frosting from his lip with a napkin: “Look at you. Still eating like a toddler.” “I’ll always be Mom and Dad’s baby. You got a problem with that?” “Sure, sure. You’re the baby.” I couldn’t bear to stand there a second longer. I turned and walked up the stairs in silence. After filling out the housing request form, I stared at my beautifully decorated bedroom, completely lost in thought. The expensive Marvel pillows on the bed, the rare orchids sitting on the windowsill, the mahogany bookcase loaded with brand-new novels, the soothing nightlight on the nightstand… Every single item had been handpicked by Krys when we first moved in. She had even remodeled the room to match the exact layout of our cramped old bedroom, worried I wouldn’t sleep well in a strange place. She had held my hands back then and said: “This is our home now. We used to be so poor, Cole. I couldn’t even buy you a proper bookshelf. Now that we can afford it, I want to give you the absolute best. You’ll never have to struggle again.” Oh, how happy I had been. We had moved into a magnificent house we could only dream of before. We no longer had to worry about utility bills, or the roof leaking when it rained, or waking up to a flooded floor. Krys didn’t have to work three part-time jobs anymore just to scrape together my tuition. I thought our lives were finally getting better. I never imagined that the price of all this comfort would be losing her entirely. A sudden knock broke the silence. When I opened the door, a beautifully wrapped bakery box was held up right in front of my face. Krys peeked out from behind it, her eyes soft: “Cole, happy birthday!” Seeing my red, puffy eyes, a wave of guilt washed over her expression: “I’m so sorry. I only just realized what day it was.” For a fleeting second, it felt as though the sister who used to cherish me above all else had come back. I clutched the box to my chest like a freezing traveler stumbling upon a sudden, glowing fire. I followed her into the room, my defenses crumbling. But that tiny spark of hope shattered into dust the moment I lifted the lid and saw the cake smothered in sliced mangoes. My lips trembled, and the words barely made it out: “Krys… did you forget? I’m severely allergic to mangoes.” Krys’s forehead creased instantly. For a very long time after that night, I couldn’t erase the look she gave me. It was the look of someone staring at an inconvenient nuisance. 3 Krys clicked her tongue, her tone turning sharp: “Honestly, Cole, if there’s something you can’t eat, you should tell me beforehand. This is just a waste of money.” She grabbed a fork and began picking the mango chunks off one by one, tossing them aside before sliding the mangled cake back toward me: “Matt actually asked Mrs. Gable to make this for you to apologize. He noticed how much you like orchids, so he made sure she designed it with an orchid theme. He thought you’d love it.” “His words can be harsh, but he has a good heart underneath. Just eat a little bit, or you’ll hurt his feelings.” My throat felt tight, suffocating. I didn’t even notice my fingernails digging into my palms until they drew blood: “But I’m allergic to mangoes,” I whispered again. Krys sighed impatiently: “Which is why I just picked them off. Having a tiny bite won’t kill you.” Just then, the door creaked wider, and Matt sauntered in: “Don’t tell me Cole doesn’t like the cake I had Mrs. Gable make. It takes forever just to get him to smile. Talk about high-maintenance.” Before I could speak, Krys interceded: “It’s a gift from your heart, Matt. He has to eat it, whether he likes it or not.” “Great! Now that you’ve patted him on the head, get downstairs. I hated the frosting designs Mrs. Gable made on the other cakes. You have to help me finish them!” Krys laughed, feigning annoyance: “What, am I your personal disposal bin now?” “No way! I just love my favorite sister. Is that so bad?” Krys’s shoulders stiffened for a fraction of a second, but then her face lit up: “You only call me that when you want something. I must have owed you in a past life.” She complained, but the sheer joy in her eyes was unmistakable. I realized then: she hadn’t run out of patience. She had just run out of patience for me. If it were Matt, nothing was a waste. Just a simple, sweet nickname from Matt was enough to make her day. Meanwhile, everything I did only seemed to drain her. The next morning, I packed my few belongings in silence and moved into the campus dorms. I practically lived in the library and at my jobs. I slept barely four hours a night, filling every waking second with mock exams and part-time shifts. The exhausting, frantic pace kept my mind perfectly blank. I had no time to feel the ache in my chest. Until the day Krys finally called me. The second I swiped answer, her voice exploded through the speaker: “Cole, why haven’t you come home yet?” “You used to be so responsible. Now you’re staying out all night without even checking in!” “I told you before,” I said quietly. “I moved into the dorms.” “Who gave you permission? Do you think you’re grown up now? Is this some delayed teenage rebellion? Pack your bags and get back here right now!” I stayed silent. When the silence stretched on, she let out a cold, bitter laugh: “Fine. Don’t ever come back then. Let’s see how long you can survive on your own!” For the next few weeks, my life settled into a dull, safe routine. Classes, studying, shifts. As the final college prep exams drew closer, I felt a sense of quiet closure beginning to settle over me. Then, just three days before the exams, Krys called. Her voice was raw, carrying an exhaustion I had never heard from her before: “Cole… I’m at the hospital.” “It’s been so long since you’ve been home. I just… I really need to see you.” My fingers tightened around the plastic shell of my phone. Ever since she had turned her back on me for Matt, this was the very first time she had lowered her guard and reached out to me. I thought about the early admission acceptance letter resting in my desk drawer, and the savings I had scraped together, which were enough to let me start a completely new life far away from here. I hesitated for a long time before finally whispering: “Okay.” This would likely be our very last meeting. I didn’t want to leave with unresolved regrets. I wanted to tell her that I had been accepted into a university up north. That I would never be a burden to her again, and that I was finally stepping out of her life for good. But I was naive. The moment I pushed open the hospital door, a stinging slap caught me squarely across the face. 4 A strange woman flew at me like a wild animal, her nails clawing at my face as she screamed, ripping at my hair: “You sick bastard! You hid sewing needles in my son’s pencil case! He cut his hands wide open because of you!” “The final exams are in two days! If we hadn’t caught it in time, you would have ruined his entire life!” “You’re only eighteen! How can someone your age be so utterly malicious?” “It wasn’t me!” I gasped, struggling to pry her hands off my clothes. “I don’t even know who your son is!” “Stop lying, Cole! I saw you slip those needles into his desk with my own eyes!” Matt stepped out from behind the weeping woman, pointing a finger directly at me, his face a mask of righteous anger. My expression went entirely numb: “Why would I put needles in his desk? You have no proof. How dare you accuse me of this?” “Who says there’s no proof?” The moment Krys’s voice cut through the room, the blood in my veins turned to ice. She stepped forward, holding out her phone to display a video clip. Because of the awkward angle, the footage showed me quietly approaching a student’s desk when the classroom was empty, sliding something into his organizer. It hit me then: I had been helping a teacher deliver a prize, a special fountain pen, to the top-performing student in the neighboring class. It was a pen, not needles. But my explanation was instantly drowned out by the raging parent: “Matt saw you! We have video evidence and an eyewitness, and you’re still denying it!” I turned my gaze slowly to Krys, my jaw clenched so hard it ached: “Did you see me do it too?” Krys looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. After a long, agonizing silence, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper: “Cole… you’ve always been jealous of Matt. You’ve targeted him since day one. But I never thought you’d resort to hurting an innocent classmate. I’m so disappointed in you.” I stared at her, utterly paralyzed. Those words from her mouth sealed my fate. It was a formal condemnation. “The school is going to hear about this! I will make sure everyone knows what a monster you are!” the mother shrieked, slamming the door behind her as she rushed out to find the administration. I looked at Krys, my body shaking uncontrollably: “Why?” She clenched her fists, her eyes swimming with a complicated mix of guilt and resolve: “Cole… Matt didn’t mean for this to happen. He didn’t think a stupid prank would get this out of hand.” “If Mom and Dad find out what he did, they’ll disown him. He’s always been so proud… I’ve never seen him cry like that, he was terrified.” By the end of her sentence, her voice was thick with sympathy for him. I stared at her, each word tasting like ash in my mouth: “So that phone call… the crying, the hospital… it was all a trap to get me here to take the fall for him?” Her breath caught: “I’ve already arranged a way out for you,” she whispered hoarsely. “You won’t go to jail.” The very last thread of hope inside me snapped. I didn’t even remember how I made it back to campus. I only remembered the cold, disgusted stares of my classmates, and the toxic whispers following me down the hallway: “That’s the guy who put needles in the desk. Having someone like that in our dorms is terrifying.” “He should be locked up. What a psycho.” Before I could even reach my locker, I was summoned to the principal’s office. The principal sat behind his desk, sliding a heavy folder toward me: “The victim’s family is threatening a massive lawsuit unless we take immediate action. Your early admission scholarship nomination has been revoked.” “Furthermore, the board has decided to expel you immediately.” I stood frozen, a deep, icy numbness spreading from my chest to my fingertips. I couldn’t comprehend it. I had worked so hard, bled for every grade, just to protect the tiny future I had built for myself. But ever since I had followed Krys into the Harrington mansion, my life had been nothing but a series of losses. I lost Krys. I lost my home. I lost my college spot. And now, I didn’t even have a high school diploma. I had only wanted to leave quietly. Why was even that too much to ask? A notification lit up my screen. It was an email from Krys, containing transfer documents and two airline tickets to London: “The family has deep connections with a boarding school in London. I’ve already cleared your files with their admissions team.” “It’s too late for the exams here, but with your grades, you can repeat your senior year there and easily get into a top university.” “Once the exams here are over, I’ll fly out with you.” She had known. She had anticipated every single consequence, knew exactly how ruined I would be, and still chose to destroy my life just to shield Matt. I clutched the useless papers to my chest, standing outside the school gates in the pouring rain until the security guard told me to move along. When the exams finally ended for the rest of my class, I dragged my single suitcase toward the train station, ready to board a train to a distant, unfamiliar city. Krys’s message flashed on my screen: “I’m waiting at the terminal. Where are you?” I typed out my very last reply: “I’m not going to London. We’re done.” The moment the message sent, her name began flashing frantically on my screen. I didn’t answer. I systematically blocked her number, her social media, and her email. Then I stepped onto the train, leaving everything behind. Krys, goodbye forever.

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1 I was adopted by my parents from Greenwood Children’s Home. They treated me so well that every night before sleep, I would pray to God, begging Him never to let them send me back. Later, when Mom got pregnant, I hid under my blanket and cried all night, quietly packing the tiny suitcase I had brought with me. But they didn’t send me away. Instead, they loved me even more. The day my little brother was born, Mom held my hand and gently stroked my hair: “It was our big sister who brought us our sweet baby boy.” Dad lifted me high above his head, spinning me around with a booming laugh: “Hope is our little lucky charm, our most precious angel!” I finally stopped living in constant fear. I truly believed I had become a permanent part of this family. Until that day, when my brother broke my beloved astronaut model. In a flash of anger, I shoved him away. He stumbled and landed hard on his bottom. After a shocked silence of two seconds, he burst into a loud, wailing cry. Mom panicked instantly. She pushed me aside roughly, scooping my brother into her arms and desperately checking him for any scratches. Dad rushed over, grabbing my shoulders and pinning me hard against the wall, his eyes a terrifying, bloodshot red: “Did we raise you all these years just so you could bully your brother? Believe it or not, I will take you right back to—” “Charles!” Under Mom’s frantic interruption, Dad’s words cut off. But the damage was done. I understood. The kids at Greenwood had been right all along. For kids like us, once a biological sibling arrives, we always end up being sent back. I had been so foolish to think I was special. I bit my lip and stayed silent, watching Mom and Dad coax my crying brother as they headed out the door. The click of the front door closing was quiet, but it fell on my chest like a heavy stone, crushing me. I thought I would cry, but my eyes were bone dry. I stood in the middle of the quiet living room for a long time before retreating to my bedroom and dragging my small, faded suitcase from under the bed. Five years ago, I had arrived at this house with this exact suitcase. I was so small back then, too young to remember the details of the children’s home. I only remembered Mom kneeling in front of me, her beautiful eyes shining as she asked: “Would you like to come home with me, sweetie?” I had nodded, and she smiled. It was the warmest smile I had ever seen. But just now, there hadn’t been a single trace of warmth in her eyes. As she led my brother out, she hadn’t even glanced back at me. Neither had Dad. I knew they were planning to send me back. Instead of waiting for them to say the words, it was better if I just left on my own. At least that way, I wouldn’t lose all my dignity. I could tell the kids at the home, “They didn’t kick me out. I chose to come back.” Even if they probably wouldn’t believe me. I wiped the dust from the suitcase, pulled open the slightly rusted zipper, and began packing. First, I packed a few clothes: my favorite pink dress, the sweater Mom had knitted for me last winter, and the slightly frayed red wool scarf. I folded them neatly and placed them inside. I didn’t dare take too much, terrified they would think I was greedy. Then, my toys. I hesitated for a long time before picking only two: a worn-out gray stuffed rabbit, and a cheap plastic star necklace. Mom had given me the stuffed rabbit on my very first night in this house. She had whispered, “Keep him close, and you won’t be scared anymore.” Its ears were crooked and the stitching was coming apart, but it was my first gift, and I couldn’t leave it behind. The star necklace was a souvenir Dad had brought back from a business trip, with my name carefully engraved on the back. Finally, I took a framed family photo. It was taken shortly after I arrived. In the picture, Mom and Dad were holding me right in the middle, and my smile was so wide my eyes were squinted shut. I wrapped the frame gently in the knitted sweater, burying it in the center of the suitcase. That way, whenever I missed them, I could sneak a look. Once everything was packed, I zipped the suitcase closed. It felt heavier than it had five years ago, but I could still lift it if I tried. Outside, the night had settled in completely. I sat on top of my suitcase, quietly waiting for them. If they returned and told me they were sending me away, I would say, “That’s okay, I’m already packed.” What if they asked me to stay? If they did, I would slide the suitcase back under the bed and pretend none of this had ever happened. Seven o’clock, eight o’clock, nine o’clock. They still weren’t back. Were they intentionally staying away to give me time to pack up and slip away? Maybe I should just be sensible and take the hint. At five past nine, I stood up and took one last look at my bedroom. My half-finished homework was still spread across the desk. My bed was made with the blanket Mom had freshly dried in the sun yesterday, and I could still smell the faint, warm scent of summer in the fabric. On the windowsill sat the small succulent Mom and I had planted together. We had made a pact to watch it bloom. Sadly, I wouldn’t be around to see it. I pulled the door shut behind me, dragged the suitcase across the quiet living room, and stepped out of the apartment. A blast of freezing night wind hit me, making me shiver. I wrapped my red scarf tighter around my neck and dragged my suitcase into the dark street. The neighborhood was mostly empty. Occasionally, a late-night commuter would hurry past, but no one paid any attention to a little girl dragging a suitcase. The yellow glow of the streetlights stretched my shadow and the outline of my suitcase long across the concrete. Truthfully, I had forgotten the exact route to the children’s home. I only had a vague memory that it was somewhere to the west, so I kept walking in that direction. By the time I reached the fourth intersection, my arms were aching so badly I could barely lift them. The crossing was wide. Right in the middle of the road, the wheel of my suitcase got wedged in a deep pothole. I tugged with all my strength, but it wouldn’t budge. I had to kneel down on the asphalt to lift it free. Right then, a blinding flash of high beams illuminated the road from my right, so bright I had to squeeze my eyes shut. I heard the screech of tires on asphalt, followed by a violent impact. It didn’t hurt. Really, it didn’t hurt at all. I just felt myself floating upward, weightless, like a loose feather caught in a breeze. Below me, my suitcase lay split open on the road, my carefully packed treasures scattering across the dark street. I drifted down, my vision turning hazy as a sharp ringing filled my ears. A rush of footsteps approached, and muffled voices started shouting, but they sounded distant, as if I were listening to them from behind a thick sheet of glass. 2 When my awareness returned, I found myself hovering in the chilly air. Looking down, a crowd had gathered on the street below. In the center of the circle lay a small girl wearing a red scarf, surrounded by scattered clothes and toys. Her eyes were closed. She looked very peaceful. When I caught a glimpse of her face, my heart stopped. It was me. The red and blue lights of the ambulance cast a surreal, flashing glow over the onlookers’ faces. The paramedics knelt beside the girl, trying desperately to revive her, but after a moment, they shook their heads solemnly. They pulled out a clean white sheet and gently covered the small body. A corner of the white fabric quickly bloomed with a dark, wet red, like a lone rose opening in the snow. The truth finally settled over me. I was dead. Maybe it was for the best. This way, the kids at the children’s home wouldn’t have the chance to mock me for being sent back. The crowd slowly thinned out. The police arrived, taking photos and stringing yellow tape across the intersection. My split suitcase was gathered up and placed in the trunk of a squad car. But where was I supposed to go now? I had no idea. I only knew that before I left this world, I wanted to see Mom and Dad one last time. The night wind blew, but I didn’t feel cold. I simply drifted along with the current. As I floated back toward the intersection, a familiar black sedan caught my eye. It was Dad’s car, slowly navigating around the flashing emergency vehicles. I chased after it like a drowning person reaching for a branch, passing effortlessly through the glass window to sit in the back seat next to my brother. The cabin was warm, the heater humming softly. “There were so many people gathered back there,” Mom’s voice drifted from the front passenger seat. “Did something happen?” Dad glanced into the rearview mirror: “Looks like a bad accident. The ambulance and police are both there.” My little brother, Toby, sat beside me, completely absorbed in a brand-new toy car. Its colorful lights flashed, casting a bright, cheerful glow over his face. “The amusement park was so much fun!” Toby chirped, looking up with bright, excited eyes. “Mom, can we go back again next weekend?” Mom turned back to give him a warm smile: “Of course, sweetie. We’ll go again soon.” “And I want cotton candy next time!” Toby kicked his legs happily. “We’ll get whatever you want,” Dad chuckled, watching him through the mirror. “Did you have a good day, buddy?” “The best day ever!” The atmosphere inside the car was light and joyful. Mom scrolled through the photos she had taken on her phone, laughing softly at the pictures. Dad hummed along to a soft tune playing on the radio. Toby continued to play with his toy. I watched the three of them, a heavy ache blooming in my chest. It seemed they were perfectly happy without me. “Oh, I almost forgot,” Mom said, reaching into a shopping bag and pulling out a glossy rectangular box. “I need to put this away.” My eyes widened. It was a brand-new astronaut model, identical to the one Toby had shattered. “We had to go to three different toy stores, but I’m so glad we found the very last one,” Mom said, checking the box carefully. “It looks exactly like the one Hope had, right?” Dad glanced over: “It’s a perfect match. She’s going to love it.” “You really shouldn’t have raised your voice at her like that,” Mom chided gently. “She’s just a child. Toby broke her favorite toy; of course she was going to get upset.” “I know, I lost my temper,” Dad sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was my fault. I’ll make it up to her.” Mom packed the model back into the bag: “Hope is probably still sulking in her room. When we get home, you take the new toy in and apologize.” “I will,” Dad said softly. “Did you get the strawberry cake?” “Yes, from her favorite bakery down the street.” Mom turned around to look at the back seat, her eyes shining with warmth. “And I got her those star-shaped hairpins she’s been begging for.” Toby held up his toy car: “Does sissy get a present too?” “Of course she does,” Mom laughed. “Everyone gets a treat.” I stared at the pristine astronaut model in the box, then at the anticipation on Mom’s face and the quiet regret in Dad’s eyes. In that instant, I understood everything. They weren’t trying to abandon me. They hadn’t stayed out late to force me out of the house. They had spent hours driving from store to store just to find a replacement for my broken toy. They had bought my favorite strawberry cake and the star hairpins. They had even planned out exactly how they would apologize to me. They really, truly loved me. But it was already too late.

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After being demoted to guarding the company’s warehouse gates for three years, my manager suddenly decided he wanted to reinstate me. When he marched down to find me with a horde of executives in tow, I was right in the middle of a mobile game with my two work buddies. My manager immediately lost his temper, barking at me: “You used to be a decent team lead, and now you’re rolling in the mud with these lowlifes? Get your ass back to your desk. There’s a major contract that needs your signature!” Zack, the supervisor who had stolen my position, looked at my dusty, worn-out clothes and sneered: “It’s your lucky day, Finn. The company books have a tiny hundred-million-dollar leak. If you just sign this confession and admit you took the money, the company promises to take care of you for life.” VP Richard, wearing his usual greasy, friendly mask, chimed in: “What’s the point of wasting your life with these two losers? Take the fall for this, and the moment you get out, I’ll hand you a promotion on a silver platter.” My fingers never stopped tapping the screen, but I was practically shaking with suppressed laughter. Losers? Trash? If only they knew who my two seemingly ordinary gaming buddies actually were. One was Nate, the Chairman’s actual grandson, who was just here to experience how the other half lived. The other was Wilson, our supreme Group President, who had gone undercover to inspect the grassroots level, a man who detested even a single grain of corruption. 1 I had just landed a triple kill when the heavy metal door of the warehouse was kicked open with a deafening bang. Seven or eight people filed into the room. The three men leading the pack stood front and center, flanked by several other managers. They had brought quite an entourage. “Finn, get your ass back to the main office and sign these papers,” Manager Logan said, looking down his nose at me. I didn’t even look up from my screen: “Get ready for the team fight,” I muttered into my headset. Logan’s face flushed with anger at being ignored. He snatched the phone right out of my hands and slammed it onto the metal workbench with a loud crash. Instantly, every worker in the warehouse stopped what they were doing, their eyes turning toward us with a mix of shock and amusement. “Don’t push your luck, Finn!” Logan snarled. “The company is doing you a massive favor by letting you back into your old position. Who do you think you are?” “I kicked you from a director’s office down to this godforsaken hole with a single word, and I can send you packing to starve on the streets just as easily!” VP Richard stood with his arms crossed, his face twisted in contempt: “The kid has zero ambition. We offer him a golden ladder and he doesn’t even have the sense to climb it. Instead, he wastes his time playing video games with a couple of useless drifters.” “We really misjudged you. We thought sending you to the warehouse floor would build your character and teach you some humility. Instead, you’ve turned into an absolute loser.” I finally looked up, my eyes cold: “Weren’t you the one who banished me here, Richard? Three years ago, I was on the fast track to a promotion. You wanted to put one of your own guys in my chair, so you made up a pathetic excuse and threw me to the gates of this warehouse.” Three years ago, I was the Senior Project Director, managing a team of over fifty people and handling multi-million dollar contracts. Overnight, I was treated like garbage and dumped here to guard the Westside Warehouse gates. After throwing me out like trash, they thought a snapped order would bring me crawling back? Logan’s eyes glinted with calculation. He assumed I had no choice. He thought a forgotten gatekeeper would jump at any bone tossed his way. It was a neat little plan. They had a hundred-million-dollar hole in the company books and desperately needed a scapegoat. And I, Finn, the former director who once held the keys, was the perfect candidate. I had the clearance, the access, and the supposed motive. All it would cost was a few years in a cell in exchange for a vague promise of a comfortable retirement fund and a phantom promotion. To them, this crooked deal was a generous act of charity. I stood up slowly, took one last drag from my cigarette, and blew a thick cloud of smoke directly into Logan’s face. He coughed and sputtered, his eyes wide with rage, but Zack, the newly minted supervisor, quickly held him back: “Finn, don’t be stupid,” Zack said, a greasy smile plastered across his face. “We’re trying to help you get your old life back. The new project is huge, and we need an experienced manager. You’re the best fit.” “Besides, we used to be brothers. I’d never set you up.” I let out a dry laugh: “Brothers? I practically raised you in this industry, Zack. I gave you half my clients and taught you everything I knew. And you repaid me by going behind my back, stealing my accounts, and framing me for taking kickbacks. You don’t get to call me your brother.” Zack had started as my intern. I had poured everything into mentoring him, only for him to stab me in the back the moment he got a taste of greed. Exposed, Zack’s face twisted in embarrassment. He sneered, looking down at my dusty, faded blue-collar uniform: “What are you acting so high and mighty for? You think we can’t handle a pathetic gatekeeper? We tried to play nice, but if you want to make this difficult, we have other ways.” He flicked his wrist, and two burly security guards stepped forward, towering over me: “If you won’t sign willingly, we’ll drag you to the office and press your thumb onto the ink ourselves!” Beside me, Nate and Wilson, my two gaming buddies, set their phones down. They stood up, frowning: “What do you think you’re doing? You want to get physical?” 2 Logan’s expression curdled at the interruption: “What do you two warehouse rats know about anything?” he sneered, waving them off like pesky flies. “Get lost. This is a management matter.” “So working in the warehouse means we aren’t part of the company?” Wilson asked, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. He spoke with his usual slow, measured cadence. He was never one to raise his voice; when you occupy the top rung of the ladder, you rarely have to raise your voice to get things done. “There’s a chain of command, and using your corporate authority to threaten and harass an employee is a blatant violation of labor laws.” “Labor laws?” Zack burst out laughing. “Can you illiterate garbage even read the employee handbook? What do you know about the law?” He pointed a thumb at VP Richard: “Do you have any idea who Richard’s backing is? Even the Chairman has to treat him with respect. Labor laws? We could tear this entire warehouse down, and the Chairman wouldn’t dare say a word to us!” “Keep running your mouths, and I’ll fire both of you on the spot!” “The Chairman?” Nate shrugged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “That’s funny. I’ve never heard him mention your names before.” Richard blinked, then erupted into a roaring laugh: “What kind of delusional garbage are you spitting? You know the Chairman?” “You look like a beggar who can’t even get past the lobby doors. Keep dreaming, kid.” Wilson’s gaze turned frosty: “Richard, the Chairman might not know you, but I certainly do. A year ago, you were caught skimming from the employee bonus pool. I thought you had learned your lesson, but it seems you’ve only grown more reckless.” “Did you honestly think you could pull off a stunt like this without anyone noticing?” Richard’s face went from pale to a dark, furious red. Wilson had hit a nerve. They had marched in here assuming the warehouse was filled with uneducated, compliant laborers who would be too intimidated by corporate suits to ask questions. They never expected to run into two workers who knew exactly what they were talking about. Exposed in front of his subordinates, VP Richard exploded: “What the hell did you just say?” Seeing his boss lose his temper, Manager Logan lunged forward, grabbing Wilson by the collar and yanking him out of his chair: “Where did you get these pathetic rumors, you piece of trash? Our VP is a man of absolute integrity! Keep running your mouth, and I’ll personally shut it for you!” He shoved Wilson hard. Wilson stumbled back, crashing into a heavy metal shelf. His glasses flew off his face, shattering on the concrete. “Wilson!” I yelled, rushing forward to help him up. “What is wrong with you? Why are you hands-on?” Wilson was a man of quiet refinement. He had a small army of assistants to handle any unpleasantness in his daily life; he had never dealt with such raw, brutish violence before. “I’m the one you want!” I yelled, shielding them. “Leave them out of this!” Nate pulled out his phone, his face pale with anger: “You guys are dead.” Zack was fast. He snatched the phone right out of Nate’s hand, holding it triumphantly above his head: “Who are you going to call, huh? The police? Go ahead and try. My guys will have you broken in half before they even dispatch a car!” Logan waved his hand dismissively: “Enough talk. Why are we wasting our breath on these minimum-wage losers? You step on them, and they still think your shoes smell nice.” The managers burst into cruel laughter, looking down at us like we were bugs. Even the other warehouse workers began whispering among themselves, pointing fingers: “Management is here, just do what they say. Why make trouble when you’re just trying to earn a paycheck?” “Isn’t it just a few years in prison? If they offered me that kind of money to take the fall, I’d jump at it. Why act so proud?” Even the warehouse supervisor pointed at Wilson, Nate, and me, shouting: “You three ungrateful idiots! How dare you disobey direct orders from the corporate office? I’ll fire all of you by the end of the shift!” Logan nodded with satisfaction, then turned back to me: “Finn, I’ll ask you one last time. Are you signing the papers?” “If you say no, you’re fired right now!” 3 Logan smirked. He had watched me sweat and bleed for that director position three years ago. He knew I had a mortgage to pay and a family to support in the city. He knew that if I got fired at my age, finding another decent job would be nearly impossible. My family would starve. The onlookers chuckled when they heard the threat of termination: “Serves him right! Getting fired over a stupid cake and some pride. Good luck finding another job in this economy.” “Just apologize, sign the damn papers, and keep your job.” Everyone expected me to break. They thought I loved this job too much to lose it. Instead, I shrugged, completely unfazed: “Go ahead and fire me. It’s not like there’s any lower room for demotion anyway.” The entire room went dead silent. Nobody expected me to throw away my livelihood so easily. Zack stepped forward, his eyes narrowing: “Think carefully, Finn. Once you’re out of this company, you’re blacklisted. You’ll never recover.” “You’ve spent too much time rolling in the mud with these losers. You don’t even know what’s good for you anymore.” I laughed: “Do whatever you want. Fire me. You guys have never cared about rules anyway. What can a simple gatekeeper do to stop you?” I sounded defeated, but the truth was, during my three years in this warehouse, I had been quietly keeping records of all the suppliers and the paper trails of Richard’s fraudulent procurement network. Seeing my stubbornness, VP Richard stepped forward, patting Logan on the shoulder. He turned to me with a greasy, paternal smile: “Finn, let’s be reasonable. The company has been very generous to you. For three years, we’ve paid your salary and kept your benefits active. Any other place would have thrown you out onto the street long ago.” “We’re offering you a lifeline out of old friendship. You sign for the hundred million, and you’ll do a few easy years. When you get out, the associate director’s chair is yours, and the company will take care of you for the rest of your life.” “You’re a gatekeeper, Finn. What other future do you have?” He leaned in close, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper: “You need to understand something. I can make you or break you with a single phone call. Cooperate, and everyone wins. Refuse… and I’ll make sure no company in this state ever hires you again.” I looked him dead in the eye and smiled: “Richard, there’s always a bigger fish in the sea. Did you really think your crimes would stay buried forever?” Richard’s smile vanished. He nodded to the two burly guards to grab me. But Nate stepped directly in front of me, his chest puffed out: “If you lay one hand on him, I’m telling my grandfather everything!” “Your grandfather?” Zack mocked, bursting into another fit of laughter. “Who the hell is your grandfather? A construction worker or a street sweeper?” Nate ignored him, locking his eyes on VP Richard: “His corporate authority is nothing compared to my grandfather’s. You look down on us for earning minimum wage, but my grandfather makes more in an hour than you’ll see in a lifetime.” The warehouse fell quiet for a fraction of a second before exploding into hysterical laughter: “He makes more in an hour than we see in a lifetime?” Zack laughed so hard he had to wipe his eyes. “Who is your grandfather, Bill Gates? Or maybe you’re talking about Monopoly money?” Logan clutched his stomach: “This kid has lost his mind from working too many shifts. He’s hallucinating.” They couldn’t fathom a warehouse worker having any real power. “Enough games,” VP Richard snapped, his patience entirely depleted: “Unless you can miraculously summon the Group President himself to this filthy floor, you are signing those papers today!” 4 I glanced at Wilson, who was staring at VP Richard with a dark, terrifying expression. It was a look I recognized. Last week, when the supervisor was tricked into signing a fraudulent supplier agreement, Wilson had taken one look at it, and the supplier had come crawling back the next morning, begging to tear up the contract. Wilson was a man who detested corruption, and he certainly wasn’t going to let these thugs walk all over us. He spoke, his tone completely flat: “A hundred-million-dollar deficit. And you are certain you want Finn to take the blame for it?” Richard scowled, barely deigning to look at Wilson: “Who asked you, old man? You want to pack your bags too?” Wilson pulled a spare pair of glasses from his breast pocket, slipped them on, and stared at Logan and his cronies: “You said only the President could resolve this. Well, I am here. How do you want to handle it?” He pulled out his phone and pressed speed dial. His voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet warehouse, every word carried like thunder: “This is Wilson Pendelton. Send the internal affairs and audit division to the Westside Warehouse immediately. We have a massive embezzlement case to secure.” Wilson hung up. VP Richard’s face drained of color, his lips trembling slightly: “Wilson Pendelton? The… Group President? What are you doing here?” Zack and Logan stared in disbelief: “The President? Working in a dusty warehouse? That’s impossible. There must be a mistake.” Zack leaned in close to Richard, whispering urgently: “Richard, have you ever actually seen the President in person? He’s bluffing. The corporate office never said anything about Wilson inspecting the warehouse floor.” “Besides, the news yesterday said the Chairman and the President flew to Europe for a merger. There’s no way he’s here.” “Don’t let him get in your head!” Hearing this, Richard’s panic turned back into red-hot fury. His greasy sneer returned: “The Group President on a warehouse floor? You really think I’m that stupid? Everyone knows Wilson Pendelton is in Europe!” “How dare you pretend to be the President to scare me! You warehouse trash really are something else. I’m going to make sure you never walk again!” “Get them! Grab all three of them and beat some sense into them!” The burly guards closed in on Wilson. Seeing that his actual title meant nothing to these thugs, Wilson’s face went completely dark: “How dare you touch the President of this company!” One of the guards laughed, spitting on the floor: “The President? If you’re the President, I’m his father!” They grabbed Nate too. He struggled against their grip, shouting: “I am the Chairman’s grandson! If you touch me, my grandfather will destroy you!” The managers ignored his threats, laughing in his face: “Go ahead and cry to your granddaddy, kid!” The other workers watched, whispering coldly: “What a joke. Trying to pass themselves off as corporate royalty. Look at them now.” “Now you’re getting beaten up because you wouldn’t just keep your head down.” A guard grabbed Wilson by the throat, pinning him against a shelf. Two other men pinned my arms behind my back, holding me fast, while another guard kicked Nate hard in the back of the knee, forcing him to his knees on the concrete: “I’m going to break you pieces of trash!” Suddenly, a roaring, authoritative voice echoed from the warehouse entrance: “Who dares to touch my grandson?!”

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1 At our college reunion, Johnny got drunk during Truth or Dare. Laughing carelessly, he announced he had never loved me, only Ava. He raised his glass, eyes bright. “She’s finally divorced. This time, I’m not letting her go.” The room fell silent. Next round, he drew a dare: confess to the one he loved. Without hesitation, he called Ava, voice softening into a murmur I hadn’t heard in years. “Ava, I miss you. Can we start over?” I lowered my head, chest tight. Awkward laughter rippled around the table. Sarah squeezed my shoulder. “Johnny is wasted. Don’t take it personally. Marrying you was his jackpot. Cut him some slack.” Megan nodded. “Every guy has a first love. Turn a blind eye, honey. Don’t ruin the party.” I sat frozen, nails digging into my palms. In three years of marriage, this happened whenever he drank. I always covered for him, the dutiful wife. But tonight, my fingers clutched a positive pregnancy test in my coat pocket. My eyes burned, sorrow suffocating me. Quietly, I stood, walked out, and booked an abortion. A love that would never be mine was one I no longer wanted. … When I got home, I went straight to the study and opened my laptop. A pending notification popped up on the screen: my doctoral acceptance letter from the University of Zurich. I clicked Accept without hesitation. Then, I began to pack. At the very bottom of my dresser drawer, my hand brushed against a thick stack of medical files and ovulation tracking charts. For three long years, I had subjected my body to bitter herbal teas, hormone pills, and countless painful fertility injections just to conceive. But Johnny had only ever looked at me with cold disdain. “Is your only goal in life to pop out a kid, Evelyn?” he would sneer. “It’s pathetic, honestly.” He despised the faint, clinical smell of medicine that clung to me. He despised how the hormone treatments made me bloated, exhausted, and plain. Sitting on the cold hardwood floor with those medical sheets scattered around me, a sudden wave of self-pity turned into absolute clarity. The next morning, I stood outside the operating room. The sterile, metallic clinking of instruments drifted through the door, chilling me to the bone. As the anesthesia began to drip into my veins, a single tear slipped down my temple. I’m sorry, little one, I whispered in my heart. I couldn’t give you a real home. When the procedure was over, I stepped out of the clinic. The early autumn breeze bit harshly at my pale face. My phone was vibrating frantically in my bag, displaying Johnny’s name along with a dozen missed calls. I finally picked up. His voice was sharp with irritation, commanding me as he always did. “Evelyn, where the hell are you? My stomach is killing me. Come home and make me some soup, and bring the medicine bottle on the coffee table over to my office.” At that moment, three years of memories crashed over me like a broken dam. I remembered playing the perfect housewife, ironing his shirts, cooking his favorite meals, and keeping the porch light on until the early hours of the morning, no matter how late he stayed out. And in return, I only got his condescension. “Can’t you do something useful with your life? All you’re good for is playing maid.” “Look at Ava. She came from nothing but built a stunning career. Then look at you, hovering over a stove all day. It’s suffocating.” In the past, I would have apologized, swallowed my pride, and rushed to his side just to keep the peace. But now, the heavy weight that had pressed on my chest for years suddenly vanished. I leaned against the cold brick wall of the hospital and spoke quietly. “I’m not coming, Johnny.” A stunned silence hung on the line for a couple of seconds before his voice returned, dripping with mockery. “What did you just say?” I cut him off, a self-deprecating smile touching my lips. “Exactly what you’ve wanted. Let’s get a divorce.” Johnny sounded almost relieved, his tone suddenly light. “You’re finally being reasonable?” Afraid I might back out, he quickly added, “Where are you? I’ll come pick you up right now so we can sign the papers.” My chest throbbed with a sharp, physical ache that made it hard to breathe. “I’m at Mercy General,” I replied flatly. The moment I hung up, the tears finally spilled over. The bitter wind whipped against my face as I wrapped my thin coat tighter around myself, leaning against the hospital’s exterior wall. A dull, throbbing pain flared in my lower abdomen, making my legs tremble. I waited for two agonizing hours. Finally, a familiar car pulled up, and the window rolled down, letting out a blast of warm air along with lighthearted laughter. For a second, my vision blurred. Sitting in the passenger seat was Ava. Her long, soft curls fell perfectly over her shoulders, her makeup flawless as she smiled warmly at Johnny. Next to her, Johnny wore a charcoal gray cashmere sweater that perfectly matched her off-white knit top. It was a carefully coordinated couple’s look. My heart contracted. I remembered buying a beautiful red coat once and excitedly asking him how I looked. He had barely glanced up, muttering that it looked cheap and tacky. Another time, I had hung one of his shirts next to my dress on the drying rack. He had ripped it down in a fury, yelling, “Evelyn, stop invading my space. People need boundaries. Keep your things away from mine.” It turned out he didn’t hate matching outfits or shared spaces. He just hated them with me. The car door opened, and the lingering smile on Johnny’s face instantly vanished the moment he looked at me. He frowned, his eyes cooling. “Get in.” During the drive, Johnny was unrecognizable. The man who usually treated me with cold, clipped commands was suddenly babbling like a nervous teenager, trying desperately to keep a conversation going. “Ava, do you remember when I was chasing you in college and tripped over those bleachers? You laughed so hard you cried.” He turned to look at her, his expression softening with a tenderness I had never once received in our three years of marriage. Ava giggled, covering her mouth. “Of course I do. You were so clumsy back then.” “Yeah, well, I’ve never been able to think straight around you.” Instead of being annoyed, Johnny smiled, clearly pleased. He even stared at her during red lights, a look of pure devotion on his face. I huddled in the backseat, my body trembling from the residual pain of the surgery. Looking out at the blurry neon lights rushing past, my mind drifted. I used to believe that if I was just patient enough, loving enough, I would eventually earn that kind of warmth. I had learned to cook his favorite dishes, memorized every detail of his routine, and kept silent through the worst of my fertility treatments so I wouldn’t burden him. But now, I finally understood. Some things couldn’t be earned. Just as the moon could never become the sun, I could never become the woman he loved. The car pulled up to the local administrative office. “We’re here,” Johnny said. Once the divorce papers were signed, Ava suddenly spoke up, her voice sweet and hopeful. “Johnny, now that you two are officially done, can we get our license today too?” A sudden spark of joy flared in Johnny’s eyes, and my chest tightened. But then, he slowly shook his head. I froze, a tiny, foolish spark of hope igniting in my chest. He smiled gently at Ava. “No, we can’t.” The smile wiped clean off Ava’s face, replaced by a flash of disbelief. Johnny looked at Ava with burning intensity, his voice thick with emotion. “Ava, how could we do something so rushed? Marrying you will be the absolute highlight of my life. I want to give you the most breathtaking wedding imaginable.” He began to describe his vision in Avaid detail, from a sunset proposal by the ocean to a reception hall overflowing with white roses. He spoke of hiring the best vendors, designing a custom gown, and even shared a list of names he had already picked out for their future children. “I want everyone to know that you are my wife,” he said excitedly, gesturing with his hands. “We’ll go to Iceland to see the northern lights, spend our honeymoon in Paris, I want to give you the world.” I stood in the biting wind, listening quietly. The very dreams I had secretly cherished for years were now spilling from my ex-husband’s lips, meant for another woman. The irony was suffocating. I thought back to our own marriage three years ago. There was no proposal, no sparkling ring, not even a simple ceremony. His family had been pressuring him to settle down, and one night, after drinking heavily, he had dragged me to the courthouse. When we got home with our marriage certificate, I had excitedly bought balloons and decorations to make the apartment feel special. He had pushed me aside with a cold sneer. “Grow up, Evelyn. It’s annoying.” Later, when my parents drove in from out of town to celebrate with us, he had kept a frosty expression the entire evening. He hadn’t spoken a single word at the dinner table and had slammed his study door shut the moment the meal ended, leaving me to make polite excuses to my heartbroken parents. I had spent years convincing myself that he was just emotionally reserved, that he simply didn’t understand romance. But watching him paint this beautiful, meticulously planned future for Ava, the truth finally sank in. He wasn’t incapable of love; he just didn’t love me. Because he didn’t love me, every hope I had was a burden. Every sacrifice I made was an annoyance. His cold detachment was simply because he refused to waste a single drop of energy on me. Ava laughed, a high, musical sound that felt like salt rubbed into an open wound. “Oh, stop it, you’re making me blush,” she teased, though her eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction. She glanced over at me, her brow furrowing slightly. Johnny followed her gaze and immediately spoke up. “Don’t pay attention to her, Ava.” “Everything in my past was just settling. What I give you will be brand new, the absolute best.” “I will never make the woman I love settle for secondhand hand-offs,” he said, turning his gaze to me, speaking slowly and deliberately. “And I certainly won’t let you repeat the mistakes of my past. She and I were over a long time ago.” The cruel implication of being secondhand pierced my heart like a needle. I trembled, barely able to keep my balance. Eager to sever all ties, Johnny began dividing our assets right in front of Ava. “The townhouse was bought before our marriage, so that stays with me. Don’t bother asking for the car either; it’s practically a junker anyway, and I’ll get Ava a new one,” he said dismissively. “I’ll leave you twenty percent of our savings. That should be enough to keep you afloat. After all, you’ve spent plenty of my money over the last few years.” Each word fell like a hammer blow. Hearing his cold, calculated division of our lives, my face drained of color. Ava smiled, wrapping her arm triumphantly around his. I took a deep breath, swallowing the bitter taste in my throat, and turned to leave. A sudden silence fell between us. Johnny pursed his lips, a fleeting shadow of guilt crossing his eyes. His gaze dropped to my hand tightly clutching my stomach. “Wait, why were you at the hospital anyway? Feeling sick again?” “My mom’s leftover prescription is in the glove compartment. Go grab it yourself if you need it.” I kept my eyes on the ground and said nothing. My silence seemed to irritate him. His face darkened, and anger crept into his voice. “You’re always doing this, Evelyn. The moment things don’t go your way, you put on this pathetic, tragic act. Can you do anything besides play the victim? It’s exhausting.” He grew more worked up, as if he had finally found an outlet for his frustration. “I despise women like you, clingy, spineless, with no ambition of your own. You don’t even know how to stand up for yourself.” “I admire women like Ava, who have a voice and make things happen. Look at you. You disgust me.” Disgust. The word stung like a poisoned barb. A sharp spasm of pain in my abdomen forced me to double over. Seeing me flinch, Johnny seemed to grow restless, perhaps worried I might actually collapse. He knit his brows, his tone softening a fraction. “Fine. Despite how you’re acting, I’m not completely unreasonable. I’ll let you have half of the savings.” It was the first time he had ever compromised. But to me, it was just a sick, pathetic joke. Before I could even respond, Ava’s face soured. She let out a sharp sigh, pinching Johnny’s arm with a pout. “Johnny, you promised everything in our future would be fresh and new. Are you really struggling to let go of this secondhand past? Why are you giving her half?” Johnny’s body stiffened. He averted his eyes from me and said coldly, “You’re right. Half is too much. Thirty percent, Evelyn. Take it or leave it.” I let out a hollow laugh. As I signed my name on the final line, a searing, tearing pain ripped through my lower abdomen. My vision went black, and I collapsed onto the cold pavement. “Evelyn!” Johnny’s eyes widened. He took an instinctive half-step toward me, reaching out. But right then, Ava shivered, her voice trembling. “Johnny, I’m freezing.” His hand froze mid-air. Without another glance in my direction, he pulled off his warm wool coat, draped it gently over Ava’s shoulders, and ushered her into the warm passenger seat. The engine roared to life, and the car sped away, leaving me behind. The freezing wind swept down my collar. I looked down at my worn, faded down jacket, and then thought of the thick, luxurious coat Johnny had just given Ava. I was the one who had just come out of surgery, yet he was entirely blind to my pain. Despite the physical ache radiating through my body, the fog in my mind finally cleared. I slowly forced myself up, clutching the divorce decree tightly in my hand. The next afternoon, the front door was violently thrown open. Johnny burst into the apartment, drenched in sweat. His hair was a wild mess, and his eyes, usually so calm and cold, were bloodshot and frantic. “We’re going to the hospital,” he rasped, grabbing my wrist with a grip so tight it bruised. I tried to pull away. “What are you doing? Let go of me!” “Ava had an accident!” he yelled, his voice cracking with panic. “She was in a car crash. She’s bleeding out and needs an emergency transfusion. Her blood type is extremely rare, and the hospital’s blood bank is completely out of stock. You’re the only one who can match her!” My heart stopped. My body began to tremble violently. “I can’t…” I whispered, my voice shaking. “I’m begging you, Evelyn!” To my absolute shock, Johnny dropped to his knees, his hands gripping my shoulders as he pleaded desperately. “Please, just save her. If you do this, I’ll make up for everything. I’ll give you whatever you want, money, assets, anything!” “I said no,” I said, turning my face away as a familiar ache bloomed in my chest. “You’re refusing?” Johnny’s expression instantly turned cold, any trace of his desperate pleading vanishing. “Evelyn, it’s just a little blood. Ava is terrified of pain, and she’s running out of time. I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars for a single pint, okay?” “I said no!” I screamed, using every ounce of my remaining strength to push him away. But he didn’t listen. He dragged me out of the apartment and into his car. No matter how much I thrashed and cried, he kept a hand clamped tightly over my mouth, his eyes dark with determination. “Just cooperate! Once this is over, we’re even!” At the hospital, he forced me down into the donor chair. As the thick needle pierced my vein, a cold shudder ran through my entire body. The nurse took one look at my ghostly face and turned to Johnny, concerned. “Sir, she looks extremely weak. I don’t think it’s safe to draw blood from her right now…” “She’s perfectly fine,” Johnny snapped, his gaze menacing. “She always exaggerates when she’s sick. Just do it. Save Ava first.” As the blood slowly drained into the bags, my vision began to blur, and a deep, penetrating cold settled into my bones. “We need more. She’s still unstable. Keep drawing,” Johnny insisted, staring at the monitor, completely ignoring my graying complexion. By the time the third bag was filled, my world went entirely black. In the fading twilight of my consciousness, I heard Johnny’s voice, thick with relief. “Ava is going to make it. Evelyn, you actually did something useful for once.” He rushed out of the room. Behind him, the nurse’s panicked voice echoed down the hall. “Her heart rate is dropping! We need a crash cart, fast!”

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