Author: Momo Chan

For fifteen years, I lived in a foster home waiting for my parents to come back for me. Martha, the director of the home, always told me that my mother and father were brilliant scientists. She said their research was too dangerous, the laboratories too hazardous for a child. She promised that as soon as their massive project was finished, they would come take me home. But fifteen years slipped by, and their project never seemed to end. On the day I graduated middle school at the top of my state, Mayor Wilkins personally came to congratulate me. “You really are Craig’s son. You’ve set such a wonderful example for your little sister.” That was the exact moment I found out. My parents’ research project had ended years ago. They didn’t leave me here because their work was dangerous. They left me because they had a new child. It was fine. I didn’t want to wait for them anymore. I tore up the elite invitation letter sent by their research institute. I walked straight to Martha’s office. “Is Dr. Sarah still looking to adopt me?” 1 The mayor’s voice slowly turned into a muffled buzz in my ears. “Oh, right. You haven’t met your sister yet, have you?” He held up his phone. On the screen, my father, my mother, and a little girl were smiling brightly. They looked like the absolute picture of happiness. The mayor pointed to a small, empty wooden chair positioned in the corner of the photograph and chuckled. “This is their tenth annual family portrait. Look at that. Every single year, they make sure to leave a seat open for you.” I stared at that perfect, happy photo, and a sudden, biting cold washed over me. The sister I had never met. She was already ten years old. She was born during the exact year my parents claimed to be at their absolute busiest. Ten years ago, I contracted a severe case of encephalitis. The doctors told the foster home that if I didn’t respond to the treatment, my cognitive development might permanently stop at the age of five. I lay in a hospital bed, burning with a violent fever. In my delirium, I just kept crying out for my mom and dad. Martha had called them, wiping her own tears away, begging them to come look at me just once. But my parents simply expressed their deep regrets. They said their research had entered a critical phase and they absolutely could not step away. They wired a massive sum of money to the foster home and told Martha to make sure I got the best doctors. But when Martha placed the phone next to my ear, begging them to at least say a few words to me, they hurriedly hung up. Martha was too old to stay up all night. It was Dr. Sarah who stayed by my hospital bed. She took me to every scan, held my hand through every needle, and stayed awake for days on end. Because of that, Sarah lost out on an eighty-million-dollar federal grant she had been pursuing for six months. But on the day I was finally discharged, Sarah smiled brighter than the sun. She told me that as long as I was healthy, she would gladly lose a hundred grants. Deep down, even back then, I understood. I simply wasn’t that important to my parents. But I used to comfort myself by imagining them in white coats, working tirelessly to change the world. If they were that busy saving the future, the least I could do was be a good, quiet boy. Now I knew the truth. It wasn’t that they didn’t have time to raise a child. They just didn’t have time to raise me. Mayor Wilkins was still happily ruffling my hair. “Now that you’ve been selected for the Vanguard Academy’s youth program, you’ll finally get to be with your folks!” The anticipation I had carried for a decade vanished. I just gave a hollow nod. A notification chimed on the mayor’s phone. A voice message played out loud. “Just like last time, please intercept Rowan’s invitation to the Academy. Pearl is transitioning to middle school right now, and we don’t want his arrival to upset her.” I froze. This wasn’t the first time the Vanguard Academy had invited me. And it wasn’t the first time my parents had intercepted it. All my blood, sweat, and tears. Erased with a single text message. The mayor’s smile stiffened. He hastily locked his phone and looked at me with cautious, nervous eyes. “Rowan… about that invitation letter I gave you earlier…” I pretended I hadn’t heard the voice message. I patted my chest, right where I had carefully tucked the envelope earlier, and offered a sheepish, apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Mayor. I think I accidentally lost it. That’s okay, right?” 2 Mayor Wilkins let out a very obvious sigh of relief. “Of course it’s okay. It’s just a standard research program anyway. You don’t need to go all the way out there. You stay right here in Seattle, and you’ll easily get into MIT or Harvard.” My fingernails dug so deeply into my palms that the pain was the only thing stopping my tears. I wasn’t stupid. I knew the Academy wasn’t the thing that was unnecessary. I was. The institute where my parents worked was globally renowned. There was nothing “standard” about it. Years ago, they used to call on my birthday and encourage me to study hard. They promised that one day, we would reunite in those very halls. So I studied like my life depended on it. I studied until the fingers on my right hand were covered in thick, yellow calluses. All just to get a tiny bit closer to them. And now, they had personally shattered that dream. The brutal reality finally set in. Their excuses about being swamped with work were lies. Their claims about the labs being too dangerous for a kid were lies. The very existence of my little sister was the ultimate, glaring proof. It proved that I, the boy dumped in a foster home and left to rot, was nothing but a pathetic joke. Maybe when I was screaming in agony from the brain swelling, they felt a fleeting moment of worry. But it was nothing compared to the overwhelming joy they felt hearing their new baby cry for the first time. Maybe when I scored perfect grades and Martha sent them my report cards, they smiled. But it couldn’t hold a candle to the emotion they felt hearing Pearl call them Mom and Dad. It was exactly like that empty chair in their family portrait. They didn’t leave that seat open because they were waiting for me. They left it open because they had grown perfectly comfortable with my absence. That chair was just like me. Collecting dust in a dark corner, only dragged out into the light when it made them look good. The mayor looked at me with thinly veiled pity. He patted my shoulder gently. “Don’t be sad, Rowan. Once you get into a good college on the East Coast, you’ll see them.” He drove me back to the foster home. The moment I walked through the doors, a crowd of strangers with cameras swarmed me. A woman shoved a massive novelty check made of foam board into my hands. Printed in bold black letters across the top: [Charity Foundation Educational Grant for the Orphan Rowan: $50,000.] The word ‘Orphan’ burned my eyes like acid. My eyes flushed red and I immediately tried to hand it back. “You made a mistake. I’m not an orphan.” A plump woman laughed and patted my head. “We did our background checks, honey. Your legal guardianship belongs to the state. You have no registered relatives. There’s no mistake.” 3 While I stood there in absolute shock, Martha gently pulled me aside. Her weathered face was filled with profound guilt. “Rowan… there is something you need to know. The day before you collapsed from the fever, your parents came here.” I felt like someone had swung a baseball bat into my ribs. My voice shook violently. “Then why didn’t I see them?” Martha looked at me with the exact same pity the mayor had shown. The kind of sympathy reserved for someone whose entire life is a tragedy. “Your parents were applying for a massive federal appointment. They needed a flawless public image. But the doctors told them your brain damage might be permanent.” She took a shaky breath. “They didn’t want the burden of a disabled child distracting them from baby Pearl. So they signed your legal rights over to the state, claimed their work environment was too toxic for a child, and rushed back to the city.” It was the middle of a blistering summer, but I felt like I was drowning in an icy lake. Violent shivers ripped through my body. The echoing laughter of the other kids from when I was five years old flooded my mind. They’re never coming back for you! You’re just a stray! Nobody wants you! Why do you get the gold star? I remembered clutching that little paper star to my chest, screaming back at them. You’re lying! My mom and dad are the greatest scientists in the world! They’re coming to take me home! In the ensuing scuffle, they had pushed me into the decorative pond. Right before I lost consciousness in the water, my last thought had been a wish. I wished my mom and dad were there. Because if they were, they would never let anyone bully me. Now I knew. They had literally been in the building that day. And they couldn’t even spare five minutes to look at me before throwing me away. They were the ones who permanently branded me an unwanted stray. Martha’s rough, warm hands enveloped mine. “Rowan, I know how much it hurts to accept that word. But the home is desperate right now. We really need this grant money.” Seeing the deep lines of sorrow carved into the face of the woman who actually raised me, I wanted to sob. “Three, two, one, smile!” The camera flashes burned into my retinas. They captured the moment perfectly. Me, clutching a giant piece of foam board that declared me parentless. I stared dead into the camera lenses and accepted the heavy stacks of cash. “On behalf of all orphans, I want to thank the community and the media for your care.” Every single word that left my mouth felt like a knife dragging across my skin. As the applause thundered through the room, a dark thought crossed my mind. If my parents saw this broadcast, would they feel even a single second of guilt? 4 That evening, the foster home threw a small party to celebrate my exam scores. To reward me, Betty, our cook, had bought fresh Dungeness crab. I worked tirelessly to crack the shells, even though I actually hated crab. Eating too much of it always gave me terrible stomach cramps. The only reason everyone thought I loved crab was because on my twelfth birthday, my parents had randomly shipped a massive cooler of them to the home. So, even though the sharp claws cut my fingers and my stomach twisted in pain, I smiled and ate every last bite. Someone in the dining room flipped the TV channel, landing on a science and lifestyle talk show. My father’s face suddenly filled the screen. The host smiled at him. “Craig, let’s step away from the lab for a moment. Do you know your daughter’s favorite food?” My father let out a helpless laugh. His tone was dripping with a profound, tender affection I had never heard in my life. “She is incredibly picky. I remember one year, she was obsessed with crab. Her mother and I practically bought out a local fishery for her. But a week later, my little girl decided she hated them.” As he spoke, the cold, sharp demeanor of a leading academic completely vanished. He was just a normal, hopelessly devoted dad. “We didn’t know what to do. We ended up shipping boxes of crab to everyone we knew. Close friends, distant acquaintances. We shipped them off just to get rid of them.” A sharp piece of crab shell sliced the corner of my mouth. Blood slowly dripped down my chin. I didn’t move. I didn’t even feel the sting. Because the agonizing pain in my chest eclipsed everything else. In that moment, I wanted to smash through the screen, grab him by the collar, and scream. What about me? What am I to you? A close friend? Or a distant acquaintance? The gift I had cherished so deeply. The proof that they still remembered me. It was just the garbage their precious daughter refused to eat. Martha rushed over with a napkin, frantically wiping the blood from my mouth. Tears finally breached my eyes. I reached into my shirt and pulled out the thick, wax-sealed invitation envelope from the Vanguard Academy. It was still warm from my body heat. Then, piece by piece, I tore it to shreds. I let the confetti of expensive paper fall into the pile of broken crab shells. Crabs I didn’t want to eat. Parents who didn’t want to love me. I was done with all of it. I looked up at Martha, my voice eerily calm. “Martha. Dr. Sarah… is she still waiting for me?” Martha looked confused. “Sarah is supposed to transfer back to her main research station in a couple of days. But yes, she’s been constantly submitting adoption papers for you. Why do you ask?” I looked at her, a tear-streaked smile breaking across my face. “I want to be Sarah’s son.” “I’m not going to the Vanguard Academy. I’m going with Sarah to the Cascade Mountain Observatory.” 5 This was Sarah’s ninety-ninth time submitting an adoption application, and the very first time I didn’t refuse. It wasn’t that I didn’t love Sarah. She was the only person who had ever made me feel truly loved. Compared to the ghost-like promise of my parents returning, Sarah’s love was a physical, grounding force. Unlike my mother, who sent me clothes that were always two sizes too big, Sarah would take me to the store, buy me a fitted suit, and patiently teach me how to tie a Windsor knot. Unlike my father, whose only reaction to my perfect grades was a sterile text saying Congratulations, Rowan, Sarah would read with me for hours and press a warm kiss to my forehead before bed. The only reason I had rejected her before was because I thought belonging to someone else would be a betrayal to my parents. But the truth was, my parents had betrayed me the day I was born. I was nothing but a biological accident. Pearl was their actual child. The legal transfer was incredibly smooth. When Sarah called the Cascade Observatory to tell them the news, the board was ecstatic. They immediately promised to allocate their top resources to my education. After a tearful goodbye with my foster family, Sarah and I began our journey. I thought I would never have to deal with the East Coast research circles again. But fate has a twisted sense of humor. Our first stop before heading to the mountains was a national science exposition. Sarah was representing the Observatory as a keynote speaker. “Rowan, I need to get backstage to prep. Go walk around and check out whatever exhibits you like.” I nodded obediently and wandered through the massive convention center, entirely absorbed in the robotics displays. “Rowan?” The voice startled me. When I turned around, it felt like an invisible hand had reached into my chest and crushed my lungs. I thought I didn’t care anymore. But my breathing hitched, and my throat tightened painfully. I forced myself to breathe, suppressing the tremor in my voice. “Sir. Ma’am. It’s been a long time.” My father and mother stood there, staring at me with expressions of utter shock.

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When the fourth cornea match came through, my husband, the head of ophthalmology, expertly slid a voluntary waiver across the table. His face was painted with guilt, but his tone left absolutely no room for negotiation. “Trexie, we can’t use this set of corneas for you either.” “Stella had acid thrown in her face by her ex. It ruined her vision completely. She relies on sleeping pills just to make it through the night. If she hears that your sight has been restored, it will drag up all her past trauma. She will be suicidal. I can’t just stand by and watch her suffer.” “Don’t worry. You can still make out blurry shapes with your left eye. Once Stella is fully recovered, we can always wait for another donor.” I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream and demand answers the way I had the first three times. I just silently signed my name on the dotted line. David had no idea. While he was busy crossing my name off the surgical schedule to prioritize his childhood sweetheart, I had already accepted an offer from the world’s most advanced neural integration research center. I had agreed to be their Chief Scientist and primary test subject. I was leaving the country, and I was never coming back. Finally, it was time to say goodbye to David. 1 Right after the pen left the paper, a sharp, stabbing pain pierced my left eye. My vision rapidly blackened. David’s face, which I could barely make out a moment ago, dissolved into murky, shapeless blobs of color. I braced both hands against the desk, entirely unprepared for the sudden shift. David didn’t notice a thing. He was too busy eagerly shoving the signed waiver into his folder, terrified I might change my mind. Just then, an emergency room nurse slammed the door open. “Dr. David! Stella slit her wrists!” “She lost a massive amount of blood! They are trying to resuscitate her right now!” He didn’t even look at me. He shoved past the nurse and sprinted down the hall. The darkness in my left eye grew heavier. The agony drilled straight through my optic nerve and into my brain. I fumbled blindly until my fingers found the call button on the desk. A few minutes later, the door swung open again. Heavy footsteps rushed right up to me. I assumed it was the doctor on call. I opened my mouth to ask for help, but someone gripped my wrist in an iron hold. A rough alcohol swab was slathered haphazardly over my vein. “Trexie, the hospital blood bank is totally depleted. Stella needs a transfusion immediately.” It was David’s voice. “We have to draw from you. She doesn’t have time to wait.” I couldn’t see a single thing. I could only feel the icy prick of a large needle burying itself into my flesh. “It hurts…” I struggled, trying to pull my arm away. “It is just a little blood. Stella is fighting for her life. What is your little bit of pain compared to that?” David pinned my arm down with brutal force. Right then, someone burst into the room. It was Brooke, my attending physician and my absolute best friend. She shoved David hard, snatching the oversized syringe out of his hand. “Are you out of your mind?!” “Stella has O-negative blood! The bank is full of it!” “Your wife’s optic nerve is on the verge of rapid necrosis. You want to draw her blood right now? Do you want her to go completely blind?!” Brooke’s voice was shaking with fury. She stepped between us, shielding me. David hesitated for a fraction of a second, but his resolve hardened. “Stop fearmongering, Brooke.” “It is just a little blood. How much worse could her eyes possibly get?” “Stella is carrying two lives right now. I am not letting anything happen to her!” Two lives? But David didn’t give me a single second to process that. He shoved Brooke out of the way with terrifying force. Then he grabbed my arm again. This time, he grabbed an even larger gauge needle. He jammed it brutally into my already bruised vein. “Draw four hundred cc’s and get it to the operating room immediately.” He barked the order with absolute, chilling apathy. I could feel the blood rushing out of my body. And along with it went the very last, fading sliver of light in my left eye. I closed my eyes. A memory drifted to the surface. My right eye had gone blind two years ago. A deranged family member of a patient had lunged at David with a knife. I threw myself in front of him, taking the blow. The heavy hilt of the knife had shattered my right eye. From that day on, half my world had been pitch black. Back then, David had held me in his arms, sobbing hysterically. He swore to the heavens he would spend the rest of his life making it up to me. And now, he was personally ripping away my very last hope of ever seeing the light again. “David.” I stared blankly toward the sound of his breathing. “If you take this blood today, we are done.” My voice was incredibly soft. Stripped of all emotion. The pulling sensation in my vein paused. But a second later, he let out a scoff. “Are you really pulling this card again?” “Every single time something happens to Stella, you threaten me with a divorce. Are you ever going to drop it?” “You are practically a cripple who cannot even see where she is walking. Where exactly are you going to go without me?” Warm, crimson blood flowed continuously through the plastic tubing. Brooke scrambled up from the floor, reaching out to rip the needle from my arm. David backhanded her away. “Security! Get this crazy woman out of my sight!” Guards rushed into the room and dragged Brooke backward. “You are an absolute monster, David! You are going to rot for this!” “Trexie lost an eye to save your pathetic life, and now you are destroying her other eye for your mistress!” Brooke’s screaming faded down the corridor. David yanked the needle out. He pressed a freezing alcohol cotton ball against my puncture wound, not even lingering for a full second. He grabbed the blood bag and turned on his heel. “David,” I called out to him one last time. “Did it ever cross your mind that if my eye is completely ruined, it might never be fixed?” His footsteps paused at the door. He threw his words over his shoulder like trash. “Then it doesn’t get fixed.” “If you go totally blind, I will just provide for you for the rest of your life. But nothing is going to happen to Stella.” The door slammed shut. I listened to the frantic sound of his dress shoes sprinting down the hallway. I raised a trembling hand and touched my left eye. There was nothing but a hollow, empty void. The version of Trexie who had once thrown her life on the line for him died right there on that vinyl chair. I lay alone in the freezing phlebotomy room. My left eye sank into absolute, inescapable darkness. I was entirely blind. Tears were a luxury I could no longer afford. I pulled out my phone and let muscle memory guide my thumb to the voice assistant. “Call Brooke.” The line connected almost instantly. I could hear Brooke’s muffled, suppressed sobbing. “Trexie… your eyes…” “Brooke, process my discharge papers.” “I want to go home.” 2 Tapping my cane against the pavement, I blindly navigated my way back to the house I used to call home. The moment I pushed the front door open, I heard the blaring noise of a daytime soap opera. And the rhythmic cracking of sunflower seeds. I accidentally bumped into the hallway shoe cabinet. An expensive ceramic vase sitting on the edge tipped over and shattered into a thousand pieces on the hardwood. The deafening crash echoed through the living room. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” My mother-in-law, Brenda, tossed her seed shells onto the floor and stomped over in her slippers. “You blind, useless jinx!” “Can you not see a massive vase right in front of your face?” “David paid thousands of dollars for that antique. You couldn’t afford to replace it if you sold your own organs!” I couldn’t see her face, but I could feel the spray of her spit hitting my cheek. I ignored her, carefully stepping around the sharp shards, and headed for the stairs. The front door opened again. It was David’s voice. “Mom, I brought Stella home.” I heard the sound of two sets of feet. One of them stepped with an exaggerated, delicate lightness. “Oh my gosh!” Stella suddenly shrieked, practically throwing herself into David’s arms. “Why is the floor covered in broken glass?” “That is so scary. David, I am frightened.” David immediately wrapped his arms tightly around her. “It is okay. I’ve got you.” Seeing this, Brenda marched straight up to me. She raised her hand and slapped me across the face with everything she had. My head snapped to the side. A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears. “You vicious witch!” “You intentionally broke that vase so Stella would trip on it, didn’t you?” “Stella is pregnant! If anything happens to that baby, I will make you pay with your life!” I froze. Pregnant? Stella was pregnant. So that was what David meant in the hospital when he said two lives. Judging by Brenda’s fiercely protective reaction, the baby undoubtedly belonged to David. I thought my heart was entirely dead. I thought it couldn’t hurt anymore. But in that moment, all I felt was overwhelming, suffocating nausea. Touching my burning cheek, I turned my sightless eyes toward David. “Do you have anything you want to explain?” David stiffened. His voice was laced with nervous tension. “Trexie, do not overthink this.” “Stella is only staying temporarily. Her ex-boyfriend abandoned her.” “I could not let her live out there all alone. It is not safe. So I brought her here.” “She has had a hard time. Show a little compassion for a pregnant woman.” He didn’t say a single word about who the father was. Every single syllable was a desperate defense of Stella. “Starting tomorrow, you need to move down to the guest room on the lower level. Stella needs the master bedroom.” A hollow laugh slipped past my lips. He wanted his blind wife to clear out of her own bedroom so his mistress could nest. And I was supposed to be compassionate about it. Stella buried her face in David’s chest, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Trexie, please do not be mad at David.” “This is all my fault.” “If you really cannot stand the sight of me, I will just leave. I will take my baby and throw myself off a bridge.” She made a theatrical pivot toward the door. David violently yanked her back. “Where do you think you are going?! From today on, this is your home.” He turned to me, his voice taking on a thick, patronizing layer of guilt. “Trexie. Stella is blind, and she is expecting. I know you are not a cruel person.” Blind? I inhaled sharply. The heavy, suffocating scent of a custom designer perfume rolled off Stella’s skin. What kind of blind woman flawlessly applied full makeup and spritzed high-end fragrance every single day? “David, I want a divorce.” Silence hung heavy in the air. Then, a deep, frustrated growl. “Have you entirely lost your mind?” “Stella is just staying for a little while. Are you really going to hold a divorce over my head over this? You are completely blind. If you leave me, where are you going to go? Are you going to beg for change under a highway overpass?” He was absolutely convinced I was playing hard to get. “Fine. You want to throw a tantrum?” I heard him pull out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, freezing every single credit card attached to his accounts. “Go down to the basement storage room and think about how you are acting.” “When you finally accept reality, you can come back upstairs!” I didn’t argue. The phone in my pocket vibrated with a distinct pattern. It was a priority email notification. I knew exactly what it was. A message from the Neural Integration Institute. Their private jet would touch down in exactly three days. I turned around, sweeping my cane, and began the slow descent down the stairs to the basement. There was no heating down there. Just piles of forgotten boxes and a moldy cot. But it was exactly what I wanted. I needed absolute silence to organize my core experimental data. 3 The basement was damp and freezing. I huddled in the corner, listening to the automated voice assistant read my email aloud. The flight path clearance had been fully approved. Suddenly, the heavy basement door swung open. The sharp click of stiletto heels echoed aggressively against the concrete floor. What kind of blind woman wears stilettos down a flight of concrete stairs? Stella stopped right in front of me. I heard the metallic screech of my desk drawer being yanked open. That drawer contained my exclusive, handwritten medical manuscripts. A decade of irreplaceable research. “Trexie, are you really hiding down here playing the misunderstood martyr?” Her voice was dripping with arrogance. “What is all this scrap paper? Looks pretty old. Maybe I should just toss it in the fireplace.” I shot up from the cot. Using purely spatial memory, my hand shot forward and locked around her wrist like a vice. I ripped the stack of manuscripts out of her grasp. “What are you doing?! You are hurting me!” Stella shrieked. I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Stella, is playing blind fun?” “Your corneas are perfectly intact. You could clearly see the lock on my desk drawer.” “You bribed a doctor to forge a blindness diagnosis, and you are playing David like an absolute fool.” “What is your endgame?” Caught red-handed, Stella panicked for a split second. But her shock quickly morphed into a vicious, gloating cackle. “So what if I am?” “David eats it right out of the palm of my hand.” “Who do you think he is going to believe? Me, or a washed-up, sightless housewife?” She leaned in close, her breath ghosting against my ear. “Trexie, tell me something. If I accidentally killed your precious little guide dog… do you think David would even blame me?” My golden retriever, Max, was my only lifeline in the dark. Fury surged through my veins. I raised both hands and shoved her away. “Get out!” She used the momentum to stagger backward, throwing herself violently onto the hard concrete. Then, she let out a bloodcurdling scream. “Ahhh! My baby!” “Help! David, help me! Trexie is trying to kill our baby!” The thunderous sound of heavy footsteps hammered against the ceiling. David sprinted down the stairs. He shoved me aside with brutal force and dropped to his knees beside Stella. I lost my balance and crashed onto the dust-covered floor. “Trexie! How could you be so utterly venomous?!” David scooped Stella into his arms, glaring at me with absolute hatred. “What the hell happened to you? When did you become this monster?” Stella buried her face in his neck, putting on a flawless performance of a frail, dying victim. “David, I am okay. My stomach just hurts a little…” “Trexie is just upset that I moved in. She lost her temper. Please do not be mad at her.” She paused, letting the silence hang before seamlessly pivoting her strategy. “Oh, David… isn’t the new Chief Director from that overseas Neural Institute arriving tomorrow?” “I heard they are desperately looking for live human pain-response data.” “Trexie is fully blind now. If you put her in the high-voltage neural stimulation chamber and record her sensory feedback…” “You would get the perfect data set. Trexie used to love researching this kind of stuff. I am sure she would be happy to contribute.” I gasped, the air turning to ice in my lungs. The high-voltage stimulation chamber. Surging extreme electrical currents straight through the cerebral cortex. The pain was beyond human comprehension. I truly believed that David, as an established medical professional, possessed at least a shred of baseline morality. But after a brief moment of hesitation, he actually agreed. He walked over, his hand brushing against my cheek for the first time in months. His tone was sickeningly gentle. “This data could secure me the regional directorship for their Institute. If I get that, I will be promoted to Hospital President!” “Trexie, just endure it for a little bit.” “You just need to provide some sensory data. It is not lethal.” “Once we impress the Director and secure a cure for Stella, you can finally get your cornea transplant. Isn’t that what you want?” I lay on the filthy floor, listening to the absolute insanity spilling from the mouth of the man I used to share a bed with. For a mistress. For a shiny new title. He was willingly sending his legally wedded wife into an electric torture chamber. “I am not going.” I forced the words through gritted teeth. “Be a good girl. Once this is all over, I will take you to the Bahamas. You can rest on the beach while you recover.” David waved his hand. Two massive, broad-shouldered orderlies marched into the basement. The suffocating stench of industrial bleach flooded my senses. I was strapped tightly to a freezing stainless-steel examination table. David stood safely behind the reinforced observation glass. “Trexie, just hold on. It will be over before you know it.” His voice echoed mechanically through the intercom speaker. “Initialize sequence.” Along with the deafening hum of heavy machinery, the first wave of pure electricity ripped straight through my brain. A guttural, agonizing scream tore out of my throat. My body convulsed violently against the thick leather restraints, tearing the skin off my wrists. I bit completely through my bottom lip, my mouth flooding with the hot, metallic taste of blood. I was trapped in a living hell, begging for death, while they stood safely on the other side, documenting cold, clinical numbers. The torment lasted until dawn. My pain receptors were entirely fried. Even drawing a breath felt like swallowing crushed glass. Every single lingering trace of love I had for David died a violent death inside that chamber. The heavy airlock hissed open. Stella walked in, looking down at me with unvarnished disgust. “Stop playing dead. We got the data. Get up.” David had already left for the summit at the luxury hotel. Stella didn’t even bother tossing a jacket over my torn clothes. She simply dragged me out to the car. Today, the entire medical community was holding its breath, waiting for the newly appointed Chief Director to make an appearance. When David saw my horrific state, a fleeting shadow of long-forgotten pity crossed his eyes. He took a step forward to check on me, but an older, distinguished gentleman approached the lobby, instantly hijacking David’s attention. “Dr. Harrison! It is an honor.” David rushed forward, bowing his head in extreme deference. “I am Dr. David. I prepared these exclusive, live-subject neurological data logs specifically for your review.” Dr. Harrison furrowed his brow, taking the thick binder and flipping through the first few pages. Then, his gaze drifted upward and landed directly on me. The moment he recognized my face, the heavy binder slipped from his hands and crashed onto the marble floor. Dr. Harrison shoved David aside, practically sprinting over to me. He caught my collapsing body, his voice shaking with absolute reverence and horror. “Chief! What on earth happened to you?!”

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1 During my lunch break, I was scrolling through a food delivery app out of pure boredom, trying to sort out an order for my coworkers. That was when a bizarre listing on a high-end dessert boutique’s page caught my eye. The item was called “Afternoon Solace for Her” and it carried a staggering price tag of $999. The main image showed what looked like an incredibly ordinary slice of tiramisu. But when I clicked into the comment section, a distinctly suggestive atmosphere hit me right in the face. “The delivery guy was gorgeous. The cake was delicious. Will definitely order again.” “Customer service replied so quickly. Punctual delivery. Completely brightened up my dreary afternoon.” Driven by morbid curiosity, I clicked on the profile of a user who had left a one-star review. Her complaint read, “What a trashy shop. Spent a fortune for some solace, and the guy they sent was old and ugly. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him.” It clicked instantly. This was a male escort service using a pastry shop as a front. I let out a dry chuckle, marveling at the lengths people would go to these days. I dropped the link into the group chat with the boys as a joke, then closed the app. It was just a funny anecdote until three in the afternoon, when a Chase bank alert popped up on my phone. A $999 charge had just been made on our joint family credit card. The merchant name was Sweet Serendipity Boutique. The item name was exactly “Afternoon Solace for Her.” My wife, Sarah, was currently on a business trip in a city three hundred miles away. Half an hour ago, she had just texted me, complaining about how boring it was to process paperwork alone in her hotel room. Her words were sprinkled with affectionate, pouting emojis. It was impossible. Sarah was known among our friends as the ultimate devoted wife. Gentle, considerate, and entirely dedicated to me. We had been together for seven full years, from college to marriage, and she still looked at me with a spark in her eyes. She was the kind of woman who would shed quiet tears if I forgot a Valentine’s Day gift, yet light up for an entire week over a cheap bouquet of bodega roses. How could a woman who valued our love above all else spend a thousand dollars on a male escort while out of town? I stared unblinking at the text message, reading it over and over. It had to be a coincidence. Maybe she really just wanted to try their tiramisu. After all, dropping a ridiculous amount of money on an artisanal cake sounded exactly like the kind of impulse buy a stressed corporate executive might make. Yes, that had to be it. I took a deep breath, dialed Sarah’s number, and forced my voice to sound perfectly normal. “Hey honey, are you busy?” “Just finished up. I was actually about to take a breather.” Her voice carried its usual soothing warmth. “What’s up, babe? Missing me already?” “Always,” I chuckled, keeping my tone light and casual. “Any good food around your hotel?” “I saw a dessert spot called Sweet Serendipity online that looked pretty popular. Is there one near you?” The line went dead silent for two agonizing seconds. Those two seconds made my stomach drop. “No, nothing like that,” Sarah’s voice bounced back to normal, even carrying a faint laugh. “Where did you hear about that?” “I’m out in the new development district. It’s totally desolate out here. If I want a late-night snack, I have to walk miles.” “I actually just ordered some room service. A salad, and it was absolutely awful.” She clearly and definitively said no. My hands and feet turned ice cold. But clinging to the last shred of hope, I pressed on. “I just got a credit card alert. I thought maybe you bought something sweet.” “Huh?” “That $999 charge.” Sarah sounded genuinely surprised for a moment, but it quickly melted into an exasperated groan. “Oh my god, I completely forgot to tell you.” “I booked that for Eleanor. Her corporate card was acting up with the out-of-state zip code, so she asked me to front the cost for a bit.” “Look at my terrible memory. I got so busy I completely forgot. I bet you thought it was a scam text.” “You’re so sharp, babe. Nothing gets past you.” The explanation was perfect. Covering an expense for her senior director was the most reasonable excuse in the world. I could even picture her sticking her tongue out in that cute, apologetic way she always did. “Oh, that makes sense. Scared me for a second.” I exhaled deeply, feeling like I had just been pulled back from the edge of a cliff. “Try to get some rest tonight, okay? Don’t overwork yourself.” After hanging up, I let out a long sigh, mocking my own paranoid delusions. Yet, that one-star review echoed relentlessly in my mind. The guy they sent was old and ugly. I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him. 2 Sarah’s excuse was airtight, but the dark cloud of suspicion in my chest refused to dissipate. If anything, it grew heavier. I couldn’t sit still. The words on my laptop screen blurred into meaningless static. I frantically combed through our recent interactions, desperate to find a single crack in her story. Eleanor was the senior director at Sarah’s firm. She was in her late forties, perpetually single, and had always taken Sarah under her wing. It made perfect sense for Sarah to cover a luxury expense for her. Why, then, did my instincts scream that something was deeply wrong? Driven by a ghost of an impulse, I opened our shared iCloud photo album. It was a digital scrapbook we had maintained for years, a place where we could catch glimpses of each other’s daily lives. The most recent upload was from yesterday evening. A picture of the sunset outside her hotel window, captioned with a simple “Miss you.” Everything appeared painfully normal. I refreshed the page out of habit. The screen blinked, and a cold notification popped up. The shared album I had created seven years ago, holding tens of thousands of our memories, displayed a blunt message: “This shared album has been deleted.” My chest seized. I immediately texted Sarah. “Honey, what happened to the cloud album? I can’t see anything.” Five agonizing minutes passed before she replied. “Huh?” “I have no idea. Maybe my phone is glitching. Let me restart it and try again.” “Don’t worry about it, babe.” Ten minutes later, she sent a screenshot showing a generic network error, claiming she couldn’t connect to the cloud servers. It was the exact same excuse she had used about the hotel’s bad Wi-Fi. Once could be a coincidence. But twice? My mind raced, and a reckless, toxic idea took root. I was going to contact that shop. I searched for Sweet Serendipity again, found their contact page, and used a burner number to message their customer service on WhatsApp. The profile picture was a delicate macaron. The background image, however, was a silhouette of a man with defined abs frosting a cake. The implication was dripping with intent. Once my request was accepted, I played the role of a curious client. “Hi there. I saw your Afternoon Solace package and found it pretty intriguing. What exactly does the service entail?” The representative instantly replied with a “shush” emoji, followed by an image file. The picture detailed a comprehensive menu of services. It ranged from “Sunshine Boy Companionship Reading” to “Mature Gentleman Wine Chat,” and even an “Alpha Male Fitness Coaching” session. Each item had a different price point attached. The $999 tier was explicitly labeled as the “Boy-Next-Door Sweet Interaction” package. Fighting down a wave of nausea, I kept typing. “A friend of mine placed an order with you guys this afternoon. She had it sent to The Grand Plaza hotel. She said she was incredibly satisfied, so I’m thinking of giving it a try.” I deliberately dropped the name of the hotel Sarah was staying at. The response was immediate. “We are so thrilled your friend enjoyed our service.” “For privacy reasons, we cannot disclose specific order details.” “However, I can confirm that one of our gold-tier pastry chefs did visit The Grand Plaza this afternoon, and the client feedback was absolutely stellar.” A gold-tier pastry chef. I clenched my fists so hard my fingernails dug deep into my palms. The final wall of my denial crumbled into dust. Sarah was lying. She hadn’t just bought the service. She was incredibly satisfied with her “pastry chef.” I slumped into my office chair, my entire body drained of strength. Flashbacks of our life together assaulted me. Sharing cheap street food near our college campus, when she would always save the best bites for me. Squeezing into a tiny studio apartment, dreaming about the big house we would own one day. The agonizing hours she spent in the delivery room, culminating in the most radiant, beautiful smile the second she laid eyes on our daughter. Was all of it a lie? How could the woman who looked at me like I hung the moon be in another city, smiling at another man, and then lying to my face with such effortless grace? I pulled her MacBook from the drawer. It held all our travel photos and home videos. My fingers trembled as I typed in our password, but the screen shook with an incorrect password prompt. I froze. We had used the same login credential for seven years. I tried our daughter’s birthday, my birthday, our anniversary. Every single one failed. Just as I was about to give up, a dark, cynical impulse guided my fingers. I typed in “sweetserendipity.” The welcome screen materialized. 3 The screen flared to life, but my heart plunged into an icy abyss. A suffocating chill wrapped around me from every corner of the room. The desktop background was still our family photo at the beach. Sarah’s smile looked so pure, so full of joy. Now, that same smile felt like a venomous mockery. With shaking hands, I opened her browser. The history had been meticulously wiped clean. I checked the downloads folder, the trash bin. Every conceivable hiding spot was completely empty. She had covered her tracks flawlessly. Just as I was about to shut the laptop in defeat, my eyes snagged on an inconspicuous folder tucked in the corner of the screen. The folder was named “Lily’s Milestones.” It was a digital diary we had agreed to keep together the day our daughter was born, meant for her childhood photos and videos. I clicked it open. Instead of familiar snapshots of my little girl, I found dozens of encrypted documents. My pulse hammered against my ribs. I tried using every significant date in our lives to unlock them. All failed. I stared at those locked files, consumed by a single, obsessive thought. I had to rip them open. I immediately called Mark, an old college buddy who worked in cybersecurity. I practically begged him, giving him a rushed story about forgetting the password to crucial work files. Mark listened, paused for a long moment, then sent me a secure drop link to upload the documents. The wait felt like an eternity. I paced the living room, chain-smoking until the floor was littered with crushed filters. I didn’t know what I wanted to find in those files, and I was terrified of what I actually would. An hour later, Mark called back. His voice was thick with hesitation. “Laura, man… are you absolutely sure you want to look at this?” “Sometimes ignorance really is bliss.” His words slammed into my chest like a sledgehammer. “Send them to me,” I demanded, forcing my voice to remain steady. The decrypted files landed in my inbox seconds later. I took a deep breath that tasted like ash and clicked on the first document. The title was “First Time.” Inside was a single photograph and a date. The photo showed the side profile of a handsome young man. He was sitting by the window of a café, bathed in sunlight, looking incredibly clean-cut and warm. The date was exactly three months ago. I opened the second document. “Second Time.” This photo featured a different man, standing in a gym, his muscles sharply defined under the harsh lighting. The date was two and a half months ago. Third. Fourth. I mechanically clicked through them, one by one. The men varied wildly. A refined guy in a crisp white shirt, a bright-eyed college kid in a hoodie, a rugged, wild-looking man behind the wheel of a sports car. The only common denominator was that they were all young, and they were all gorgeous. And the dates, starting from three months ago, grew increasingly frequent. The most recent entry was dated today. It wasn’t a one-time mistake. She had been playing me for an absolute fool for months. A hollow laugh escaped my throat. I laughed until the tears finally broke free, tracing hot, pathetic lines down my face. I picked up my phone and, without a second of hesitation, booked the earliest express train to the neighboring state. Sarah. You were my entire world. But this time, I was going to tear you out of my life with my own two hands. I was going to march into that hotel. I was going to kick down that door. I was going to make her choose between that man and me. No. She didn’t get a choice anymore. I just wanted her destroyed. Sitting on the late-night train, I felt like an empty shell devoid of a soul. The dark scenery whipped past the window at breakneck speed, much like the last seven years of my pathetic, laughable marriage. 4 My mind relentlessly rehearsed the upcoming confrontation. Should I burst in and shatter that bastard’s jaw, or should I coldly record the evidence and force her to leave our marriage with absolutely nothing? Neither felt like enough. I wanted her on her knees, sobbing and begging for forgiveness. I wanted her to taste a fraction of the agonizing poison currently burning through my veins. I gripped the flash drive in my pocket like a weapon. It held every single diary entry from her laptop. It was her one-way ticket to hell. It was past nine by the time I arrived at The Grand Plaza. Standing in the opulent, gold-trimmed lobby, a sudden wave of clarity washed over me. I couldn’t just charge upstairs like a madman. The hotel had security. I wouldn’t even make it past the elevators without a room key. I needed a plan. Something foolproof. My eyes fell on the Sweet Serendipity app on my phone. A wicked, venomous idea crystallized in my mind. I moved to a quiet corner of the lobby and registered a new account using a secondary phone number. Then, I placed an order for the $999 “Afternoon Solace for Her.” In the special instructions box, I typed: “My husband is getting suspicious. Do not wear any kind of uniform. Come straight up and tell anyone who asks that you are a friend. I am in Room 1208.” Room 1208. Sarah’s room. I bought a black coffee, sank into a leather armchair in the lobby café, and locked my gaze on the elevator banks. I was going to see exactly what kind of man had the power to turn my gentle, perfect wife into a stranger. I was going to film him walking right into her room. The minutes dragged on like thick syrup. At nine-thirty, a tall man in casual black streetwear walked through the revolving doors. He was incredibly handsome, carrying that same clean, effortless vibe as the men in the photos. He didn’t pause at the front desk, walking with purpose straight toward the elevators. That was him. My heart began to hammer against my ribs, driven not by nerves, but by a volatile mix of rage and adrenaline. I casually lifted my phone, aiming the camera lens right at him. The man stepped into the elevator and hit the button for the twelfth floor. I quickly ducked into the adjacent car and followed him up. I slipped into the stairwell, pushing the heavy fire door open just a crack, leaving one eye fixed on the door of Room 1208. The man approached the room. He didn’t knock. Instead, he smoothly pulled a keycard from his pocket. A soft beep echoed in the hall, and the door clicked open. A white-hot rage flared in my chest. I raised my phone, ready to immortalize this ultimate betrayal. The door swung wide, and a strange woman wrapped in a plush white bathrobe practically leaped out to greet him. She grabbed his hand, her voice dripping with playful affection. “What took you so long? I’ve been waiting forever.” I froze. Why was it a different woman? Where was Sarah? I leaned slightly further out of the stairwell, straining to see past the doorway. That was when I saw her. My wife, Sarah. She was sitting dead center on the room’s velvet sofa. She was fully dressed in a sharp, tailored business suit, her face completely devoid of emotion. She watched the couple at the door with the cold, calculating gaze of a queen surveying her subjects. But what truly paralyzed me was the person sitting directly across from her. Another man. He was wearing the exact same jacket as me. He had my haircut. He even slouched his shoulders the exact same way I did. He had his back to the door, so his face was hidden. Sarah’s eyes flicked up, sensing the movement in the hallway. She didn’t react. She simply murmured something to the man sitting across from her. Slowly, methodically, the man turned his head. The warm glow of the corridor lights spilled across his features, and I finally saw his face. In that fleeting second, I stood rooted to the spot, the blood turning to ice in my veins.

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Ever since I found out my husband was having an affair, I wanted nothing more than to kill him. Until one rainy night. He was meeting that woman again down by Crescent Lake. I saw his hand resting on her waist, tilting his head to kiss her. A few moments later, the woman headed back to her car to answer a phone call. Leaving him standing alone in his yellow raincoat, right at the edge of the wet stone steps. I couldn’t control myself anymore. I rushed forward and, with every ounce of strength I had, shoved him into the dark, freezing waters. He thrashed wildly a few times before sinking beneath the surface, completely swallowed by the lake. Back home, I stripped off my soaked clothes. An eerie, unprecedented peace settled over me. But the next morning, the doorbell rang. I took a deep breath, steeling myself to play the part of the grieving widow. Yet when I opened the door, it wasn’t the police standing there. It was my husband. My heart leaped into my throat. He was alive and well. If he was standing here, then who the hell did I push into the lake last night? 1 He was dripping wet, but there wasn’t a scratch on him. He didn’t look like someone who had just drowned. How was this possible? I had personally pushed him into the depths. I forced myself to breathe, desperately trying to project a calm facade. “Where on earth have you been? You could have at least told me you were going out in the middle of the night.” He gave a careless grin, setting down an empty bucket on the entryway floor. “Just out fishing.” Fishing. Always fishing. Chad was obsessed with night fishing, constantly slipping away to Crescent Lake. But I knew the truth. Fishing was nothing but a pathetic excuse. He was sneaking out to meet Sylvia. Sylvia was his secretary. At the office, they kept a professional distance, but the moment they clocked out, they were practically glued to each other. They thought they were being incredibly clever, but I had known for months. His messages were synced to our home computer. Sylvia had been pressuring him to leave me, demanding he make things official. Chad had been putting her off, but last night, his tone shifted. He told her he needed to deal with me first to clear the way for her. That was the final straw. Blinded by rage, I followed him to the lake. My plan was to push him in and frame Sylvia, but somehow, something went horribly wrong. Wait. If the person who drowned wasn’t Chad, could it have been Sylvia? It was pouring last night. Maybe he gave her his raincoat, and in the pitch-black storm, I mistook her silhouette for his. I set the breakfast plates on the table, trying to sound casual. “Heavy rain last night. Everything okay out there?” He shook his head, taking a bite of his food. “Fine. Why wouldn’t it be? It’s not like anyone threw themselves into the lake.” My heart skipped a beat. Did he know something? Why would he say something so specific out of nowhere? I lowered my head and took a sip of my coffee, trying to steady my breathing. No, if Sylvia had drowned, he wouldn’t be sitting here so calmly. Right then, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, his face turning slightly pale. He grabbed the phone and walked out onto the balcony. I caught a glimpse of the screen. It was Sylvia. Sylvia was alive. My stomach dropped. If it wasn’t Chad, and it wasn’t Sylvia, who did I push into the abyss? 2 A name suddenly flashed in my mind. Blake? Blake lived just a street over. He was in his fifties, an incredibly kind-hearted man. He was a regular at Crescent Lake, always taking a stroll along the water after dinner. If I had accidentally killed him, the guilt would crush me. He had practically watched me grow up. When my parents divorced, I sat on the curb crying my eyes out, and he was the one who took me in. His wife, Maureen, made me a warm bowl of soup to comfort me. How could I have done this to him? “What are you daydreaming about?” Chad’s voice shattered my thoughts. He was standing right in front of me, back from the balcony. “Nothing,” I murmured, quickly gathering the dishes. He hesitated, his face unusually grave. “Fiona, do you have a minute? We need to talk.” I glanced at his phone, already guessing it was about Sylvia. But my mind was entirely consumed by Blake. I had no patience for Chad’s lies. I threw on my coat. “I don’t have time right now. We’ll talk when I get back.” I practically ran to Blake’s house. The front door was locked tight. My chest tightened. At this hour, Blake and Maureen usually loved setting up a folding table on the porch to play cards with Mrs. Higgins and Mr. Fletcher, laughing and bickering until dusk. But today, the porch was empty. As I stood there debating whether to knock, hurried footsteps echoed behind me. “Fiona!” I spun around. It was Maureen, looking pale and frantic. “Aunt Maureen? What’s wrong?” “Have you seen Blake? He went out last night and never came back. I’ve tried calling him a dozen times, but it goes straight to voicemail. He never does this. I’m so worried.” I swallowed hard, a cold sweat breaking out on my neck. “He likes to walk around Crescent Lake. Have you checked down there?” “I did, but there’s no sign of him. Oh god, Fiona, what if something terrible happened to him?” My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a vice. I forced my voice to remain steady. “Don’t panic, Aunt Maureen. I’ll go look for him. You stay here in case he comes back.” Without waiting for a reply, I turned and rushed away, tears hot against my cold cheeks. When I reached Crescent Lake, I walked straight to the stone steps. Standing at the edge, I stared down. The water was perfectly still, offering no secrets. I walked the entire perimeter of the lake, searching every shadow, but found nothing. Desperate and exhausted, I slid down onto the damp grass, on the verge of a breakdown. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. It was Maureen. “Fiona, don’t worry anymore! Blake is home!” A massive wave of relief washed over me. “That stubborn old fool crashed his e-bike last night. Hurt himself pretty badly and someone helped him to the hospital. He was too embarrassed to call me and spent the night in the ward. I’m going to kill him when he gets his strength back.” Maureen kept rambling, but my mind went entirely blank. I hung up and slowly stood up. Blake was safe. He was alive. I stared back at the glassy surface of the lake. If it wasn’t him, then who was at the bottom of that water? 3 When I got home, Chad had already prepared dinner. I was stunned. In our five years of marriage, he had never once touched a frying pan. I sat down, watching him. “You said this morning you wanted to talk. What is it?” He carefully put a roasted pork chop onto my plate, lingering for a moment before speaking. “Fiona, there have been some nasty rumors going around the office lately about me and one of the secretaries. If you hear anything, please don’t believe it.” I stared at him. “Which secretary?” “Sylvia. You know her. But I swear, there’s absolutely nothing between us. We’re strictly professional.” His expression was so earnest, so painfully sincere. It was almost funny. If I hadn’t read their messages with my own eyes, I might have actually believed him. I took a small bite of my food. “Right. Why bring this up so suddenly?” He gave a sheepish, defensive laugh. “Just didn’t want you getting the wrong idea, that’s all.” I nodded, remaining silent. Someone at his company must have caught wind of their affair, and he was trying to run damage control before I found out. I set my fork down and looked him dead in the eye. “Then tell me, what exactly were you doing last night?” He stiffened slightly. “Fiona, I told you. I was fishing. I didn’t go anywhere else.” He said it with such absolute conviction. The man was a pathological liar. Looking at his face made my stomach churn. And then my thoughts drifted back to the shadow I had pushed into the lake. I still had no idea who it was. An innocent stranger had lost their life because of my reckless rage. I stood up. “I’m going out for a walk.” I wandered the streets aimlessly, my mind a chaotic mess of guilt. Maybe I should confess. No matter who it was, it was my fault. But what if they didn’t die? What if they swam out? But if they had, wouldn’t they have called the police? Wouldn’t they be looking for me? Even if I went to the police now, there wasn’t even a body. Just then, I noticed a crowd gathering up ahead near the park entrance. Muffled voices drifted over. “Someone’s dead.” “They found a body in the water.” My legs began to tremble violently. Step by agonizing step, I forced myself toward the crowd. I squeezed through the onlookers and saw the figure lying on the grass. The body was bloated and pale, the facial features unrecognizable from water damage. My knees felt like lead. It was all my fault. I had killed an innocent person. I deserved to rot. Up until now, I had clung to the desperate hope that whoever it was had survived. But looking at the cold corpse in front of me, there was no denying it. The only right thing to do was to turn myself in. A couple of police officers and a forensic examiner pushed past the crowd. The medical examiner did a quick, preliminary check on the spot. “Crescent Lake isn’t the primary crime scene,” the examiner called out to an officer. “The victim was poisoned first, then dumped in the lake. Time of death is roughly two to three days ago.” My brain went completely numb. Poisoned? And the time of death didn’t match at all. It wasn’t my victim. My knees buckled, and I nearly collapsed. I didn’t kill them. I didn’t kill them. I took a deep, trembling breath and slowly backed out of the crowd. The police were already cordoning off the area, and the body was zipped into a black bag. As the onlookers began to disperse, I stood by the curb, my racing heart slowly returning to a normal rhythm. But the terrifying question returned, louder than ever. If this wasn’t the person I pushed, who did I plunge into the dark water? 4 If I kept spinning in circles, I was going to lose my mind. Instead of waiting for doom, I needed to take control. There had to be some detail I was overlooking. I walked back to the stone steps by the lake. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But just as I turned to leave, something caught my eye. Directly above the pathway, a small security camera blinked with a steady red light. My heart seized. How could I have been so blind? After a couple of near-drownings the previous year, the neighborhood association had installed security cameras around Crescent Lake. Everything that happened last night was on tape. The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet. If the police reviewed the footage, they would see me shoving someone into the water. I would be locked away for murder. But if they had the footage, why hadn’t they knocked on my door yet? I decided to pay a visit to the property management office. The young man working the desk looked up as I walked in. “Can I help you?” “I lost my wedding ring near the lake path last night,” I lied, my voice tight. “I was hoping I could look at the security footage to see if I can spot where it slipped off.” He stared at me for a long moment, his eyes lingering a bit too long. “Sure. Go ahead.” He led me into the tiny surveillance room and pointed to the screen. “Knock yourself out. I’m going to step out for a smoke.” I sat in front of the monitor, my hands shaking so badly I could barely grip the mouse. I scrolled back to last night’s timestamp. 11:00 PM: Nothing. Just a blank screen. 1:00 AM: Still nothing. The feed didn’t resume until 8:00 AM this morning. I dragged the slider back and forth, confirming there was absolutely no footage from the night before. It wasn’t deleted; there was simply no recording at all. I stood up and walked out. The attendant was just finishing his cigarette. “Any luck?” I shook my head. “No. But why is the footage from last night completely missing?” He gave me a strange, knowing smile. “Oh, that. The camera got waterlogged during the storm and short-circuited. We only got it fixed this morning.” I thanked him and hurried out into the cool night air. A great weight lifted from my chest. The camera had been broken. No one knew what I had done. The person I pushed must have been a strong swimmer. They probably scrambled out of the lake on their own. If they hadn’t gone to the police, it meant they didn’t want any trouble either. I hadn’t killed anyone. With that realization, the suffocating anxiety that had plagued me all day finally evaporated. When I got home, Chad was stretched out on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He frowned when he saw me. “Fiona, what is up with you lately? It’s finally the weekend, and you’re constantly running out.” “Just felt a bit cooped up. Needed some air,” I replied dismissively. Watching him lie there so peacefully made a bitter resentment flare up inside me. I had spent the entire day living in a waking nightmare, convinced I was a murderer, while the man who caused all of this didn’t have a care in the world. If he hadn’t cheated on me, I would never have been pushed to such a dark edge. I was tired of the suspicion, tired of the fear, tired of letting this toxic marriage eat away at my soul. I looked at him, my voice cold and clear. “Chad, I want a divorce.” He sat up instantly, staring at me in disbelief. “Are you insane? Why would you suddenly want a divorce? Did someone say something to you? Is this about Sylvia? I told you, she and I are strictly” The sharp ring of the doorbell cut him off. I opened the door to find two police officers standing under the porch light. “Good evening. We’re with the local precinct. A body was recovered from Crescent Lake today, and security footage shows you visited the lakefront three times today. We need you to come with us to answer a few questions.” My mind went entirely blank. Before I could even process their words, the second officer pulled a photograph from his folder. “Do you recognize this person?” I stared at the picture, the breath leaving my lungs in a sharp gasp. Every baffling piece of the puzzle suddenly fell into place with terrifying clarity.

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1 At dawn, I raced to the airport for a life-saving medical flight to Seattle. Instead, my husband—the pilot in command—blocked me from boarding. “Overbooked,” Preston said coldly. “Rebooked you first class later. Airline’s giving a $500 voucher. Stop causing a scene.” I showed my medical confirmation, begging. “Months to get this specialist. Miss it, who knows when I’ll get another slot. Condition can’t wait. Our three-year-old son needs me.” He adjusted his pilot’s tie, righteous. “Rules are rules. Being my wife doesn’t grant special treatment.” Then I saw her—the college student I’d sponsored for years—stroll past security, late but boarding without issue. Fury surged. “I arrived two hours before her! Overbooked, yet I’m bumped while she boards?!” He swatted my hand away, scowling. “Be decent. Fighting a girl for a seat? She’s never been to Disneyland. Can’t you step aside? And stop faking illness to manipulate me. Terrible example for our son.” “Preston, I’m not lying. I barely got this appointment. Missing it could cost me my life,” I pleaded, my voice trembling. I had been up all night taking care of our sick toddler before rushing to the airport. Right now, my messy hair and wrinkled clothes clearly disgusted him. “Stop throwing a tantrum. The airline is compensating you and giving you an upgrade. Don’t push your luck!” I crumpled the five-hundred-dollar voucher he shoved into my hand and threw it on the floor, my emotions finally reaching a breaking point. “I don’t want an upgrade. I just want to make my appointment.” “The doctor warned me that if I don’t get surgery immediately, the cells will turn cancerous. Is five hundred dollars going to buy my life back?” Seeing that I wasn’t backing down, Preston’s face darkened completely. “Are you done?” “I thought you quit your job so you could focus on raising our son. Instead, you’re constantly faking illnesses just to get out of doing anything around the house.” “It’s bad enough you pull these stunts at home, but making a scene in public? You’re embarrassing me. If you want to act this badly, go audition for a reality show.” His cold, mocking words pierced through my chest like jagged glass. When I married him, I defied my parents, asked for zero financial support, and gave up my own career trajectory. For years, he was incredibly gentle with me. The only dark cloud over our marriage was our struggle to conceive. To fulfill his dream of becoming a father, I endured agonizing physical pain and mental anguish. After hundreds of hormone injections and grueling rounds of IVF, I finally got pregnant. But shortly after our son was born, I was diagnosed with a severe endometrial condition, a direct result of the relentless uterine stimulation from the fertility treatments. Right as I got the diagnosis, Preston hit a critical turning point in his career, preparing to promote from First Officer to Captain. Afraid of distracting him, I hid my illness, quit my high-paying job, and became a full-time stay-at-home mom. It wasn’t until my doctor sternly told me that I could no longer overwork myself, urging me to see a top specialist in Seattle for immediate surgery, that genuine fear set in. But the specialist was incredibly sought after. Appointments were impossible to get. To prevent my condition from deteriorating while I waited, I followed my doctor’s orders. I stopped scrubbing the house from top to bottom every day. I stopped cooking extravagant five-course meals every night. Preston’s dissatisfaction grew daily. I thought that once I explained my exhaustion, he would understand and comfort me. Instead, he convinced himself I was just lazy, using phantom pains as an excuse to avoid housework. Watching the boarding time tick away, I was burning with panic. I had no choice but to use our son as a bargaining chip. “Preston, please, for the sake of our little boy. Let me on this plane. He’s only three. He needs me.” Hearing me mention our son only deepened the contempt in his eyes. “You have the nerve to bring him up? You’re acting like a lunatic in a crowded terminal, lying through your teeth. Do you even deserve to be his mother? I won’t let you infect him with your toxicity.” “I suggest you drop the act. As the Captain of this flight, I will not show favoritism. Company policy dictates that overbooked passengers must be rebooked.” “And you are no exception!” Staring at his flawlessly bureaucratic mask, a profound sense of disappointment washed over me. Just then, a middle-aged woman in line stepped forward, her voice sympathetic. “Captain, your wife looks terribly pale. She might actually be very sick. Why don’t I give her my seat? I’m not in a rush.” A spark of hope ignited in my chest, but Preston shut it down without a second thought. “Audrey, don’t think I didn’t see your physical from last year. You are perfectly healthy.” “When did I ever have a…” “Shut up!” My husband barked, cutting me off aggressively. “Stop preying on the kindness of strangers to get your way.” The moment those words left his mouth, the kind woman gave me a complicated, slightly disgusted look. A second later, she turned away and walked straight down the jet bridge. Driven into a corner, I pulled up my hospital portal on my phone, showing the digital consultation receipt and my medical chart. “Preston, look at this. I really do have an appointment with the oncology department in Seattle. I stayed up for three nights straight refreshing the page to snag this slot. I truly cannot afford to miss this.” He didn’t even glance at the screen. He just scoffed. “Your little forgery skills are getting impressive. If you put this much effort into taking care of your family, maybe our house wouldn’t be a mess.” Looking at the man I thought I knew better than anyone, my entire body began to shake with rage. “Preston, do I look like the kind of woman who would joke about her own life?” “Who knows? All I know is that your desperate need for my attention has officially made you lose your mind.” Before he even finished his sentence, the airport intercom chimed for the third time. “Final boarding call for passenger Lexi Vance traveling to Seattle on Flight 804. Please proceed immediately to Gate 5.” 2 Originally, I assumed it was just a passenger with the same name. It wasn’t until she physically walked up to the podium that the reality set in. It was Lexi, the impoverished student I had been financially sponsoring since she was in high school. She strolled up to the gate without a care in the world. When she noticed me standing there, a flicker of surprise crossed her features. She looked me up and down, completely discarding the humble, deferential tone she used to use with me. “Wow, Audrey. If Preston wasn’t standing right next to you, I wouldn’t have even recognized you.” “Your husband is a Captain now. You really should put some effort into your appearance when you leave the house. How is he supposed to show his face around his colleagues looking at you like that?” Standing there in her pristine designer clothes, she was a glaring contrast to my exhausted, disheveled state. The subtle provocation in her voice made my skin crawl, but I had no time to put her in her place. I grabbed her hand like it was a lifeline. “Lexi, I have to get to a life-saving medical appointment today. It’s an absolute emergency. Could you please let me have your seat and take the next flight?” She immediately looked past me to Preston. He frowned, looking deeply offended on her behalf. “Nobody is trading seats! Every ticket is tied to a specific ID. If everyone started swapping seats like you, how would we maintain aviation security?” After snapping at me, he turned to Lexi, his eyes melting into a puddle of sickening fondness. “Hurry up and get on board. If you delay any longer, your Disneyland itinerary is going to be ruined.” The corners of Lexi’s mouth twitched upward. She couldn’t even hide the smug satisfaction in her eyes. “Sorry, Audrey. Since it’s a security issue, I really can’t help you out.” Seeing her refuse, panic seized my throat. “Lexi, please, I am begging you. I paid for your tuition, your housing, your food from high school all the way through college. I have never asked you for a single thing. Just this once, please.” The mention of my charity brought a flash of embarrassment to her face. The bystanders, sensing her hesitation, began to speak up in my defense. “Come on, kid. This woman supported you for years. If you don’t have a life-or-death emergency, just let her take the flight.” “Look at her dripping in designer brands. She obviously struck gold and completely forgot the person who pulled her out of poverty.” “So many ungrateful people in the world these days. You really can’t trust anyone.” The whispers and pointed glares from the crowd made Lexi’s face flush with humiliation. Seeing his precious passenger cornered, Preston immediately stepped in front of her, shielding her from the crowd as he yelled at me. “Audrey! You’re the one who volunteered to sponsor her. Don’t stand here trying to emotionally blackmail her now. Stop acting like you’re some noble savior.” Choking down the urge to scream at him, I tried one last, desperate tactic. “Fine. I won’t ask for a favor. I’ll buy the seat.” “Lexi, whatever you paid for this ticket, I will double it right now. If that’s not enough, I will cover your Disneyland hotel and park tickets in full. Name your price.” To my absolute shock, Lexi’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. “Audrey, I know I’m not as rich as you, but you can’t just throw money at me to humiliate me. What kind of person do you think I am?” Seeing her play the victim made Preston’s heart bleed. “Are you completely out of your mind, Audrey? When did you become such a shallow, materialistic snob? Don’t try to corrupt a young girl’s spirit with your filthy money.” “This is her first time ever flying. It’s her first time going to Disney to celebrate her birthday, right during their anniversary event. Do you really think you can put a price tag on that kind of joy? You’re disgusting.” Without giving me another glance, he placed a protective hand on her back, ushering her toward the jet bridge. I lunged forward, snatching the boarding pass right out of her hand, and glared at Preston. “Preston! She checked in two hours after I did!” “If the flight was actually overbooked, why wasn’t she the one bumped? Why was it me?!” A businessman standing nearby leaned in to look at the timestamp on the boarding pass and immediately took my side. “She’s right. The wife checked in way earlier. Standard protocol dictates the last to check in gets bumped. It shouldn’t be her.” Hearing the man’s confirmation, the entire crowd turned their suspicious glares directly onto Preston. Under the heavy weight of their scrutiny, his flawless composure finally cracked. “The, uh, the airline’s algorithm selects passengers randomly for rebooking. Whoever the system picks, gets bumped.” “Besides, think about it. A perfectly healthy woman throwing a tantrum and faking a terminal illness just to board a flight? Doesn’t her motive seem a little suspicious to you all?” 3 His words caused the crowd to take a collective step back, looking at me as if I were a volatile security threat. I closed my eyes, a crushing weight settling on my chest. We dated for three years and had been married for six. This was the man I had defied my family for, the man I sacrificed my career for, the man I nearly died giving a child to. My entire world. My hands curled into tight fists as I fought to keep my voice steady. “Preston, you keep telling everyone I’m faking it. Fine. Will you at least believe my primary care physician?” I pulled out my phone and dialed the clinic. “Dr. Aris? Hi. Could you please take two minutes to explain my diagnosis to my husband? He’s refusing to let me fly to Seattle for my surgery.” Hearing the desperation in my voice, Dr. Aris’s tone spiked with urgency. “This is absolutely unacceptable! Your condition cannot wait another day. You must get to Seattle immediately!” Preston snatched the phone out of my hand and let out a vicious laugh. “Drop the act. I don’t care if you’re Dr. Aris or Dr. Frankenstein. How much is my crazy wife paying you to play along with this little script?” He ended the call, tossed my phone back, and turned away. “The cabin doors are closing. Let me make this clear, Audrey. Go to the customer service desk, accept your rebooked ticket, and stop harassing my passengers.” I grabbed his uniform sleeve, clinging to the very last shred of hope that my husband was still in there somewhere. “Preston, we have been together for almost a decade. I swear on everything we have built together, I am seriously ill. I have to get on that plane.” My voice was hollow, stripped down to raw, bleeding desperation. A microscopic shift flickered in his eyes. He opened his mouth, perhaps to relent, when his cell phone buzzed. Lexi’s sickeningly sweet voice drifted from the speaker. “Preston, babe, when are we taking off? Did Audrey finally go to the ticketing desk?” “If she knew you intentionally kept her seat open just for me, I wonder how she’d react.” My eyes widened in absolute horror. “Why would you do this?! What did I ever do to deserve this from you?!” “You would rather hand my ticket to a girl who missed her check-in window than let your own wife get life-saving medical care? Preston, you are a monster!” My agonizing screams echoed through the terminal, drawing shocked stares from everyone. Realizing his cover was blown, Preston leaned in close, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper right next to my ear. “Yeah. I saved your seat for her. So what?” “She grew up with nothing. No parents, no love, living in squalor. Today is her birthday. Why the hell can’t you just be a decent person and let her have this?” “And look at yourself. Have you looked in a mirror lately? If you’re going to fake being a cancer patient, at least try not to look like a homeless beggar. You’re an embarrassment.” I looked down at my clothes. A hoodie stained with baby spit-up, baggy sweatpants, and mismatched sneakers. What choice did I have? He practically lived at the airport to secure his promotion. Our son spiked a massive fever last night. To make sure Preston could sleep, I stayed up the entire night holding our baby in the ER. The second my mother arrived to take the morning shift, I sprinted straight to the airport. When was I supposed to do my hair and makeup? Watching his broad shoulders disappear down the jet bridge, the last embers of my love for him turned to ash. Fifteen minutes later, the flight I was supposed to be on soared into the clouds. Thinking of my little boy, I knew I couldn’t just lay down and die. I called Dr. Aris back in tears. Hearing what happened, he immediately called in a favor with the Seattle specialist. Luckily, a patient had canceled their afternoon slot. I thanked him profusely and ordered a rideshare straight to the train station. Sitting on the high-speed train to Seattle, I opened Instagram. Lexi had just posted a new story. She was smiling radiantly in front of a Disney parade float, wrapped in the arms of a tall man. The caption read: Celebrating my birthday for the first time with the love of my life, at the most magical place on earth. Absolutely blessed! The man’s face was cropped out, but his hand rested on her waist. I would recognize that hand anywhere. The jagged scar on his wrist—the scar he got from a stray dog while protecting me on our second anniversary. I would never forget it. I quietly exited the app and powered off my phone. I don’t remember how I navigated the subway, how I signed the surgical consent forms, or how I made it onto the operating table. All I know is that when I finally woke up, it was the next morning. When I turned my phone back on, there was a flood of worried texts from my mother. From Preston? Nothing. Absolute silence. He was clearly too busy drowning in his new romance to remember he even had a wife. Just as I replied to my mother, a message from Lexi popped up. “Hey Audrey! My boyfriend just invited me to his big promotion banquet on the 25th. What do you think I should wear to match my elegant vibe?” “After that little scene at the gate yesterday, I’m sure you’ve figured out who my boyfriend is. I strongly suggest you step aside with some dignity. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I typed back a single, cold reply. “Lexi, clothes are meant for human beings. You are nothing but an animal.” I blocked her number immediately. Five minutes later, my phone rang. It was Preston, completely furious. “Audrey, you are crossing a serious line. Your mother just told me our son was hospitalized with a fever, and you’re not even there? What kind of garbage mother abandons her sick kid?!” I didn’t defend myself. I just delivered a deadpan response. “Our son’s birthday is in three months. He really wants to go to Disneyland. Make sure you take him.” He paused for two seconds before snapping back. “You’re his mother, why don’t you take him? Do you not realize I am in the middle of a massive promotion cycle?” “Also, I have to fly out on the 25th. You better drag yourself back from Seattle before I leave, or else—” I hung up on him. The surgery was a success. The specialist advised me to stay for observation, but I insisted on an early discharge. The moment I was out, I hired a private investigator to track every single movement Preston and Lexi made. Then, I tracked down the businessman from the gate who had defended me. The next day, I walked into a high-powered law firm with a flash drive full of evidence. Following that, I sent the full, unedited story of the airport incident to an old friend who worked as a senior editor at a major news outlet. Soon enough, the 25th arrived. I slipped into the banquet hall wearing a sleek dress and a medical mask, taking a seat in a dimly lit corner. Lexi was wearing a stunning evening gown, her arm looped intimately through Preston’s. The two of them glided through the ballroom like a Hollywood power couple. Every colleague who walked past them smiled and said, “Congratulations, Mrs. Vance.” Preston never corrected them, and Lexi soaked up the title with a radiant smile. When the formal program began, Preston stood at the podium, looking incredibly handsome and arrogant. He gave a charismatic speech about his dedication to aviation safety, thanking the executives for their mentorship. The room erupted into applause as he finished. Suddenly, Director Davis, the head of flight operations, stormed onto the stage. His face was thunderous. He grabbed the microphone and announced to the entire room: “I have just received an urgent notice from the board of directors. Effective immediately, Preston Vance is suspended from all flight duties pending a full investigation.”

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For the past year, I had been the easiest finance manager this company had ever seen. I never made anyone jump through hoops for their expense reimbursements. But right after I signed off on the paperwork for our new intern, Mindy, she flashed me a sickeningly sweet smile. “Tell me, Melissa, are you this generous when signing off on your own expenses?” Seeing my expression darken, she dramatically covered her mouth and gasped. “Oh, my gosh, I am so sorry! I just lack a filter sometimes.” “I am definitely not saying you are secretly embezzling company funds. I just noticed you are carrying another brand new designer bag, and I got a little curious.” The surrounding cubicles fell dead silent. Whispers began to ripple through the office. Given her age and inexperience, I decided to let it slide. I never expected that the very next morning, the HR department would issue a company-wide email accusing me of compliance violations and completely stripping my quarterly bonus. I marched straight into the HR manager’s office to demand an explanation, but Davis just sighed and told me to swallow my pride. “Mindy is the young boss’s girlfriend.” “Right before Jay left for his business trip to South Africa, he explicitly told us to make sure nobody steps on her toes. Just let it go, Melissa.” I stood there, absolutely stunned. The young boss? His girlfriend? Well played, Jay. You have really grown some spine while I wasn’t looking. Just wait until I tell your mother about this. You are so incredibly dead. Stepping out of the manager’s office, my first instinct was to call Jay. Unsurprisingly, the cell reception out in the remote South African mining district was absolute garbage. The call went straight to a dead tone. I aggressively typed out a single text. [You have a girlfriend?] Silence. The message vanished into the void. My face was a mask of cold indifference as I walked back to my desk. The moment I sat down, the hushed gossip of my coworkers drifted over. “No wonder she is always so lenient with our reimbursements. She is just using it to cover up her own massive theft.” “Exactly. Look at the stuff she uses every day. It is all high-end luxury.” “On her salary? Nobody buys the idea that her hands are clean.” “She always plays the nice, accommodating coworker. Who knew she was so rotten behind the scenes?” Listening to their venom, a hot spike of anger flared in my chest. Whenever these people needed me to expedite their sketchy receipts, they practically kissed the ground I walked on. Now, they were the first ones to plunge a knife into my back. I shot a freezing glare across the room. The gossiping colleagues panicked and immediately glued their eyes to their monitors. I did not say a word. I just coldly booted up my computer to process the morning reports. A moment later, Mindy strolled over to my cubicle, holding a fresh iced latte and wearing a beaming, triumphant smile. She pressed her palms together pleadingly and stuck her tongue out in a playful, innocent gesture. “I am so sorry, Melissa. Did I make things difficult for you this morning?” “You know me, I am just a little too brutally honest sometimes.” “I know you have a good heart, but we really cannot be breaking corporate policy with company money, right?” Reaping the benefits and still playing the victim? Did she really think I was some soft target she could walk all over? I let out a dry, mocking laugh and leaned back in my ergonomic chair. “And exactly how did I violate corporate policy?” “Just because you opened your mouth and decided I did?” Mindy froze for a second. Her gaze deliberately drifted to the handbag resting on my filing cabinet, her tone dripping with implication. “Now, do not get defensive, Melissa.” “That bag is Louis Vuitton, right? Even if it is last season’s style, that is easily three or four grand.” She intentionally raised her voice, ensuring every single person in the department could hear her. “I have been eyeing that exact one, but I just cannot bring myself to spend that kind of money. Not like you, of course. You just casually sling it over your shoulder.” “I am just so… envious.” She dragged out the last word, the insinuation heavy and obvious. Hearing this, the stares from my coworkers grew even more condescending. An out-of-season designer bag was her grand evidence of my corruption? I refused to indulge her delusions. I tossed my pen onto the desk and locked eyes with her. “It is my own money. I will buy whatever the hell I want.” “Besides, you are an intern making minimum wage. Even if you wanted to spend the money, you do not have it.” “If you cannot afford the lifestyle, stop staring at people who can. What exactly are you so bitter about?” Mindy clearly did not expect me to bite back so viciously. Her perfectly contoured face turned a violent shade of red. She gritted her teeth, and as if on command, the tears welled up in her eyes. “Melissa, I… I did not mean it like that…” She buried her face in her hands and sprinted off, her theatrical sobs echoing down the corridor. “Melissa, the poor girl was just making an observation. Did you really need to go off on her like that?” A coworker in the adjacent cubicle shot me a judgmental glare, acting as if I was the one bullying a defenseless child. The entire situation left a sour, suffocating feeling in my chest. If it were not for that idiot Jay, would I really be sitting here taking this garbage? My Aunt Victoria had been terrified that Jay was too young and reckless to manage the family enterprise. She practically begged me, his older cousin, to come in undercover and keep an eye on him for two years. Once he matured, she would feel comfortable handing the reins over to him completely. I figured it would be good practice before taking over my own parents’ corporate empire, so I agreed. Naturally, Jay was kept completely in the dark about my true identity here. To the high and mighty young boss, I was just a nameless cog in the finance department. This situation was right on the edge. Was it worth dragging my aunt into this mess? While I was debating my next move, Brenda, a senior accountant who sat nearby, knocked on my partition. She looked anxious. “Melissa, Manager Davis wants to see you in his office.” I pushed open the heavy glass door. Mindy was curled up on the leather sofa, sobbing relentlessly. Her eyes were puffy and red like irritated walnuts. Davis was sitting right beside her, offering gentle words of comfort. The second he saw me step inside, the sympathetic warmth on his face evaporated. He glared at me with absolute fury, looking like he wanted to swallow me whole. “Melissa! You finally decided to show up?” “You are a senior employee, yet you publicly humiliate a new intern?” I raised an eyebrow, casting a dismissive glance at Mindy, who was still whimpering into a tissue. “Oh? How exactly did I humiliate her?” “I simply stated a financial fact. She genuinely cannot afford it.” “You…” Davis choked on his words, completely stumped by my bluntness. Seeing him falter, Mindy forced her crying to stop, letting out a series of pathetic, calculated hiccups. “Mr. Davis, please do not blame Melissa. This is all my fault. I just talk too much…” “I just wanted to kindly remind her to be more careful with her expense reports so she would not make any more mistakes.” “I never expected she would react so aggressively…” “What mistakes?” I cut straight through her nauseating, manipulative performance. “Mindy, since we are sitting right in front of the manager, why don’t you clearly explain exactly what is wrong with my work?” “Enough! Keep your mouth shut!” Davis waved his hand dismissively, his patience clearly exhausted. He had bought Mindy’s narrative hook, line, and sinker. “I already know exactly what you have been doing behind my back!” “Do not think for a second that your little ‘nice girl’ routine fooled me, Melissa. I know about your dirty little side hustle.” “Over the past year, how much company money have you funneled into your own pockets by manipulating the reimbursement system? Do you even know?” “I thought you were just a pushover, signing off on bad receipts out of pity, so I turned a blind eye. I never imagined you had the audacity to pocket the funds yourself!” I almost burst out laughing. Could this guy be any more of a hypocrite? Did he really think I did not know the real reason he was targeting me? Just two months ago, I rejected his personal expense report, and he had been holding a grudge ever since. The man tried to expense a client dinner where he ordered three imported lobsters and two king crabs. I was surprised he did not eat himself into a coma. “So, what is your grand plan for dealing with me?” I crossed my arms, looking at him with absolute boredom. Davis let out a cold sneer, clearly mistaking my calmness for fear. “It is very simple. I will not make this harder than it needs to be.” “You will return every single cent you stole from this company. I want it paid back in full.” “Then, you will write a three-thousand-word apology letter, post it in the company-wide chat, and publicly beg for forgiveness.” “Do that, and we can sweep this under the rug.” Pay him back? An apology letter? I physically could not hold it in anymore. I laughed out loud. “Davis, is there something clinically wrong with your brain?” “If this was a legitimate work issue, I would cooperate. But you want me to play along just so the young boss can impress his little girlfriend?” “Do not forget, Jay does not own this entire company yet.” This corporation was built from the ground up by Jay’s mother. My Aunt Victoria was still the majority shareholder. She was merely testing the waters to see if her son was ready for power. Hearing my words, Mindy’s face drained of color. She blurted out, “This company will belong to Jay sooner or later! What are you so arrogant about!” The moment the words left her mouth, she realized she had slipped up. She quickly clamped a hand over her lips. I rolled my eyes, turned on my heel, and walked out. “Melissa, stop right there!” “What kind of attitude is that?!” Davis roared at my back. I paused, glancing over my shoulder with a sharp smile. “I have never taken a single dime from this company, and I will absolutely not write a single word of apology.” With that, I slammed the glass door shut behind me. After dealing with that circus, the anger simmering in my chest was reaching a boiling point. The only reason I had not called my aunt yet was out of mercy for Jay. He might be an idiot, but he was still family. And while Aunt Victoria only had one son, she had enough money and time to easily find another heir if he proved totally useless. Looking at my phone and seeing zero new messages, I could not resist sending Jay a venomous text. [Does your mother know you are treating her company like your personal playground?] Still no reply. Absolutely pathetic. A total slave to his hormones. When I got home that evening, my parents immediately noticed my dark mood. They hovered around me, brimming with concern. “Sweetheart, are you burning out? Are you feeling sick?” my dad asked. “Why don’t you take a few days off and rest?” I kept the truth to myself, mostly because I knew how my mother would react. My mom adored me more than anything in the world. And my Aunt Victoria, despite being a ruthless CEO, was absolutely terrified of her older sister. If my mom found out about this and accidentally let it slip to Victoria, Jay would likely be beaten within an inch of his life. The next morning, the moment I stepped into the office lobby, the atmosphere felt incredibly toxic. Everyone was staring at me with a bizarre, morbid curiosity. I was confused, but the elevator arrived, so I brushed it off. Inside the elevator, I ran into Brenda from the sales department. Brenda and I had always been on great terms. She was a single mother struggling to raise three kids, so whenever she submitted her expenses, as long as they were within company bounds, I approved them instantly to get her the cash faster. I even passed my corporate holiday bonuses and gift baskets directly to her. There were times when she had to work late, and I drove across town to pick her kids up from daycare. “Melissa, you were way too reckless yesterday,” Brenda said, letting out a heavy sigh. “Davis was absolutely raging after you left.” “Honestly, what were you thinking? Everyone knows Mindy is Jay’s girl. Why would you go to war with her?” “Thank god the young boss is out of the country, otherwise…” I did not offer a real response, just giving a vague nod to be polite. Right at that moment, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a notification from the corporate group chat. I glanced at the screen, and my blood ran cold. [Following an internal management review, it has been determined that Finance Manager Melissa has severely violated corporate reimbursement policies and exhibited egregious insubordination. Effective immediately, she is suspended without pay pending further investigation.] [Her duties will be assumed by Mindy.] Brenda had clearly read the notification on her own phone. She shot me a nervous glance, then leaned in close, lowering her voice. Her eyes were searching mine, heavy with suspicion. “Melissa, just between you and me… you didn’t actually skim off the top, did you?” I stared at Brenda, utterly blindsided. She was doubting me? After everything I had done for her, after treating her like a genuine friend, her first instinct was to assume I was a thief? Seeing the sudden, icy drop in my expression, Brenda seemed to realize she had crossed a line. She avoided my gaze and forced an awkward, hollow laugh. “Oh, come on, I am just messing around! Of course I believe you!” “I bet Davis and Mindy just teamed up to frame you!” I did not say another word. The last lingering trace of warmth in my heart completely froze over. I didn’t even look at her when I stepped out of the elevator. When I finally reached my cubicle, I realized it had already been occupied. All of my personal belongings—my framed photos, my favorite mug, my expensive stationary—had been carelessly tossed into a beat-up cardboard box like absolute garbage. Mindy was sitting in my ergonomic chair. Seeing me approach, she flashed a playful wink and a victor’s smile. “Oh, Melissa, I am so sorry. Mr. Davis practically forced me to take your desk. My hands were tied.” She casually twirled a silver USB drive between her manicured fingers, her tone dripping with entitlement. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Davis also said you need to hand over every single reimbursement voucher you have processed since you were hired.” “We need to run a complete forensic audit to figure out exactly how much money you stole from us.” “Let me give you a piece of advice, Melissa. If you do not want this to get ugly, and if you do not want the company to press criminal charges, you should really just wire the money back.” I took a deep, steadying breath, picked up my cardboard box, and turned around to leave. I was not going to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Press criminal charges? She should probably call Jay in South Africa and ask him if he has the guts to press charges against his own cousin. After stashing my belongings in my trunk, my frustration was hitting a fever pitch. I walked back toward the breakroom, needing a black coffee to clear my head. Before I even pushed the door open, I heard Brenda’s voice mixing with a few other familiar coworkers. These were people I ate lunch with. People I thought I knew. “Man, do you think Melissa is actually going to jail for this?” “Probably. Honestly, you cross the future CEO’s girlfriend, you get what is coming to you.” “Serves her right! She always walked around here acting so superior, like she owned the place.” “Acting all sweet and generous… she just loved the power trip. She loved watching us beg her to approve our receipts.” Brenda’s voice cut through the chatter, thick with a sickening layer of schadenfreude. “Tell me about it. I have been sick of her for months.” “I used to think she was just sleeping with some rich old guy to afford all that jewelry and designer clothes.” “Now we know the truth. She is just a dirty thief.” When the wall falls, everyone rushes in to kick the bricks. I dropped my hand from the door handle. Every single person in that room had submitted questionable expenses at some point. Padding taxi receipts, booking more expensive hotels on work trips, claiming unapproved overtime. Which one of them hadn’t benefited from my willingness to fight management for their perks? And this was my reward. My heart felt like a stone dropping into a freezing ocean.

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My online boyfriend is a bit of a weirdo. He constantly sends me pictures of his pet snake, always asking me if I think the little guy is handsome. I honestly am not a huge fan of reptiles. But my virtual boyfriend is a god at video games, has a voice like liquid velvet, and is incredibly generous with his wallet. So, I routinely swallow my conscience and shower the reptile with praise. “Absolutely gorgeous!” “That is literally the most handsome snake I have ever seen in my entire life!” He would always text back, “Does my baby like him?” I would reply in seconds. “I love him! So much!” Fully satisfied, the man on the other end of the screen would casually wire me five thousand dollars. Eventually, I wanted to meet up in real life. But when I arrived at our agreed location, the only thing waiting for me was that little black snake. 1 It was incredibly easy to recognize the little black snake. After all, Asher sent me pictures of him every single day. “This is his front profile.” “This is his back.” “Here is a side view.” I practically had the reptile’s anatomy memorized. So, even though the little black snake had been meticulously groomed today, wearing a miniature top hat and a tiny silk bowtie, I recognized him instantly. The strange part was that Asher was nowhere to be found. I mean, I look pretty good in person. There was no way he got spooked by my appearance, abandoned his precious pet, and made a run for it, right? Maybe he just stepped out to take a call or grab something from a store. I thought about standing a bit further away to wait. But the moment the little snake locked his emerald-green slit pupils on me, his eyes lit up with an unnatural brightness. He let out a soft hiss. He genuinely seemed thrilled to see me. I was still a little creeped out. But then I remembered this was the beloved pet of my stupidly rich, overly generous internet boyfriend. I had to put on the performance of a lifetime. Bracing myself, I sat down next to him. The light in the little snake’s eyes grew even brighter. He happily wiggled the very tip of his tail, slowly inching closer to me. Swallowing the urge to scream, I put on my best gentle, maternal smile. I even reached out and lightly teased his chin. Sitting alone at a table with a reptile was getting incredibly awkward, so I gathered my courage and spoke to it. “You are so cute.” The little snake actually seemed to understand me. A faint, rosy flush miraculously appeared on his dark, scaly face. Testing the waters, I added, “You look even better in person than in your photos.” The snake was over the moon. He even lifted his tail tip to wave at me. Fighting down my primal human fear of cold-blooded creatures, I did my absolute best to interact with the little guy. I was determined to make sure that when Asher finally came back, he would see me radiating pure, maternal love. And then, hopefully, he would wire me another five grand. But I kept up the act from noon until nightfall. Sitting in that high-end luxury restaurant, I drank three artisan lemonades, ate a plate of truffle pasta, two salads, and three different cuts of steak. I texted Asher ten different times. No reply. No Asher. It wasn’t until midnight that the waiter finally approached my table. “Miss Sophie, we are preparing to close for the night.” Was this bastard Asher playing some kind of sick joke on me? Feeling utterly humiliated, I reached for my purse to pay the massive bill. The waiter just smiled warmly and shook his head. “The future boss’s wife never has to pay for her meals.” The staff even brought out a mountain of beautifully wrapped gift bags that Asher had prepared for me in advance. It suddenly clicked. Asher didn’t show up because this was a test. Billionaires love doing this kind of thing. He wanted to observe me from the shadows to see if I was emotionally stable, if I had good manners, and if I possessed a genuinely loving heart. Normally, I possess none of those things. But remembering the sheer size of Asher’s bank account, I was suddenly overflowing with the noblest virtues known to mankind. If this was a test, I was going to pass it with flying colors. So, when I gathered my things to leave, I absolutely refused to leave the snake behind. Steeling my nerves, I scooped the little guy up, tucked him against my chest, and carried him all the way home. You can do this, Sophie. You are going to secure the bag. 2 The little snake probably wasn’t used to human body heat. Tucked against my chest, he got totally dizzy and looked a bit out of it. I scrambled to find a clean cardboard box and gently placed him inside. He finally snapped out of his daze, but for some reason, he looked completely crestfallen. Just totally lethargic. I couldn’t let his beloved pet die on my watch. I immediately went online, hunted down the contact info for a premium exotic pet store owner, and paid an absolute premium to have a luxury, temperature-controlled terrarium delivered and set up in my apartment that very night. I carefully placed the little snake inside. Looking at him, a funny thought crossed my mind. He looked exactly like a billionaire CEO waking up in his thousand-square-foot California king bed. I snapped a picture and sent it to my MIA boyfriend. Still no response. Considering he had already spent roughly half a million dollars on me over the course of our relationship, I decided to be patient. I went to take a shower. Squeaky clean and wrapped only in a fluffy towel, I walked over to check on the snake. The moment he saw my bare shoulders and legs, he frantically turned his little head away, visibly flustered. Oh my. What a perfect gentleman of a reptile. Now, let me see if you are a boy or a girl. I had looked it up online, and the internet told me you could figure out a snake’s gender by checking the base of its tail. It felt a little intrusive. But curiosity got the better of me. Ignoring the snake’s frantic squirming, I gently but firmly held him down and inspected his underside. Wow. He was a male, and a surprisingly well-endowed one at that. I couldn’t help but let out a cheeky wolf whistle. The little snake struggled so hard his top hat popped off and his bowtie went crooked. He finally scrambled into the far corner of the tank, staring at me with a look of absolute, violated betrayal. I cooed at him, offered a few words of comfort, and happily went to bed. 3 Of course, I didn’t actually go to sleep. You have to stay up late to truly appreciate the value of your free time. Around two in the morning, my phone finally buzzed with a message from Asher. “Baby, I honestly never expected you to be so passionate and bold.” I knew it. My brilliant performance at the restaurant paid off. I happily texted back, “Do you like it?” The chat went completely silent. I started overthinking. Did he see how much food I inhaled? Was he judging me? “Did you think I ate too much?” I typed the words out, then quickly deleted them. Never incriminate yourself. Make him bring it up first. If he mentioned it, I would just lie and say I starved myself for three days so I could fit into my prettiest dress for our date. But then Asher’s reply finally came through. “I love it.” “So… are you satisfied?” Of course I was satisfied. Asher had showered me with designer jewelry, luxury bags, and endless attention. I was living the absolute dream. I thought exactly that, so I said exactly that. Asher sent back a blushing emoji. Then he typed, “Baby, you are so honest. I love you so much. I promise I will make you the happiest woman in the world.” Right on cue, a notification popped up. A five-thousand-dollar transfer with the note “Voluntary Gift.” Just another casual day making five grand from my couch. I punched the air under my blankets, absolutely thrilled. This was amazing. The money I had saved up from him was already enough to buy a Porsche Cayenne and put a down payment on a luxury penthouse. Asher sent another photo of the snake. “He made it home.” In the picture, the little snake was wearing his hat and bowtie, coiled up perfectly on a velvet cushion. The background was Asher’s staggering, modern glass mansion. Wait a minute. The snake was just here. I threw off the covers and ran to the living room. The terrarium was empty. The little escape artist had actually broken out. He snuck out and managed to navigate his way back to a billionaire’s mansion all by himself? What an absolute genius of a pet. I happily texted Asher back. “Baby, this photo is stunning!” “Out of all the pictures you’ve ever sent me, this is the most handsome he has ever looked!” Asher was delighted. “I always trust my baby’s taste.” A second later, that exact photo became Asher’s profile picture. He even sent me a second cash transfer for the night. Alright, up to ten grand for the day. I happily accepted the money and typed, “I can’t wait for our next date!” After all, one date with this man earned me more than half a year’s salary. 4 After days of relentless begging on my end. Asher finally agreed to a second date. I went all out. I wore my most elegant, figure-hugging dress. Colored contacts, expensive false lashes, flawless contouring. I showed up to the cafe looking like a supermodel. But sitting at our reserved table, all I found was his pet snake. His outfit was even more elaborate this time. The little guy was wearing a custom-tailored miniature suit jacket and balancing a tiny pair of gold-rimmed glasses on his snout. Was he cosplaying as a bespectacled intellectual? No, wait. That wasn’t the point. Where the hell was Asher? I finally realized something was deeply wrong. Was he really standing me up again? Just as the frustration began to boil over, I felt a soft pressure against my palm. I looked down and saw the very tip of the snake’s tail. Tied neatly around the tail was a beautiful little ribbon, tied into a perfect bow. He looked exactly like a meticulously wrapped gift, impossible to reject. The little snake looked up at me with eyes full of pure, unadulterated sincerity. The moment I smiled, the entire snake slithered happily into my open hands. Oh, you sweet little thing. I finally understood. Asher wasn’t just looking for a girlfriend. He was looking for a stepmother for his precious pet. I had a great personality, and I had proven my high tolerance for reptiles, so Asher chose me. He didn’t show up because he wanted the snake to personally vet me. He was letting his pet choose his new mom. Asher really loved this animal. Well, if my job was to pamper the snake, I was going to be the best snake mom in the world. I dutifully straightened his tiny suit jacket, then carried him around the city. We walked through the botanical gardens and even caught a movie. I wanted to make conversation, but then I realized Asher had never actually told me the snake’s name. Without a name, I decided to just call him “Baby.” “Baby, do you like this park?” The little snake nodded. “Baby, do you want to go look at the pond?” He nodded again, perfectly obedient. “Baby, do you want to come home with me?” The snake hesitated. But the hesitation lasted exactly three seconds before he started nodding so hard his glasses nearly flew off. Winning over the pet was basically winning over the billionaire. I was floating on cloud nine. I leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of his scaly head. The little snake blushed a deep crimson and buried his face into my chest, making soft, happy little squeaks. Honestly, putting Asher’s massive bank account aside for a moment. This little snake was incredibly cute, surprisingly handsome, wildly intelligent, and never tried to bite me. Spending the rest of my life taking care of him with Asher didn’t sound like a bad deal at all. 5 The snake rested perfectly still in my arms as I carried him back to my apartment. My phone remained completely silent. Asher was probably tied up with corporate billionaire stuff. So, I sat on the couch with the snake and watched sports highlights until late. When it was over, I tucked him back into his luxury terrarium. Middle of the night. I was deep in sleep when a soft rustling sound near my ear woke me up. I groggily opened my eyes. The little snake had somehow crawled under my duvet and was sleeping soundly, curled up right against my chest with a look of absolute bliss. I gently poked him. His tail tip wrapped securely around my finger, like a child begging for affection. But as a responsible pet owner, I had to be safe. I grabbed my phone and searched online. “Is it safe to sleep in the same bed as a pet snake?” The internet firmly replied, “Absolutely never sleep in the same bed as a snake.” I had to ignore his pleading, watery eyes. I picked him up by the middle and carried him back to the glass tank. He tried to wrap himself around my wrist, refusing to let go, but I gently detached him. “Good babies have to learn how to sleep in their own beds.” The little snake shivered, slithering into the furthest corner of the tank, coiling his body tightly and hiding his head. I turned to walk back to bed. But then I heard a faint, pathetic sniffling sound. I turned on the lamp and looked closer. The little snake was literally crying tiny, glassy tears. But even with the tears, he had to sleep alone. I was a chaotic sleeper. If I rolled over and squashed the billionaire’s beloved pet, my dreams of luxury real estate would die with him. I couldn’t just walk away while he was sad, though. I leaned over the tank, kissing his head and whispering sweet nothings. “You are the best baby in the world. I know you can be brave and sleep by yourself.” His little scaly body trembled slightly, but he finally uncoiled and settled into his warm hideout box. I could finally go to sleep. 6 When I woke up, my phone screen was flooded with 99+ notifications and dozens of missed calls. All from Asher, spanning from four in the morning until just a few minutes ago. “Baby, I know I was moving too fast, but please don’t hate me.” “I am so sorry.” “Baby, why aren’t you answering?” “Are you mad at me?” … “Baby, please just reply to me. Please.” Scattered between the frantic texts were multiple massive cash transfers. I really do sleep like a rock. Asher probably felt incredibly guilty for standing me up again and was having a meltdown apologizing. Luckily, I am the most understanding girlfriend in the world. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I typed back. “I’m not mad. I just fell asleep.” The man on the other end instantly calmed down. “Thank god.” I happily clicked ‘Accept’ on all the cash transfers. Asher sent another message. “Baby, do you think a snake’s body temperature is too cold?” What kind of random trivia question was that? Snakes are cold-blooded animals. Obviously, they are cold. I replied, “It’s fine. Not a big deal.” Asher asked, “Can you truly accept that?” Me, “Absolutely.” I rolled out of bed, stretching, planning to go play with the little guy. I looked in the tank. He had broken out again. Oh, my god. My golden goose was gone. I tried to console myself. Maybe he just slithered back to his mansion again? I hesitantly texted Asher. “Baby, how come you haven’t sent me a picture of him today?” The chat went dead silent for a long time. I was doomed. What if he got caught by a stray cat? What if someone turned him into snake soup? Just as I felt the sky crashing down around me, Asher sent a new photo. In the picture, the snake was wearing a pristine, custom-tailored tuxedo, perched elegantly on the keys of a grand Steinway piano. He looked incredibly proud and aristocratic. Asher wrote, “I was just getting him cleaned up.” I glanced at the timestamp. It took him thirty minutes to reply. He must have scrubbed that snake down with a toothbrush. But at least he was safe. I let out a massive sigh of relief and went back to my professional hype-woman duties. “He looks so handsome!” The snake was definitely cute, but I was dying to know what Asher actually looked like. My curiosity was peaking. But when I brought up scheduling a third date, Asher hit me with bad news. “Some urgent corporate matters came up in Europe. I have to fly out to handle them personally.” “Baby, can you wait for me for one more month?” 7 I waited an entire month. Finally, Asher texted me. “Baby, I am flying back into the country today.” I waited all day. I practically sat by the door. When the knock finally came, I threw the door open, ecstatic, thinking I was finally going to see the man of my dreams. The hallway was completely empty. My heart dropped. I slowly closed the door. A second later, another knock. I swung the door open, annoyed, ready to curse out whatever neighborhood kid was playing a prank on me. But then I heard a familiar hiss near my feet. I looked down. It was Asher’s pet. His outfit was incredibly flamboyant today. He was wedged into a sharp, deep-purple blazer, and he was even wearing a subtle, expensive-smelling cologne. The whole vibe was ridiculously charming. I held out my hand. The snake happily slithered up my arm, coiling around my wrist. Well, the man didn’t show up, but at least he sent his pet as a consolation prize. I sat on the couch, playing with the little snake, tracing the scales on his back. But despite his cute company, a heavy wave of disappointment washed over me. Eventually, the exhaustion caught up, and I drifted to sleep right there in the living room. I vaguely felt something cool and smooth curl against my chest. I was too tired to care. I just let the sleep take me.

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It was over. Again. His large hand wrapped around my ankle, silently demanding another round. A surge of frustration bubbled up in my chest. I kicked out, my bare foot planting squarely against his firm chest. Before he could react, glowing lines of text suddenly materialized in the air right in front of my eyes. [The male lead and the side character have zero chemistry. Just stop already. Neither of them is even enjoying this.] [Honestly, he doesn’t even like her. He’s just using her to get off.] [Can the side character stop hogging him? The female lead is the delicate, sweet sorority girl he’s actually destined to be with. They’re going to meet so soon.] [Stop being delusional, girl. He doesn’t love you. If he did, why would he be okay with hurting you? If I remember the plot correctly, the side character literally dies from severe internal hemorrhaging after he pushes her too far.] I pressed my foot down harder against his skin. A muffled grunt escaped his throat. Instantly, I pulled my leg back. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” I said, my voice completely devoid of warmth. 01 Bob froze. Those striking amber eyes, still dark and heavy with lingering desire, looked up at me in pure confusion. “Why?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly. I kept my face perfectly blank. Rolling out of bed, my legs immediately gave out. My lower back ached so deeply I had to stumble forward a few steps just to catch my balance. Bob’s expression shifted to immediate concern as he reached out to steady me. I swatted his hands away. Turning around, I locked eyes with him and spoke with slow, deliberate precision. “I told you to slow down earlier. Why didn’t you listen?” I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.” “I thought you liked it that way.” I broke eye contact, letting the silence stretch between us. I didn’t have the energy to argue. Instead, I turned and walked straight into the bathroom. The floating text I had just seen refused to leave my mind. Deep down, I knew there was a suffocating layer of truth to those glowing words. Bob was the untouchable golden boy of our university. The ice prince everyone wanted but no one could have. I was the one who had chased him relentlessly until he finally agreed to date me. But ever since we made it official, he had remained completely emotionally unavailable. Except when we were in bed. Bob possessed an almost terrifying stamina. Every single time, it lasted for hours. When my body was entirely spent, when I was trembling and whispering for him to stop because it was starting to ache, the man acted like he was completely deaf. He would just stubbornly pull me right back against his chest. His voice would drop to that gentle yet chillingly possessive whisper right against my ear. “Just a little longer, baby. Bear with me.” He never took my feelings into account. He never cared if I was hurting. I closed my eyes, letting the hot water from the shower wash over my face, carrying the salty taste of my tears down the drain. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, I had locked all my emotions into a tight little box. Bob was sitting on the edge of the mattress. His gaze immediately snapped to me, his lips parting like he wanted to explain himself. I cut him off before he could try. “I’m exhausted.” Hearing that, he pressed his lips together, stood up in silence, and headed toward the shower. “Get some sleep, then.” I turned off all the lights and slipped under the covers. But sleep wouldn’t come. I tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before Bob quietly re-entered the dark room. He smelled faintly of mint body wash. His movements were incredibly cautious. Just like always, he lay down on the absolute farthest edge of the mattress. Creating as much distance between us as humanly possible. Our physical intimacy strictly existed only when we were actively sleeping together. Outside of that, we were strangers sharing a bed. Right on cue, the floating text illuminated the darkness. [Yikes. He genuinely despises her. He won’t even cuddle her.] [If I were her, I would have dumped him ages ago. What’s the point of clinging to a guy who acts like this?] [Let’s be real. If his destined girl hadn’t shown up so late in the timeline, and if he didn’t have such a crazy high sex drive, he never would have settled for the side character.] I blinked rapidly at the ceiling. The bridge of my nose started to burn. I absolutely hated how easily I cried. I didn’t want to shed another tear over him, but my body simply wouldn’t listen to my brain. In the pitch black, I clamped both hands over my mouth, terrified of making even the slightest sound. Thankfully, I didn’t have to hold it in for long. A few minutes later, Bob suddenly threw off the covers and walked out of the bedroom. A bitter smile tugged at the corners of my lips. My relief was entirely overshadowed by a crushing wave of sadness. The comments were right. Bob didn’t love me. He probably didn’t even like me. The holographic words danced in the air, relentlessly mocking my misery. [When a guy doesn’t love you, it’s so obvious. He doesn’t even want to breathe the same air as her.] [She’s so useless. She can’t even satisfy him in bed, and now he has to go take a cold shower.] [If the female lead were here, she would definitely know how to keep him happy.] I squeezed my eyes shut. My mind violently flashed back to that specific sentence. The side character dies from severe internal bleeding. A violent shudder racked my spine. I didn’t want to die. I needed to break up with Bob. 02 The next morning. When I woke up, Bob’s side of the bed was already cold. I got dressed in silence and was just about to leave his apartment when the front door swung open. Bob walked in. He had faint dark circles under his eyes, likely from not sleeping at all last night. He was holding a brown paper bag from my favorite artisan bakery downtown. It was miles away from campus, and the line was notoriously brutal on weekend mornings. He set the pastries and coffees on the kitchen island, arranging them meticulously. Only when everything was perfectly laid out did he look up at me. “Are you going to eat?” “Skipping breakfast is bad for your stomach.” I nodded slowly and took a seat on the barstool across from him. The spread was massive. Every single thing on the counter was something I absolutely loved. And it was all still piping hot. It meant Bob had rushed straight back without wasting a single second. Looking at the steam rising from my coffee, a tiny crack formed in the walls I had built around my heart. What if the floating comments were just messing with my head? What if Bob just had a cold personality, but deep down, he actually cared about me? I needed to know the truth. I sniffled quietly, lifting my gaze to meet his deep, unreadable eyes. “Bob, do you—” Before I could finish the sentence, a sharp ping echoed through the kitchen. It was Bob’s phone. Both of our eyes dropped to the glowing screen resting on the marble counter. I could see the notification clear as day. It was a message from a girl saved as Karen. [Hey Bob! When are you free today to help me with…] The preview cut off there. My eyes remained glued to that glowing rectangle. I couldn’t look away. The floating texts immediately swarmed my vision. [Look at her face! Little does she know the male lead added the female lead on social media weeks ago.] [And HE was the one who asked HER out to dinner! Buying breakfast for the side piece means nothing. Karen is the only one who matters in his heart.] [Just give up, girl. You can’t fight the plot.] Right. I was just making a fool of myself again. Bob noticed my shift in demeanor. “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly. I lowered my eyes, shoving a piece of croissant into my mouth. “Nothing,” I mumbled around the pastry. A second later, Bob seemed to realize what had happened. He picked up his phone and slid it across the marble straight to me. He stared right into me. “Do you want to check my phone?” I froze. We had been dating for nearly a year. We had always respected each other’s privacy. We never snooped. In that moment, a war waged in my head. One side screamed: He’s offering it! Just look. Put your mind at ease. The other side whispered: What’s the point? What if you find exactly what you’re afraid of? And even if his messages are clean today, that doesn’t mean they will be tomorrow. Besides, Karen was the main character. How could I possibly compete with destiny? I pressed my lips together. After a few agonizing seconds, I slid the phone back across the counter. I shoved all my chaotic emotions down into a dark pit, forced a painfully fake smile, and gave him the calmest response I could muster. “No.” “I trust you.” Bob’s eyes darkened. He studied my face for a long, heavy moment before looking away. “…Okay.” For some bizarre reason, that single word sounded almost hurt. I brushed it off. I was definitely just projecting. It was Monday. I left his place and headed straight to the science building for my morning lecture. Thanks to those cursed floating comments, my anxiety was through the roof all day. Of course, the professor randomly called on me to answer a complex question. Luckily, I had practically memorized the textbook, so I managed to get through it without embarrassing myself. When the bell finally rang, I walked out of the double doors. Bob was leaning against the brick wall waiting for me, dressed in gray sweatpants and a crisp white tee. He was here to walk me back. 03 Normally, I would have practically sprinted over and intertwined my fingers with his. Today, all I felt was a dull, heavy exhaustion. Right on time, the glowing words appeared to ruin my day. [LMAO, does she actually think he came here just for her? He only swung by because he was dropping Karen off at the auditorium next door.] [Yeah, he’s just doing the bare minimum so she doesn’t throw a tantrum.] My fingers dug into the straps of my backpack. I walked up to him, stopped a few feet away, and kept my voice flat. “Let’s go.” Bob’s hand had started to lift. It hovered in the empty air between us. His fingers curled inward. He looked down at my hands, his expression completely unreadable. I didn’t wait for him. I just started walking. After a few steps, I realized he wasn’t beside me. I turned around to see him still rooted to the exact same spot. “Are you coming or not?” He looked up at my face, looking genuinely lost. “Did I do something to upset you?” I didn’t answer right away. But the question burned in my throat until I finally just spat it out. “Where did you come from just now?” He blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. But he answered honestly. “The auditorium.” A bitter smile twisted my lips. The truth felt like a physical blow, even though I already knew it. But a sick, masochistic part of me needed to hear the rest. “You dropped Karen off at the auditorium first, and then came over here to pick me up. Right?” Bob’s jaw clenched tight. He gave a slow nod. “Are you mad?” “If you don’t like it, next time I’ll just—” “Don’t bother,” I interrupted. I wasn’t actually mad at him. I just felt incredibly defeated. If everything the comments said was true, then he was the leading man, Karen was his destined love, and I was just a temporary roadblock. They were bound by the universe to fall in love. How was I supposed to fight the universe? I let out a shaky sigh and looked at the pavement. “I’m just tired. I want to go back to my dorm.” Something dark flickered in Bob’s eyes. He stared at me for a few agonizing seconds. Then, he stepped forward, smoothly slipped my heavy backpack off my shoulders, and started walking with long, purposeful strides. “Let’s go.” “I’ll walk you.” We didn’t speak a single word the entire way across campus. When we finally reached the steps of my dorm building, Bob just stood there holding my bag. He made absolutely no move to hand it over or say goodbye. He just stared at me in that intense, quiet way of his. I frowned. “What is it?” Bob looked down. His voice was terrifyingly low. “You always kiss me before you go inside.” He was right. Every single time before today, I did. Usually, I practically begged him for a kiss. But today, my heart felt completely hollow. I shook my head, reached out, and yanked my backpack out of his grip. My voice sounded as exhausted as I felt. “Maybe next time.” “…Okay.” Once I was safely locked inside my room, I sat on my bed and tried to figure out how to navigate this mess. The floating texts were driving me insane. But what was even worse was that every single thing they predicted turned out to be completely true in reality. Logic screamed at me to cut my losses and dump him. But my heart felt like it was bleeding. I couldn’t just let him go. I had fought so hard to get him. Before the comments showed up, our relationship wasn’t perfect. He was distant, and he was way too aggressive in the bedroom. But aside from that, he treated me well. And, if I was being completely honest, the physical side of our relationship was intoxicating when it wasn’t hurting me. While I was spiraling, my phone buzzed with a calendar notification: [Bob’s Birthday.] It was tomorrow. I had already bought his gift weeks ago. And right on cue, the floating text flooded my cramped dorm room: [Oh my god, is she actually planning to celebrate his birthday? Karen has already booked the entire night for him.] [If she doesn’t believe it, she should check out the Grand Plaza Hotel tomorrow. Karen set up a massive surprise party. He’s not going to care about whatever cheap trash the side character bought him.] [Girl, I am begging you. Dump him. You are literally marching toward a bad ending.] I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper. I sat there in silence for a very long time. This time, I wasn’t going to just blindly trust the text. I needed to see it with my own two eyes. 04 The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes the next morning was a text from Bob: [SGA stuff all morning.] [I’ll pick you up at noon.] I typed back a quick: [Okay.] Thanks to the toxic commentary from last night, a seed of pure paranoia had taken root in my chest. Was he actually working? I got dressed, ordered a rideshare, and headed straight for the luxury hotel the comments had mentioned. A quick chat with the concierge confirmed there was indeed a private birthday luncheon happening in one of the VIP suites. I took the elevator up. The second the silver doors slid open, I saw him. Bob was standing in the corridor. He had one hand casually tucked into his pocket, a rare, soft smile playing on his lips as he looked down at the girl standing in front of him. Karen looked down shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. A pretty blush dusted her cheeks. The chemistry between them was so incredibly perfect it almost looked like a movie scene. It was so perfect I felt like an intruder just by looking at them. I braced my hand against the cold wall. My knees felt like they were going to give out. So… he really did lie to me. [Look at her face. Reality check, much? He doesn’t love you.] [Look at him smiling at Karen! He’s so focused on her he hasn’t even noticed his actual girlfriend standing ten feet away.] [Listen to me, girl. Dump him. You deserve better anyway.] I inhaled sharply, trying to hold back the tears. Seeing it with my own eyes felt like a knife twisting directly in my chest. I stood frozen for a few seconds, trying to gather the strength to turn around and sneak away. But then, a familiar, surprised voice rang out. “Amanda.” Bob had caught sight of me in his periphery. He instantly closed the distance between us, his long strides eating up the hallway. Karen trailed right behind him. I turned my head. I stared blankly at the two of them standing side by side. I didn’t say a word. Karen was the first to break the suffocating tension. Her smile looked incredibly stiff as she glanced between us. “Bob… you have a girlfriend?” Bob stepped right up next to me. He smoothly took my purse from my shoulder, the softness in his eyes completely unchanged. “Yeah.” “Karen, meet my girlfriend, Amanda.” The hallway fell into a dead, horrifyingly awkward silence. The floating texts went absolutely wild: [Omg, the male lead is so responsible and honest! Even though he’s not into the side character, he didn’t lie to the female lead to get in her pants!] […Isn’t that just basic human decency?] [Exactly. Stop praising a man for doing the bare minimum.] [Wait, look! The male lead is physically reacting to the female lead! It’s biological destiny!] I flinched. My eyes automatically dropped toward Bob’s waistline. But I couldn’t see anything. He had strategically placed my purse directly in front of himself. Karen, standing directly across from him, was completely oblivious. But from where I was standing right next to him, I had a very clear view of what he was hiding. I snapped my gaze back up. A bitter, reckless laugh escaped my throat. “He doesn’t have to have a girlfriend if he doesn’t want to.” The second the words left my mouth, both of them whipped their heads to look at me. Karen looked utterly bewildered. “What?” Bob’s eyes went completely dark. He said absolutely nothing. I forced a fake, breezy smile. “Just a joke.” The ride back to campus was agonizingly quiet. Bob walked beside me, radiating a tense, heavy silence. It wasn’t until we reached the courtyard of my dorm that he finally lowered his eyes, unable to hold it in anymore. “Amanda, did I do something wrong?” I stopped dead in my tracks. I turned my head to look at him. I couldn’t just sweep this under the rug. “You texted me that you had student government work.” “Bob, if you were working, why were you at the Grand Plaza Hotel?” His dark eyelashes fluttered. When he spoke, his voice was tight and raspy. “I’m sorry.” “The events committee sent me that address. They said we were meeting a vendor for the winter formal. But when I got there, the vendor had already left. I was just about to text you when you walked off the elevator.” I closed my eyes. A crushing wave of absolute exhaustion washed over me. It felt like the universe was constantly pulling strings behind the scenes just to force the two main characters into the same room. And I was powerless to stop it. 05 While I was zoning out, Bob stepped closer and gently wrapped his warm hand around mine. His palm was so comforting. His voice was calm, with that familiar cool tone, but there was a hint of pleading in it. “I made a reservation for dinner. Let’s go eat, okay?” I slowly shook my head. With agonizing precision, I pulled my hand out of his grip, slipping my fingers away one by one. “No.” “I have plans tonight. Maybe next time.” I had finally made up my mind. If I didn’t have the courage to break it off entirely right this second, I was going to slowly distance myself. I would pull away, piece by piece. Until one day, letting him go wouldn’t hurt anymore. Bob turned completely rigid. He stared at me like I had just grown a second head. It took him a long time to find his voice. He looked entirely devastated. “Do you really not remember what day today is?” How could I possibly forget? I had booked an impossible-to-get reservation a week in advance just to celebrate his birthday. I had bought his gift a month ago. An expensive watch and a tiny, hand-knit bear were currently sitting at the bottom of the purse he was still holding for me. But now? There was no point in giving them to him. I reached out and pulled my bag from his hands. My face was unnervingly blank. “It’s nothing important.” The color instantly drained from Bob’s face. His lips parted. It looked like he was desperately trying to force words out of his throat. After a suffocating silence, he just dropped his gaze to the concrete and echoed my words. “Right.” “Nothing important.” The comments started flooding my vision again in a chaotic frenzy: [Omg the male lead looks utterly shattered! It’s HIS birthday, and he even bought a gift for HER, and she totally forgot!] [Turn around, Bob! Karen is waiting for you!] [Why hasn’t he dumped her yet? She treats him like garbage. I feel so bad for him.] [Don’t worry, the side character’s exit is coming right up.] I turned my back on him and started walking toward the dorm doors. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. But I didn’t look back. Not even once. When I finally got to my room, I opened my bag, fully intending to shove the watch and the bear into the darkest corner of my bottom drawer. But my fingers brushed against a velvet box that didn’t belong to me. I pulled it out and popped it open. Inside sat a breathtakingly gorgeous diamond necklace. I recognized it immediately. The last time we went to the mall, I had stared at it in the display window for far too long, only to walk away when I saw the price tag. He had actually gone back and bought it. I blinked rapidly. Tears instantly blurred my vision. I didn’t even know what I was feeling anymore. Through my tear-filled eyes, the glowing text materialized to ruin the moment. [Aww, is the side character touched? Plot twist: He bought it for Karen, but she rejected it, so he just pawned it off on his girlfriend.] [LMAO, basic girls are so easy to manipulate.] Right. I was being delusional again. I furiously wiped the tears off my cheeks. This time, I didn’t even consider confronting Bob to ask if it was true. Every single time I dug for the truth, I ended up getting hurt. I was so incredibly done. Over the next few weeks, I successfully managed to avoid him. Whenever class ended, I would immediately disappear into the chaotic crowd of students. Whenever he texted asking to hang out, I used midterms and study groups as an excuse. The first few days were agonizing. But eventually, I started getting used to being on my own. I certainly didn’t expect our inevitable collision to happen like this. I had recently won a prestigious academic scholarship, and the campus newspaper wanted to do a quick profile on me. We couldn’t find an empty study room on campus anywhere. Desperate, the senior running the interview suggested booking a cheap day-rate hotel room right off campus just for thirty minutes to record the interview in peace. I never in a million years expected to run into Bob in the lobby. His hand clamped around my wrist like a vice. The edges of his eyes were rimmed with angry red as he physically blocked my path, refusing to let me walk past him. “Do not go up there with him.” I scowled, trying to rip my arm out of his grip. “Let go of me.” Bob planted his feet. He was like an immovable brick wall.

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Everyone said the heir of the Sterling family had found himself a massive headache of an influencer girlfriend who was obsessed with “blind box” gimmicks. When it came to distributing performance bonuses to the staff, she insisted on making it a blind box draw. “I turned everyone’s bonuses into blind boxes! You draw your luck, and whatever amount you get is what you take home. Isn’t that so much more thrilling?” An assistant who had loyally worked under her for three years ended up drawing a measly fifteen dollars. He couldn’t pay his rent and was kicked out by his landlord the very next week. During a major corporate bidding war, she gave Julian Sterling a “brilliant” strategy: blind box bidding. “Let the bidding companies draw blind boxes to decide who wins the contract. It’s all about the thrill!” As a result, a shell company that had been registered for exactly three days, lacking even the basic operational licenses, walked away with the group’s largest annual contract. And on the eve of Sterling Group’s massive offshore acquisition negotiations, she did it again. “I’ve randomized all our minimum walk-away prices into blind boxes! Let’s make this negotiation exciting!” In my past life, as Julian’s wife and business partner, I had called out this utter madness. I fought tooth and nail to correct the proposal. I even personally flew to London, working seventy-two hours straight with no sleep, to secure exclusive authorization from the seller’s core executives. That was the only reason the Sterling Group didn’t go bankrupt right then and there. But instead of being grateful, she threw a massive tantrum, claiming I had humiliated her. She ran away in a fit of rage and got caught in a crossfire street shooting during her chaotic flight. Once the dust settled, Julian grabbed my wrist so hard it bruised and slammed a divorce agreement in my face. “Sienna was just trying to have some fun! If you hadn’t constantly opposed her and made her feel worthless, she would have never run out and faced that horror! Sign it and leave with nothing!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the exact moment she was tampering with our walk-away prices. Looking at the real pricing sheet that I had already memorized by heart, I chose to remain completely silent. I turned on my heel and walked back to my office. I wish you two a very happy, uninterrupted ride straight to hell.

“Chloe Vance, have you lost your mind?” “Sienna was just trying to lighten the mood. What’s with that cold, miserable face of yours?” Julian kicked my office door open, his voice roaring with impatience. I stared at the computer screen showing the randomized negotiation prices, a cold smirk playing on my lips. “I just don’t like spending my time around suicidal idiots.” “Who are you calling suicidal?!” Julian’s voice pitched higher, his face turning an angry shade of red. “Sienna set up this blind box negotiation because she felt bad that everyone has been working late. She wanted to bring some fun and energy to the team!” “But look at you. You didn’t say a word, just walked back to your office and slammed the door. Who are you trying to intimidate?” Julian’s tone was dripping with annoyance. “The entire project team is praising her for being creative. You’re the only wet blanket here.” “Get back out there right now and apologize to Sienna.” The memory of the words “leaving with absolutely nothing” on that divorce papers from my past life flashed through my mind. My voice turned ice-cold. “Julian, tampering with the walk-away price of an international acquisition is corporate suicide.” “If you two are tired of living, go jump off a cliff yourself.” “Leave me out of it.” Julian let out a harsh sneer. “Stop trying to scare me with your dramatic corporate speeches!” “Sienna already told me that her backer—a legendary hedge fund manager from Silicon Valley—is pulling the strings for her behind the scenes.” “Before the negotiation officially starts, he will send the real, optimized numbers directly to the heads of each department via email.” “It’s called psychological warfare. Do you even understand high-level strategy?” Psychological warfare? Using the entire group’s offshore expansion as a poker chip for some imaginary influencer game? It was beyond pathetic. “Then enjoy your game. Just don’t drag me down with you.” I pushed him out of my office and shut the door. Before Julian’s footsteps could even fade down the hallway, the assistant of the Sterling family matriarch rushed in. “Ms. Vance, Victoria Sterling has arrived!” Sienna was Victoria’s distant niece. I didn’t even need to guess—she had gone crying to the old lady the second I walked away. “Chloe Vance, Sienna said everything is under control!” “As Julian’s wife, not only do you fail to appreciate Sienna’s hard work, but you’re also actively rebelling against management and ruining team morale!” I cut off Victoria’s screeching voice without an ounce of respect. “There are less than twelve hours left before the negotiation begins.” “If we don’t recover the real pricing sheet right now, the moment the sellers realize our numbers are a chaotic mess, they will short our stock. Do you have any idea what will happen to the Sterling Group then?” “When the company goes under, is Sienna going to take the fall? Or are you?” “Insolent!” Victoria slammed her cane on the floor. “Don’t think just because your family empire, the Vance Group, holds a major stake in this merger, you can talk down to me!” “Sienna was so stressed by your toxic attitude that she just fainted in the lounge!” “I’m glad you remember the power of the Vance Group.” “I’ve been executing cross-border acquisitions with my father since I was eighteen. Do you honestly believe a TikTok influencer understands international trade better than I do?” “Harvey, escort Mrs. Sterling out!” “You—!” Seeing that she couldn’t bully me, Victoria stormed out, her face twisted in rage. I reached into my drawer, took out my family’s corporate digital authorization token, and called my core team. A message popped up on my phone. It was a private Slack message from Wyatt, the VP of Strategic Investment. The company-wide WhatsApp group was flooded with brainless praise for Sienna. “Sienna has a literal Silicon Valley god backing her! This blind box pricing is going to be a genius move!” “I just checked! Our team’s bid was set to the rock-bottom minimum! This is so exciting!” Wyatt’s message followed immediately after: “Chloe, these lunatics are actually going to submit those randomized numbers. Are we really just going to stand by and watch?” I typed out five words and hit send: “Let them burn. Save yourselves.” There were only ten hours left. In my past life, I flew across the Atlantic overnight, faced a hostile board of foreign regulators alone, and worked until my eyes literally bled. And my reward was being thrown out of my own home with nothing but a divorce suit. This time, I was going to grab some popcorn. Without me acting as the shield and the brains, I wanted to see how long these clowns could keep up their little circus. Just then, Julian burst back into my office. “Chloe! Sienna is in tears and hyperventilating!” “You are going to her right now, and you are getting down on your knees to apologize!” I looked into his raging eyes and calmly replied, “If she’s hyperventilating, call an ambulance.” “What do you need me for? Am I an oxygen tank?”

“Chloe Vance, are you really going to be this stubborn?” Julian took a violent step forward, slamming his hand down and scattering the files on my desk. “Sienna is just a young girl. What harm could she possibly mean?” “She put so much effort into this blind box pricing just to bring some fun to the boring prep work.” “And honestly, she did it to help you! You’re a miserable workaholic who does nothing but stare at spreadsheets. She wanted to make you less boring!” I looked at the documents scattered across the carpet and let out a soft laugh. “Risking a multi-billion dollar merger just to make me ‘less boring’? How incredibly charitable of her.” “Cut the sarcasm!” Julian pointed a finger right at my face, shouting, “Sienna said her backer is a retired Silicon Valley legend who can predict market trends perfectly! He already knows the seller’s absolute limit!” “The moment we submit our bid, it will be the most brilliant ambush in the history of the Sterling Group!” “We will swallow their market whole, and it will all be thanks to Sienna’s genius out-of-the-box thinking!” I honestly couldn’t believe what I was hearing. An ambush based on randomized, unchecked numbers? What kind of fairy-tale business textbook did he read that from? “Julian, do you have a single brain cell working?” “Those are minimum walk-away prices. One wrong digit means a loss of hundreds of millions. You are literally throwing this company into a volcano.” “Losses? If there are losses, it’s because the team your dad sent from Vance Group is incompetent!” Julian spat, glaring at me with pure disgust. “You’re just jealous of Sienna’s talent. You’re jealous that she has connections with elite players while you’re just a dry corporate suit.” “Let me tell you something, Chloe. If you don’t apologize to Sienna today,” “You can kiss your status as my wife goodbye, and we will terminate the strategic partnership between Vance Group and Sterling Group immediately!” I let out a low laugh, slowly pushing the remaining acquisition binders off my desk, letting them crash to the floor. “Julian, who was the one who practically knelt at my father’s feet, begging for Vance Group’s backing and a marriage alliance?” “If my father hadn’t respected your grandfather’s legacy, do you honestly think I would have agreed to marry a useless, incompetent boy like you to secure your CEO seat?” “Let me tell you this: this pathetic marriage? Anyone can have it. I’ve been sick of playing your savior anyway.” Julian clearly didn’t expect me to be so ruthless. He froze, his face turning pale as he stood there, completely speechless. “Chloe Vance… stop trying to play hard to get!” “Do you think anyone else in high society would ever tolerate a cold, heartless bitch like you?” He slammed my office door so hard the glass partition rattled, and stormed off. The cold air conditioning hummed in the empty room, making me feel utterly detached. Julian and I grew up together, but there was never any love between us. My father raised me as his sole successor. To protect our family assets and help Julian stabilize his grandfather’s company, I agreed to the marriage. Now, at the most critical juncture of the offshore acquisition, I was representing Vance Group in this joint venture, only to watch it turn into a complete joke. Sienna’s “blind box” show had already spread throughout the entire department. A few project managers were gathered in the breakroom, talking excitedly. “Hey, did you hear?” “Sienna randomized all the bidding brackets. We literally draw numbers out of a hat to fill in the final bid!” “That’s so fresh! I was so tired of doing the same old financial modeling. This actually makes work exciting!” “Exactly! Sienna’s Silicon Valley backer is a genius. Whatever number we pull is meant to be!” “Director Leo from finance tried to ask for the real spreadsheet earlier, and Julian literally kicked him out of the project. Said he was sabotaging Sienna’s strategy!” I watched these brainless sheep walk happily toward the slaughterhouse. Just then, my phone rang. It was Wyatt, the VP of Strategic Investment. I answered. His voice was frantic and trembling with fear. “Chloe!” Yes, although Julian was nominally leading the team, everyone in the industry knew I was the actual brain of this acquisition. “I can’t do this anymore! This blind box pricing is driving us straight off a cliff!” “I want to pull my entire team out of the project tonight. Please, give me the green light!” I remained silent for a moment, then calmly said, “Hold your ground. Do nothing.”

In my past life, Wyatt was the one who stood up and demanded the real pricing sheet. Julian publicly fired him on the spot and blacklisted him from the industry. This time, I wasn’t going to let him make himself a target. Right after I hung up, Harvey pushed my office door open. “Chloe, we have a massive crisis!” Harvey’s face was pale, sweat dripping down his forehead. “The teams just drew their numbers. The finance team pulled a bid that is ridiculously below our actual cost!” “It doesn’t even cover manufacturing. The moment we submit that, the seller’s legal team can sue us for predatory pricing and anti-competitive practices!” “The head of finance begged Sienna to let them redraw, but Sienna just said ‘it’s a trade secret’ and had security drag him out of the building!” I scrolled through the emails on my phone, my expression entirely blank. “So, why are you telling me?” “Chloe, you’re the actual director of this merger! Just say the word, and we will bypass Julian to upload the real pricing data!” Harvey slammed his hand on my desk in frustration. “Upload the real data?” I let out a cold laugh. “Julian made it very clear: anyone who touches Sienna’s pricing sheet will be treated as an insider threat and fired.” Harvey’s eyes were bloodshot. “So we just sit here and watch?” “The negotiation is tomorrow! If we submit these numbers, we won’t even get to see their board. We’ll be laughed out of Wall Street, and our stock price will tank before lunch!” I looked up at him, my voice dangerously calm. “Harvey, listen to me carefully.” “From this moment on, lock down Vance Group’s core proprietary data. Make sure our team’s independent legal channels are secure. No one is to touch our original models.” “As for the rest of them? Their survival has nothing to do with us.” Harvey opened his mouth to argue, but the sheer coldness in my eyes shut him up. He grit his teeth, turned around, and walked out. Outside the window, night had fallen. There were less than ten hours left. Over a hundred employees, running on the whims of an influencer’s blind box. What a beautiful disaster. In my past life, I bled for these ungrateful bastards, only to be thrown out like trash. This time, I was going to enjoy the show. Suddenly, a barrage of celebratory emojis and notifications popped up in the company Slack. I walked to the glass window and looked down at the open office floor. Sienna, dressed in a head-to-toe designer outfit, was standing on a desk in the middle of the room. She held a gold envelope high in the air, laughing hysterically. “Attention everyone! My Silicon Valley mentor has given the final green light! The blind box bids are officially locked!” “We are submitting our destiny-approved bids directly to the offshore board!” Hundreds of employees cheered, throwing paper into the air like they were at a college frat party. Julian stood right beside her, looking at her with eyes full of adoration. The first round of bidding emails was officially sent out. Ten minutes later, the Director of Offshore Operations came sprinting down the hall, slamming Julian’s office door open. “The sellers just rejected our first round of bids! They said our numbers are completely incoherent and insulting! They’re accusing us of wasting their time!” “Worse, two of our pricing brackets are so low that their legal counsel just sent a formal warning. They are preparing to sue us for commercial fraud!” It was the exact chain-reaction collapse I had predicted. Julian stood up, the smile fading from his face, but he immediately turned his fury onto the Director. “Incompetent! This must be because your operations team failed to execute Sienna’s strategy correctly!” He turned to Sienna, his voice carrying a hint of desperation. “Sienna, didn’t your mentor say this was a guaranteed win? Why are they threatening to sue us?” Sienna’s face turned slightly pale, but she quickly covered it up, twisting her fingers and looking incredibly victimized. “Julian, you have to trust the process. My mentor said we must break things down to rebuild them! This is a classic Silicon Valley tactic.” “Their aggressive response is just a test. If we stand our ground, they will back down!” “This is just a minor bump in the road. Once we push through, we win!” I almost burst out laughing at her absurd logic. Using a multi-billion dollar lawsuit as a “test of faith”? And Julian, the brilliant CEO, actually nodded. He waved his hand and roared, “Order the legal department to fight back! Crush their attitude!” “Anyone else who dares to question Sienna’s strategy is fired immediately!”

I gripped my phone tight. The memory of the freezing cold divorce papers made my fingers tremble. In my past life, this stunt wiped out half of Sterling Group’s market cap overnight. I took a deep breath, pushing down the anger, and walked back to my desk. Harvey rushed in, his voice shaking. “Chloe! Finance is in complete chaos!” “Leo, the finance director, realized how bad the numbers were and tried to recall the emails.” “But Julian had IT lock him out of the server, claiming he was committing corporate sabotage! He was escorted out by security and fired on the spot!” I slammed my fist on the desk. Firing the only people telling the truth? Julian had lost his mind. “Chloe, the entire finance department is being forced to execute the blind box contracts!” Harvey’s eyes were red. “Those numbers are a death sentence. The breach of contract fees alone will bankrupt us!” “Please, do something! Let’s release our Vance Group independent valuation sheet to the press!” I closed my eyes, my voice like iron. “Release it? With what authority?” “Julian has locked down all server permissions. If we upload anything now, we’ll be flagged for unauthorized data breaches.” “So we just watch the ship sink?” Harvey shouted, his voice cracking. “Vance Group will not be collateral damage.” I opened my eyes, cold and focused. “Harvey, protect our team. Lock our legal firewalls.” “If anyone from Julian’s side tries to touch our assets, sue them immediately.” Before Harvey could reply, loud arguing erupted outside. Wyatt, the VP of Strategic Investment, was practically thrown into my office. His suit was stained with spilled coffee, his tie torn, and a scratch ran down his cheek. “Chloe, please save us!” Wyatt gasped, gripping the edge of my desk. “Julian called me a traitor. He’s removing me from the board!” “I don’t care about my job, but there are dozens of people in operations who worked day and night on this! Now they’re all going to be ruined!” I stood up and handed him a bottle of water. Wyatt was a good, honest man. In my past life, he stayed up three nights straight helping me clean up Julian’s mess without a single complaint. And now, he was reduced to this. “Wyatt, listen to me,” I whispered. “If I step in now, even my corporate token can’t save anyone. Julian has bypassed the board.” “Vance Group is our final stronghold. Stay quiet, and I will protect you and your core team.” Wyatt stared at me, his lips trembling, before he finally let out a long, defeated sigh and bowed his head. “Harvey, take him out through the back elevator. Don’t let anyone see him.” In the hallway, the loud voice of Julian’s executive assistant echoed: “By order of the CEO, we are conducting an internal audit for corporate spies! All departments must comply!” I adjusted my blazer and stepped out of my office, coming face-to-face with the arrogant assistant. “Ms. Vance, have you seen Wyatt?” I stared at him with absolute disdain. “Do you think you have the security clearance to search my office?” The assistant hesitated, intimidated by my tone. “Mr. Sterling’s orders. Anyone harboring a traitor will be treated as an accomplice.” “If you are protecting Wyatt, you are defying the executive board!” I took a step forward, my presence forcing him to take a step back. “Go tell Julian that Vance Group only answers to our partnership agreement, not his childish tantrums.” “If you take one more step into my wing, my lawyers will have a harassment lawsuit on your desk before you can walk back to the elevator.” The assistant swallowed hard and scurried away. Julian was burning his own house down, and no one could stop him. Just as I sat back down, Harvey’s phone rang. He picked it up, and within seconds, all the color drained from his face. “Chloe… it’s over.” “The offshore regulators just stepped in. They are launching an international fraud investigation against Julian!” “Julian has just been detained for questioning!”

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After the car accident, my father lost his memory and had been living in a care facility. I visited him every week. He was in good spirits today, sitting quietly by the window, fiddling with a chess set. The caretaker smiled and told me he’d become obsessed with it lately, and was getting quite good. But I felt ice run through my veins. I couldn’t bring myself to take another step toward him. That chess set had belonged to my late mother. My father had sworn in front of every family member we had that he would never touch a chess set again for as long as he lived. The care facility was quiet. Afternoon sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, coating everything in the room with a soft gold. My “father” sat in that golden light with his back to me, a chess set laid out in front of him. He wore a clean striped patient’s gown, his hair combed neatly back, a faint shine of pomade catching the light. The caretaker walked in behind me, keeping her tone light. “Miss Thorne, look how well Mr. Thorne is doing today. He’s been obsessed with chess lately — plays for hours every day. He’s improving fast.” My feet felt nailed to the floor. The blood in my body turned cold all at once. I stared at that silhouette — the man I had called “Dad” for over a decade — and felt a chill cut straight to the bone. Chess. That single word was like a rusted blade jammed into my chest. My mother’s death was connected to chess. She had a serious heart condition. One day, She had a brief argument with her father over something trivial, and in the heat of the moment, she suffered an attack.” She collapsed in the living room, just a few feet from his study. My father had been sitting at his desk with his headphones on, lost in an online match, completely unaware of anything happening outside. By the time he finished the game and pulled off his headphones, it was too late. At my mother’s funeral, my father stood in front of every family member we had and smashed his most prized chess set — white jade, hand-carved — to pieces with a hammer. His eyes were red. His voice was steady, every word deliberate. “From this day forward, I, Richard Thorne, will never touch a chess set again for as long as I live. May heaven and earth strike me down if I break this oath.” Those words still rang in my ears. And yet that figure sat calmly before me, turning a cannon over in his hand. The caretaker noticed I hadn’t moved. “Miss Thorne? Is everything alright?” I took a slow breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m fine. Just a little surprised, that’s all.” I walked over and moved to his side. He seemed to sense something and looked up. When he saw me, a warm smile spread across his face. “Blair, you’re here.” His voice was the same as always — deep, with a richness to it. His face was the same face I’d known all my life, only a little pale and thin from the accident and the long recovery. Everyone said that after the crash he’d lost his memory — forgotten so many people, so many things — but that the one thing he hadn’t forgotten was me, his daughter. Every time I came to visit, he would smile and call me by name, just like that. But now, looking at that face, all I felt was a stranger staring back at me. “Dad,” I said softly, pointing to the board on the table. “When did you start playing the chess?” He glanced down and smiled. “Just a few days ago. The caretaker brought it in to keep me busy. Turns out I kind of like it.” “Is that right?” My voice wavered slightly. “Did you… used to like chess? Before?” He paused. A flicker of confusion crossed his eyes. “Before? I can’t remember. Probably not, I’d guess. Otherwise I’d have some memory of it.” He said it so naturally. So easily. And I felt my heart sink — down and down, into something bottomless. This man was not my father. My father, Richard Thorne, could forget the entire world, but he would never forget the guilt he carried for my mother. He would never forget the oath soaked in blood and tears. This man had taken my father’s identity, moved into my father’s care facility, spent my father’s money — and now he wanted to take me too. I pressed my nails into my palms until they dug into the skin. “Maybe so.” I looked down, hiding the cold fury in my eyes. “You should rest. I’ll come see you again soon.”

I couldn’t stand to be there a moment longer. I was afraid that if I looked at him one more time, I’d lose it — I’d lunge forward and tear that fake smile right off his face. I turned and walked out without looking back. The caretaker called after me warmly, “Miss Thorne, won’t you stay a little longer? Mr. Thorne is doing so well today…” I didn’t respond. I walked straight out of the care facility. The sunlight outside was harsh, but I couldn’t feel any warmth in it. What was I supposed to do? I drove straight to the nearest police station. “I need to report a crime!” I rushed into the station and said it to an officer I saw — a man who had just been sitting there with a cup of coffee. He startled and set down his mug. “Ma’am, slow down. Tell me what happened.” “My father — someone is impersonating him! The man in that care facility is not my father!” I was barely making sense, my voice shaking. The officer frowned and gestured for me to sit. “Are you talking about the chairman of Submer Group? Mr. Thorne?” “Yes!” “Miss Thorne, I think you may be exhausted. Mr. Thorne has been monitored by our department since the accident. He lost his memory, yes, but his identity has been verified.” “No! You have it wrong! He’s a fake — he plays chess! He plays chess!” I was clutching at the only proof I had, saying it louder like volume would make them hear me. The officer’s expression shifted to something closer to pity. “Miss Thorne, we understand how difficult this has been since your father’s accident. But the fact that he plays chess now doesn’t prove he’s an impostor. Memory loss can change a person’s personality and habits — which is medically documented.” “But he swore an oath! He swore he would never touch chess again for the rest of his life!” “An oath doesn’t carry legal weight,” the officer said patiently. “And Miss Thorne — when we confirmed his identity, we ran a DNA comparison. The paternity match between him and you came back at 99.99%.” DNA. I went still. How was that possible? If the DNA matched, then… A wild, terrifying thought surfaced in my mind. Was there really someone out there who looked exactly like my father — whose DNA was nearly identical to his? I walked out of the police station in a daze. The city was lighting up around me as evening fell, but I felt more alone and helpless than I ever had in my life. No one believed me. To everyone else, I was just a daughter who’d become obsessive and unhinged after her father’s accident. What was I supposed to do? I drove without thinking and found myself back home almost without realizing it. This was the house I’d lived in with my father for over twenty years. Now it was just me. I went into his study. Everything was exactly the way he’d left it. A financial magazine he hadn’t finished was still sitting on his desk. I sat down in his chair and tried to draw some strength from the familiar things around me. My gaze drifted to a wooden box in the corner of the bookshelf, coated in dust. It was the box my father used to keep his chess set in. After my mother died, that box had never been opened again. Something pulled me toward it. I lifted it down from the shelf. It was heavy, carved with delicate patterns across the lid. I blew off the dust and opened it. Empty. No chess pieces inside. Right. My father had smashed that white jade set with his own hands. I was about to close the lid when something caught my eye. The bottom of the box looked slightly off. I tapped it with my knuckles. A hollow sound came back. A false bottom. My heart started racing. I worked my fingernail into the gap along the edge for what felt like forever, until finally a thin wooden panel came loose. Underneath, resting quietly in the hidden compartment, was a small black USB drive. Attached to it was a tiny label, written in my father’s bold, distinctive handwriting: “The Final Match.”

I held that USB drive in my hand, my palm slick with sweat. “The Final Match.” Those three words felt like a riddle — one pulling me toward the truth hidden behind it. I went straight to my room and plugged the drive into my laptop. It was password protected. I frowned. What would my father use as a password? His birthday? My mother’s? Their wedding anniversary? I tried every number I could think of. Wrong every time. I slumped back in my chair. “The Final Match…” If it was connected to a match, maybe the password was connected to chess too. Something came back to me. The day my mother died, my father had been in the middle of a game. He printed out the game record afterward and kept it tucked inside his favorite chess book. He said he wanted to remember that day forever. To remember what his mistake had cost. I went back to the study and pulled 《Silman’s Complete Endgame Course》from the shelf. I opened it. A slightly yellowed piece of paper slid out. On it was a printed game record — a complex position, the final move showing the black king caught with no escape. At the bottom, in handwriting, a single line: “Rook to f 6. No way back.” My father’s handwriting. My heart lurched. What if… I went back to my laptop and typed the combination into the password field: rooktof6. Enter. The drive unlocked. My heart was hammering as I opened the single folder inside. There was no bombshell confession. No final message. Just a dense collection of Excel spreadsheets and financial reports. I went through them one by one, frowning at the screen. Most of it looked like standard Submer Group accounting. But several files had been flagged in red. I clicked one open. It was a record of a massive overseas investment — the recipient, an offshore company I had never heard of. And in the signature field, the name of the person who had authorized the transfer was one I recognized immediately: Victor Cross. Vice chairman of Submer Group. My father’s most trusted business partner. I’ve always had a deep respect for him. My head went blank. After my father’s accident, Victor had been the one who stepped in without missing a beat — steadying the company, reassuring the shareholders, keeping everything from falling apart. Everyone had praised him. Said he was loyal, capable, the backbone of Submer Group in a crisis. I had always been grateful to him. But now, these files — the ones my father had gone out of his way to encrypt and hide — felt like ice water poured straight over me. My father had been investigating him. Before the accident, my father had already been building a case against Victor. That was not a coincidence. I copied every flagged file onto my own computer and wiped the USB drive. When it was done, I felt completely hollowed out. A terrible suspicion had taken shape inside me: My father’s accident was no accident. And the man impersonating him was almost certainly working with Victor. I went back to the police. This time, I didn’t say a word about chess or oaths. I handed the police the suspicious financial records directly and laid out my theory plainly: there were serious financial irregularities inside Submer Group, Vice Chairman Victor Cross was a strong suspect for embezzlement, and my father’s car accident might be connected to all of it. The same officer from last time. When he saw what I’d brought, his expression changed. “Miss Thorne, we’ll open a formal investigation immediately. But until we have solid evidence, please don’t do anything that might tip them off.” I nodded. “I understand.” I didn’t go home when I left the station. I got in my car and drove somewhere else.

Back to the mountain road where my father’s accident happened. It was a remote stretch of highway. Barely any traffic at the best of times. The official conclusion had been that the road was slick from rain and my father lost control of the car. Looking at it now, that conclusion had more holes in it than I could count. My father had been driving for decades. No matter how bad the road conditions, he wouldn’t make a mistake like that. I parked on the road and looked down through the gap in the guardrail. A cliff dropped away below — dozens of meters down, thick with trees. That was where his car had gone over. He was found with severe head trauma, unconscious, and rushed to the hospital. I started picking my way down the slope. I wanted to see the scene of the accident up close. Maybe something had been missed. The ground was slippery. I fell several times, getting mud on my pants and hands. After about fifteen minutes, I reached the base of the cliff. His car — a black Bentley — had long since been towed away. All that remained was some broken debris and a long scar scraped into the earth. I searched the area carefully, not leaving a single corner unchecked. But aside from the wreckage and some crushed brush, I found nothing. The light was fading. Wind came down from the mountain, cold against my skin. I was about to give up when I noticed a small village not far off. A few lights glowed in the windows, still and quiet. A thought flashed through my mind. The accident happened in such an isolated spot. If anyone had witnessed something that night, it would have been someone from that village. I decided to try. I walked toward the lights. Near the entrance to the village, an elderly man sat on a stone step, smoking a pipe. I approached and greeted him politely. “Excuse me, sir. I was hoping you could help me with something.” He looked up, studying me with clouded eyes. “What is it?” “A while back — on the night it rained heavily — there was a car accident up on the mountain road. Do you remember that?” The elderly man took a long drag from his pipe and nodded slowly. “That black car that came off the mountain. Terrible fall. Didn’t know if whoever was inside lived or died.” My breath caught. “Were you… there at the time? Did you see anything?” The elderly man squinted, as if pulling something up from his memory. “Rain was too heavy for me to go out. But I heard something.” “What did you hear?” “Arguing.” He paused. “Two men. Going at it hard. One of them kept shouting something like ‘you can’t do this.’” Two men. The air went out of my lungs. “Could you see what they looked like?” The old man shook his head. “Too dark. pouring rain. Couldn’t make them out.” He paused. “Though there was something strange.” “What was strange?” “The two of them…” He tilted his head. “Their voices sounded exactly the same.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “433315”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster