Author: Momo Chan

1 I was famous across our rural countryside for two things: my striking looks and my utterly unyielding temper. During the summer after high school graduation, a group of pampered rich kids arrived in our small farming town for some “rural life experience.” The ringleader of the group was a blonde heiress who pinched her delicate nose, wrinkled her brow, and sneered at my family’s farm. “Why are there filthy, stinking pigs here? How am I supposed to stay a soft, fragrant fairy princess in a dump like this?” She turned her glares toward me. “Hey, pig-girl! I’m giving you half a day to get rid of every single one of these beasts.” I didn’t even blink. “Are you out of your mind?” Her face instantly flushed bright red. She stomped her designer heels, shrieking like a spoiled brat. “How dare a peasant talk back to me?! I want you to slash your own ugly face right now and kneel down to apologize!” “Otherwise, I’ll have my parents buy this land and tear this dump to the ground!” She gestured wildly, and her group of silver-spoon lackeys immediately surged forward to surround me. Just as I prepared to bolt, the smallest piglet in the pen met my gaze through the wooden slats. [Don’t run! Piggy knows the truth! You’re the real rich heiress who got swapped at birth! That fake fairy princess is an imposter!] … I froze dead in my tracks, wondering if the trauma of farm work had finally driven me insane. Since when could pigs speak human language? Before I could process the surreal voice in my head, the lackeys closed in. The tallest guy reached out, grabbing me roughly by the collar. I instinctively dodged to the side, but he snatched a long-handled wooden feed ladle resting against the trough and slammed it straight onto the back of my head. Black spots danced across my vision. My knees buckled, and I crashed heavily into the dirt. They dragged me out of the pen into the open yard. Kate, the spoiled heiress, bent down and pinched my chin with manicured nails. “You really thought you could defy me?” she hissed. “Nobody speaks to me like that. A filthy creature like you doesn’t deserve a face like this.” “I’m going to ruin it right now so you can never show yourself in public again!” She grabbed a sharp piece of gravel from the ground and lowered it toward my cheek. The jagged edge gleamed coldly in the sunlight, less than two inches from my left eye. I reached back with a trembling hand, feeling thick, warm blood coating the back of my scalp. I was too dizzy to push her off. Just as the stone came rushing down, a sudden force shoved Kate backward. My younger brother stood over me, glaring nervously at my face. “Don’t touch her face!” he yelled. “Dad said we need her looks to secure a massive dowry from the town butcher!” Kate stumbled, barely catching her balance. Her face contorted with rage as she pointed a manicured finger at us. “You savage hillbillies!” My brother picked his ear casually. “Get lost.” Kate was ready to explode, but my adoptive father came running out from the barn, placing himself protectively in front of my brother. He glares sternly at the wealthy girl’s furious face. Kate trembled with rage, but realizing she was outnumbered on local turf, she swallowed her anger. Then her eyes drifted over to the shivering little piglet huddled in the corner of the pen, and a cruel spark lit up her eyes. “Well, that piglet looks soft and clean. I bet it’ll taste delicious roasted.” She turned to her lackeys. “Slaughter it! I want suckling pig for dinner tonight!” The piglet in the pen shook violently, pressing itself into the fence corner, its tiny hooves trembling on the mud. Its dark, bead-like eyes locked onto mine, filled with raw terror and desperate pleading. Then, a sharp, clear squeak echoed directly inside my brain. [Save Piggy, big sister! Piggy can help you reclaim your true family so you don’t get sold off for a dowry!] My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. Real family? If I found my real parents, I could go to college. I wouldn’t be forced into an arranged marriage to line my adoptive family’s pockets! A sudden surge of adrenaline surged through my veins. I turned, leaped over the wooden fence, scooped the trembling piglet into my arms, and took off running for my life. Behind me, Kate’s hysterical shrieks cut through the farm air. “Catch her! Bring me that pig and drag that peasant back here!” A dozen heavy, chaotic footsteps thundered behind me, accompanied by furious curses. But I knew every alley, ditch, and shortcut in this town. After ducking through a dozen sharp turns, the shouts behind me finally faded into the distance. I slumped against a stone wall, catching my breath. But before I could even wipe the sweat from my brow, I ran right into my adoptive grandmother. She dropped her basket of beans, her withered fingers digging into my arm like iron claws. Pain shot up my elbow. “Brenda, you worthless brat!” she bellowed. “Instead of feeding the livestock, you’re running around slacking off?! Why did you steal that piglet? Were you planning to slaughter it and eat it yourself?!” Her shrill voice echoed down the dirt road, acting like a beacon for the group chasing me. Within seconds, a dozen richly dressed teenagers rounded the corner, storming toward us. Seeing the crowd of wealthy city kids, my grandmother’s wrinkled face instantly melted into a subservient, fawning grin. Her spine bent low. “Well hello, honored guests! Is there anything this old woman can do for you rich folks?” Before she could finish, Kate stomped up, out of breath, looking disheveled and furious. “Get out of my way, you filthy old hag!” Kate snarled. “That little thief ruined my clothes! I want her on her knees begging for mercy! Then slaughter that pig, roast it, and serve it to me on a platter!” My grandmother’s small, calculating eyes narrowed into slits. She rubbed her gnarled fingers together, her dry lips stretching into a greedy grin. “Of course, young lady! But… how much is that worth to you?” Kate let out a sneer of utter contempt. She reached into her designer handbag, pulled out a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills, and tossed them carelessly into the air. “Is that enough? Now beat her up for me!” My grandmother’s eyes went wide. She dropped to her knees, scrambling through the dirt to gather every last bill, shoving them frantically into her apron pocket. She straightened up, turning her gaze onto me. The brown-nosing smile vanished, replaced by pure ferocity. “Did you hear the young lady?! Hand over the pig, Brenda! Don’t ruin our family’s payday!” She reached out to snatch the piglet from my arms, her sharp fingernails scratching a bloody streak across my cheek. The piglet squealed in terror, thrashing its tiny legs wildly in my arms. The frantic voice cried out in my head again. [Piggy’s grandpa pig saw it years ago! Your adoptive mother brought you back from the city when you were a baby!] My eyes widened in shock. Instinctively, I hugged the piglet tightly against my chest. “Grandma, no! If we raise this pig, it’ll be worth way more money later! You can’t kill it now!” My grandmother’s face darkened. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and delivered a harsh slap across my face. “You stubborn brat! You dare talk back to me?!” The blow forced my head to the side, my cheek burning like fire. I spat out a mouthful of blood, squeezed my eyes shut, and played my final card. “I’ll agree to marry the wealthy butcher’s son! But only if I get to keep this piglet as my personal property!” The local butcher was offering a fifty-thousand-dollar dowry to marry me off to his half-witted son. My grandmother had been dying to get her hands on that money for months, but I had fought it tooth and nail, even running to the local police station twice to report them. Now, I was giving in. My grandmother froze, her jaw dropping before a wide, greedy grin spread across her face. She turned around, waving her hand at Kate dismissively. “Sorry, little miss. The pig stays. It’s worth fifty grand now.” Kate flushed with humiliation, pointing a manicured finger at my face. “You disgusting country trash! Filthy, poor, and cheap! You literally sold yourself for fifty grand!” I didn’t utter a word. I just clutched the piglet closer, my nails digging into my palms until they bled. Fearing I might change my mind, my grandmother shoved me roughly toward our house. “Get going! Stop embarrassing us out here!” I bolted back home, pushing open the squeaky wooden door to find my adoptive mother resting in bed, looking pale and feverish. [That’s her! Piggy’s grandpa was right!] the piglet squeaked excitedly in my arms. [She worked as a live-in nanny in the city when she was young! When she brought you back, you were wearing a golden wave-patterned locket around your neck!] I sat on a rickety chair by the bed, my knuckles turning white as I gripped my jeans. “Mom… when you worked as a nanny in the city eighteen years ago… did you swap me with your boss’s baby?” My adoptive mother, who had been leaning weakly against the headboard, froze. Her dull eyes opened wide in utter horror. She scrambled up in panic, her elbow knocking against her pillow. A small, golden locket slid out from underneath the fabric. The piglet wriggled frantically in my arms, almost tumbling out of my grip. [That’s it! That’s the golden locket! Look closely at the back, there’s a tiny hidden mechanism!] I snatched the golden locket before my adoptive mother could reach it. My fingers traced the intricate edge until I felt a microscopic seam. I pressed down firmly. A faint red light flickered from the center. My heart leaped into my throat. I clamped my hand around the locket and shoved it deep into my pocket. My adoptive mother opened her mouth, but no words came out. She simply turned her face away, leaving me with her pale, guilty profile. There was no need to ask anything else. Her reaction confirmed everything. Right then, Kate’s sharp, impatient voice echoed from the front yard. “Brenda! You got mud all over my clothes earlier! Get out here and wash them right now!” I pushed the door open and stepped outside. Kate glanced at my mud-stained hands and let out a disdainful scoff. “Look at how filthy you are. Who knows what kind of bacteria you’re carrying? You’re not worthy of touching my designer clothes. Scrub your hands clean first!” The moment she finished speaking, her two lackeys grabbed my arms, shoving my hands forcefully into a bucket of boiling water my grandmother had just prepped for farm work. Scalding heat hit my skin instantly. Sharp, agonizing pain exploded through my hands, making my whole body violently shudder. I instinctively tried to pull back. But the two guys clamped down on my wrists like iron vises, pinning me in place. Kate stood three paces away, arms crossed, tilting her head as she admired my reddening hands in the steaming bucket. “Does it feel nice? I’m helping you sanitize, you know. You should be thanking me.” Every muscle in my body strained against their grip. My fingers throbbed painfully in the hot water, tiny blisters already forming on the surface of my skin. I gritted my teeth, raised my chin, and stared directly into Kate’s arrogant eyes. “What if one day… you discover that you’re actually the filthy country trash you look down on so much? What will you do then?” Kate frowned in disgust, letting out an amused laugh. “Are you delusional? People are born into their status. I was born noble, destined for luxury.” “And you? You were born worthless. You belong in the mud, feeding pigs and serving others for the rest of your pathetic life.” Just as the words left her mouth, the phone in her designer bag rang. She glanced at the screen, answering it with a careless, confident smile. But whatever the person on the other end said caused her smile to freeze instantly. Her face flushed crimson, and she screamed into the receiver, “What do you mean?! I am the only daughter in this family! Where the hell did a younger sister come from?!” Her expression twisted into pure rage. She slammed the phone off and hurled it directly at my face. The heavy smartphone struck my forehead, leaving a painful, throbbed red mark. Yet, despite the pain, a slow smile broke across my lips. A younger sister? If Kate knew that the “long-lost daughter” her parents were searching for was standing right in front of her, being tormented by her hands… And that she was nothing more than an imposter living on stolen time… I wondered what kind of face she would make. Seeing my smile, Kate completely lost her mind. She shrieked, raising her sharp designer heel and kicking me viciously in the leg. Pain flared through my knee, making my vision go dark. I lost my balance and crashed hard into the damp earth. But she wasn’t done. She stepped forward, using her mud-caked heel to press down on the back of my head, shoving my face directly into the cold, foul mud. Wet dirt filled my mouth and nose, suffocating my breathing with a metallic, earthy stench. I clawed wildly at the ground, but my fingers only found cold, rotting slush. Kate towered over me, applying more weight to her heel, grinding my face deeper into the dirt. “Laugh! Why aren’t you laughing now?!” “Let me tell you something! Even if my parents really found some long-lost brat, she won’t take a single thing away from me!” “As for you, a filthy pig-girl, you’ll never rise above the gutter!” Cold sweat drenched my spine, my throat choking on mud. Kate finally lifted her foot, wiping off imaginary dust from her hands. She looked around the yard, her shrill voice echoing. “Where did that little piglet go?! I’m going to have it slaughtered and roasted right now!” “When my parents get here, forget fifty thousand dollars. Even if it costs half a million, I can afford it!” Two lackeys dragged the squealing piglet out from the house. Tears dripped from its tiny dark eyes. I let out a muffled roar, trying with everything I had to crawl toward it. But the two guys pinned my shoulders to the ground, trapping me completely. Kate didn’t care about the dirt this time. She picked up a rusted, muddy cleaver resting on the wooden bench. She pressed the cold edge of the blade against the piglet’s thin leg. Just as she prepared to swing it down… The deafening roar of a luxury car engine thundered from the dirt road, coming to a sudden halt right outside our wooden gate. Kate panicked, dropping the cleaver to the ground. Released from the pressure, I dragged myself forward, scooping the terrified piglet back into my arms, tears finally spilling past my mud-stained cheeks. All my life, I had never been able to protect anything I cared about. Not my childhood toys, not the food in my bowl, not even my right to go to school without relying on charity. But this time, I had saved it. The piglet raised its tiny hoof, awkwardly trying to wipe the tears from my cheeks. [Don’t cry, big sister! When you were brought to this family as a baby, you had a tiny crescent birthmark on your collarbone! Show your real parents when they walk in!] The heavy car doors opened. An elegantly dressed man and woman stepped out, panic etched across their faces. The wealthy woman rushed straight toward Kate, her hands trembling. “Kate! Have you seen a girl your age in this town?” “Your father and I tracked the signal on your lost sister’s golden locket. It shows she’s right here in this village!” My heart hammered against my ribs. I made a move to step forward. Suddenly, my adoptive mother rushed out from the house, grabbed my arm, dragged me roughly back inside the dark hallway, and clamped her hand tightly over my mouth. Kate pouted, staying silent. Just then, my adoptive grandmother walked into the yard carrying a bundle of firewood. The wealthy woman rushed over, grabbing her hands desperately. “Ma’am, do you have an eighteen-year-old granddaughter living here?” My grandmother’s eyes flickered with greed, but she shook her head dismissively. “No, no such girl here.” The woman’s face paled with deep disappointment. She turned, preparing to leave. In that fleeting second, I snapped. I bit down hard on my adoptive mother’s hand. The moment she cried out and loosened her grip, I burst through the door into the sunlight. Because I ran so fast, my collar slipped, exposing the crescent birthmark on my collarbone. The golden locket tumbled out of my pocket, landing with a crisp metallic click on the stone path. The wealthy couple froze. Their eyes turned blood-red with emotion as they rushed toward me, wrapping me in a fierce, trembling embrace. “Our baby girl… We finally found you…” Meanwhile, Kate stood frozen in place, her arrogant facade completely shattering.

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1 I earned a six figure salary working as an undercover handler for an elite heiress. My sole job was using love to tame her rebellious younger sister. For three years, my performance record remained flawless. Until tonight, when she shoved me aside at the canyon raceway for a boy in a crisp white shirt. My stomach dropped. Not from heartbreak, but from the agonizing thought of losing my double paycheck. Without hesitation, I turned around and submitted my resignation directly to her older sister. Three minutes later, the elder heiress personally locked down the entire raceway. The night wind sweeping through the canyon pass was freezing, making my eyes water. I took advantage of the momentum, squeezing out two tears while clutching tightly onto the sleeve of Stacey’s racing suit. “Stacey, don’t go.” I squeezed my throat, making my voice tremble with delicate perfection. “This mountain road is too dangerous, and I am genuinely terrified.” I knew this routine by heart. For three years, whenever my eyes turned red, that stubborn mule Stacey would instantly soften up. She would curse under her breath, toss her car keys away, shove me into the passenger seat, and take me home for a cup of warm milk. Except tonight was different. Stacey did not wrap her arms around me like she used to. Instead, her brow furrowed. Her gaze drifted right past my shoulder, landing on the far corner of the bleachers. I glanced over my shoulder, following her eyes, and cursed under my breath. Standing in the shadow of the bleachers was a young man. He wore a faded white cotton shirt, completely unadorned. Amidst the crowd of slicked-back hair and designer suits, he looked like a innocent sapling swaying in the wind. The worst part was his expression. It was thirty percent stubborn, thirty percent unyielding, and forty percent ready to die for a cause. We were doomed. Alarm bells blared in my head. He had activated the heiress’s true love trope. “Felix, be good.” Stacey peeled my fingers off her suit. Her grip was not painful, but it was absolute. She carelessly placed a cigarette between her lips, leaning close to me with a wicked, predatory smirk. “Relax, your girl can handle a car. I have to win tonight’s prize.” I looked toward the direction her finger pointed. The so-called prize was that boy in the white shirt. Word on the street was that his sister owed loan sharks a massive debt, and he had been dragged to the raceway as a human bargaining chip. Whoever won the race could take him home. What a cliché storyline. What a dramatic, trashy trope. Under normal circumstances, I would grab a bag of popcorn and watch the drama unfold from the curb. But right now, I could not bring myself to smile. Because this meant my personal cash cow was running away. Stacey put on her helmet and climbed into her flashy red sports car without looking back once. The engine let out a deafening roar. Surrounding rich kids erupted into wild cheers. “Stacey is insane!” “Raging through the track for a pretty boy!” “Felix, you are her official boyfriend, but you really can’t keep a leash on your woman, can you?” A few upper-class trust-fund boys who always disliked me sauntered over, spouting cold mockery. I kept my head low, my shoulders shivering uncontrollably. To them, I looked like a heartbroken mess crying his eyes out. In reality, I was desperately holding back a laugh while rapidly running numbers in my head. My name is Felix. I am a professional boy toy. Or more accurately, a wild animal trainer hired at a premium rate by Eileen Sinclair, the eldest daughter of the Sinclair empire. Stacey was the wild animal I was assigned to manage. Three years ago, Stacey was an uncontrollable terror who got into street fights, drag races, and bar brawls every single day. Her grandfather nearly had a heart attack from stress. When Eileen took over the family conglomerate, her very first move was to clean up the household. But running a multi-billion dollar enterprise left her with zero time to baby her rebellious teenage sister. So, she sought me out. “I will pay you fifty thousand a month.” Eileen had sat behind her leather executive desk, sliding a contract across the polished wood with icy composure. “Your mission is to make her fall in love with you. Then, use that romantic devotion to keep her in line. No drag racing, no brawls, no landing in the tabloids. Once she graduates university and enters the firm smoothly, you get a five million dollar final bonus in one lump sum.” I stared at the row of zeros and signed my name on the spot. Are you kidding me? Fifty thousand a month base pay! That did not even include the watches, shoes, and pocket money Stacey showered on me. Taking two salaries at once was the absolute peak of corporate employment. For three years, I worked tirelessly. I played the role of a gentle, attentive, hopelessly fragile college student, driving Stacey completely crazy for me. For my sake, she quit smoking and drinking. She even dyed her neon hair back to natural black. She picked me up from class on time every day and spent weekends sitting quietly beside me in the library. The entire social elite rumored that the wild second daughter of the Sinclairs had been tamed by a commoner boy. Eileen was extremely satisfied with my performance, even handing out year-end bonuses twice. Stacey was only six months away from graduation. That five million dollar bonus was practically waving at me from the finish line. And then tonight, for some ungodly reason, she insisted on hitting the canyon pass with her degenerate friends, stumbling straight into Vincent, the innocent white-shirt boy. The red sports car launched forward like an arrow, its taillights cutting a red streak through the darkness. I let out a soft sigh, dropping the tearful act instantly. Reaching into my bag, I pulled out my backup phone, opened an encrypted chat, and located the plain black avatar. “Boss, we have an emergency,” I typed rapidly. “Target Two has encountered an uncontrollable emotional variable. In layman’s terms, she fell for someone else. My tears no longer work. To avoid an embarrassing dismissal, I am applying for immediate termination of contract. Resignation has been sent to your email. How will this month’s salary and severance be calculated?” After sending the text, I exhaled deeply. A professional must know when to hold on and when to let go. Losing the five million bonus stung, but I had saved plenty over the last three years. It was more than enough to buy a villa in my hometown and retire comfortably. The phone vibrated. Eileen replied within seconds. Her message contained only one word. “Location.” I blinked in surprise, quickly dropping a pin of the raceway. No further response came. I leaned against the bleacher railing, staring bored into the freezing canyon air, pondering how to wrap things up. Stacey winning the race was a foregone conclusion. She was a former semi-professional track champion. When she returned triumphantly with her new boy, what posture should I adopt? Should I hysterically demand why she betrayed me? Or should I play the strong, heartbroken martyr who wishes her well before slipping away quietly? Which act would yield a higher break-up payout from her? While I was calculating the odds, a roaring engine echoed from the end of the canyon pass. The red sports car crossed the finish line first, pulling off a slick drift before stopping right in the middle of the crowd. Stacey pushed the door open and stepped out. She pulled off her helmet, running a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. That arrogant, wild demeanor was admittedly attractive to younger boys. The crowd burst into loud cheers. The organizers who set up the wager walked forward with sour expressions. “You won,” the leader gritted out. Stacey smirked coldly. She walked straight to the corner of the bleachers, grabbing Vincent by the wrist. “He is coming with me. His sister’s debt is cleared.” Vincent struggled against her grip, failing to break free. He raised his head, glaring at Stacey with reddened eyes. “I don’t need your pity! I will pay off my sister’s debt myself!” What a line. Absolutely classic. Stacey clearly ate it right up. The grin on her face deepened. “Pay it yourself? With what? From today on, you belong to me. Be good, and don’t make me angry.” I watched from the sidelines with immense satisfaction, almost wanting to play background music for them. Until Stacey dragged Vincent along, striding straight toward me. The air around us instantly dropped to dead silence. Everyone focused on me with eager eyes, waiting for a pathetic show. I quickly pinched my own thigh hard, forcing a fresh pair of tears to weld in my eyes. “Stacey…” I lowered my head slightly, my voice trembling, eyes filled with shattered emotion. “Who is he?” Stacey looked at me, a brief flash of guilt flickering across her eyes before cold indifference replaced it. “Felix, let’s break up.” Her tone was as casual as discussing the weather. “I treated you well over the past three years. I bought you everything you wanted. You should be satisfied. I realized tonight that what I felt for you wasn’t love. I just liked how obedient you were.” She tightened her grip on Vincent’s hand. “Until I met him, I didn’t know what real sparks felt like.” I barely suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. Lady, you met him for the first time tonight! What on earth do you mean by real sparks? You were captivated by his looks, plain and simple. Stop dressing it up as grand romance. Still, I had to finish my scene. I stumbled back two steps, my face pale, looking as if I might collapse at any second. “I don’t believe you…” I bit my lip tightly, letting fat tears roll down my cheeks. “You said you would marry me! You promised we would get married right after graduation!” Stacey frowned, showing her impatience. “Felix, stop making a scene. Let’s part on good terms. Tomorrow, I will have my assistant transfer two million to your account. The downtown apartment is yours as well. Don’t come looking for me again.” Two million dollars plus a downtown luxury apartment! My heart sang with pure joy. This was a massive win! The severance pay from the boss combined with the breakup payoff from the sister meant instant financial freedom! Just as I was preparing to take the exit ramp, crying hysterically while running off into the night, a massive roar descended from above. Violent wind swept across the ground, blowing sand and gravel into everyone’s eyes. Everyone looked up in sheer horror. Three black helicopters hovered directly above the raceway. Heavy spotlights cut through the darkness like blinding blades, illuminating the entire venue bright as day. Immediately after, a dozen black Maybachs roared up from both ends of the canyon road. The screeching of tires echoed together, completely blocking every exit from the raceway. Panic broke out through the crowd. “What is going on?” “Is it a police raid?” “Look at those license plates!” Stacey’s face drained of color. She instinctively pulled Vincent behind her back, staring fixedly at the central Maybach. The car doors opened. Dozens of bodyguards in black suits and earpieces filed out, quickly forming two disciplined lines. A woman in a tailored black trench coat stepped out of the vehicle. She was tall, with sharp, striking features. Her eyes radiated an overwhelming authority that instantly brought the surrounding temperature down to freezing. Eileen Sinclair. My cold, ruthless capitalist employer. She actually showed up in person? I froze in place, entirely forgetting to fake my tears. Eileen stepped forward, her high heels making heavy, deliberate sounds against the asphalt. She did not even glance at the trembling rich kids around her, walking straight in our direction. Stacey swallowed hard, her voice tight. “Sister…” “Why are you here?” She assumed Eileen came to drag her home. After all, the family rules were strict. Drag racing and taking home a random boy at midnight would result in severe punishment if their grandfather found out. Stacey set her jaw, standing tall. “Sister, I take full responsibility for this. I started it tonight. It has nothing to do with Vincent. Take it out on me, but leave him alone!” Her dramatic, protective stance almost gave her a heroic aura. Vincent hid behind her, staring at Eileen with deep suspicion and hostility, as if looking at a villain tearing lovers apart.

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1 After gaining eighty pounds from severe hormone treatments, I became consumed by a suffocating insecurity. Yet my husband, Harry, a star cardiac surgeon, claimed he never cared. Every time he finished a major operation, he brought home a bottle of niche designer perfume for me. An entire wall glistening with fragile glass bottles became the single ray of light in my dull, dark existence. Until the day I dropped off lunch for him at the hospital and overheard him whispering to the new intern in the stairwell. His tone was impossibly gentle. “Being with you brings me a sense of peace and pleasure that nothing else can match.” “My mood was so good today that I bought a bottle of perfume downstairs just to toss it to her. Consider it a cover-up scent for the fat girl.” “Otherwise, going home to a bloated woman who reeks of bitter herbal medicine makes me dread even stepping through the front door.” It turned out that the entire wall of exquisite fragrances was nothing more than a disguise for his shame. That afternoon, I dropped the lunch box, dried my tears, and quietly purchased a single one-way ticket to a city thousands of miles away. … The heavy fire door to the stairwell stood slightly ajar. I crouched in the cold shadow behind it, clamping both hands firmly over my mouth. Because of years spent on high-dose hormone therapy, the backs of my hands were swollen, lined with deep purple stretch marks. On the other side of the door stood the man I had loved for eight years, Harry, chief surgical resident at City First Hospital, alongside the new intern, Serena. They stood dangerously close. Harry’s familiar, soothing voice carried through the gap. “How can I help it when you are so captivating?” Serena let out a coquettish giggle. “Stop it. If you keep acting like this, how are you going to face Virginia when you go home? She still cooks and delivers lunch for you every single day.” My knuckles turned stark white as I gripped the thermal soup container. “Why bring her up and ruin the mood?” Harry let out a soft sigh. “I just buy a bottle of perfume to keep her happy before I head home. That way, she stays devoted enough to take care of my paralyzed mother for free. It saves me hundreds a day in professional nursing costs. It is an incredible deal.” A sudden wave of nausea hit my stomach, forcing me to double over. I waited until the sound of their retreating footsteps faded down the hallway before I dared to breathe normally again. Tears splashed against the purple marks on my swollen skin. I could not speak a single word. Once, I was a skilled surgeon holding a scalpel alongside him. Severe endocrine failure brought on by aggressive fertility treatments caused my weight to skyrocket by eighty pounds. Back then, Harry had taken my hands softly, promising, “Virginia, this counts as an occupational injury. I will take care of you forever. You just stay home, rest, and look after my mother.” Every time he completed a complex procedure, he brought me an expensive bottle of perfume. He used to say, “Virginia, just because you are sick does not mean you should stop being elegant. These scents suit you best.” Deeply moved, I cherished those bottles like sacred treasures, arranging them meticulously across an entire display wall. They became the sole beacon of hope in my quiet, lonely life as a full-time homemaker. In reality, every single bottle was merely a marker of his infidelity, a pathetic veil over his betrayal. Numbly, I knelt down, picking up the shattered pieces of the thermal container from the floor, using my sleeve to wipe away the spilled chicken soup. Then, dragging my heavy, aching body, I shuffled down the stairs step by step. At eight that evening, Harry unlocked the front door. A faint scent of hospital disinfectant clung to him, mixed with a barely noticeable trace of sweet, fruity perfume. Smiling, he walked up to me and, as he always did, pulled an elegant gift box from behind his back. “Virginia, you worked hard today. This is the new limited-edition tuberose. Want to try it?” His eyes beamed with apparent affection. He reached out, gently pinching the soft flesh of my arm. “You seem to have gained a little weight recently. That is fine, extra weight brings good fortune, and it feels nice to touch.” Looking at his handsome face, a surge of revulsion twisted my gut. I avoided his gaze, looking past him toward the perfume display wall in the living room, feeling my throat constrict tightly. “I need to turn my mother-in-law over first,” I murmured, keeping my head low as I bypassed the perfume box and walked straight into his mother’s bedroom. After changing the soiled sheets for my paralyzed, incontinent mother-in-law and washing her clean, I returned to my small study. No screaming. No confrontation. I opened my laptop and clicked on an email that had been sitting untouched in my inbox for a month. It was an acceptance letter from a top international medical research institute for a specialized critical care rehabilitation program. Taking a deep breath, I clicked the button to confirm my enrollment. Late at night, Harry was fast asleep. I sat in front of the computer screen, entering a complex password to open an encrypted file folder. Inside lay the extensive pathology data and manuscript drafts for a major cardiovascular research paper that I had been secretly organizing and writing for Harry over the past six months. My body might have been broken, and my hands might no longer hold a scalpel, but my mind was completely intact. Whenever Harry encountered an academic bottleneck, he would wrap his arms around me, softly begging me, his former top-ranking classmate, to lend him a hand. Believing we were a team, I endured endless sleepless nights, polishing this groundbreaking manuscript until it was flawless, enough to secure him an associate professorship. The next morning, when I emerged from the kitchen carrying breakfast, Harry was sitting at the dining table in high spirits, flicking through the latest issue of the National Medical Journal. “Virginia, the new issue arrived. Take a look.” He smiled, sliding the magazine across the table toward me and thoughtfully pulling out a chair. Wiping the moisture from my hands, I opened the table of contents with quiet anticipation. However, the moment my eyes landed on the primary author credit, the blood in my veins ran ice cold. The name printed there was not Harry, nor was it mine. It read three agonizing words: Serena Lin. Harry walked up behind me, gently wrapping his arms around my waist, his voice dripping with smooth affection. “You saw it?” My voice sounded dry and hollow. “Why is she listed as the primary author? This paper belonged to…” “Virginia,” he interrupted smoothly. “Serena is a very hardworking intern. She is preparing for her board certification and desperately needs a high-impact publication under her name. I am already an attending surgeon. Giving her this credit is just my way of mentoring a junior colleague.” He dropped a light kiss onto my cheek. “Besides, you have been out of the field for so long. What use do you have for a meaningless title anyway? Why draw such sharp lines between husband and wife?” He used my blood, sweat, and tears to pave a golden path for his mistress, dressing it up as professional generosity. I lowered my eyes, gazing at the printed name, feeling as though a dull blade were slowly carving through my chest. Then, he pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it. Inside lay a thick, heavy, incredibly tacky solid gold bangle. Grabbing my hand, he forcibly crammed the bangle over my hand. The cold metal dug brutally into the soft flesh of my swollen wrist, leaving a deep red mark. “I saw this at the jeweler and knew it was perfect. The heavy gold weight matches your prosperous figure.” He studied it with a warm smile. “Do not let a silly academic title make you jealous. You are the real Mrs. Harry. Everything I earn belongs to you anyway.” What was this supposed to be? A gold chain to keep a loyal dog tethered? Staring at the ridiculous gold band on my wrist, I calmly used my other hand to slide it off, placing it directly over the open magazine. “It is too heavy. It gets in the way of housework,” I said softly. The smile on Harry’s face stiffened. His brows knit together slightly. “You simply do not know how to enjoy the finer things. Whatever. Drink the herbal medicine I bought yesterday, fix your body, and let us focus on having a baby soon.” He picked up the bowl of dark, foul-smelling liquid and pushed it toward my lips. The scent was pungent and stomach-churning. I had swallowed this bitter brew for three agonizing years, destroying my metabolism and stripping away every shred of my dignity. I lifted my head, looking straight into his deceptive eyes. Then, right in front of him, I took the bowl and poured every drop of the black liquid straight down the kitchen sink. The dark whirlpool swallowed the herbal dregs, swirling out of sight down the drain. Harry froze, completely stunned. Before he could unleash his anger, my phone vibrated in my apron pocket. It was an email from the overseas institute: “Dr. Virginia, congratulations on passing the secondary review. Please confirm your start date as soon as possible.” Turning around, I set the empty bowl on the counter, my voice devoid of any emotion. “I am done drinking it. It is too bitter.” I walked back into my study, locked the door, and booked a one-way flight to the other side of the ocean, set for two weeks later. Those two weeks passed in a blur of numbness. The hospital’s annual gala was held at a five-star hotel downtown. As Harry’s wife, my attendance was mandatory. I searched through my closet, failing to find a single formal dress that could fit my swollen frame. In the end, I settled for a loose, plain black dress, attempting to use the dark fabric to hide the heavy layers of weight. As I stepped toward the banquet hall entrance, the head nurse greeting guests failed to recognize me. She offered a warm, polite smile. “Dr. Harry, did you bring your mother’s caretaker along for dinner? The staff table is right over there by the side.” A quiet hush fell over the surrounding crowd. Several passing doctors struggled to hide their snickers. Without missing a beat, Harry casually rested his hand near my shoulder. “Sister Zhang, you are mistaken. This is my wife, Virginia.” “Oh, goodness! My apologies! Mrs. Harry keeps such a low profile, my eyesight must be failing me,” the nurse offered a nervous, embarrassed chuckle. Harry smiled gently, saying it was no trouble at all. Yet, the hand resting on my shoulder pulled back almost instantly. This move, framed as a polite rescue while subtly solidifying my image as an unpresentable housewife, was far more humiliating than an outright insult. Shortly after we sat at the head table, the heavy entrance doors swung open again. Serena glided into the hall wearing a shimmering mermaid gown that hugged her curves, stepping gracefully in sky-high heels. Every gaze in the room was instantly captured by her slender silhouette. She sauntered over to our table, her voice dripping with sweetness. “Dr. Harry.” Harry stood up naturally, pulling out the chair right beside mine for her, displaying a clear favor meant only for her. I sat squeezed in the middle, looking like a drab, grey wall. When the dinner began, servers brought out the signature steamed crab. Just as I picked up my fork, I watched Harry expertly pick out the sweetest crab meat and roe, arranging it neatly on a small plate before sliding it past me, placing it directly in front of Serena. “Serena spent the last few days pulling back-to-back shifts in the operating room. Her stomach has been sensitive. Eat some high-protein food to recover,” he said with a bright, charming smile. Serena blushed, pretending to decline. “How could I? Dr. Harry, you should eat it yourself.” “You are far too thin. Be good and eat,” he urged, his affectionate tone stinging my eyes like acid. Right at that moment, the hospital director stepped onto the stage, speaking into the microphone. “Tonight, we have a special recognition for Dr. Serena Lin from the cardiology department! Her published paper as primary author has generated incredible praise across the medical community! Let us congratulate this rising star!” A spotlight immediately illuminated our table. Serena covered her mouth in dramatic excitement, standing up to bow to the room before turning to offer a deep, graceful bow directly toward Harry. “Thank you for your guidance, Dr. Harry. This paper would never exist without you.” Cheering applause erupted across the room. The two of them exchanged glances under the bright lights, looking like the ultimate power couple of the medical world. Meanwhile, I, the actual author of that research, remained buried in the shadows, nothing more than a pathetic, invisible background piece. When Harry sat back down, he pulled his admiring gaze away from her. Perhaps realizing the atmosphere was too obvious, he finally remembered my presence beside him. Using the serving chopsticks, he rummaged through a platter of braised pork, picked out a massive, glistening piece of pure fat, and dropped it into my bowl. “Virginia, you love this. Eat more,” he said smoothly. The surrounding female doctors exchanged glances filled with pity and undisguised disgust. That heavy piece of fat was the ultimate mockery of my body, a pathetic crumb of affection tossed to me after his grand celebration. Staring down at the greasy lump sitting in my bowl, acid surged violently up my throat. I set my fork down. “It is a bit stuffy in here. I am going to the restroom.” Ignoring Harry’s surprised look, I pushed my chair back and walked briskly out of the banquet hall. Inside a locked restroom stall, I pulled out my phone and messaged my attorney. “Attorney Ross, you can send over the asset notarization and the draft of the divorce agreement now.” Three days after the banquet, while I was cleaning my mother-in-law, her face suddenly turned blue. She gasped frantically for air, her hands clutching the bedsheets in a violent panic. Acute heart failure! I dialed an ambulance like a woman possessed. Without even changing out of my soiled apron, I boarded the emergency vehicle and rushed straight to the hospital. Registration, payments, pushing her heavy wheelchair through various diagnostic labs. The workload meant for two family members fell entirely on my shoulders alone. When I reached the final blood draw station, days of intense exhaustion combined with low blood sugar triggered by my hormonal imbalance caused my vision to fade to black. My heart hammered violently against my ribs, and my limbs went completely numb. I reached out to grab a nearby support pillar, but my body gave out, crashing heavily onto the hard tile floor as violent spasms gripped my muscles. Through a ringing in my ears, I forced my eyes open, looking past the crowded hallway toward the nursing station in the distance. Harry was standing there in his spotless white lab coat. He was not looking in my direction. Instead, he was holding Serena’s hand with gentle, agonizing care. Serena had lightly scraped her finger on a metal chart holder. Harry’s brows were tightly knit as he carefully applied a small bandage to her paper-thin scratch. “Someone collapsed! Help! Call a doctor!” a patient’s relative nearby shouted in alarm. Hearing the commotion, Harry turned around from the nursing station, his expression shifting to utter shock. He saw me lying helpless on the floor. In that fraction of a second, the tenderness on his face vanished, replaced by sheer embarrassment and a disgust he could barely hide. He walked over quickly, yet he did not perform any basic medical checks on my vital signs. The very first thing he did was rapidly strip off his black suit jacket, tossing it heavily over my sweat-drenched, swollen face. The scent of cheap perfume clinging to his jacket mixed with his sweat, completely cutting off my remaining air. In that exact moment, my heart stopped fighting. My final tolerance snapped completely. After being revived by the emergency nurses, I did not attempt to contact Harry. I quietly pushed his mother, now out of danger, back home. The next morning, under the excuse of attending a high-profile medical conference out of state, Harry boarded a flight with Serena, full of energy and pride. Meanwhile, in the quiet house, I performed one final, thorough cleaning. I signed the divorce papers sent by Attorney Ross, placing them neatly underneath the most expensive, limited-edition perfume bottle on the display wall. Then, I wrote down every single detail regarding my mother-in-law’s medication schedule, turning frequency, and dietary restrictions on sticky notes, plastering them neatly across the wall above her headboard. With everything complete, I gripped the handle of my pre-packed suitcase and closed the front door behind me without a single backward glance. At the airport terminal, the final boarding call for my international flight echoed over the speakers. Suddenly, my phone vibrated violently in my palm. It was Harry. At a moment when he was riding high on a romantic getaway with his mistress, he actually found the time to call me. I pressed answer. Harry’s voice sounded impossibly sweet over the receiver. “Virginia, I am coming back the day after tomorrow. These meetings have been exhausting. Could you simmer that wild ginseng soup I love so we can have it ready when I land?” His tone held a practiced tenderness. “I bought you a silk scarf while I was out, a large size. It will look lovely on you.” Listening to his familiar script, I let out a soft laugh. No screaming. No explosive accusations. I watched the planes taking off past the glass windows, listening to the final call at my gate, and spoke with absolute calm. “Do not bother coming back, and do not bother bringing anything.” “Harry, I am gone.” Before he could offer any response, I ended the call. I popped out the SIM card that had bound me to him for eight long years, snapped it clean in half, and tossed it into the nearest trash bin. Then, gripping my suitcase, I walked straight into the boarding jetway without looking back once.

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1 Valerie had just stepped into the bathroom when her iPad screen lit up on the nightstand. An iMessage preview popped up. Devin: What cheesy line did he send you today? Forward it over quickly, I need a good laugh. I reached out and unlocked the screen. The pinned conversation at the top was not mine. It was Devin. At the top of the chat box sat a screenshot of a text I had sent Valerie earlier that afternoon. Me: A student in class today told me my smile felt really warm. My first reaction was actually wanting to tell you right away. Directly below it was Valerie’s caption to Devin. Valerie: Look at this. Typical desperate puppy behavior. Every single day, reporting every useless little thing to me. Devin: Lmao, crying over tiny nonsense. A grown man with zero ambition! Valerie: Seriously. He has no real talent anyway, I only married him for peace of mind. My heart stopped for a fraction of a second. The love I thought we shared was nothing more than material for her to mock alongside another man. Valerie, my love will never flow toward you again. … I sat on the edge of the bed, my thumb trembling as I kept scrolling through the screen. There was a selfie I had sent Valerie. I was wearing a grey apron with flour smudged across my cheek, taken while I was baking her a birthday cake from scratch. I remembered telling her that day: Wife, this cake is as sweet as you. Valerie had forwarded that exact photo to Devin. Valerie: God save me, this is a total aesthetic disaster. Devin: How do you even manage to put your mouth on him? Valerie: It is all the same once the lights are off anyway. At worst, I just go gag in the bathroom afterward. My fingers went completely numb. The sound of running water in the bathroom ceased. I immediately locked the iPad and placed it back in its exact spot on the nightstand. The door swung open. Valerie walked out, drying her hair with a towel, wearing a lace nightgown. She sauntered over, wrapping her arms around me from behind, resting her cheek against my back. “Babe, I am ovulating today.” Her hands slid around my waist, unbuttoning my shirt. Instinctively, I pulled away. Valerie paused, her brow knotting. “What is wrong?” I leaned over, picked up her robe from the bed, and handed it to her before stepping around her to sit at the desk. “I am exhausted. We had a long school event today.” Valerie stared at me for two long seconds before dropping the subject. She climbed into bed, flicking off the bedside lamp on her side. Turning her back to me, she began typing on her phone. I climbed onto my side of the bed, listening to her breathing grow heavy and slow. When the clock struck one in the morning, I quietly slipped out of bed. I slid the iPad from under her pillow and crept out to the living room. Sitting on the sofa, I opened that chat window, scrolling all the way back to the beginning. The timeline started a year and a half ago. Back then, we were not married yet. She had just transferred to her current corporate firm, suffocating under heavy pressure and constant overtime. I cooked meals for her every day, waiting downstairs to drive her home and keeping her company through late night projects. She had taken a screenshot of a text I sent back then, which read: Do not push yourself too hard, I brewed some warm soup for you. She had forwarded it straight to Devin. Valerie: A twenty-four-seven house husband type. Pity he is as bland as a wooden board with zero romance. He cannot say anything beyond basic domestic fluff. Devin: Sounds like great husband material though, zero drama. Valerie: Yeah, safe. But my heart craves excitement. I am genuinely getting suffocated by him. So she had married me for stability. Not love. I kept scrolling. The first time I tried on my wedding tuxedo, I sent her a photo asking if I looked alright. She had replied to me: So handsome, my husband is the most handsome man in the world. Then she immediately forwarded the photo to Devin. Valerie: The studio photographer went insane with Photoshop. Devin: Even with heavy edits, your husband looks pretty average. How did you settle on him? Valerie: I was in a low spot back then, he stuck around, so I just settled. Staring at the word “settled,” my stomach twisted into a painful knot. I opened the media attachments in the chat. Inside were private, intimate photos I had sent her. Photos that were never meant for anyone else’s eyes. I had shared them with my wife out of complete, unconditional trust. She had forwarded every single one to Devin. Devin: Damn, he actually has an eight-pack. You must be enjoying yourself. Valerie: Please, compared to you, he falls way short. I took screenshots of every single conversation, emailing them to my personal inbox one by one. My hands shook uncontrollably, but my fingers never stopped tapping the screen. By four in the morning, I returned to the bedroom and placed the iPad back where it belonged. Valerie rolled over in her sleep, mumbling softly, “Babe, why are you still awake?” I offered no answer, standing in the dark, looking down at her with cold indifference. She did not wake up. I laid back down, staring at the ceiling until dawn broke. 2 The next morning, Valerie sat at the dining table eating breakfast as usual. I had fried eggs and toasted bread, setting the plate down in front of her. She lifted her head to look at me. “What is up with you today? You seem to be in a terrible mood.” My hand holding the milk carton paused for a fraction of a second. In the past, every single morning, I would smile and say: Good morning, I hope my wife has a wonderful day. She would rarely offer much back, usually just a quiet nod, yet that alone used to make my whole day bright. I pushed the glass of milk toward her. “Nothing.” Valerie took a bite of her toast. “First thing in the morning, what wire crossed in your brain? What are you throwing an attitude for?” I sat across from her, taking a slow sip of milk. “I am not throwing an attitude. I am feeling just fine.” She set her glass down with a sharp thud. “Jonah, you have been acting off since last night. Out with it, how exactly did I offend you?” I lifted my eyes to meet hers. “You are the one acting strange, actually noticing my mood for once.” Valerie frowned tightly. “Stop being sarcastic. If something is on your mind, say it.” I placed my phone flat on the table, displaying the very first screenshot I had taken the night before. The text I sent her: A student in class today said my smile was really warm. My first reaction was actually wanting to tell you right away. Directly beneath it was her message to Devin: Every single day, reporting every useless little thing to me. Valerie’s expression froze instantly, before darkening into sheer anger. “You dared snoop through my private phone?” I replied quietly, “Should you not explain this first?” “I am asking you, what gives you the right to illegally pry into my private chats?” I let out a soft, cold laugh. “I looked at your iPad. It had no password, so I viewed it in plain sight.” Valerie threw her toast back onto the plate. “Jonah, do you have any concept of privacy, boundaries, or personal space?” I did not even bother wasting an expression on her. “I should be asking you that question. My private messages and my intimate photos were forwarded to another man for review. What do you call that behavior?” Valerie stood up, her chair scraping harshly against the floor. “Do not twist the topic! It is your own fault for being nosy. If you had not snooped, you would never have known, and we would not be having this conversation!” She reached out, attempting to snatch my phone off the table. I took a step back, slipping the phone into my bag. “Do not touch it.” Valerie’s hand hovered in midair. “Jonah, you look genuinely disgusting right now.” I looked her dead in the eyes. “As disgusting as I look, it does not hold a candle to what you did.” She pulled at her sleeves, her voice rising. “I was just venting casually to a friend! Do you need to blow this out of proportion? Just because you have no friends does not mean I am forbidden from having them!” “Venting with my private photos?” Valerie went silent for a brief second. Then, she spoke with icy detachment. “If you insist on bringing this up to start a fight, the only person left humiliated will be you.” I said nothing more. Because in that moment, I realized she was not unaware of the pain she caused. She simply believed I did not even possess the right to be angry. A cold war lasted for three full days. I stopped sharing any part of my daily life with her. On the third evening, Valerie returned from work holding a designer shopping bag. I was sitting on the sofa preparing lesson plans. She tossed the bag directly onto the cushion beside me. “I bought this for you.” I opened it up. Inside was a scarf from a clearance rack, the price tag still attached. Nineteen dollars. Once, I had liked a cashmere scarf that cost eighty dollars, but she had dismissed it instantly, saying, “Why does an elementary school teacher need something so expensive? Kids will just ruin it with sticky hands.” Yet, in her chat logs with Devin, I had seen her purchase a five-hundred-dollar designer cologne for him. Devin had asked: Won’t your husband get mad if he finds out? Valerie had replied: He is a clueless idiot, he knows nothing about luxury. I placed the scarf back into the paper bag. “Return it.” Valerie paused her movement of unbuckling her watch. “Jonah, do not push this too far. I bought you a gift, so drop the attitude. Adults need to know when to stop.” I closed my notebook. “And what exactly counts as stopping?” She sat across from me, her face laced with deep impatience. “You are usually way too clingy. What is wrong with me venting a little to a friend?” I stared at her. “How about I take photos of you before you put on makeup, videos of you crying over missed promotions, or clips of you kneeling by the toilet throwing up drunk, and send them to my female colleagues to enjoy? How would you feel about that?” Valerie’s face darkened completely. “You would not dare.” I said, “So you understand that it is wrong.” She picked up a glass of water, taking a quick sip. “Jonah, whether you can get over this or not, it already happened. Saying all this now is completely useless. Are we going to live our lives or not?” My tone remained entirely serene. “No, we are not.” Valerie let out a cold scoff, turning around and walking into the bedroom. Before she slammed the door shut, a sharp sentence echoed from inside. “You are completely unhinged and impossible to talk to.” 3 The next afternoon, just as I finished grading student assignments, my phone vibrated in my pocket. A friend request notification popped up. Verification note: Hey man, it’s Devin. I wanted to talk to you. I hesitated for a few seconds before hitting accept. He sent his first message almost instantly. Devin: Hey man, don’t misunderstand Valerie and me. We are just casual chat buddies. I did not reply. He kept typing. Devin: I don’t really know why she forwarded your texts to me, maybe she just views me as one of the guys. Devin: Women, you know how they are. Most of them just like to talk big. Devin: Valerie told me she really likes how innocent you are, even if you are a bit boring and lack romance. Devin: Honestly, I kind of envy you. Your overall background is pretty average, yet you managed to marry such an accomplished woman. I stood by the back door of the classroom. The children were quietly solving math problems while the air conditioner hummed softly. I typed my response. Me: Did you add me just to say this? Devin replied within seconds. Devin: Not at all, I just wanted to clear things up. Please don’t fight with her because of me. Her current work project is at a critical stage, her mood cannot be disrupted. Me: In what capacity are you trying to manage my wife’s emotions? Me: Also, if an average guy like me could marry an accomplished woman, why couldn’t you? Is it because you fall even shorter than I do? The chat went completely silent for half a minute. The typing indicator flickered continuously, but no new messages came through. I slipped the phone back into my pocket, resuming my walk around the classroom to check on my students. At six in the evening, I arrived home. As the front door opened, Valerie was sitting on the living room sofa, staring down at her phone. Her very first words upon seeing me were, “Did you curse out Devin?” I set my bag down on the entryway console. “He reached out to me first.” Valerie stood up sharply. “He was just trying to be helpful and explain things so our relationship wouldn’t suffer! You took your anger out on him instead? How can you be so ungrateful?” I changed my shoes, closing the cabinet door softly. “He came to provoke me.” Valerie walked up to me. “Jonah, can you stop viewing every single man as an enemy? Devin is not the person you think he is.” I lifted my head to look at her. “How do you know what kind of person he is? Have you slept with him to know him so well?” She choked on her words for a moment, her face flushing with immediate rage. “Go look in a mirror and see how bitter you look right now. You are being utterly malicious.” A faint smile touched the corner of my lips. “Good. After all, I have no friends, I lack worldly experience, I am an aesthetic disaster, and I am simple-minded. Most importantly, I am just the guy you settled for during a low point in your life.” Valerie’s expression shifted drastically. “How much of those chats did you actually read?” “Enough to make me sick for the rest of my life.” She took a step forward. “Did you take screenshots of everything? Delete them right now.” I stepped back, my spine hitting the front door panel. “What are you afraid of?” Valerie lowered her voice. “I do not want this turning into a massive spectacle.” “You were not afraid of a spectacle when you forwarded my life to him?” “I told you, that was just casual banter between friends!” Even now, her excuse remained entirely unchanged. I no longer possessed any desire to argue with her. Opening my bag, I pulled out the printed divorce agreement I had prepared during lunch and handed it to her. “Sign it.” Valerie glanced down at the paper. “Divorce papers?” “Yes.” She let out a dry laugh. “Jonah, are you serious?” “I am in no mood to play games.” Valerie took the papers, flipped through two pages, and tossed them carelessly onto the shoe console. The pages scattered, one fluttering onto the floor. “Divorcing over a few screenshots? Are you five years old? Can you grow up for once?” I bent down, picking up the fallen page. “It is not about a few screenshots. It is about you turning me into a public laughingstock.” “You ARE overly sensitive! More dramatic than a teenager! Every single day whining about nothing, sending useless nonsense! You can send it, but I am forbidden from feeling annoyed by it?” Her words echoed through the room, leaving a dead silence in their wake. I clutched the paper, lifting my eyes to meet hers. “Valerie, say that one more time.” She glared at me. “Every day sending ‘I miss you’, updating me on student drama, what you ate for lunch, flowers blooming on the sidewalk, reporting every single useless detail of your day to me. Jonah, I am busy. I am not a student in your classroom, I do not need you reporting your mundane existence to me all day long.” I said quietly, “You could have chosen not to reply.” “I DID stop replying! Yet you kept sending them anyway!” “So you took screenshots and sent them to others for entertainment?” “I am under immense stress! Am I forbidden from venting?” I neatly reorganized the divorce papers, placing them back into my bag. “You can vent. You did a fantastic job of it.” I turned toward the bedroom. Valerie followed close behind. “What are you doing?” I opened the closet, pulling out my suitcase. Valerie stood at the doorframe, blocking half the exit. “Jonah, can you stop making a scene? I am genuinely exhausted.” “Move aside.” “Where are you going?” “To a friend’s house.” She let out a dismissive scoff. “You actually have a friend willing to take you in?” I rolled my suitcase forward, its wheel bumping against her leg. “At least he will not forward my private words to others for entertainment.” Valerie remained silent for several seconds. Then, she spoke with cold finality. “If you walk out of this door today, we are truly over. I have apologized, I have done everything I should, and my conscience is entirely clear.” She stopped blocking the door. I dragged my suitcase through the hallway, reaching the front entrance. Opening the door, her voice drifted from behind me one last time. “Jonah, the adult world involves plenty of messy realities. You have simply been spoiled by me for too long, completely unaware of how harsh the world really is. Sooner or later, you will regret this!” I turned my head slightly. “My only regret was marrying you.” 4 I moved into the guest room at my best friend Marcus’s apartment. On the morning of the third day, a call came through from an unknown local number. I answered it. A man’s low voice sounded over the line. “Is this Jonah?” “Speaking.” “My name is Brandon. My girlfriend is a close friend of Valerie’s, named Brooke. We have never met, but there is something I need to tell you.” I paused my hand on the mouse, midway through organizing my screenshots. “What is it?” He took a deep breath. “I am not calling to mediate or defend anyone.” “Yesterday, I stumbled upon a group chat on Brooke’s phone titled ‘Valerie’s Post-Marriage Observation Diary’.” I sat up straight instantly. My computer monitor was still displaying the screenshot of Devin’s chat. Brandon continued, “The group consists of Valerie and a few of her close female friends. A huge portion of the texts, photos, and voice notes you sent Valerie were shared inside that chat.” I remained silent. The sound of pages turning came from his end. “I took a few screenshots of the group. I do not know if you are mentally prepared for this.” I gripped my phone tightly. “Please send them to me.” “There are private photos involved.” “Send them.” Brandon paused for a moment. “Jonah, if you ask me, you should file a police report.” After the call ended, a friend request popped up on my messaging app. I accepted it. He immediately sent over a dozen screenshots. The very first image was the group chat homepage. Seven members in total. Valerie had posted a bedtime selfie I sent her once. I had taken it right after a shower, facing the foggy bathroom mirror. My original text to her had read: Wife, I washed up and smell nice, can you come home early today? Valerie’s commentary in the group read: He acts as if he has never seen a woman in his life, like a starved wolf that can never be satisfied. He is draining me completely dry. Brooke’s reply: Your husband is pretty clingy, huh? You can’t tell from the outside, he actually has a great physique. Another member: Valerie sure is lucky. Valerie: Stop it, he is completely average. You can pick up guys like him by the dozen anywhere. The second screenshot showed a voice message I had sent. I remembered that day distinctly. Valerie had not come home for three consecutive nights. I sent her a voice note, my voice raspy with emotion, saying: “Wife, please come home. I miss you so much. I am not asking you to spend every second with me, I just want to know if you still remember that you have a home.” Valerie had forwarded the audio file directly into the group. A group member replied: His crying voice sounds more delicate than a woman’s. Total helpless house husband. Someone dropped a mocking meme. Valerie replied: Not a helpless husband, an absolute idiot. It drives me crazy. I work hard all day, and I still have to go home and nurse an adult baby. The third image was a message of apology I had sent her. I had gotten upset because she forgot our wedding anniversary, only for her to turn it around until I ended up apologizing to her instead. My text read: I am sorry, wife, I was being too dramatic. I know how busy your work is, I will be more sensible from now on. Valerie had posted it into the group. Valerie: Standard procedure for training a dog. Ignore him for two days and he softens right up. A group member replied: Brilliant, taking notes. Staring at the phrase “taking notes,” my fingers froze, unable to tap the next image. Marcus walked out of the kitchen holding a glass of water. “Jonah, what happened?” I handed him the phone. He glanced at just two of the screenshots before slamming his glass down onto the floor. The glass shattered, water spilling everywhere. He cursed loudly, pulling out his own phone. “I am going with you to the police station right now.” A cold numbness crept over my entire body, cold sweat breaking across my forehead. My hands shook so violently I could barely hold the phone steady. I could not bring myself to view the remaining images. I had Marcus save every single record onto a flash drive. In my phone gallery, Valerie’s face, Devin’s profile picture, and the mocking comments from that group of women sat lined up together across the screen. I had assumed my only spectator was Devin. I was wrong. My entire marriage had been treated as a live reality show. Every private detail exposed completely, left open for random strangers to critique and ridicule. Once I regained my composure, I sent a voice note to Brandon. “Thank you, man.” Brandon replied: “No problem, man. I broke up with Brooke today too. Being with a trashy person like that completely disgusted me.” I said, “We both need to keep our eyes open from now on.” Marcus cleaned up the broken glass from the floor, grabbing my coat from the rack. “Let’s go. To the police station.” As I stood up, my phone rang once more. It was Valerie. I stared at her name flashing across the screen for ten seconds before answering. Valerie’s voice sounded laced with impatience. “Jonah, do you really think the world revolves around you? How much longer are you going to drag out this cold war?” I spoke quietly. “Valerie.” “What?” “Those group chats with your friends, have you deleted them clean?” The line went completely dead silent. In the background, I heard someone call out to her, “Valerie, the meeting is starting.” Valerie lowered her voice to a whisper. “Who told you about that?” I said, “So it really wasn’t just Devin.” “Jonah, where are you right now?” I offered no answer. Valerie panicked, her tone dropping into an urgent pitch over the receiver. “Do not do anything reckless! Let’s meet up and talk!” “There is no need. I have already retained an attorney and filed a police report.” I hung up the phone.

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1 It happened when my online girlfriend asked for a photo again. Before I could even react, Hunter Preston, the “Golden Boy” of our dorm, snatched the phone right out of my hand. “You’re a two-hundred-and-sixty-pound human tank, Oliver,” he sneered, his voice loud enough for the entire common room to hear. “The second she sees what you actually look like, she’s going to block you faster than you can finish a bag of chips.” He turned the screen toward himself, flashing that polished, predatory smile of his. “I’ll send her a photo of me instead. That way, you don’t give the poor girl a heart attack.” The guys around us erupted into mocking laughter. “Seriously, Oliver,” one of them chimed in, leaning back in his chair. “Dating online when you’re literally oozing grease? That’s not a relationship; it’s a federal crime of fraud.” I sat there, my fingers digging into the soft rolls of my stomach. I felt the heat rising in my neck, the familiar sting of shame that had become my constant companion. I hesitated, my mind a fog of self-loathing. Maybe Hunter was right. Maybe I should let him be the face of ‘me’ just to keep the dream alive a little longer. But then, the air in front of my eyes flickered. A translucent stream of text—shimmering like a live-stream chat—rippled across my vision. [This ‘human tank’ has no idea. His ‘online girlfriend’ is actually Seraphina Montgomery, the billionaire heiress of the Montgomery shipping empire. She’s famous for being a ‘gold-giver’ who loves spoiling her boyfriends.] [Hunter, our ‘Golden Boy’ protagonist-wannabe, already knows this. He’s been lurking on the same forums. This is his move. He wants to hijack Oliver’s life.] [Once he sends his photo, he’ll replace Oliver at the first meeting. Seraphina is a hopeless romantic; she’ll fall for his face, shower him with millions, and Oliver will be left with nothing but his crumbs.] I froze for exactly one second. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. I didn’t know where these visions came from, but the detail—the name Montgomery—felt too heavy to be a hallucination. I lunged forward, snatching my phone back with a speed that surprised even Hunter. I scrolled past my recent selfies and found a file buried deep in my cloud storage—a photo from three years ago. “No thanks,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “Because when I get back to my fighting weight, I’ll be ten times the man you are.” The room went quiet for a beat before exploding into a fresh wave of derision. “Oliver Bennett, look in a mirror, man! That face is more ham than human!” “You could walk into a slaughterhouse and they’d try to brand you,” Hunter laughed, his eyes glinting with malice. He caught a glimpse of the photo I’d pulled up and his laugh turned into a sharp bark. “Are you high on your own grease? You think some Photoshop from three years ago is going to save you? When she meets the ‘real’ you, she’s going to be more than disappointed—she’s going to be disgusted.” My classmates crowded around, squinting at the screen. In the photo, a sharp-jawed, athletic version of me stood on a track field, eyes bright with a future that hadn’t yet been stolen. “Total fake,” someone muttered. “The features don’t even match. Oliver, get some self-awareness. If you send that, she’ll have you arrested for catfishing when you show up.” They didn’t understand. They didn’t know that three years ago, I was that guy. But then my parents died. A car accident, a rainy Tuesday, a world that suddenly made no sense. Food became my only comfort, my only way to numb the howling silence in our house. Between the grief and the crushing pressure of my Ivy League applications, I had simply let myself go. I ate until I was numb. I became a “happy fat guy” because it was easier than being a “broken orphan.” But I was done being broken. I had made it to university. I had survived. It was time to find the man I used to be. I ignored their jeers, my head down, trying to pick the perfect shot to send to Seraphina. Suddenly, Hunter’s hand blurred. Before I could lock the screen, he wrenched the phone away again. With a few practiced taps, he took a high-res selfie of his own “perfect” face and hit send. “Look, I’m doing you a favor,” Hunter said, tossing the phone back onto my lap. “You’re too ugly to handle this. If you keep hiding, she’ll get bored. Now she thinks she’s dating a stud. You’re welcome.” The shimmering text in the air went wild: [Hunter’s plan is working! Seraphina is going to fall for him the moment she sees that jawline.] [She’s not just rich—she’s a five-foot-nine bombshell with a heart of gold. Giving her to this pig Oliver would be a waste of a goddess.] [Go Hunter! A top-tier heiress deserves a top-tier guy, not a basement dweller.] My stomach sank. I scrambled to unblock the screen, my fingers trembling as I tried to unsend the message. Too late. Seraphina had already replied. Seraphina: “Baby… you’re so handsome. I’m literally staring at my screen. I must have been a saint in a past life to end up with a guy like you!” Hunter didn’t even try to hide his smirk. “Since she likes the photo, just roll with it. If you’re worried about the ending, I can always take your place when it’s time to meet her in person.” “Hunter is such a saint,” someone whispered. “Oliver, don’t be a dick. He’s literally saving your relationship.” I was shaking, not with fear, but with a cold, sharpening rage. I looked at the screen, then at Hunter, then back at the chat. I started typing, my thumbs flying. Me: “Actually, that was a prank. That’s my roommate, Hunter. I sent it by mistake. I just wanted you to see what I’m up against—because honestly? I think I’m way better looking than the campus heartthrob.” I didn’t hesitate. I uploaded the entire gallery of my best “Before” photos—the ones from my athlete days. This time, Seraphina didn’t reply instantly. The silence stretched. My heart was a drum in my ears. Beside me, Hunter was reading over my shoulder, his face twisted in a sneer. “You just killed it, Oliver. You just admitted you’re a liar and sent a bunch of AI-generated fakes. Nice job.” Then, my phone vibrated. An incoming call. Seraphina. I stepped away from the crowd, my heart in my throat, and answered. “Baby…” her voice was a breathy, melodic whisper. “You’re so lean… so elegant. You have this look in your eyes… I can’t even breathe. You are way more handsome than that other guy. I want to see you. Now.” My face flushed a deep crimson. “Wait,” I said, my voice cracking slightly. “Give me until the first day of the fall semester. Three months. Let me get my life in order so I can be the version of myself you deserve.” “Three months?” she squealed on the other end. “Fine! But I’m going to spend that time getting everything ready for you. I’m going to spoil you so hard, Oliver Bennett.” The call ended, and almost instantly, a notification popped up on my banking app. Wire Transfer Received: $50,000.00. Message: For my handsome boy. Buy yourself some new suits and bags. If you run out, just tell me. I stared at the numbers, a dizzying mix of sweetness and terror washing over me. The “Chat Feed” wasn’t lying. She really was a billionaire with a savior complex. Hunter saw the screen. His eyes turned a dark, ugly shade of green. He let out a harsh, jagged laugh. “You think fifty grand and a few old photos make you a prince? When she sees you in person—this sweaty, blubbery reality—you’re going to wish you’d never met her.” The floating text agreed: [Whatever. Once she realizes Oliver is a fraud, Hunter can still swoop in.] [The ‘Human Tank’ is just a foil to make the ‘Golden Boy’ look like an angel. Let him enjoy the money for now; the fall will be even funnier.] Their contempt was the fuel I needed. I took that fifty thousand dollars and didn’t spend a dime on clothes. I went to the most elite, high-intensity performance center in the city. I hired a former Olympic trainer and a nutritionist who looked like she chewed nails for breakfast. “I have one goal,” I told the trainer, looking at my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. “In ninety days, I want the man in the photos back. No—I want him better.” The trainer, a man named Marcus, didn’t smile. “From today, I own your plate. I own your sleep. I own your pain. Three hours a day, every day. Can you handle that, or should I go find a real athlete?” I nodded so hard it hurt. I wasn’t just doing this for Seraphina. I was doing it for the boy who lost his parents and hid under a layer of fat for three years. I was doing it for the version of me that deserved to stand in the sun. The first day, I threw up twice. I cried in the shower of the locker room, my muscles screaming in a way I didn’t know was possible. When I dragged my broken body back to the dorm, the school’s Discord group was blowing up. Hunter had posted a photo of me—red-faced, sweaty, and weeping—leaving the gym. Hunter: “Breaking news! The Tank is trying to become a Ferrari. Place your bets: will the treadmill break first, or his heart?” The comments were brutal. “I felt a tremor in the library today. Now I know why—Oliver was jumping rope.” Someone turned my crying face into a “When the buffet closes” meme. I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked in the mirror. My hormones were a mess, my skin was breaking out from the sudden shift in diet, and my stretch marks looked like angry lightning bolts. But Marcus had promised: Trust the process. My life became a montage of discipline. 4:00 AM runs in the crisp morning air before the rest of the campus woke up. Replacing my triple-bacon burgers with grilled salmon and kale. Instead of collapsing on the couch, I spent my weekends helping my grandparents with their garden, walking with them in the park, reclaiming my mobility. Seraphina sensed I was distant. She sent more money, more gifts. Seraphina: “Are you ignoring me, baby? Did I do something wrong?” Me: “Never. I’m just working on a surprise for you. When we meet, I want to be perfect.” A week later, a courier delivered a Cartier Love bracelet. White gold. My initials and hers engraved on the inside. It cost more than my first car. I tried to put it on, but it wouldn’t close around my wrist. I tucked it into its velvet box. Soon, I promised myself. Soon it’ll fit. By mid-summer, the water weight had vanished. I had dropped forty pounds. I felt lighter, my mind sharper. I checked in with a doctor, ensuring my rapid progress wasn’t damaging my heart. Because I wore oversized hoodies to hide my progress, the campus still saw “The Tank.” On the last day of the spring term, Hunter cornered me. “Still hitting the gym, Oliver? Funny, you still look like a sack of potatoes to me. You really going to show up to the meeting like that?” “I bet a thousand bucks he chickens out,” someone yelled. I looked Hunter dead in the eye. The fear was gone. There was only a cold, quiet focus. “Make sure you have the cash ready, Hunter. I’d hate for you to be broke and humiliated at the same time.” The summer was a blur of the “Plateau.” My weight stopped dropping. My body was fighting back, trying to keep the fat. But I had Marcus. I had my grandparents’ encouragement. I had the memory of my parents’ smiles. When I hit the sixty-pound mark, the bracelet finally clicked shut. My jawline emerged from the shadows. My skin cleared. I started taking photos again—blurry, atmospheric shots of my silhouette to tease Seraphina. Marcus looked at me on the final week. I was 185 pounds of lean, functional muscle. I was 6’0″, tanned, and vibrant. “Oliver,” Marcus said, his voice actually sounding human for once. “Most people quit at week three. You’re a goddamn machine.” I bought a charcoal-grey suit that fit like a second skin. I got a haircut—short on the sides, textured on top. The day of the meeting arrived. I was late because of traffic, my heart hammering against my ribs. As I stepped out of the Uber, I saw a cherry-red Porsche parked by the campus gates. And then, I saw him. Hunter Preston was standing there, dressed in a designer suit, holding a bouquet of peonies. He was leaning against the Porsche, talking to a woman whose back was turned to me. “Seraphina? Hi. I’m Hunter. But… you’ve seen my photos. You know who I am.” He was using my name. He was trying to steal my life in broad daylight. I froze. The “Chat Feed” flickered back to life: [Look at Hunter! He’s so bold. The heiress is speechless. She’s falling for him already!] [But wait… where is the fat guy? Is he even coming?] [Doesn’t matter. The loser lost. Hunter is the new lead now.] Hunter pulled out a printed copy of my “Tank” photo—the one where I was 260 pounds and covered in sweat. “This is the guy you were talking to,” Hunter said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Oliver is a liar. He’s a pathetic, lonely guy who used my photos because he’s a coward. I couldn’t let him do this to you.” I saw the woman—Seraphina—take the photo. Her shoulders slumped. I felt a surge of old panic. I wanted to turn and run. But then I caught my reflection in a store window. I saw the man I had become. I saw the Cartier bracelet gleaming on my wrist. I took a deep breath, adjusted my jacket, and walked toward them. I didn’t approach from the front. I circled around, coming up directly behind Seraphina. I wanted to see Hunter’s face when the ghost came back to life.

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1 Stepping out of the OBGYN clinic, Liam pressed a crumpled twenty-dollar bill into my hand. “Take the bus home, Elena. I can’t let your bad luck near Jenny and her baby.” “Who is Jenny?” I asked, stunned. He avoided my eyes, handing me a polaroid of him embracing a heavily pregnant girl. “Five years ago, when kidnappers held you hostage for three months, Jenny stayed by my side through my darkest time. She’s pure. She doesn’t demand a title. You can’t expect me to spend my life bound out of pity to a defiled woman.” A ringing filled my ears. “A defiled woman?” I whispered. Guilt and exasperation crossed his face. “I married you. I’ll support you for life. That’s enough compensation. If you’re lonely, find a side guy. Just don’t get pregnant again.” In the backseat sat the pastel baby clothes we’d picked out that morning. Now they felt like needles in my bones. Shivering, I crumpled my ultrasound report into a ball. Five years ago, after we started dating, we were kidnapped. I bit through ropes until my gums bled so Liam could escape first. Three months later, he rescued me from a ditch, sobbing he’d treat me like a queen forever. But the man who pulled me from the abyss was now shoving me into hell. The love I thought I’d found was a trap he’d built for another woman. … I took a step back, desperate to run away from him, but the heel of my shoe caught on my dress. I slammed hard onto the concrete. Seeing me fall into a growing puddle of my own blood, Liam’s eyes instantly went red with panic. “Honey! Are you and the baby okay?” He gently lifted my bleeding leg, blowing softly on the scraped skin. “Honey, hold on. I will take you back inside to get this bandaged.” I looked down at him and burst into a tearful, mocking laugh. He loved me so much. He could act so deeply devoted over a simple scrape on my knee. Yet for years, he had been sleeping with another woman, getting her pregnant, building an entire life with her in the shadows. When he was in her bed, the thought of his legal wife never even crossed his mind. His devotion was a masterclass in acting, and I had played the fool for five entire years. I shoved his hands away. “I am fine.” “Don’t waste your energy on me. Go keep your precious Jenny company.” He refused to listen. He scooped me up in his arms and rushed me back into the hospital. I stared at the sterile white walls. I used to be terrified of blood draws and checkups. I always begged him to hold my hand. But this time, I noticed his eyes were entirely glued to his phone screen. A soft, incredibly tender smile played on his lips as he texted her. Suddenly, a profound sense of clarity washed over me. I walked out of the surgical room alone. My four month old baby was gone. After the doctor gave me the post op instructions and left, I buried my face into the stiff hospital pillow. Only then did I allow myself to scream and cry until my throat went raw. I pressed my trembling hands against my newly flat stomach, my heart shattering into a million jagged pieces. This was the baby I had prayed for every single night. Both our families were supposed to celebrate and take a massive portrait together next week. Now, all that remained was a chilling, violent trauma. I closed my eyes and forcefully swallowed the rest of my tears. Liam loved his Jenny. They had their own little miracle now. Even if my poor baby had been born, they would have only inherited my miserable, tragic fate. Liam, you blinded me with fake love, but the illusion is shattered now. I will not play the pathetic victim in your twisted game anymore. Every single drop of agony you poured onto my soul, I will make you swallow it back tenfold. The door to my private room clicked open. A figure with a swollen belly swayed inside. “Oh, look who it is. If it isn’t Elena. Liam told me you finally found out he knew about the thugs playing with your body. I just came to offer my condolences.” “Get out,” I hissed, my voice absolute ice. “I don’t need your fake pity.” “Elena, please. I am a licensed therapist. You need to trust me.” Jenny leaned closer, the sweet mask melting away to reveal pure, venomous hatred. “I heard you just scraped that bastard out of your womb. Good for you. You actually have a spine.” I glared at her, my fingernails digging so hard into the mattress they left bloody half moons. “It really is you, Jenny. Why couldn’t you just leave me alone? All you wanted was Noah, right? I stepped aside. I let you have him! Why won’t you let me live?” “So you finally figured it out,” she chuckled, entirely unbothered. “Why won’t I let you live? You touched my man. You even carried his child. Just looking at you makes my skin crawl. What is wrong with taking a little revenge?” My chest heaved. “You are a psychopath. You will rot in hell for this.” “Let me tell you a little secret before I go,” she whispered, leaning right next to my ear. “Do you honestly think your father died of a broken heart? Oh, honey, no. Liam knew your dad loved you more than anything. If the old man stayed alive, Liam never would have had the chance to play the grieving hero and manipulate his way into your bed.” “To secure your fortune and your heart as fast as possible, Liam didn’t hesitate. He pulled the plug on his own benefactor’s oxygen machine with his own two hands.” My entire body convulsed. I stared at her smug, radiant face, my blood boiling into pure acid. My mind flashed back to the day I woke up in the hospital, only to see my father’s lifeless, desperate face. I had spent years agonizing, believing he died hating me for being reckless and getting kidnapped. I thought it was my fault. “I will kill you!” I screamed. I ripped the IV from my arm and lunged at her, my hands locking violently around her throat. But a split second later, a heavy boot slammed into my ribs, kicking me off the bed. Jenny immediately burst into theatrical sobs, shrinking into Liam’s broad chest. “Liam! I just wanted to give her a free grief counseling session, and she tried to murder me!” “Elena, are you out of your fucking mind?! Jenny came here out of the goodness of her heart, and you bite the hand that feeds you?!” He kicked me again just as I struggled to grab the edge of the bed. The IV pole crashed to the floor. Glass shattered everywhere, cutting into my skin, staining my hospital gown with fresh dots of crimson. “I am the one biting the hand that feeds?!” I screamed, pointing a bloody finger at Liam. “You two are the monsters! You killed my father! You lied to me for years, got me pregnant, and broke my soul! You are absolute garbage!” “Elena Bennett!” Liam roared, his face contorting with rage. “Have I been too soft on you?! Is that why you think you can push me around?!” “Your father’s death has nothing to do with us! You killed him by being a reckless whore! Out of everyone in this hospital, you are the only one psycho enough to physically attack a pregnant woman. You only have your own filthy temper and zero morals to blame!” He looked at me with such intense disgust I thought he might actually strangle me himself. “No wonder the tabloids called you the kidnapper’s willing playmate. A dirty, cursed bitch like you ruins the life of anyone stupid enough to stand near you.” He tenderly wiped a tiny red mark on Jenny’s neck, refusing to even look at my bleeding body on the floor. “You scratched Jenny. Apologize right now.” I raised my hand. Blood was still dripping steadily from where the IV needle had ripped out of my vein. “Liam Davis, mark my words. I was blind to ever look at you!” Liam froze for a split second. A microscopic flicker of guilt crossed his eyes. Jenny caught it instantly. Pure jealousy twisted her features. She clutched her stomach, whimpering in pain. “Liam, I am fine. But I think Elena’s screaming scared the baby.” Liam snapped back to reality, staring at me with a complicated, dark expression. “Get over here and apologize.” He sounded like he was coaxing a child, but the threat was razor sharp. “Jenny is carrying a child. She needs a stress free environment. Stop bullying her, Elena. She is a victim of your psychotic jealousy. She owes you absolutely nothing.” When I remained entirely motionless, his voice dropped an octave. “Don’t forget. I am the one paying for your parents’ shared cemetery plot. If you don’t want them to be disturbed in the afterlife…” A hollow, agonizing laugh clawed its way out of my throat. How pathetic my devotion had been. I raised my bleeding hand, and while Liam watched in absolute shock, I slapped myself across the face with everything I had. The stinging pain flared across my cheek. I tasted copper as my lip split open. “Enough!” Liam roared. “How is this enough?” I smiled, my teeth stained with blood. “I am still not satisfied. There is a fruit knife on that table. Why don’t you stab me a few times? Do it for your precious Jenny.” “You are insane. You are completely fucking insane.” He spat the words out, wrapped his jacket around Jenny, and stormed out of the room. I started laughing. I laughed so hard my vision blurred into a sea of tears. The world was entirely mad. He was the one who cheated, manipulated, and murdered, yet I was the one labeled a lunatic. To punish me for upsetting Jenny, Liam slammed the hospital door wide open on his way out. Nurses and patients peered into the room, their eyes filled with morbid curiosity and disgust. I knew exactly what he was doing. He knew I suffered from severe PTSD regarding public scrutiny. He wanted me to break down in terror and beg for his forgiveness. But he didn’t realize that the person I loved most had already butchered my soul. I didn’t care about the stares of strangers anymore. I crawled to the bedside table, grabbed my phone, and dialed a number I had avoided for years. It was Stella, my old college roommate who was now a ruthless state prosecutor. For years, I was so drowning in shame over my kidnapping that I had cut off contact with everyone who actually cared about me. But now, after pouring out the horrifying truth into the receiver, I heard her crying on the other end. “Elena… none of that was your fault. I swear to god, I will make every single person who touched you pay in blood.” Tears streamed down my face. By the time I hung up, my inbox chimed. She had sent me a digital boarding pass and a drafted divorce agreement. “Flight leaves tonight, El. Run from those demons.” I pulled a black surgical mask over my face. Before leaving the hospital, I took a detour to the medical waste facility to retrieve the final birthday gift I was going to give Liam. Once everything was securely packed, I carried a beautiful, velvet wrapped gift box back to our penthouse. I printed the divorce papers, signed my name in crisp black ink, and placed them on the mahogany coffee table right next to the velvet box. I walked into the kitchen and spoke quietly to Maria, our longtime housekeeper. “This is a gift for Liam. Please make absolutely sure he opens it himself.” Maria looked at my coat and suitcase, confused. “Ma’am, today is your birthday. Are you not staying for dinner?” I spaced out for a second, then a soft laugh slipped out. The laugh quickly turned into silent, heavy tears that dripped onto the velvet box. “I completely forgot it was my birthday. After all the chaos, I guess I finally get to deliver this gift on the right day.” I wiped my face, my voice returning to absolute ice. “I am not coming back.” I will never, ever step foot in this place again. This penthouse had devoured my happiness and my youth. I walked toward the front door, but a heavy hand slammed it shut. Assistant Carter stood there, blocking my path. I subtly pushed my passport deeper into my trench coat pocket. “Mr. Davis has prepared a birthday surprise for you. Please come with me, Ms. Bennett.” His eyes were filled with unmistakable mockery and disdain. I knew he was already on Jenny’s payroll. If I caused a scene now, Liam and Jenny would find a way to lock me up, and I would miss my flight tonight. “Lead the way,” I said numbly, stepping into the waiting town car. The car pulled up to a massive luxury hotel convention center. I scanned the crowded ballroom with high alert, having no idea what Liam was plotting. Liam walked up to me in a tailored tuxedo, gently stroking my wrist with fake concern. “You lost so much weight. It took me years to get you healthy.” I yanked my arm away, shivering in disgust. “What the hell are you trying to do?” “Are you still mad at me?” He sighed, reaching out to cup my cheek like a loving husband. “You were acting so reckless today. All I asked for was an apology, and you started hitting yourself. You terrified me, Elena. I had to get Jenny out of there before things escalated.” I kept my lips pressed in a tight, pale line. Let him spin his delusions. “Still throwing a tantrum?” He tried to kiss my forehead, but I pushed him hard in the chest. A flash of genuine irritation flared in his dark eyes. “Alright, that’s enough. The silent treatment gets really boring after a while.” “You terrified Jenny today, but she is so forgiving. She even offered to host a public intervention to help cure your PTSD.” “I don’t want it.” I stared at the massive LED screen on the stage. It displayed a glamorous portrait of Jenny with bold letters: CONFRONT YOUR SHADOWS – Live Trauma Therapy Masterclass with Celebrity Psychologist Jenny Liu. At the bottom of the screen was a smaller dedication: Special thanks to Mr. Liam Davis for his generous sponsorship. A heavy, suffocating dread pooled in my stomach. I turned to walk out the double doors. “I appreciate her fake charity, but I decline. Have a great seminar.” “Elena!” Liam’s hand clamped around my wrist like a steel vice. “This isn’t just a business seminar. This is my birthday gift to you.” “Once Jenny cures your mental block, you can finally go back to being a normal woman. Isn’t that what you want?” He grabbed both my shoulders, forcing me to look into his manic eyes. “Just listen to me. Jenny is the best in the country. She will fix you.” A twisted, terrifying hope sparked in his face. “After your dad died, you always said you just wanted a real family. Once you are cured, we can try for another baby. A family of three. Isn’t that everything you ever dreamed of?” “Let me go!” I thrashed violently, but two of his massive bodyguards grabbed my arms and dragged me forcefully toward the stage. Blinding spotlights hit my face. Hundreds of elite guests turned to stare at me. Jenny stood at the podium, her voice echoing through the microphone with theatrical passion. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is our case study for today. You might recognize her from the tabloids. After being abducted and willingly playing house with violent criminals for three months, she was found discarded in the woods half naked. Our tragic protagonist, Elena Bennett.” “That is a lie!” I screamed into the blinding lights. “Let me go!” “Denial. Blaming the world while refusing to acknowledge her own promiscuity and lack of morals. This is a classic defense mechanism,” Jenny analyzed from her pedestal, dripping with condescension. “The only way she can heal is by confessing her sins. So, we must force her to confront her shadows.” The massive LED screens flashed to life. They played the leaked livestream footage from the kidnappers’ den. The camera zoomed in on my bruised, crying face, magnifying my absolute terror for a room full of strangers to dissect. Whispers of disgust rippled through the crowd. They ignored my screaming. They pulled out their smartphones, recording me while offering their own cruel commentary. “I’m saving this video. This chick is a total freak.” “Good thing her dad died early. If he saw this, the shame would have killed him twice.” “Stop it!” I collapsed to my knees, pressing my hands hard over my ears, shaking uncontrollably. “Elena, admit it! Admit you are a filthy whore! Admit you willingly slept with those men!” Jenny’s voice sounded like a demon echoing from the depths of hell. “It wasn’t me! It was you! Let me go!” I fought wildly, trying to crawl off the stage, but the bodyguards pinned me to the floor. My silk dress ripped during the struggle, exposing my shoulder. I tried to cover myself, but a bodyguard intentionally yanked my hands behind my back. “Liam! Please, make them stop! I am begging you!” I sobbed. Liam stood up from his front row VIP seat. He took a panicked step toward me, but stopped, looking up at Jenny with a torn expression. Through his earpiece, his voice sounded strained. “Elena, be a good girl. Just apologize.” “I did nothing wrong! Why should I confess to a lie?!” My tears soaked into the stage carpet. “This seminar is crucial for Jenny’s career. If she proves this shock therapy works, she gets her national medical board certification.” He sounded desperate and impatient. “Just cooperate. Apologize, and this will all be over.” My blood turned to freezing ice. The sound of my own recorded screaming faded into the background. Liam’s cruel ultimatum rang in my ears. “If you don’t confess, you can stay on that floor forever.” The last tear fell. I stopped fighting. I knelt properly on the floor, looking up at Jenny’s triumphant face, and spoke slowly. “I confess. I am a whore. I am a slut. I am the reason my parents are dead.” Jenny smirked, her eyes gleaming with wicked satisfaction. “Excellent. Phase one is complete. Phase two is atonement. Only by vocalizing your deepest guilt can the shadows truly recede.” She put on a mask of fake sympathy. “Unfortunately, Ms. Bennett’s family is entirely dead. She has no one to apologize to.” “However,” she tapped her chest, playing the gracious saint. “I suppose fate works in mysterious ways. After your father passed away, his heart was miraculously matched and transplanted into my chest. Why don’t you apologize to me? Consider it an apology to your father’s heart.” She smiled down at me, venomous and victorious, waiting for me to bow my head and let her crush my dignity into the dirt in front of the entire city. I looked at her, my face devoid of all emotion. “There is no need for all that.” I turned and threw myself off the elevated stage. My body slammed against the solid marble floor. Pain exploded through my bones. Blood blossomed around my mouth. The crowd erupted into horrified screams. I spat out a mouthful of warm blood. “Is this… enough of an apology?” “Enough!” Liam charged forward, violently wrapping his suit jacket around my trembling body. His eyes were bloodshot. His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he pulled me to his chest. “Get the car! We are going to the hospital right now!” “Liam! My stomach hurts so much!” Jenny wailed into the microphone. “She traumatized me! The baby!” Liam’s arms instantly turned to stone. It only took one second. He shoved my bleeding body into the arms of his assistant and sprinted toward the stage without a single backward glance. The very last thing I saw before the darkness took me was Liam pulling Jenny into a passionate, desperate kiss to calm her nerves.

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I must have been a koala in my past life. Other people survive the corporate grind on iced coffee. I survive on my fluffy fleece blanket. If I stay awake for more than six hours straight, my heart starts doing backflips and my vision goes completely black. During my internship year, a manager forced me to stand through a four hour morning meeting. I collapsed right there, ended up in the emergency room, and barely woke up. My brother was so terrified that he outright bought a boutique firm just so I could practice having a normal job. The hours were set from ten thirty in the morning to three thirty in the afternoon, with a mandatory three hour lunch break. There was only one golden rule in the entire building. Nobody was allowed to wake me up. That was until our new department manager decided to establish her dominance on her very first day. Right in front of our biggest clients, she ripped my blanket off and chucked my ergonomic neck pillow straight into the trash can. “The CEO didn’t sponsor my education for ten years just so I could babysit dead weight like you!” she screamed. “You sleep for one more minute, and I will fire you on his behalf!” My hands shook violently. Fat tears splashed onto my keyboard. Victor always told me to let him know if anyone dared to disturb my rest. But looking at her, I was terrified that if my brother found out, he would completely destroy the life she had crawled through hell to build. 1 “The CEO didn’t sponsor my education for ten years just so I could babysit dead weight like you!” The shrill female voice detonated across the open floor plan. Before my brain could even process the noise, the cashmere blanket draped over my shoulders was violently yanked away. The little memory foam pillow I was hugging vanished from my arms. A loud thud echoed through the room. My pillow had been violently hurled into the metal wastebasket. I was forced to pry my eyes open. Dark spots danced across my vision. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs, beating so fast I thought my chest might crack open. I gasped for air, my fingers trembling uncontrollably. Standing over me was our new department manager, Rachel. A group of VIP clients stood awkwardly right behind her. “This company is not a retirement home!” she barked, leaning in close. “You sleep for one more minute, and I will fire you on the boss’s behalf!” The sheer volume of her voice left my ears ringing. Tears spilled down my cheeks without my permission. It wasn’t that I wanted to cry. My body had a severe physical stress response whenever I was frightened or pushed past my exhaustion limit. “I wasn’t slacking off,” I whispered, biting my lower lip to fight back the dizzy spells. “I have a medical condition. I can’t stay awake for extended periods. The company has always approved my rest schedule.” Rachel let out a vicious scoff. “If you’re sick, stay home in bed. Don’t use your illness as a VIP pass. Everyone else here works a full shift. What makes you so special?” She turned around, addressing the entire bullpen of wide eyed employees. “You guys are pulling overtime every single day to hit your quotas. Why should she get to sleep through her shift and collect the same paycheck?” Murmurs instantly broke out across the office floor. “She has a point. Sleeping at your desk is a terrible look.” “Why does she get a free pass when we are drowning in work?” The clients awkwardly averted their gaze, pretending to look at the ceiling. I shrank back into my ergonomic chair. Cold sweat drenched the back of my blouse. The room began to spin. Pure instinct made me reach for my phone. All I had to do was press one speed dial button. Victor would answer immediately. One word from him, and Rachel would be packing her things in a cardboard box. But her words echoed in my head. The CEO sponsored her for ten years. She had studied through freezing winters, fought tooth and nail to climb out of poverty, and finally made something of herself. If I made the call, her entire life would crumble. I didn’t want my medical privilege to destroy a normal girl’s hard earned future. I quietly locked my phone screen. The very next second, a hand shot out and snatched the phone right out of my grip, slamming it face down onto a stack of folders. “Playing on your phone during company hours?” Rachel glared at me, her eyes practically shooting daggers. “Today, I am going to do the boss a favor and discipline the nepotism right out of this office.” She spun around to face the entire department. “From this exact moment, this department is under new management. No sleeping. No blankets. No pillows. All extended lunch breaks are canceled until we meet our project deadlines.” The office went dead silent. Sarah, one of our senior accountants, couldn’t bear to watch anymore. She raised her hand hesitantly. “Manager Rachel, the big boss personally gave the order. No matter what happens, absolutely no one is allowed to wake Sophie up.” Rachel’s face darkened into a scowl. “The CEO is busy managing hundred million dollar acquisitions. You think he actually cares about trivial garbage like this? Nobody had the guts to manage her before, but I am here now. This company will no longer fund parasites.” She marched back to my desk and slammed her hands on the wood. “I don’t care who you batted your eyelashes at to get your little hall pass here. That garbage doesn’t fly with me. Stand up and get to work.” 2 It was eleven in the morning. Normally, this was the exact window where I would close my eyes to let my palpitations subside. Instead, Rachel slammed a massive stack of client dossiers onto my desk. “You have one hour to verify and input every single client ID number in this stack. Sophie, listen to me very carefully. If you make a single typo, this entire department loses their monthly performance bonus.” A collective gasp sucked the air right out of the room. Collective punishment. She had just handed a loaded gun to my coworkers and pointed it right at my head. I forced my trembling muscles to straighten up. My vision began to blur. The black text on my computer monitor doubled, then tripled. My fingertips grew numb from the lack of oxygen circulating in my blood. I forced myself to type, but my keystrokes grew slower and heavier by the second. The guy sitting in the cubicle next to me violently slammed his mouse on his mousepad. “Can you speed it up? Are we all supposed to starve this month just because you type like a turtle?” The woman sitting across from me chimed in immediately. “You’re so good at catching up on your beauty sleep, but you’re completely useless when it comes to actual work. Please don’t drag our paychecks down with you.” I frantically tried to apologize. “I am so sorry. I promise I will try to go faster.” But the harder I pushed, the more my brain felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton. Through the blinding white spots in my eyes, I accidentally mistyped the last two digits of a client’s account number. “Stop.” Rachel had materialized right behind my chair. She reached down and ruthlessly yanked my keyboard cable out of the USB port. Then, she mirrored my monitor directly onto the massive presentation screen in the center of the office. Holding a laser pointer, she circled the two incorrect digits in glaring red. The blood red numbers loomed over the entire room. “Take a good look, everyone.” Rachel’s voice echoed off the walls. “This is the caliber of work you get from someone who relies on special privileges. She can’t even copy basic numbers. What is the point of keeping trash like this on the payroll?” The atmosphere in the room turned utterly toxic. Sarcastic whispers drifted from the cubicles. “Must be nice sleeping all day while our bonuses evaporate. So fair.” “If I knew playing the sick card worked so well, I would have faked an illness too.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper. The back of my eyes burned fiercely. Jenna from the administrative department happened to be walking by. Seeing my face drained of all color, she quietly slid a fruit drop and a paper cup of warm water onto my desk. “Sophie, drink some water. Catch your breath.” “Jenna, what exactly do you think you’re doing?” Rachel stormed over and slapped the paper cup right off the desk. Warm water splashed all over my skirt. “Who gave you permission to feed her on company time?” Rachel glared at Jenna like she was dirt. “Covering for a lazy employee? Consider your nomination for Employee of the Month permanently revoked.” Jenna’s face went completely pale. Her eyes watered, but she didn’t dare say a single word in her own defense. She just lowered her head and scurried back to her desk. The colleagues sitting closest to me immediately rolled their office chairs away. They treated me like a walking plague. The isolation took less than five minutes to cement. The whispering grew louder and significantly more vicious. “Who exactly is her sugar daddy anyway? How did she get away with sleeping on the job for so long?” “Take a wild guess. Look at that innocent little face. I bet she does plenty of overtime in the bedroom.” “Wait, are you saying she’s sleeping with the CEO?” My whole body shook with panic. “It is not like that at all!” I tried to explain, my voice cracking. “You guys are totally misunderstanding, the boss and I…” “What about you and the boss?” Rachel cut me off, leaning down until her lips were right next to my ear. Her voice was dripping with pure, unadulterated jealousy. “The kind of women I despise most in this world are parasites like you. You survive by whining and relying on men’s pity. Do you honestly believe the CEO is going to fall for your helpless little act forever?” The clock struck noon. The company’s officially mandated lunch break had finally arrived. My body was entirely giving out. I gripped the edge of my desk, trying to pull myself up so I could go lie down in the breakroom lounge. “Listen up, everyone! Grab your laptops. We are doing a project review in the main conference room right now.” Rachel clapped her hands. “Sophie, your attendance is strictly mandatory.” My knees buckled. “Manager Rachel, I physically cannot keep going. Please, just give me thirty minutes to rest.” Rachel laughed in my face. “You want to sleep for thirty minutes? So someone else can do your work for thirty minutes? The sheer entitlement is sickening.” My coworkers immediately joined the firing squad. “Just suck it up, Sophie. Stop trying to be a diva.” “None of us are sleeping. Why do you get to nap?” “Hurry up and walk. You’re wasting our time.” Surrounded by a wall of hostile faces, my tears finally broke free. There was nowhere left to hide. Clutching the hem of my ruined skirt, I dragged my leaden legs toward the conference room. 3 It was one o’clock in the afternoon. The air conditioning in the conference room was blasting freezing air. My consciousness was rapidly approaching the danger zone. Cold sweat dripped steadily down my forehead. My lips were as white as a sheet of printer paper. The frantic thumping of my heart echoed like a war drum against my eardrums. “Sophie. Stand up and recap the core marketing metrics we just discussed.” Rachel sat at the head of the table, tapping her manicured fingernails against the glass surface. My brain felt like molasses as I forced myself up. “The metrics we discussed… regarding the target demographics… were…” “Stop.” Rachel cut me off with an exaggerated sigh of disgust. “I asked you for a professional recap, not a stuttering performance. Did you leave your brain in your bed this morning? Or is your skull just stuffed with pillow fluff?” Eager to stay off Rachel’s bad side, a few coworkers let out sycophantic laughs. “The manager is right. She sleeps so much her brain has completely rotted.” “She probably thinks she’s still tucked into her mattress at home.” Once the floodgates of bullying are thrown open, crowds love to disguise their cruelty as casual banter. Fighting the urge to sob, I kept my head down and tried to type the meeting minutes. My hands were shaking so violently that I produced a string of unintelligible gibberish on the screen. Rachel walked up behind me and stared at my monitor. “Read the sentence you just typed. Out loud.” I stared at the scrambled letters. My throat felt like it was packed with broken glass. “I…” “Read it!” I closed my eyes in utter humiliation. “The… client requi…” “Enough. Save us the embarrassment.” Rachel sneered. Hoping to score points with the new boss, a male coworker grabbed a heavy stack of printed reports and slammed them down right in front of me. “Since you can’t seem to wake up, why don’t you collate these files? A little manual labor will get your blood flowing.” A female coworker sitting next to me kicked my office chair away. “Stop sitting. It only makes you lazier. You can collate them on your feet.” I gripped the edge of the glass table, my calves trembling violently. I desperately wanted to grab my phone and hit that speed dial. My hand reached into my pocket, only to grasp empty air. I remembered with a sickening jolt that Rachel had confiscated it. During a brief five minute bathroom break, Rachel walked up to me. She lowered her voice, dripping with venom. “Don’t think the CEO will protect you forever just because you’re his flavor of the month right now.” “The boss respects competence. He admires women like me. Women who can actually carry his empire forward.” “Not useless, pathetic burdens like you.” I froze. Staring into her ambition warped eyes, it finally clicked. She was the girl my brother used to talk about at the dinner table. The brilliant, hardworking student he had sponsored for ten years. The one he praised for having a “relentless drive.” “My brother…” I gasped for air, clutching my chest. “My brother would hate the way you treat people.” He paid for her education because he felt sorry for her. Because she wanted to learn. He didn’t build her up so she could use her power to crush the people beneath her. Hearing the words “my brother,” a flash of absolute malice crossed Rachel’s face. She clearly assumed it was my pet name for my sugar daddy CEO. “Calling him ‘brother’ now? No wonder you walk around this office like you own the place,” she hissed, grinding her teeth. “Too bad the boss will eventually realize you are nothing but a dead weight.” Dead weight. Those two words drove a jagged knife straight into my soul. I had been severely ill since childhood. My entire family lived in a constant state of anxiety because of me. My greatest, most paralyzing fear was becoming a burden to the people I loved. At two o’clock, the administrative department sent out a frantic mass alert. The CEO was personally escorting the board of directors from our partner corporation to listen to the project pitch. The conference room exploded into a frenzy of preparation. Rachel’s eyes lit up with feverish excitement. She viewed this as her ultimate stage to prove her worth to the man who funded her life. She pointed a rigid finger at the conference room doors. “Sophie. Go stand by the main doors and act as the official greeter.” “I want our investors to see that this department has officially eradicated its culture of laziness.” I gripped the glass table so hard my knuckles turned white. “Manager Rachel, I am begging you. My heart can’t take this.” “Please, just let me lie down for ten minutes…” Rachel stepped forward and violently yanked my company ID lanyard. “If you dare pass out today, you are deliberately sabotaging a multimillion dollar deal. When we lose this contract, the entire department’s yearly bonus will be wiped out. Because of you.” The other employees immediately swarmed me. “Don’t you dare play the sick card now. Stop acting like a fragile little princess.” “Can’t you just hold it together for one hour? Will it actually kill you?” “If you ruin my paycheck, I swear to God I will make your life a living hell.” I looked around at the circle of resentful, hateful eyes glaring at me. The words pleading for my life died in my throat. Leaning heavily against the drywall, I dragged my feet inch by agonizing inch toward the entrance of the conference room. 4 It was two thirty in the afternoon. The executives from the partner corporation began filtering into the room. My legs had completely lost their strength. I was solely relying on the doorframe to keep myself upright. My vision was reduced to a swirling storm of television static. The voices around me sounded muffled, like I was listening to them from underwater. Inside the glass walled room, Rachel stood confidently in front of the projector, radiating triumph. “Distinguished guests, our department recently underwent a severe cultural overhaul.” “Previously, we suffered from a few negative elements. Lethargy, entitlement, and a complete lack of professionalism.” “But since I assumed control, I have shown absolutely zero tolerance for such parasitic behavior.” She didn’t say my name out loud. But her piercing gaze shot straight like an arrow, landing directly on me. Everyone in the room followed her line of sight. Dozens of judging eyes cast a suffocating net over my fragile body. My fingers dug into the wooden doorframe so hard my nails were close to tearing off. I really couldn’t stand anymore. I tried to let gravity take over, slowly sliding my back down the doorframe to crouch on the floor. The other greeter standing next to me immediately hissed a warning. “The manager is watching you. Don’t you dare get us in trouble.” She grabbed my arm and roughly hauled me back onto my feet. “I… I really need a doctor…” I wheezed. “Oh, cry me a river. Nobody likes working,” she rolled her eyes in sheer disgust. “Drop the pathetic act, okay?” Rachel used the excuse of handing out physical portfolios to march out into the hallway. Her eyes zeroed in on the thin cardigan draped over my shoulders. It was the only thing protecting me from the biting chill of the overhead AC vents. “Front facing roles require a crisp, professional aesthetic. What is this sloppy cardigan supposed to be?” Without waiting for an answer, she snatched my only source of warmth right off my back. “Stop looking like a dying Victorian orphan. It is embarrassing the company.” The freezing artificial wind blasted directly against my damp skin. I began to shiver uncontrollably. My heartbeat completely lost its rhythm. At exactly three o’clock, the VIP elevator at the far end of the hallway chimed loudly. The polished steel doors slid open. My brother, dressed in a flawless midnight blue bespoke suit, stepped out, surrounded by a phalanx of senior executives. His expression was chiseled out of ice, projecting an aura of dominance that made everyone instinctively hold their breath. The moment Rachel saw him, her eyes gleamed with pure adoration. She plastered on her most charming, professional smile and hurried over to intercept him. “Mr. Cannon, it is an honor.” “You have been far too lenient with this company in the past, which allowed a toxic culture of laziness to fester. But please, rest assured. I have completely disciplined the floor on your behalf.” Victor’s expression remained completely bored. He was flipping through a financial prospectus and barely even acknowledged her presence. Desperate for his attention, Rachel doubled down. “Specifically, there was a certain employee who slept on the clock, dragged down team metrics, and humiliated our corporate image.” “I have finally put her in her place.” “I plan to permanently dispose of this trash very soon. I will never allow parasites to suck this company dry under my watch.” Victor’s fingers froze on the edge of the paper. He frowned, his brilliant mind instantly catching the phrase “slept on the clock.” Assuming she had finally won the CEO’s interest, Rachel eagerly turned around and pointed her manicured finger straight at me. “That’s her.” “As you can see, sir, if we leave vermin like her unchecked, this firm will eventually be dragged into bankruptcy.” Every single pair of eyes in the hallway snapped toward the conference room doors. I was barely hanging on, clinging to the wooden frame. My face was completely drained of blood, resembling a porcelain doll. My eyes were bloodshot, my lips quivering violently. And lying on the carpet right by the trash can near my feet, covered in dust, was my little memory foam neck pillow. The very next second. My vision plunged into absolute darkness. My legs surrendered their final ounce of strength. Like a puppet with its strings brutally slashed, I plummeted forward, my body slamming hard against the freezing marble floor. CRACK. The sickening sound of impact echoed loudly down the sterile hallway. The financial prospectus slipped from Victor’s hands, scattering across the floor. The instant he registered the face of the girl collapsing on the marble, all the color violently drained from his face. “What did you just say…” Victor locked his eyes on Rachel, his voice sounding like a demon crawling out of the abyss. “What did you just do to my baby sister?”

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After binding with the Hypnosis System, I immediately brainwashed every guy who was obsessed with me, turning them all into my little sister’s devoted lapdogs. My reason was simple. These psychopaths were way too possessive. I never even gave them the time of day, yet they tried to control every single aspect of my life. It just so happened that my sister, Lily, constantly talked about them and went out of her way to make my life a living hell because she was jealous. Now, she stood before me looking incredibly smug. “Didn’t see that coming, did you? You got dumped, and now they are all absolutely obsessed with me!” I let out a long breath of relief, putting on a fake look of regret. “They moved on. There is nothing I can do about it.” The feeling of absolute freedom, of finally being able to make friends without someone breathing down my neck, was absolutely intoxicating. But just as I was organizing my visa paperwork to move to Europe, a glaring red notification popped up on the System interface in my mind. [Warning. Target neural pathways experiencing severe fluctuations. Hypnosis state is loosening. Total failure estimated in exactly seventy two hours…] 1 Lily blocked my path, letting out a cold sneer. “You don’t have to act like you don’t care. I know you are dying of jealousy on the inside.” I just stared at her. Before I could say a word, she kept going. “You used to act so high and mighty, soaking up all their attention while looking down your nose at everyone. Now they are completely sick of you. You deserve this!” If the System hadn’t warned me that my bond with Lily wasn’t strong enough, the very first thing I would have done was hypnotize her into being a sweet, obedient little sister. Instead, I put on a sad face. “Yeah, you are right. I regret taking them for granted, but it is too late now.” Hearing me admit defeat, a look of pure contempt washed over Lily’s face. She opened her mouth to spit more venom, but the estate manager’s walkie talkie buzzed on his belt. “Mr. Jaxon is at the front gates,” the manager announced respectfully. I froze. Lily’s eyes instantly lit up. “Let him in! Hurry!” Even though I knew the hypnosis was fully active, just hearing Jaxon’s name gave me a trauma response. I tried to slip past her and run upstairs, but Lily grabbed my arm tight. The heavy mahogany double doors swung open. A tall, broad shouldered man strode into the foyer. He tilted his head slightly, his dark, piercing eyes sweeping toward us. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine. In the past, those eyes would have locked onto me the second he walked in. He would have marched straight over, grabbed my hand without asking, and pulled me flush against his chest. My heart hammered against my ribs. Under Lily’s and my intense stares, Jaxon kept one hand casually in his pocket and strolled right past me. He walked straight up to my sister, flashing a lazy, wicked grin. “Miss me?” Lily’s face blossomed into a massive smile. “Of course I did, Jaxon.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. “My sister and I were actually just talking about you.” Jaxon raised a single brow. His gaze never shifted in my direction for even a split second. He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind Lily’s ear. “Was she talking trash about me?” “Aren’t you worried about what she might have said?” Lily teased. Jaxon’s tone was incredibly dismissive. “Why would I care about her? You are the only one who matters.” Complete and utter disregard. I finally let my guard down. But then Lily whispered softly, “But all of you used to be so obsessed with her.” My heart jumped straight into my throat. Jaxon narrowed his eyes. For a fraction of a second, his expression went completely blank. It was as if his consciousness was trapped in some distant, frozen void. After a long pause, his face smoothed out. “I must have lost my mind back then,” he said calmly. I held my breath. “Besides,” Jaxon shot a sideways glance at me, “I remember the eldest daughter of this house absolutely despising me. Consider this her wish coming true.” Lily let out a triumphant giggle. “She regrets it now, but you can’t turn back time.” “Is that so,” Jaxon smirked, looking like he couldn’t care less. Exactly one week ago. I had been pushed past my breaking point by Jaxon’s insane possessiveness. We got into a screaming match in this exact hallway. “Who gave you the right to control me?!” I had yelled. “Who I see and who I hang out with is my own business! Go find someone else to obsess over! Stay the hell away from me!” I turned around to storm off. The next second, Jaxon’s hand clamped around my arm like a vice, violently yanking me back. He pinched my jaw, his face darkening into a terrifying scowl. “Apologize.” I completely lost it, shoving him and hitting his chest. Eventually, all my energy drained away. I slid down the wall and slumped onto the floor, completely exhausted. Jaxon’s eyes were rimmed with red. He slowly crouched down until we were eye level. His voice was hoarse, almost pleading. “You can control me too, Serena. I am perfectly happy letting you run my life.” I had turned my head away in absolute disgust. “I just want you as far away from me as possible.” 2 Now, my wish had finally been granted. Jaxon didn’t spare me another glance, completely engrossed in his conversation with Lily. I quietly slipped upstairs. Opening my phone, the group chats and private messages that used to blow up with their obsessive texts were completely dead. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, happily rolling around on my king sized mattress. Two hours later. Loud music and chatter drifted up from the ground floor. Confused, I walked out of my room and peeked over the banister. The entire living room had been transformed into a mood lit lounge, complete with a massive champagne tower. Lily was wearing a stunning cocktail dress, standing in the center of a crowd with a massive smile on her face. She caught sight of me standing on the stairs in my oversized sleep shirt. She offered a look of fake apology. “Serena, I completely forgot to tell you! I am throwing a little party tonight.” “But honestly,” she added loudly, “I figured you wouldn’t be in the mood to socialize anyway, so I thought it was best if you stayed in your room to process your feelings.” Every single pair of eyes in the room instantly snapped to me. Lily only invited her specific clique of friends, and they had always hated me. Someone in the crowd immediately snickered. “Why wouldn’t she be in the mood? Because all the rich guys she tried to string along finally realized she’s a total fraud?” I didn’t care in the slightest. I just waved my hand dismissively. “Oh, got it. I honestly thought we were getting robbed. Since everything is fine, I will go back to processing my feelings.” Right at that moment. Jaxon walked out of the open concept kitchen, carrying a beautifully decorated mini cake. He was wearing a floral baking apron over his designer shirt. It was an incredibly bizarre contrast to his bad boy aesthetic, but he didn’t seem to care at all. Lily gasped in pure delight. “I just mentioned I was craving something sweet, and you actually baked this for me?!” The crowd erupted into exaggerated “awws” and jealous whispers. Lily looked up at me again. “Serena, come down and have a slice! When Jaxon used to be obsessed with you, he never baked for you, did he?” She was absolutely right. I thought to myself quietly. Thank God he never did. If he had, I would have shoved the entire cake directly into his face. I shook my head, signaling my refusal. But Lily pretended not to see it. She reached out to take the cake with one hand while grabbing my wrist and yanking me down the remaining stairs with the other. I tried to pull my arm back. One of her mean girl friends reached out to help her drag me into the crowd. In the chaotic scuffle, someone stepped on someone else’s heel. A loud crash echoed over the music. Lily and I both hit the hardwood floor hard. I inhaled sharply, a sharp pain shooting up my ankle. The cake flew out of Lily’s hand, splattering directly onto my sleep shirt before rolling down to ruin the hem of her expensive dress. Jaxon clicked his tongue in annoyance and immediately reached his hand out to Lily. “What exactly is going on here?” A freezing, indifferent voice cut through the room. Steady footsteps approached from the front door, getting closer and closer. Then, another hand reached into my field of vision. It was a beautiful hand, with long, elegant fingers. I froze. The next second, Lily sniffled pitifully and placed one of her hands into Jaxon’s, and the other into the newcomer’s grip. They hoisted her up together. I slowly looked up. Jaxon had already turned around, barking orders at the estate staff to mop the floor. Silas was standing there, his long eyelashes lowered as he gently wiped the ruined frosting off the edge of Lily’s dress with a silk handkerchief. My mind drifted for a second. Not too long ago, Silas used to look down at me with that exact same expression. He would forcefully wedge his elegant fingers between mine, locking our hands together in an iron grip. He would lean in so close, his tall frame completely trapping me against whatever surface was behind me. “Why do you hate me so much?” he would whisper darkly. “It doesn’t matter anyway. My love is more than enough for both of us. I will never, ever let you leave me.” Silas naturally gave off a cold, detached aura, but he had the face of a fallen angel. He would curl his thin lips into a faint, chilling smile, while the crushing grip on my fingers never loosened for a single second. It always felt like I owed him a blood debt in a past life and he had crawled out of hell to collect it. Every time he did that, cold sweat drenched my back. Coming from a guy like Silas, those words were a literal promise. It was an absolute nightmare. I felt a surge of despair just remembering it. Why was I cursed to be surrounded by absolute psychopaths? 3 Thankfully, everything was different now. I pressed my palms against the hardwood and pulled myself up. The System’s mechanical voice suddenly buzzed in my head. [Host…] I must have severely twisted my ankle, because a sharp spike of pain hit me the second I put weight on it. Enduring the throbbing ache, I limped awkwardly toward the kitchen to wash the frosting off my arm. I mentally cheered at the System. [Oh man, you really outdid yourself this time! I never expected this hypnosis to be so thorough and effective!] But then I let out a soft sigh. Freedom really did come with a price. Lily had always despised me, and I usually avoided getting into fights with her. Now that she finally got what she wanted and stole all my suitors, she was still going out of her way to humiliate me! But the massive upside was that those psychos were finally out of my hair. I finally had the chance to escape. Exhausted by their constant drama, I had spent the last few weeks secretly preparing my relocation paperwork to move to Europe. The System remained completely silent for a long time before speaking again. [Host, there is a slight complication.] I wasn’t sure why, but I could clearly hear a trace of hesitation and guilt in that normally emotionless robotic voice. After scrubbing the sticky cake off my skin at the sink, I carefully limped back out of the kitchen. My ankle was still screaming at me. [What complication?] I asked mentally. The System didn’t answer immediately. Lily’s bubbly voice drifted over from the lounge area. “By the way, why didn’t he come tonight?” “He had business to handle,” Silas replied coldly. Jaxon let out a lazy, mocking laugh. “You have a pretty big heart, Lily, fitting so many guys in there at once.” Lily blushed and giggled softly. Listening to them, a wave of profound realization washed over me. I could never stand the three of them. I was constantly miserable, viewing them as unhinged, neurotic control freaks. But Lily seemed absolutely thrilled to juggle their attention. Wasn’t this what people called a match made in heaven? Ignored by the entire party, I happily minded my own business and slowly dragged myself up the stairs. Remembering the unusually quiet AI in my head, I called out. [System?] The System seemed to be struggling to find the right words. Before I could even process what was happening, the bright blue hypnosis dashboard violently materialized in front of my eyes, glitching and flashing red. [Warning. Target neural pathways experiencing severe fluctuations. Hypnosis state is loosening. Total failure estimated in exactly seventy two hours…] My pupils dilated in sheer terror. “What?!” I slowly, mechanically turned my head to look back down the stairs. At that exact second, Silas lifted his heavy eyelids. His dark, abyssal eyes locked directly onto mine. My heart completely stopped. I practically scrambled up the rest of the stairs like a terrified animal. Late that night. I tossed and turned, completely unable to sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, their twisted faces hovered in the darkness. Sometimes far away, sometimes suffocatingly close. It felt so incredibly real that I woke up covered in a cold sweat over and over. The next morning. I dragged myself out of bed with massive dark circles under my eyes, looking like I was walking to my own execution. Thankfully, my phone was still completely silent. No psychotic text messages. The only update was a group photo Lily posted on her socials late last night. She was smiling brightly next to the champagne tower, surrounded by her friends. Standing like bodyguards on either side of her were Jaxon and Silas. I let out a shaky breath. So far, everything seemed okay. After all, the three day countdown wasn’t over yet. I frowned, a deep knot of anxiety forming in my stomach. I had to finalize my European relocation within the next seventy two hours. 4 When I limped downstairs for lunch, I froze at the sight of the dining room. My eyes widened in shock. “I thought this was a private family lunch?” My Mom and Dad had just flown back into the country a few days ago. Because of their chaotic corporate schedules, they specifically carved out time today for a private family meal. So why were there two completely irrelevant men sitting at our table? Lily rested her chin in her hands and let out a dramatic sigh. “Serena, just because they aren’t obsessed with you anymore doesn’t mean you can hold a grudge and banish them from our house.” Jaxon raised an eyebrow, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Silas’s face remained as calm and unreadable as ever. My Mom quickly jumped in to smooth things over. “Serena, be polite. We might all be family in the future anyway. What is the harm in sharing a meal together early?” Dad nodded in agreement. “Your mother is right.” I scoffed internally. It was exactly because my parents constantly enabled them that Jaxon and the others felt so comfortable completely invading my life. My Mom used to constantly complain about how coldly I treated them. Both of my parents were absolutely obsessed with their billionaire family backgrounds. Honestly, if polygamy were legal, they probably would have forced me to marry all three of them at once just to secure the corporate mergers. I kept my mouth shut and sat down. Lily let out a victorious little hmph and started serving premium cuts of meat to Jaxon and Silas. Mom smiled warmly, looking incredibly proud. Even Dad’s usually stern face softened. To them, a son in law was a son in law. As long as it benefited the family corporation, they didn’t care which daughter married which billionaire. It was a perfectly harmonious scene that satisfied everyone. And honestly, I was completely satisfied too! Halfway through the meal. Mom suddenly remembered something and looked over at me. “Serena, I had my assistants finalize all your overseas trust funds and visa sponsorships like you asked. Is there any other paperwork you need sorted out?” My chopsticks paused in mid air. Instantly, several heavy gazes snapped to my side of the table. “You are leaving the country?” Jaxon’s voice cut through the silence like a knife. I didn’t try to hide it. “Yeah, I am.” Lily looked genuinely surprised. “Serena, even if they don’t like you anymore, you don’t need to exile yourself to Europe just to numb the pain.” Silas elegantly wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked up, his eyes ice cold. “If there are still documents pending, I can make some calls and have them expedited for you.” Lily burst out laughing. My eyes lit up like Christmas lights. “Wait, seriously? I actually do have a few background checks stuck in the system. Can you get them cleared within three days? I am in a massive rush.” Silas’s expression didn’t change a single degree. “Done.” After lunch. Jaxon accompanied Lily to the garden patio to trim her prized roses. I handed a folder of my pending documents to Silas in the living room. He gave a curt nod. Just as I turned around to head back upstairs, he spoke. “Serena. I am absolutely disgusted.” “Excuse me?” I spun around, totally caught off guard. Meeting those deep, abyss like black eyes, Silas’s thin lips curled into a sneer. A strange, indescribable loathing washed over his beautiful features. “I have no idea why I was ever so obsessed with you.” I stayed completely silent. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. “It felt like a sickness.” I quickly tried to comfort him. “Hey, it is totally fine. Look on the bright side, the universe corrected itself, right?” Honestly, the current version of Silas was way more normal. I vastly preferred being hated to being loved by him. The old Silas was basically a sleep paralysis demon in a designer suit. He was absolutely terrifying! Silas’s thin eyelids twitched. I kept going, using my most persuasive, soothing voice. “Think about it. You like Lily now, and she clearly likes you. Isn’t this a massive win? Everyone gets a happy ending.” Silas stood frozen in the center of the living room. A hollow, drifting emotion flashed through his eyes. After a long, suffocating silence, he spoke in a completely deadpan voice. “I suppose. But just looking at your face makes my skin crawl. The fact that you are willingly leaving the country proves you at least have some self awareness. I will make sure your paperwork is cleared immediately so you disappear from my sight.” I nodded enthusiastically. That was literally the best case scenario. But at the same time, a tiny part of me felt a bizarre sense of whiplash. In the past, Silas only ever strung this many sentences together when he was whispering psychotic, obsessive threats into my ear. Right at that moment, Jaxon and Lily walked back in from the patio. Lily was holding her phone to her ear, her voice dripping with sugar. “Vincent, you work way too hard! Once you finish your meetings, come over for dinner! I will tell the chef to make your favorite steak.” A deep, magnetic voice answered through the speaker. “Alright.” Lily casually added, “Oh, by the way, my sister is moving to Europe in a few days.” The gentle chuckle on the other end of the line instantly stopped. “What?” “Yeah,” Lily continued. “Silas even offered to call his contacts to fast track her visa so she can leave faster.” Vincent’s voice was perfectly calm. “Understood.” I carefully studied Jaxon and Silas’s faces while Lily was on the phone. Jaxon was spinning a pair of gardening shears around his finger, looking completely bored out of his mind. Silas was still standing there like a beautiful marble statue, completely unbothered. I mentally rolled my eyes. A wave of pure unfairness washed over me. Why were they acting like totally normal people now? Back when I was the center of their obsession, I couldn’t even make a phone call without them throwing a psychotic tantrum! Vincent ran his own private equity firm, so he was usually the busiest out of the three. I saw him the least in person. But he used to call my phone constantly. Whenever he did, Jaxon would intentionally smash things or start screaming in the background, essentially forcing me to hang up. And Silas was even worse. He would silently walk up, intertwine his fingers with mine, and lightly trace the palm of my hand with his nails. It felt like a feather burning my skin, completely shattering my focus. I would end up not hearing a single word Vincent said. And when that smiling psycho realized I wasn’t listening, he would get pissed off, and I would be the one who paid the price! 5 But how they interacted with Lily now was none of my business. And I absolutely did not want to find out. The problem was, these two billionaires were acting like squatters, refusing to go back to their own penthouses. Lily was obviously thrilled. But I was living in absolute misery. Having them in my house gave me a massive headache. Jaxon had a vicious mouth. Whenever Lily wasn’t around, he took every opportunity to verbally drag me. Like right now. “It really is ironic,” he drawled, slumping lazily onto our custom Italian sofa, kicking his long legs up onto the coffee table. “When I was throwing the world at your feet, you treated me like trash. Now that no one gives a damn about you, you are so heartbroken you are fleeing the continent.” I bit my tongue. I didn’t dare trigger his temper, terrified that the glitching hypnosis might snap completely. I just swallowed my pride. “Yeah, you are so right! It is a massive tragedy.” Jaxon let out a cold scoff and ignored me. Silas was sitting by the window reading a hardcover book, completely ignoring the conversation. Jaxon looked over at him. “Can you hurry up with her visa stuff? Let’s get her on a plane so she stops polluting the air in here.” Silas didn’t even look up. “It is being expedited.” Hearing that, Jaxon’s mood visibly improved. “Vincent!” The front doors swung open, and Lily’s cheerful voice echoed through the foyer. “You work way too much. Since you rarely come to this side of the city, you should just stay in our guest wing for a few days!” I slowly lifted my gaze. Lily walked in, beaming brightly next to a tall, imposing figure. The steady rhythm of expensive leather shoes against the marble floor echoed in the room. The man was casually rolling up the sleeves of his tailored dress shirt. The corners of his eyes crinkled in a warm, welcoming smile. A classic wolf in sheep’s clothing. The living room went quiet. Vincent’s gaze landed squarely on me. A split second later, he looked away. Lily glanced at Jaxon and Silas, then looked over at me. “Serena, were you guys just chatting?” “Yeah,” I nodded, keeping my tone perfectly honest. “They were just begging me to get out of the country faster.” Lily sighed dramatically. “They can be so blunt. Don’t let it hurt your feelings, Serena.” “When exactly is your flight?” Vincent asked, raising a brow with what looked like mild curiosity. “Sometime in the next two days,” I replied. “Is that so,” Vincent murmured. I frowned slightly. Something about his vibe felt incredibly off. I stood up and walked into the kitchen to grab an apple, but my brain was working in overdrive. Neither Jaxon nor Silas was showing any signs of the hypnosis breaking. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Vincent was the only one whose brain was rejecting the system, right? Rationalizing it to myself, I let out a breath of relief. Out in the living room, Lily and Jaxon were jokingly fighting over a console controller. Unable to pry it from his grip, she whined, “Silas, tell Jaxon to stop cheating!” Silas turned a page in his book. “Give it back to her.” Looking at them from the kitchen island. It was a perfectly harmonious, disgustingly cute scene. I didn’t even notice Vincent walk into the kitchen until he was standing right next to me. He followed my gaze into the living room. “Are you jealous?” A faint scent of cedar and crushed snow washed over me. It was an objectively expensive, high end cologne, but I absolutely hated it. It matched Vincent’s entire personality. It wasn’t aggressive, but it slowly wrapped around you until you were completely suffocated. But remembering that I was literally days away from absolute freedom, I was in a great mood. I gave him a bright, genuine smile. “I think it is great. Don’t you think they look like a perfect match?” “And you don’t think you two were a match?” I thought about it for a second, then shook my head. “Relationships only work if the feeling is mutual.” Vincent was the oldest of the three, and definitely the most ruthless. Even under the effects of the hypnosis, he didn’t act like a petty teenager the way Jaxon and Silas did. He offered a soft, calculated smile. “Is that so?” That creepy, unsettling feeling flared up in my chest again. Ignoring his intense stare, I pressed my lips together, turned around, and went back upstairs to my room.

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I am the child of a mistress. When I was seventeen, my biological father passed away. At the funeral, dressed in my school uniform, I faced a room full of financial titans, brilliant young scientists, and a reigning movie star. My voice trembled as I spoke: “I… I’ve come to claim my inheritance…” Before I could finish, the legitimate children all stared at me, their gazes like daggers. I burst into tears. “N-no… it’s okay if you don’t give it to me…” The movie star’s eyes lit up. “A sister? A soft, little sister?” The young scientist pulled out a notepad and pen. “Senior year? Come solve some calculus, let’s see where you’re at.” The titan pulled out a black card. “What’s there to care about that old man’s meager money? Call me ‘brother,’ and I’ll give you ten times that.” 1 My mother was a master manipulator, a gilded cage bird kept by a wealthy man. The arrangement was simple: he’d provide the money, she’d provide the charm. A clean transaction, no strings attached. But too many good days often breed greed. She got pregnant, and, emboldened by her growing belly, pulled a ‘gilded cage bird runs off with the heir’ stunt. Before she disappeared, she broadcast her address widely, practically begging to be found. She fantasized about her patron locking down the entire city, pursuing her with possessive passion. She imagined his wife, consumed by insecurity, collapsing and willingly stepping aside. Alas. She overplayed her hand. Her patron didn’t even bother to look for her. He didn’t want her, or the child she carried. This simply wouldn’t do! She, with her full-term belly, blocked his mansion’s entrance. Two bodyguards lifted her out, tossing her into a dumpster. They also delivered a message from his wife: “If you’re so capable, take him. But give me the child to raise once it’s born. Money? Not a single penny!” After her desperate pleas failed, she finally gave up. But the child couldn’t be aborted. Filled with resentment, she gave birth to me and raised me haphazardly. Not out of love, but solely for money. The phrase she repeated most often to me was: “You’re his blood. He thinks he can just refuse to give us anything?” “Dream on! Even if he dies, you’ll get your share of that estate!” As she wished, in my seventeenth year, my biological father died. Upon hearing the news, she swiftly deposited me at the funeral home. “Skye, listen up! Including you, your father only has four children! You get a quarter of his inheritance!” “Today is your last chance. If you don’t get that money, don’t bother coming back to see me!” Her contorted features terrified me. “Mom, don’t leave me here, I’m scared…” “Scared, scared, always just scared! What did I raise you for? To make money!” “For all these years, you’ve eaten my food, used my things, and kept me from finding someone else. Don’t I deserve compensation?” “Get the inheritance, give it to me, and then I’ll still be your mom!” She hurried a few steps away, then stopped abruptly. Turning back, she rummaged through my pockets, taking my only ten dollars. I froze. Without money, I couldn’t take the bus. From this funeral home in the middle of nowhere, it would take me until dark to walk back home. She shoved me. “Cut off your retreat, and you’ll work harder!” “If you get the money, take a cab home. If not…” She gestured vaguely at the surrounding hills. “This whole area is a graveyard. Just stay here and keep the ghosts company!” 2 The cold mountain wind whipped around me, sending shivers down my spine. Every small mound in the deep woods seemed to be staring at me with unseen eyes. I steeled myself and walked into the funeral home. The service had ended, and the guests had all left. The room was empty save for the benefactor’s three legitimate children and their lawyer, discussing the final arrangements. “According to Mr. Stone’s last will, his estate, totaling two hundred million dollars, will be divided equally among the three of you.” Two hundred million dollars! So much money! No wonder my mother was so obsessed. For over a decade, she’d been scrambling to get her hands on some of it. And what I had to do today was claim a quarter of those two hundred million. Fifty million! My palms were sweating from nerves. With that much money at stake, who would willingly let the child of a mistress take a share? I figured a beating was inevitable. I just hoped they’d go easy on me. I had an exam tomorrow, and my hands still needed to write… As I thought this, the division of assets had already begun. The eldest, Seraphina Stone, sat at the head of the table. She was a renowned movie star, having just swept the nation’s top film awards. Her sleek black dress couldn’t hide her breathtaking beauty. With delicate, slender fingers, she took the document, glanced at it, and then casually tossed it to her younger brother. “That’s it? This is what’s worth wasting my time?” Her brother, Benedict Stone, was dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, silver-rimmed glasses adding a touch of maturity to his refined, boyish face. He stared at his laptop, typing incessantly, not even looking at the paper worth two hundred million. “Money isn’t something I need.” I’d heard of him. He was the nation’s most brilliant young scientist, unparalleled in cutting-edge fields. He truly had no need for money; all his needs were covered by state funding. The paper drifted lightly into the hands of the youngest, Jason Stone. His articulated fingers grasped it, then he casually tore it to shreds. “Two hundred million is enough to warrant a will? Donate it.” Jason carried an air of nonchalant ruthlessness. For someone consistently on the rich list, two hundred million wasn’t worth his time. Seraphina and Benedict raised their eyebrows but offered no objection. The lawyer was about to draft a new donation agreement. I weakly raised my hand. “Um… excuse me…” As soon as the words left my lips, the three legitimate children and the lawyer – four pairs of eyes – all focused on me. My scalp tingled. The lawyer spoke, “May I help you?” I swallowed, then cautiously began, “I’m sorry, I… I’ve come to claim my inheritance…” 3 By the time I fully registered what was happening, I was surrounded. The three legitimate children were tall, handsome, and exuded an exceptional aura. Compared to them, I, in my school uniform, felt like a corner-dwelling sprout. I was on the verge of tears. Even if they didn’t care about money, it didn’t mean they’d willingly hand it over to a mistress’s child! I stammered, “N-no… it’s okay if you don’t give it to me…” Could I just borrow two dollars… …to take the bus? I secretly peeked up, but their intimidating presence made me shiver. Never mind, never mind. Just thirty miles of mountain road. I could walk it… I quietly started to inch away. After just a few steps, Seraphina’s hand clamped onto the collar of my uniform, and she lifted me back. “Tsk, too light. All bones.” Seraphina turned me over, examining me from head to toe, her beautiful face full of disdain. “First, gain twenty pounds. You need to be plump for good health.” “Your hair is dry and split; it needs treatment. Your face is sunburned; it needs repair.” “Your school uniform is worn, your shoes don’t fit, your backpack zipper is broken.” “Replace, replace, all of it needs replacing!” She pulled out her phone and called her stylist. “Five feet three inches tall, eighty-pound frame. Prepare a complete wardrobe from head to toe.” “Who is it for?” Seraphina’s tone became light and cheerful. “For my sister, of course!” 4 I shifted uncomfortably. “You… you know who I am?” Seraphina wrapped an arm around my waist, her usually elegant face beaming with excitement. “Of course, the old man’s illegitimate daughter, right?” She pointed to her brilliant scientist brother and her wealthy businessman brother, complaining to me: “Benedict was always a prodigy. Three years old, memorizing vocabulary. Five years old, writing advanced math. Take him out to play, and in less than five minutes, he’s pulling out a textbook to do problems. So boring!” “Jason is shrewd and cunning, full of schemes from head to toe. As soon as he could talk, he was setting traps for me. As soon as he could go out, he was figuring out how to charter car fleets. Absolutely no cuteness whatsoever!” “Being the eldest sister, I had the title but no real power.” “Now I’ve finally caught myself a normal human sister! Never mind anything else, let me just have a taste of being a big sister!” As Seraphina spoke, she opened her personal makeup bag, ready to cleanse and moisturize my face. Benedict elbowed her aside. He pulled out a paper and pen, his silver glasses glinting with excitement. “Sister, you’re a senior? How’s school?” “Here, start with a calculus problem, let’s see what you know!” Looking at the long English characters on the paper, I felt my mind go blank. “I… I don’t know…” I was a high school senior, not a college junior. Who studies calculus in high school? Benedict scratched his head, confused. “That can’t be right. Even the slowest person should have learned it by seventeen, shouldn’t they?” Jason scoffed, pushing Benedict aside and leaning in close to me. “You said you came to claim your inheritance?” The question brought us back to the main topic, and I looked at Jason nervously. Right, right. Finally, time to talk money and get hit, wasn’t it? Jason pulled out a black card, his sharp features softening. “That old man’s money? It’s nothing. Be a good girl, call me ‘brother,’ and I’ll give you ten times that.” Their enthusiasm made me feel a bit flustered. This was different from what my mother had told me. Before I came, she repeatedly instructed me: “The richer they are, the stingier they are! If they don’t give you anything, throw a tantrum on the floor!” “Getting hit is even better. The harder you’re hit, the more money you can demand!” She said the Stones and I were sworn enemies. But the way these “enemies” looked at me… it felt a little warm? 5 I couldn’t shake the feeling they were playing a simulation game with me. Like now. I was brought back to the Stone family estate. Seraphina had canceled her upcoming appearances, spending every day fussing over me. On my first day home, she had a carload of beef, lamb, fish, and seafood prepared. Dish after exquisite dish was brought to the table. I was overwhelmed. To avoid wasting anything, I ate furiously, feeling ready to burst. Seraphina was shocked. She stopped me. “You’ll make yourself sick this way.” “We made so many dishes just to see what you like. You don’t have to eat what you dislike.” I felt a little lost. Did she mean I could be picky? But my mother always said being picky was wrong. When I was three, she brought home leftover stir-fried pork. I took a bite, cried from the spice, and pushed it away with tears streaming down my face. She got angry, pulled me up, and hit me. “So young and already picky? Want good food? You don’t have the right!” But it was truly too spicy; my mouth hurt with every bite. I cried and only ate rice, avoiding the dish entirely. But even that didn’t satisfy her. She said I was being dramatic, that this bad habit had to be broken. That same stir-fried pork, if I didn’t eat it for one meal, she’d save it for two. If I didn’t eat it for two days, she’d save it for three. I wouldn’t get new food until I finished it. I starved for three whole days, and in the end, I cried as I ate the spoiled stir-fried pork. That night, I came down with a high fever. After the fever broke, she stood beside me, lecturing. “Being picky is wrong. Mom is teaching you this for your own good. Did you remember?” I remembered. So, facing a table full of food, I ate with all my might. Hoping to finish before the food went bad. Preferences? Favorites? None. I had no right to choose. Seraphina couldn’t bear to watch anymore. She took my chopsticks and, in a softer voice, said, “Don’t be afraid, Skye. You’re still a child. You can just eat what you like.” A sudden wave of sorrow washed over me. It was like the three-year-old me, forced to eat chili, being held and gently comforted: “The chili hurt your mouth? It’s okay, we won’t eat that. Let’s eat something else!” I gathered my courage and whispered, “I… I don’t want to eat chili…” Seraphina waved her hand, and several housekeepers came forward, swiftly clearing all dishes with chili. Not only that. From that day on, I never saw chili on the dinner table again. So this is what it felt like to be favored. One simple “I don’t like it,” and that thing could disappear from my world. Under her careful nurturing, I rapidly grew plump and pale, like a balloon inflating. My hair visibly became dark and lustrous. She was very pleased, often showing off her results to her two younger brothers. 6 Benedict, not to be outdone, was astonished by how terrible my academic performance was after a comprehensive assessment. High school already! Couldn’t do Fourier transforms in math, didn’t understand quantum physics, didn’t know supramolecular chemistry. Tsk! How could someone be so dim-witted! He stopped going to his lab and took me to school to arrange an extended leave, planning to personally design a tutoring program for me. His car parked at the school gates, attracting a crowd of stares. Even the most understated Stone car was still the most eye-catching vehicle on the street. He opened the car door, carefully shielding the frame for me. Just as I got out, I ran into some of my classmates. “Well, well, isn’t it Skye, the mistress’s daughter? Haven’t seen you in a few days. Landed a sugar daddy?” “What’s so strange about that? The mistress’s daughter becoming a mistress herself, it’s only natural!” A group of them burst into laughter. My face burned. I opened my mouth to defend myself. “No, he’s my brother!” Selene Miller retorted rudely, “Oh, please! Everyone knows your mistress mom only had you! Seriously shameless, just claiming relatives everywhere!” “Big brother, you should stay far away from Skye, or her mom will cling to you and you’ll have hell to pay!” My classmates all nodded. Actually, they weren’t like this at first. Even though they knew I was illegitimate, they didn’t discriminate against me. When Selene saw my tattered clothes, she even begged her mother to let me wear some of hers. We became good friends. But it didn’t last. One weekend, I came home happily wearing a red dress Selene had given me. My mother grabbed the dress like a madwoman, demanding, “Who bought you this?” I stammered an explanation, saying a classmate gave it to me. She cursed furiously, “Are you so poor you’ll take any old junk?!” “Don’t you have any taste? You’re a Stone heiress! Not some beggar on the street!” She took a pair of scissors and cut the red dress into pieces. My heart ached. I was worse off than a beggar on the street! At least beggars didn’t have a mother as crazy as mine! She dragged me to school and caused a huge scene, insisting Selene had bullied me and insulted me with old clothes. I tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen. She threw a tantrum in front of the school principal, demanding that Selene’s parents pay for my emotional damages. Helpless, the principal made Selene apologize to me in person. The way Selene looked at me changed. From that day on, all my classmates knew not only that I was illegitimate, but also that I had a mercenary mistress mom. They nicknamed me “the mistress’s daughter,” and no one wanted to talk to me anymore. Benedict patted my shoulder, stepping in front of me. “Selene Miller? I’ve heard of you. You once helped my little sister, Skye. Thank you!” Selene was stunned, blushing and stammering, “I-I-I said those things about Skye, how-how can you still thank me?” Benedict smiled, making him even more approachable. Just then, the homeroom teacher arrived, having heard the commotion. He eagerly invited Benedict into the classroom, proudly introducing him: “Benedict Stone, Silverwood’s top student in the middle school entrance exam, national champion in physics and chemistry competitions, a prodigy from Capital University’s gifted program!”

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Five years into our marriage, William Max brought his pregnant secretary home. “You’re not well, so let her carry the baby.” I looked at him, no tears, no drama, just a nod. As I left, his friends in the living room guffawed: “William’s still got it! Sophia Miller used to be so arrogant, but now she’s completely docile.” “Sophia traded her paintbrush for a spatula, I guess she’s finally returned to her proper place.” William leisurely blew smoke rings. “Can painting put food on the table? She wouldn’t survive without me.” I didn’t say a word, just walked upstairs. My phone lit up with a new message: “Can’t you just come to me?” “You promised.” I texted back: “Okay” 1. “I’ll make the arrangements.” The reply came instantly. I leaned against the door, slowly sliding down. Those words, which had felt muffled moments ago, now echoed with painful clarity. A wave of nausea, a dry heave. I collapsed onto the cold floor. I met Elara Green even before William Max did. A high school graduate, she’d been harassed by a client and fired from her hotel job. Ignoring William’s objections, I got her a position at his company. At first, he complained that I’d hired a ‘princess.’ She couldn’t even use the printer, and her data always had errors. Later, she remained clumsy, spilling coffee all over William. Yet, he, who was always fair, promoted Elara several times until she became his personal secretary. “The person you want to protect, I’ll naturally take good care of.” And he did take excellent care of Elara. The young woman now wore designer clothes and sparkling jewelry. She strutted around, proudly caressing her belly. The first time she came to our house, she seemed a little nervous around me. William grandly gestured, opening the art studio that had been locked for three years. He told her to go in and do whatever she wanted. I thought it was to entertain a guest, so I suppressed my displeasure and watched her paint haphazardly. Until she knocked over a tray of paints, ruining my old artworks. He shielded her, saying she was always clumsy, and I shouldn’t blame her. That’s when I started to grasp the true meaning behind his actions. He said my artistic skill was inferior to the young woman’s. So I learned to cook and make soup. He said I wasn’t as well-behaved as the young woman. So I tried hard to control my temper. He said men sometimes got distracted. But that he always loved me. I believed him. Until that day, when I brought him the new soup I’d learned to make. The man who said he was working late was actually ‘working late’ on the young woman. Clothes lay scattered everywhere. That was our worst fight ever. I took my cat, Luna, and my suitcase and left. He tried to coax me back a few times, but it didn’t work. Then he cut off all my credit cards. When I couldn’t afford Luna’s exorbitant vet bills and cried as I called him for help. He was on a date with Elara, his voice on the other end still calm. “Sophia Miller, you need to be obedient.” Luna died. I learned my lesson. And the young woman stood even taller. My phone screen lit up again. “The hotel is booked.” “Flight tomorrow night, I’ll pick you up.” The churning in my stomach subsided, the buzzing in my ears faded. The weight of my body suddenly returned. I moved my fingers. “Okay.” 2. I painstakingly pulled open my suitcase. The display cabinet in the room was spotless. In the very center sat a worn notebook with dog-eared pages. Beside it, a wooden carved cat, Luna. We adopted her together five years ago. William, his hands covered in scratches, gave me that gift. “Now Luna can be with you forever.” The William of today had personally cut off Luna’s life-saving funds. He had merely frowned. “It’s just a cat.” “Want me to buy you another one?” I didn’t want another cat. Tickets, photos, necklaces, handwritten letters… all the items blurred into a jumbled spot of light before my eyes. I closed my eyes, steadying myself by gripping the cabinet. I wouldn’t look at the display cabinet anymore. I casually threw a few clothes into my suitcase. Then I took off the ring on my hand. I pushed open the window and tossed it out. A tiny glint of silver arced through the air, disappearing into the artificial lake. 3. I dragged my suitcase downstairs. The noisy living room fell silent for a moment. Among his friends, someone’s expression subtly changed. “William, maybe you should try to soothe her? She’s… Miss Miller, after all.” Adrian Brooks remarked. “Yeah, back on the yacht, Mr. Davies just offered her one extra drink, and she threw him and the glass overboard.” William released his arm from Elara’s waist and stood up, walking toward me. He gently and meticulously buttoned my coat. He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head, avoiding him. He wasn’t annoyed, just smiled faintly. “Come back soon after you’ve had your tantrum.” “Elara loves your carp soup.” So it was Elara who drank it. I couldn’t help but recall the feeling of bringing back the empty lunchbox that day. It was a long-lost joy. I hummed a tune, learning how to make other fish soups that very night. The air suddenly felt sucked dry. I had to stop, taking two deep breaths. “I won’t be coming back.” “What?” “I said, I won’t be coming back.” He let out a small, amused shake of his head, not taking my words seriously. “For our fifth anniversary, I was going to take you whale watching in Iceland. It’s the first item on your wish list, you know.” “Don’t be late, Miss Miller.” The outdated title felt like a thorn, gently pricking my heart. But it quickly vanished without a trace. I said nothing, turning to leave. The person who had spoken earlier admired, “William, you truly are something. To break Sophia Miller down like this.” William pulled Elara onto his lap, his smile cold. “There’s no ‘Miss Miller’ now, only Mrs. Max.” “Without me, she wouldn’t last three days.” Laughter and playful sounds spilled out from the not-quite-closed front door. Elara’s giddy giggles were especially distinct. I tightened my grip on the suitcase handle and quickened my pace. 4. Just as I settled into the hotel, my phone rang. A video call from Dorian. I hesitated for two seconds, then swiped to answer. The man was tall and slender, his black shirt buttoned all the way to the top. His handsome eyes held an anxious glint. “How are you feeling now?” I stood barefoot on the soft carpet. A lush green mountain view stretched outside the floor-to-ceiling window. The air was filled with a fresh, bitter orange scent. I let myself sink into the soft, beige sofa. A long-lost sense of relaxation and safety. “Not bad.” He visibly relaxed. “The doctor’s already booked. I’ll pick you up in France tomorrow.” “Mm.” “Can you be alone tonight? I’ve arranged for a companion.” “Yes, I can.” He didn’t hang up, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Dorian?” “Hm?” “You need to board. The announcement is calling.” “Right… see you tomorrow, then.” “Mm, see you tomorrow.” Thinking about seeing him tomorrow, I felt a little uneasy. 5. Dorian was my fan. Many years ago, when I first started learning to paint. I opened a private account on social media. Posting daily exercises and musings. He was my thousandth follower. All these years, I always thought he was a girl. A pink dinosaur avatar, gentle and polite comments, a simple username – Dorian. After I got married, my update frequency decreased, and my likes and comments became fewer. But he was always among the first to respond. I added him as a friend and drew some pieces for him without charge. Three years ago, I completely stopped painting. Occasionally, I used that account to vent my emotions. My follower count dropped to double digits. He was still there. Later, I rarely logged into the account. He started sending me frequent messages. The impossibly blue sky of France. A small cat fighting by the roadside. Texts, videos. We became good friends. Not long ago, Luna passed away. I was in a daze for a long time. It wasn’t until he called that I noticed the 99+ messages. “What’s been happening lately?” A pleasant male voice came through. That’s when I realized he was a man. William never allowed me to interact with other men. But that day, I was too sad. I talked for a very long time. About Luna’s passing, my failing marriage, the paintbrush I’d abandoned. The uncontainable pain poured out like a floodgate. Afterward, I regretted it. Even though he absorbed all my emotions. I hung up the phone, but he sent messages even more patiently. No questions, just beautiful scenery and a single phrase: “Want to come see it?” Later, he video called, looking at me and saying: “Sophia, you’re sick.” I froze. I had insomnia, aches all over my body, and occasionally couldn’t hear sounds. But William said I was just overthinking. Dorian asked me to promise him two things. Always put myself first. Always consider him a friend I could rely on. When I said I wanted to leave but had nowhere to go. He asked, “Can’t you just come to me?” I said, “Okay.” 6. I felt a little disoriented when I arrived at the airport. Years ago, my father, from his sickbed, entrusted both me and the company to William Max. I thought I would never leave. “What’s wrong?” Dorian tilted his head, asking. “Nothing.” He nodded slightly, and the bodyguards at his side naturally gathered closer. He looked cool and distant when speaking to others. But he was exceptionally patient with me. Just then, two familiar figures entered my sight. William Max, with his arm around Elara Green, looking intimate. He suddenly turned his head. Without thinking, I turned and hid myself in Dorian’s arms. He paused, then gently patted my back. “It’s alright.” I clutched his sleeve until we boarded the plane. 7. William Max felt restless. It wasn’t until Elara’s sweet voice reached him that he barely snapped back to reality. Wasn’t Dorian Sterling always in France? Though things had ended messily back then. But for all these years, their two companies had coexisted peacefully. When had he gotten married? He couldn’t help but think of Sophia Miller. All these years, Dorian Sterling had only been rumored with her. Immediately, he dismissed that ridiculous idea. She had never met Dorian Sterling. Besides, three years ago, he forbade them from contacting each other. He still felt a little uneasy. He took out his phone and cut off all of Sophia Miller’s cards. Watching the successful operation prompt, The irritation in his heart finally subsided. After they married, he restricted her social life. Three years ago, he even made her put down her paintbrush. Her every need – food, clothing, shelter – was in his hands. Without him, where could she go? He had intended to let her throw a fit for a few more days this time. But now he changed his mind. He’d indulged her too much, making her wild. When Elara’s child was born, there would be even more trouble. “William, if you’re not taking me to Iceland, you’ll have to make it up to me these next few days.” Elara leaned closer. “Alright.” He replied casually, already calculating when Sophia Miller would give in. 8. The sunlight in France was dazzling, the sea a brilliant blue. The house faced the ocean, and the floor-to-ceiling windows framed the seascape like a beautiful painting. Dorian was very busy, always on video calls, his low voice a constant backdrop. When I woke up startled in the night, the light from the living room under the door crack gave me a sense of peace. I can’t recall how many days had passed when I found myself standing on the porch. Barefoot on the wooden floor, it was a little cool. Before I knew it, I was squatting on the beach. Clutching a handful of sand. Two children were building sandcastles beside me. Dorian found me, wiping away grains of sand from my face with the back of his hand. “Tomorrow, do you want to meet a friend?” He asked, “Just to talk. I’ll be in the next room with you.” I nodded. The room was cream-colored. The lady had a gentle smile and gestured to the sofa opposite her. “You can choose any position you find comfortable, or we can just sit here for a while.” I hugged a throw pillow, curled up in the corner of the sofa closest to the door. Most of the time, I remained silent. I shared fragments, broken, chaotic, and painful memories. She didn’t say, “I understand.” Nor did she say, “You’ll be alright.” She said, “That sounds like a very difficult time.” William would only say: “You’re just overthinking.” “Company matters are stressful enough; don’t add to the trouble.” “You should learn from Elara.” The session wasn’t long. As it ended, she said softly, “If you’re willing, same time next week, I’ll be here.” I felt a little tired as I stepped outside. “How do you feel?” Dorian waited at the door. “She said… ‘that sounds difficult.’” I repeated. He looked at me, nodding gently. “Mm. Let’s go home.” 9. It was the tenth day since Sophia Miller left. William Max was genuinely furious this time. Ten days, not a single text or call. Excellent. She’d really grown audacious. He was seething with rage, smashing a wine glass. “William…” Elara looked over cautiously. “Book tickets, we’re going back.” “Whatever you say, William.” The woman’s obedience temporarily soothed him. Followed by an even deeper anger. Why wouldn’t she ever learn her lesson? He must have been too lenient. When she came back, she’d be grounded for at least three months. Back at the familiar villa. William finally calmed down to think. Her cards were cut off, and mutual friends had all been warned. Where could she go? That best friend, the divorce lawyer? Or those artist friends? He had made her cut ties with all of them long ago. Who else could she rely on besides him? He walked into her room. Nothing was missing from the display cabinet. He picked up the notebook in the center. Opened it, and saw familiar handwriting. He remembered how she used to be a somewhat famous painter. And he, a part-time model. He was drawn to her bright, confident smile. To strike up a conversation with her. He even changed the music he listened to on the subway to dull art history lectures. When she found this notebook, her eyes curved into a smile. His gaze shifted to the carefully framed art exhibition ticket. To get that ticket, which wasn’t for public sale. He went to be a punching bag for others. When the girl, her eyes full of concern, applied medicine to his wounds. He felt it was all worth it for a lifetime. William’s anger suddenly dissipated significantly. If she wouldn’t back down, then he would make the first move. They were going to spend their lives together, after all, so he’d coax her back first. He found the number saved as ‘Wife’ and dialed. A cold, mechanical voice came through the receiver: “The number you have dialed is currently switched off.” 10. Today was my fourth meeting with the lady. But it was different. She led me into a children’s art studio, said “feel free,” and then closed the door. The children in the room looked up at me, then went back to their drawings. I sat in a corner. A little girl with a topknot brought over a drawing board and pencils. Seeing me not take them, she gently placed them beside me. The sunlight was orange-yellow, and the sea of flowers she drew was crimson. The little girl was running in the painting. “That’s really good.” I heard myself say. The little girl shyly pressed her lips together and smiled, pushing the drawing board towards me. The room was very quiet. I don’t know how much time passed, but I picked up the pencil. … I brought the drawing home. Dorian’s eyes lit up when he saw the painting. “Sophia,” he stopped in front of me, “can I hug you?” I nodded. He gently embraced me. I buried my face in his chest, my arms slowly tightening. A very solid, very warm hug. With my permission, he took down the famous painting from the wall and replaced it with mine. “Is it suitable here?” I asked, clutching the hem of my skirt. The cartoonish, childlike drawing seemed out of place in the entire space. He stepped back two paces, looked for a long time, and then, with a serious expression, said: “It’s perfect. I love it.” 11. I went to that children’s art studio more and more frequently. The children here were very quiet. Some children liked to paint with their eyes closed. Some children liked to paint with both hands. The teachers were all very patient, speaking in soft whispers. Here, no one was better at painting than anyone else. Every painting was precious and unique. Just like every child. I walked home light-footed. Watching Dorian skillfully hang my new painting on the wall. My heart suddenly softened. “Can you be my model again?” He froze, his eyes bright, and answered quickly. “Yes.” The art studio had beautiful sunlight, and the paints were all new. This was a place he had shown me on the very first day. But I only walked in today. Dorian didn’t seem to have much experience as a model. His body was a little stiff, letting me arrange him. The sunlight gilded the side of his face. I painted very slowly. When I finished, he leaned in to look, for a long time. “Can I keep this one?” “It was always yours.” He curved his lips and left for his meeting. I sat in the studio, my mood complicated. My friends would be happy for me, knowing I’d picked up my paintbrush again, wouldn’t they? I logged into my social media, and messages flooded in. At the top was a message from my best friend. “Sophia, where have you been? William Max has been looking for you like crazy.” 12. I held my phone, hesitating for a long moment. “I’m fine, in France.” The reply was instantaneous. “As long as you’re okay.” “That Max guy was like a mad dog a while back, harassing all of us.” “Don’t get me wrong, even if I knew where you were, I wouldn’t tell him a single word.” It felt like sucking on an orange candy, tart and sweet, finally leaving a pleasant taste. We hadn’t been in touch much these past two years. But I knew she always cared about me. As I was scrolling through other messages, a call came in. It was Adrian Brooks. Even though William Max had given a warning, he had still secretly paid for Luna’s funeral expenses. His family and mine were old family friends, growing up together. Before the marriage, he disliked William and advised me to break up. After the marriage, William became “Mr. Max,” and Adrian called him “William” affectionately. When William and I argued, Adrian always tried to make us reconcile. Hesitating for a moment, I pressed answer. Adrian’s voice was urgent and noisy: “Sophia! Where did you run off to?!” “This time the fuss is too big, William is really mad, says he wants a divorce!” “We’ve all tried to persuade him countless times, even drank ourselves into the hospital! William said, come back before the fifth anniversary, and we can still talk!” “Hello? Do you hear me?” I didn’t answer. The paint on the canvas hadn’t dried yet. I reached out, my fingertip dipping into the golden yellow of the sun. “I hear you.” “Please tell him I wanted a divorce a long time ago.” Before he could reply. I hung up, then blacklisted him. The person in the painting seemed to be smiling.

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